ELCA World Hunger’s 40 Days of Giving

Lent 2022

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Week 5: A Way in the Wilderness

“Do you not perceive it?” (Isaiah 43:19)

Read

• Isaiah 43:16-21
• Psalm 126
• Philippians 3:4b-14
• John 12:1-8

Reflect

Each of the sessions of this Lenten study has been grounded in a verse from this week’s readings:

I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert (Isaiah 43:19).

From the first-fruits offering of Deuteronomy to the teaching of Jesus in the Gospel of Luke, our reflections have pointed to how God continues to “make a way in the wilderness” and calls us to be part of that journey for ourselves and our neighbors. The Scripture readings this season remind us of the promise of new life in Canaan for our ancestors and new life in Christ for us all.

We have imagined a world without hunger, heard of God’s abundant provision of manna and seen the ways the church has worked tirelessly, in the past and today, to end hunger.

Now we reach the culmination of this movement toward the fulfillment of God’s promise, wherein Jesus announces: “You will always have the poor among you” (John 12:8 NIV).

It’s not the most encouraging verse in the Bible.

How often have people twisted these words into an excuse for passivity or a sneering retort to proclamations of hope that hunger and poverty can, one day, end? Along with its partner in 2 Thessalonians (“Anyone unwilling to work should not eat”), it’s one of the “hard passages” for people of faith eager to inspire others to respond to hunger and poverty. These troublesome verses are often used to support restrictive, counterintuitive policies and practices that inhibit real progress against hunger and poverty. Why try harder to end hunger and poverty if even Jesus says poverty isn’t going away?

The passage yields more when we dig a little deeper. Jesus may actually be referring to an earlier part of the Bible here, and in that earlier verse the words are no statement of fact but a challenge to the people of God. The verse appears in a section of Deuteronomy about the Jubilee Year, a time every seven years when debts were forgiven. That earlier passage sheds new light on the verse from John:

Since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth, I therefore command you, “Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbor in your land” (Deuteronomy 15:11).

Far from resigning us to poverty in the world, the verse challenges followers of Christ. In his commentary on Deuteronomy, Martin Luther writes, “‘The poor you always have with you,’ just as you will have all other evils. But constant care should be taken that, since these evils are always in evidence, they are always opposed.”

For Luther, to “always have the poor among you” meant to be confronted always by God’s call to respond to human suffering and oppose the evil that creates it. This is not resignation but activation of the people of God in the service of the neighbor.

What’s more, we may find in Jesus’ words a lesson for our identity as church together. “You will always have the poor among you.” If we are truly the
people of God, then we are called to be in community with neighbors who have been marginalized, excluded, oppressed and impoverished by the world’s injustice.

As church, our calling is not merely to minister to our neighbors but to bear witness to the “new thing” God is doing in our world, a new community God is making possible. This is not easy work. Confronting hunger and poverty alongside our neighbors means facing the dangerous realities that impact our neighbors.

In Palestine, Defense of Children International–Palestine (DCIP), supported by ELCA World Hunger, works with children and families to protect their rights and give them the care and support they need. Settlement expansion in the West Bank and increased military presence in daily life put children at risk of negative encounters with Israeli forces. Children detained for
violating the often-discriminatory laws of Israeli occupation risk abuse from both Israeli and Palestinian forces. Despite significant legal reform in recent years, DCIP has found that practices have yet to fully align with domestic or international legal frameworks for juvenile justice and that children are paying the price, navigating a military legal system that fails to meet the minimum international standards, particularly for juveniles.

DCIP provides both legal and social support for children accused of crimes, and it works with their families, many of whom live in poverty, to improve their situations emotionally, socially and financially through vocational training, the support of social workers and more. This support is critical to addressing the root causes of hunger and poverty in Palestine.

Responding to hunger means accompanying neighbors as they confront the systems of injustice that create hunger. It means facing harsh realities with realistic perspectives. This is not the false “realism” that twists Jesus’ words in the Gospel but the realistic acknowledgement that we face our own journey in the wilderness before we reach the fullness of God’s promise. Friends, we have a long way to go.

And yet … and yet …

As we have seen throughout our Lenten journey, we are not going it alone. God is with us along the way, inspiring hope and courage and revealing Godself in the neighbors we encounter along the way. We know that this Lenten journey is not the end. The season’s fasting, praying and selfreflecting spiritual disciplines prepare us for the road ahead, the road that leads to the cross — and beyond, to a new community God makes possible.

This is not an easy road to travel. But we know that, even amid the challenges ahead, the “new thing” God is doing “springs forth,” that God is even now working to “make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert” (Isaiah 43:19).

Do you not perceive it?

Ask

1. What does it mean for the church to “always have the poor” with us? How might we rethink Jesus’ words in light of the study session for this week?
2. In what ways does your congregation act as a neighbor toward people in need in your community?
3. Why is the church called to work for justice in the world? What might the work of DCI-Palestine teach us about being the people of God?
4. How can the church inspire hope when the promised future can seem so far away?
5. Where is God calling you and your congregation to be today? How can or will you be part of the “new thing” God is calling forth?

Pray

God of the poor widow, the lost sheep, and the wandering Aramean,
God of the hungry, the thirsty, and the stranger,
God of the naked, the ill, and the imprisoned,

We confess before you that the church has not always been where
you have called us to be. We have failed to seek your face in our
neighbors in need. We have allowed despair to bind our hands and
feet. Change us, O God. Free us to act with hope and courage.

Open our hearts to perceive your presence in and among our
neighbors. Inflame us with holy passion for the work you invite us
to in the world. Breathe new life into your church, that we may be
the people you call us to be in the world you call into being:

A church of the poor widow, the lost sheep and the wandering Aramean.
A church of the hungry, the thirsty and the stranger.
A church of the naked, the ill and the imprisoned.

Do a “new thing” with us and through us, that we may be a
community of hope, comfort and welcome — a living sign of the
way we are making in the wilderness. Amen.

 

SEMANA 5: Un camino en el desierto

“¿No se dan cuenta?” (Isaías 43:19).
Lecturas: Isaías 43:16-21, Salmo 126, Filipenses 3:4b-14, Juan 12:1-8

Cada una de las sesiones de este estudio de Cuaresma se ha basado en un versículo de las lecturas de esta semana:

¡Voy a hacer algo nuevo! Ya está sucediendo, ¿no se dan cuenta? Estoy abriendo un camino en el desierto, y ríos en lugares desolados (Isaías 43:19).

Desde la ofrenda de primicias de Deuteronomio, hasta la enseñanza de Jesús en el Evangelio de Lucas, nuestras reflexiones han señalado cómo Dios continúa “abriendo un camino en el desierto” y nos llama a ser parte de esa jornada para nosotros y nuestro prójimo. Las lecturas bíblicas de esta temporada nos recuerdan la promesa de una nueva vida en Canaán para nuestros antepasados y una nueva vida en Cristo para todos nosotros.

Hemos imaginado un mundo sin hambre, hemos oído hablar de la abundante provisión que Dios hizo de maná, y hemos visto las formas en que la iglesia ha trabajado incansablemente, en el pasado y en la actualidad, para acabar con el hambre.

Ahora llegamos a la culminación de este movimiento hacia el cumplimiento de la promesa de Dios, en la que Jesús anuncia: “A los pobres siempre los tendrán con ustedes” (Juan 12:8 NVI).

Este no es el versículo más alentador de la Biblia.

¿Cuántas veces la gente ha tergiversado estas palabras en una excusa para la pasividad o una réplica burlona a las proclamas de esperanza de que el hambre y la pobreza pueden, algún día, terminar? Junto con su versículo compañero en 2 Tesalonicenses (“El que no quiera trabajar, que tampoco coma”), es uno de los “pasajes difíciles” para las personas de fe ansiosas por inspirar a otros a responder al hambre y la pobreza. Estos versículos problemáticos a menudo se usan para apoyar políticas y prácticas restrictivas y contraintuitivas que inhiben el progreso real contra el hambre y la pobreza. ¿Por qué esforzarse más para acabar con el hambre y la pobreza si incluso Jesús dice que la pobreza no va a desaparecer?

El pasaje brinda más cuando cavamos un poco más profundo. En realidad, Jesús podría estar refiriéndose aquí a una parte anterior de la Biblia, y en ese versículo anterior las palabras no son una declaración de hechos, sino un desafío al pueblo de Dios. El versículo aparece en una sección de Deuteronomio sobre el año del jubileo, un tiempo cada siete años en que las deudas eran perdonadas. Ese pasaje anterior arroja nueva luz sobre el versículo de Juan:

Gente pobre en esta tierra, siempre la habrá; por eso te ordeno que seas generoso con tus hermanos hebreos y con los pobres y necesitados de tu tierra” (Deuteronomio 15:11).

Lejos de resignarnos a la pobreza en el mundo, el versículo desafía a los seguidores de Cristo. En su comentario sobre Deuteronomio, Martín Lutero escribe: “‘El pobre siempre lo tienen con ustedes’, así como tendrán todos los demás males. Pero se debe tener el cuidado constante de que, dado que estos males siempre son evidentes, siempre se les presente oposición”.

Para Lutero, “a los pobres siempre los tendrán con ustedes” significaba ser siempre confrontado por el llamado de Dios a responder al sufrimiento humano y oponerse al mal que lo causa. Esto no es resignación sino activación del pueblo de Dios al servicio del prójimo.

Lo que es más, en las palabras de Jesús podemos encontrar una lección para nuestra identidad como iglesia juntos. “A los pobres siempre los tendrán con ustedes”. Si realmente somos el pueblo de Dios, entonces estamos llamados a estar en comunidad con los vecinos que han sido marginados, excluidos, oprimidos y empobrecidos por la injusticia del mundo.

Como iglesia, nuestro llamado no es simplemente ministrar a nuestro prójimo, sino dar testimonio de “algo nuevo” que Dios está haciendo en nuestro mundo, una nueva comunidad que Dios está haciendo posible. Este no es un trabajo fácil. Enfrentar el hambre y la pobreza junto a nuestro prójimo significa enfrentar las peligrosas realidades que afectan a nuestros vecinos.

En Palestina, Defense of Children International–Palestine (DCIP) [Defensa Internacional para los Niños de Palestina], con el apoyo de ELCA World Hunger, trabaja con niños y familias para proteger sus derechos y brindarles la atención y el apoyo que necesitan. La expansión de los asentamientos en la Ribera Occidental y el aumento de la presencia militar en la vida cotidiana ponen a los niños en riesgo de encuentros negativos con las fuerzas israelíes. Los niños detenidos por violar las leyes a menudo discriminatorias de la ocupación israelí corren el riesgo de sufrir abusos tanto por parte de las fuerzas israelíes como de las palestinas. A pesar de la importante reforma legal de los últimos años, el DCIP ha descubierto que las prácticas aún no se han alineado plenamente con los marcos jurídicos nacionales o internacionales para la justicia de menores, y que los niños están pagando el precio, navegando por un sistema legal militar que no cumple con las mínimas normas internacionales, particularmente para los menores.

DCIP da apoyo legal y social a los niños acusados de delitos y trabaja con sus familias —muchas de las cuales viven en la pobreza— para mejorar emocional, social y financieramente sus situaciones a través de la capacitación vocacional, el apoyo de los trabajadores sociales y más. Este apoyo es fundamental para atacar las causas profundas del hambre y la pobreza en Palestina.

Responder al hambre significa acompañar a los vecinos mientras enfrentan los sistemas de injusticia que crean hambre. Significa hacer frente a realidades duras con perspectivas realistas. Este no es el falso “realismo” que tergiversa las palabras de Jesús en el Evangelio, sino el reconocimiento realista de que enfrentamos nuestra propia jornada en el desierto antes de alcanzar la plenitud de la promesa de Dios.  Amigos, nos queda un largo camino por recorrer.

Y sin embargo… y sin embargo…

Como hemos visto a lo largo de nuestra jornada cuaresmal, no vamos solos. Dios está con nosotros en el camino, inspirando esperanza y valentía y revelándose a sí mismo en los vecinos que encontramos en el camino. Sabemos que esta jornada cuaresmal no es el fin. Las disciplinas espirituales de ayuno, oración y autorreflexión de la temporada nos preparan para el camino por delante, el camino que conduce a la cruz; y más allá, a una nueva comunidad que Dios hace posible.

No es un camino fácil de recorrer. Pero sabemos que, incluso en medio de los desafíos que tenemos por delante, el “algo nuevo” que Dios está haciendo “brota”, que Dios incluso ahora está trabajando para “abrir un camino en el desierto y ríos en lugares desolados” (Isaías 43:19).

¿No se dan cuenta?

Preguntas para la reflexión

1. ¿Qué significa para la iglesia que “a los pobres siempre los tendremos con nosotros”? ¿Cómo podríamos replantearnos las palabras de Jesús a la luz de la sesión de estudio de esta semana?
2. ¿De qué maneras actúa su congregación como el prójimo de las personas necesitadas en su comunidad?
3. ¿Por qué está llamada la iglesia a trabajar por la justicia en el mundo? ¿Qué podría enseñarnos la obra de DCI-Palestina en lo que respecta a ser el pueblo de Dios?
4. ¿Cómo puede la iglesia inspirar esperanza cuando el futuro prometido puede parecer tan lejano?
5. ¿Dónde está llamando Dios a su congregación y a usted a estar hoy? ¿Cómo puede ser o será parte del “algo nuevo” del que Dios está hablando?

Oración

Dios de la viuda pobre, de la oveja perdida y del arameo errante, Dios del hambriento, el sediento y el extranjero, Dios del desnudo, el enfermo y el encarcelado:

Confesamos ante ti que la iglesia no siempre ha estado donde nos has llamado a estar. No hemos podido buscar tu rostro en nuestros vecinos necesitados. Hemos permitido que la desesperación nos ate las manos y los pies. Cámbianos, oh Dios. Libéranos para actuar con esperanza y valentía.

Abre nuestros corazones para percibir tu presencia en nuestros vecinos y entre ellos. Enciéndenos con santa pasión por el trabajo al que nos invitas en el mundo. Sopla nueva vida a tu iglesia, para que podamos ser las personas que nos llamas a ser en el mundo que llamas a ser:

Una iglesia de la viuda pobre, la oveja perdida y el arameo errante. Una iglesia del hambriento, el sediento y el extranjero.

Una iglesia del desnudo, el enfermo y el encarcelado. Haz “algo nuevo” con nosotros y a través de nosotros, para que podamos ser una comunidad de esperanza, consuelo y bienvenida; una señal viva del camino que estás abriendo en el desierto. Amén.

 

 

Action

“They are working together, united, to show the country and the world that this is the way to fight for peace.”

Thus far this Lent, we have heard stories of God working through this church, our companions and our neighbors to end hunger. We have heard stories from India, Wisconsin and Washington, D.C., and heard of the stories that cannot be shared. We have learned that ending hunger means committing ourselves to a more inclusive vision of community, to honesty, to justice and to one another. Here, in this last week, companions from Colombia will help teach us about the final tool: action.

As much progress as the world has made to end hunger, we still have a long way to go. Nearly 690 million people around the world are undernourished, and more than 35 million people in the United States don’t know where their next meal will come from. Even before the COVID-19 pandemic, the rate of hunger around the world was on the rise after a decade of decline. With the pandemic, we have seen historic levels of unemployment, and even the most conservative forecasts warn that hunger and poverty could increase with nearly unprecedented rapidity in the coming years as we recover from its effects.

In his response to the plague that reemerged in Wittenberg in 1527, Martin Luther addressed the question of how a Christian is to act in a pandemic. After highlighting the ways God shows concern for good health in Scripture and exhorting his readers to care for their neighbors, Luther writes that prayer, though important, is not enough. Christians, he proclaims, must do more than pray. They must act.

Therefore I shall ask God mercifully to protect us. Then I shall fumigate, help purify the air, administer medicine, and take it. I shall avoid places and persons where my presence is not needed in order not to become contaminated and thus perchance infect and pollute others.

Pray. Then act.

These past 40 days of Lent commemorate the time Jesus spent in the wilderness, fasting and facing down temptation. In the first temptation, Satan placed the “famished” Jesus before a pile of stones and demanded that Jesus prove his power by turning the stones to bread that would end his hunger (Matthew 4:1-3). How tempting that must have been! How many parents with not enough food for their children would wish for such a miracle so that their family might be fed? How many of the 690 million undernourished people around the world would welcome the power to turn stones into the bread they need?

Yet the choice Jesus faced was not between stones and bread but between truth and lies. No sudden miracle will end the world’s hunger. Ending hunger is not about wishing or praying for the power to alter reality. Hunger does not end because of a miraculous intervention. It ends because of the persistent work of God with, among and through people striving for change. It is sometimes slow work, accomplished one step at a time. But it will not stop until we realize that vision of a time when we will hunger and thirst no more.

Carolina Camargo, a nurse from Villavicencio, Colombia, knows that this is what it will take. Carolina is part of the work God is doing through the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Colombia (IELCO) and the church’s Justicia y vida (Justice and Life) initiative, which is supported by ELCA World Hunger. Together with others, Carolina works toward future reconciliation in Justicia y vida’s “From War to Peace” project, which weaves ties of solidarity between the church and communities in Colombia that have been beset by violence for many years.

Carolina and other volunteers are at work in the area of Urabá, which means “promised land” in the Indigenous Embera Katío language. Since the 1990s, Urabá has witnessed a war involving the Popular Liberation Army (EPL), insurgents, the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC) and paramilitary groups. The conflict led to more than 103 massacres in the region and 32,000 people displaced between 1998 and 2002. Today, social leaders remain at risk from paramilitary units over disputes involving land.

The peace process has been a long road for Colombia, and IELCO has been traveling it for many years. In San José, former combatants and their families are given a chance to start again through the work of the church. In San José de Léon, they are able to build and maintain homes and resume their former lives raising fish, pigs and chickens. It’s a chance to rebuild some of what was lost in the years of conflict.

Addressing conflict and working for peace are central to ending hunger. Conflict is one of the most significant reasons for hunger increasing around the world. When people’s lives are threatened, they do not feel safe going to work or staying home. Many are forced to migrate to protect their families. Land may be stolen or destroyed, and markets are closed or empty. Parents and workers may be injured or killed in the violence. The United Nations estimates that up to 80% of humanitarian needs around the world are caused by conflict.

Building peace is a critical step in ending hunger. But it is a difficult step to take.

Carolina has learned this through her work with IELCO. “There are people who believe that you can close your eyes and yearn for peace without making an effort towards it,” she says. “What God allowed me to know is very different from that idealism, the reality I could observe and live, expressing hope in all the people who are part of this change.” The idealistic belief that peace means simply transforming swords into plowshares ignores “the struggle against negative feelings associated with the traumatic experiences” of the people with whom Carolina works. Yet together they “walk towards the goal of peace and reconciliation.

“They are working together, united, to show the country and the world that this is the way to fight for peace.”

We know that we cannot merely declare or call for “‘Peace, peace,’ when there is no peace” (Jeremiah 6:14). Building peace and ending hunger take action within community and are fostered by the hope and trust that, with each step, God is moving our world closer to that goal.

In this study, we have read stories of people at work around the world. Their situations may differ, their needs may differ, but what unites them is the commitment to an active hope that refuses to stagnate or stay silent. It is the hope of the vulnerable guests seeking care at clinics and shelters, of women and girls in India, of advocates in Milwaukee and of peacemakers in Colombia.

It is the hope of Lent, which propels us on this arduous journey to — and beyond — the cross. This hope empowers us see a number such as 690 million hungry but to refuse to despair. It can be sustained only by our trust that God is with us in each small step, guiding us toward a promised future. In hope, we expand our vision of what it means to be “we.” In hope, we are honest about the challenges we face. In hope, we invest in our shared future. In hope, we speak up for justice.

And in hope, we act, knowing that a just world where all are fed is not just possible but promised — and knowing, too, that we are called to be part of building that future. This is not the idealistic prayer spoken but a realistic prayer lived in solidarity with one another in cities, towns, shelters, clinics, classrooms, gardens, statehouses — all the places where God is at work.

This is the prayer of an Easter people, and this is our prayer — that God will not merely turn stones into bread but build a new world on that rocky soil, a just world where all are fed.

Discussion Questions

1. Think, share or journal about a time when you acted and it created a positive change. What did you do? What happened? What did it feel like?
2. Where have you seen God turning prayers into action?
3. Think about the prayers you share during worship. Bring one prayer to mind. How might your community turn this prayer into action? What small or large steps could you take?
4. Where is there a need for action to end hunger in your community? What will it take to move this action forward?

Prayer

God of promise, God of hope, God of fullness, God of peace, guide us, your people, to be your hands and feet, to work together as you build on our rocky soil a new, just world where all are fed.

Learn more and follow ELCA World Hunger’s 40 Days of giving throughout Lent by visiting ELCA.org/40days.

 

As new as the COVID-19 pandemic is to us living today, it is far from the first pandemic the church has had to address. One of the deadliest was the bubonic plague, which ravaged Europe in the mid-1300s, killing millions (estimates range from 25 to 50 million people.)  In 1527, the plague re-emerged. When it hit Wittenberg in late summer, the University of Wittenberg closed. The students were sent home, and many residents self-quarantined to avoid the deadly sickness.

Martin Luther, recovering from his own illness, responded to an earnest plea from Johann Hess, the pastor at Breslau. Hess’ central question was thus: as everyone else sequestered themselves in isolation, “is it proper for a Christian to run away from a deadly plague”? Luther responded with his letter “Whether One May Flee from a Deadly Plague.” Below are four lessons we can learn from Luther’s response, both for our situation today and for our long-term approach to health and wellness.

Good health matters to God.

The Lutheran World Federation’s “Waking the Giant” initiative invites member churches to reflect on the many ways churches are already contributing to the United Nations’ Sustainable Development Goal of good health and well-being for all – and to consider new ways churches can be part of this work. Accompanying communities as they seek good health for all people is a cornerstone of ELCA World Hunger. As a member of the LWF, and with the United States being a target country of “Waking the Giant,” the ELCA continues to accompany companions and partners in this initiative and to work toward the goal of good health here in the US and the Caribbean.

This focus on health is nothing new for the church. Some of the earliest hospitals were founded by Christian leaders, and history is full of examples of churches accompanying people living with illness, from the Plague of Justinian in the 600s to today.

For Luther, this work was grounded in two claims of faith. First, the church is called to service of the neighbor, particularly in times of distress. Citing Matthew 25:41-46, Luther argued in his response to Hess that “we are bound to each other in such a way that no one may forsake the other in his distress but is obliged to assist and help him as he himself would like to be helped.” To help one’s neighbor in times of illness is to serve Christ. Second, Luther believed that medicines, treatments and intelligence are God’s gifts so that “we can live in good health.” Recalling St. Augustine’s image of Christ as the “physician,” Luther counsels Hess that God cares both for the spiritual needs of the soul as well as the physical needs of body. Simply put, good health matters to God.

And good health matters to God’s people.

So, can one flee a plague if one’s life might be threatened? Luther’s answer is not simple, in part because the question itself is a bit of a problem. When we ask, “what ought we to do in a crisis?” it’s often asked from the perspective of obedience. “Can one flee a deadly plague?” is really a way of asking, “Can I flee a deadly plague and still be doing what God wants me to do?”

Of course, for Luther, the life of faith isn’t about obediently completing certain tasks. It’s about responding in love to the neighbor. So, whether one can flee a crisis to save oneself depends: what is in the best interest of the neighbor? Luther offers a well-reasoned defense of self-preservation in the face of pandemic. BUT, he is quick to temper this by saying that self-preservation is only permissible if we are certain our neighbors are taken care of. It’s one thing to leave a neighbor with a network of other supporters. It’s a very different thing to leave a neighbor alone, without aid.

What ought we to do in a crisis? For Lutherans, the answer isn’t obedience to a universal rule but rather a question of discernment – what is in the best interest of our neighbor? Accompanying the neighbor is the end against which our methods should be measured. This includes helping care for the bodily needs, as well as the spiritual, as we’ll see below.

That said, Luther also wanted his readers to consider whether their presence was more harmful than helpful. What, besides self-preservation, ought to shape our response to a pandemic? And, what might love of neighbor look like?

Pray…then work.

Therefore I shall ask God mercifully to protect us. Then I shall fumigate, help purify the air, administer medicine, and take it. I shall avoid places and persons where my presence is not needed in order not to become contaminated and thus perchance infect and pollute others.

Leaving aside his questionable belief that epidemics are spread by “pestinential breath,” Luther’s description sounds timely, still today. What he is describing, essentially, is social distancing. Pray, yes, but take practical steps to avoid infecting yourself and others, he claims.

Of course, Luther is not discouraging prayer. But in his day, as in ours, there are those who believe that prayer, faith or other spiritual powers can protect them, and so they do not need to take other precautions. Luther called this sinning “on the right hand.” Those who rely solely on faith as a sort of spiritual, magical power without taking advantage of the other gifts of God, such as intelligence and medicine, “are much too rash and reckless, tempting God and disregarding everything which might counteract death and the plague.” Contrary to this, Luther argued that Christians are called to take necessary, practical steps to protect physical health.

He went further, too, arguing that governments should “maintain municipal homes and hospitals staffed with people to take care of the sick so that patients from private homes can be sent there.” This, he wrote, would be “a fine, commendable, and Christian arrangement to which everyone should offer generous help and contributions, particularly the government.” This echoes what Luther says elsewhere, namely that government, too, is a gift of God for our well-being. As such, those in power are obligated by their station to help. Churches, for their part, are called to assist in this work – and to hold government accountable when it fails.

Listen to the experts.

In his letter, Luther admonishes readers of the importance of taking medicine, of self-quarantining, of hygiene and other practical measures. He also offers his proposals for care for the soul, responding as we would expect a pastor to do. But throughout, what is very interesting is Luther’s deference to medical experts. Sure, he is more than qualified to offer spiritual care advice, and he does so. But when it comes to specifics about avoiding illness, he is more hesitant.

This is clearest near the end of the letter, where he writes about burials. Because of the spread of the bubonic plague, there was debate about how to handle the dead bodies of victims. Luther writes,

I leave it to the doctors of medicine and others with greater experience than mine in such matters to decide whether it is dangerous to maintain cemeteries within the city limits. I do not know and do not claim to understand whether vapors and mists arise out of graves to pollute the air.

What to do with dead bodies is no small matter in any religion. Christians, like other faiths, have specific rituals and practices, informed by our beliefs about death and life. It’s not too much to assume that deferring to medical authorities here is a pretty significant step for Luther. It means giving up the church’s right over its dead. Luther does a bit of fancy prooftexting of scripture to support not burying corpses within the city limits in his letter. But in the end, his thought process is clear: when it comes to health, defer to those who have been gifted by God with expertise. And recognize their work as one of the ways God is active in our world, promoting good health for all.

Luther’s understanding of health and illness may be scientifically outdated, but his nuanced approach to the church’s vocation during times of crisis can give us food for thought. Health and wellness for all are not ideals for the future reign of God but practical realities the church is called to pursue today. Accompanying neighbors facing illness and working to keep communities healthy is an important way to reduce hunger and to discover God at work in our midst, through community leaders, medical experts, first responders and one another. And we see this in the hospitals, maternal and child care programs, health education initiatives and other ministries ELCA World Hunger supports.

Health was part of God’s intention for the world long before it was a Sustainable Development Goal. Working together toward this – even if that means, right now, working and living apart for many of us – is where the church is called to be, and where it has been during the “plagues” of the past.

All quotes cited above are from Martin Luther, “Whether One May Flee from a Deadly Plague (1527),” in Timothy F. Lull and William R. Russell, eds. Martin Luther’s Basic Theological Writings, 3rd edition (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2012), 475-487.

The guests sit back, satisfied. The plates are scraped clean. The utensils are carefully stowed for the next meal. Where do we go from here?

In the first session of this study, Babette’s guests had finished their sumptuous, if strange, feast, praising the talents of their hostess, if not the exact recipes she brought to life. The eponymous meal was not the end of the story, however. Thirty-year-old spoiler alert: At the end of the film, Babette informs the two sisters for whom she works that she has spent all her newfound wealth on the meal and so, rather than returning to France, will be staying on as their live-in servant. Almost as important as the climax of the meal is the denouement of Babette’s decision to remain in their service. The feast is not a farewell dinner but rather a celebration of transition — from the servitude she was forced into by circumstance to the loving service she continues by choice.

In the second session of this study, Martin Luther extolled the virtues of Abraham, whose radical hospitality created an opening — both literal and figurative — for Abraham and Sarah to hear the promise of God in their humble tent. It was a model of hospitality Luther commended to the church, that it might be a place of refuge for all who are vulnerable, for all the strangers-maybe-angels in our midst. The people of God are called to be church for the sake of the world — and this starts with the concern for the well-being of others that gives rise to hospitality.

In the third session of this study, Paul admonished Peter for creating tables that were exclusive rather than inclusive. Peter had refused to dine with Gentiles and, in so doing, had decided who was in and who was out based on the law rather than on grace. Paul also held the Corinthians to account for their treatment of people in need, chastising them for mimicking in the church the pattern of relationships already present in the world, where those with earth and power received the places of prestige, and those in poverty had to make do with scraps.

Each of these threads is pulled together in Luther’s teaching on the most important meal in the Christian church, Holy Communion. Calling Holy Communion a “blessed sacrament of love,” Luther writes:

The fruit of the sacrament is nothing other than love. As Christ gave himself for us with his body and blood in order to redeem us from all misery, so we too are to give ourselves with might and main for our neighbor…That is how a Christian acts.

For Luther, Holy Communion draws those at the altar closer to God and closer to one another. To partake of the sacrament authentically, one must remember both dimensions — the presence of grace in the sacrament and the willingness to bear the burdens of the other people at the table. Holy Communion is a means of grace that forms us to be signs of grace to one another.

In Holy Communion, we are reminded of Christ’s sacrifice for us and are invited to give ourselves in like manner to one another. The sacred meal is nourishment for a sacred vocation. In fact, for Luther, the sacrament has no meaning without this: “For the sacrament has no blessing and significance unless love grows daily and so changes a person that he is made one with all others,” he writes. At the table, a community is fed and formed for service in the world. The sacrament’s significance does not end at the table where we eat but extends into the world in which we live — a world we shape by our witness to the hospitality of God, who welcomes all to the table. It is a somber meal of penitent reflection and a celebratory feast of new beginnings.

This season, as we have prepared for the arrival of Christ, it may be easy to see Christmas as the end, the culmination of what has gone before, rather than as the beginning, the inauguration of what is to come. But the coming of Christmas is not merely the end of Advent. It is the start of the life of the church in the world. Freed from sin and death by Jesus Christ, it is the beginning of the servitude we choose — service of the world in gratitude for the grace we have received. It is a celebration of the freedom to join with others at the table and the freedom to concern ourselves wholly with the needs of our neighbors. In Advent, the church is created to be part of the re-creation of the world begun on Christmas.

The “reason for the season” is Christ’s birth, certainly. But it is also the creation of the people of Christ, who are called into the world to “do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8).

The guests sit back, satisfied. The plates are scraped clean. The utensils are carefully stowed for the next meal. Now, the work of Christmas begins.

Questions for reflection:

• What memorable meals in your life have brought you into relationship with other people at the table? How did dining together help you become closer to them?
• How does Holy Communion help nourish you for service of others?
• Where is God inviting you to be in the new year?
• How are you renewed for service of the world by the holiday season?

Prayer

Gracious God,

we give you thanks for the many ways you nourish us — with food, with family, with friends, with faith. In you, we are made new to be instruments of your grace in our world. Recall to us the many places of need in our world — places of injustice and violence, of hunger and poverty. Enrich us with love at the tables you set that we may seek justice, love kindness and walk humbly with you into the future you have promised.

In your holy name,

Amen.

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Happy 500th Anniversary!

Nearly 500 years ago, the young monk Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to a church door in Wittenberg, Germany, and kicked off the movement that would become the Protestant Reformation. The theological disputes that followed have been well-documented over the centuries, but what the Reformation meant for the church’s witness in the midst of hunger and poverty is often forgotten. In this series leading up to October 31, 2017, we have taken a deeper look at the Reformation’s importance for the church’s social ministry – and the important work to which people of faith are called by the gospel.

And now, the full list so far, with links to the previous posts:

10) “I believe that God has made me and all creatures; that He has given me my body and soul, eyes, ears, and all my members, my reason and all my senses, and still takes care of them. He also gives me clothing and shoes, food and drink, house and home, wife and children, land, animals, and all I have. He richly and daily provides me with all that I need to support this body and life.” (Small Catechism)

9) “Christians are to be taught that he who sees a needy man and passes him by, yet gives his money for indulgences, does not buy papal indulgences but God’s wrath.” (95 Theses, #45)

8) “According to this passage [Matthew 25:41-46] we are bound to each other in such a way that no one may forsake the other in his distress but is obliged to assist and help him as he himself would like to be helped.” (“Whether One May Flee a Deadly Plague”)

7) “Let us also be generous [as Abraham was], and let us open the door to poor brethren and receive them with a joyful countenance. If we are deceived now and then, well and good. In spite of this our good will is demonstrated to God, and the kind act…is not lost on Christ, in whose name we are generous. Hence just as we should not intentionally and knowingly support the idleness of slothful people, so, when we have been deceived, we should not give up this eagerness to do good to others.” (Lectures on Genesis)

6) “We should not tolerate but banish [beggars]; not in an unreasonable and tyrannical manner but rather with willing help so that we Christians shall allow no one to come into such poverty and need that he is afflicted and caused to go and cry out after bread.” (Andreas Bodenstein von Karlstadt, “There Should Be No Beggars among Christians”)

5) “We were in need before God and lacked God’s mercy. Hence, as our heavenly Father has in Christ freely come to our aid, we also ought to help our neighbor through our body and its works, and each one should become as it were a Christ to the other…” (Freedom of a Christian)

4) “God says, ‘I do not choose to come to you in my majesty and in the company of angels but in the guise of a poor beggar asking for bread…I want you to know that I am the one who is suffering hunger and thirst.” (Commentary on the Gospel of John)

3) “Many a person thinks he has God and everything he needs when he has money and property; in them he trusts and of them he boasts so stubbornly and securely that he cares for no one. Surely, such a man also has a god – mammon by name, that is money and possessions – on which he fixes his whole heart. It is the most common idol on earth.” (Large Catechism)

2) “But beware how you deal with the poor, of whom there are many now. If, when you meet a poor man who must live from hand to mouth, you act as if everyone must live by your favor…and arrogantly turn him away whom you ought to give aid…he will cry to heaven…Such a man’s sighs and cries will be no joking matter…for they will reach God, who watches over poor, sorrowful hearts, and he will not leave them unavenged.” (Large Catechism)

And, now, for the #1 quote from the Reformation:

1) “For the sacrament [of Holy Communion] has no blessing and significance unless love grows daily and so changes a person that he is made one with all others.”

This touching and poignant quote comes from Luther’s 1519 essay, “The Blessed Sacrament of the Holy and True Body of Christ,” reprinted in Timothy Lull’s superb collection, Martin Luther’s Basic Theological Writings. It highlights Luther’s profound understanding of the sacrament – and discloses the misinterpretations of the sacrament among many communities of faith today.

According to Luther, there are two requirements to take Holy Communion authentically. First, we must have an awareness of our total dependence on God’s grace and the belief that this grace is present in the bread and wine of the meal. Second, we must commit ourselves to sharing the burdens of the other people at the Table with us. Without both of these present, “the sacrament has no blessing and significance.”

What Does This Mean?

In reading this, I am reminded of a lecture I heard many years ago. Gustavo Gutierrez, one of the founders of Latin American liberation theology, spoke to us about Holy Communion. He noted the different ways the Gospel authors describe Jesus’ last supper with his disciples. In Matthew and Luke, Jesus offers the words that would come to form the basis for the sacrament and Words of Institution: “take and eat.” But in the Gospel of John, there is no institution. Instead, as Gutierrez pointed out, Jesus removes his garment and washes the disciples’ feet.

Historical accuracy aside, what Gutierrez was getting at was the link between the sacrament of the meal and the sacramental act of loving service. This is a link Luther, too, makes, though not by comparing the Gospel stories. Instead, Luther sees the sacrament as primarily relational, both vertically and horizontally. Vertically, Holy Communion reminds us of our utter dependence on God and provides for God’s sharing of grace with us. Horizontally, Holy Communion reminds us of the burdens we all share – spiritual, physical, emotional – and the commitment we must make to one another.

The sacrament is something of a conversation, perhaps. God speaks to us the word of grace through the elements; we express our dependence and repentance to God; and we each offer a word of commitment to the neighbor beside us at the Table. It is so much more than merely “God and me,” even though many folks have tried to characterize the sacrament as such.

What misinterpretations miss is the third presence within worship: the neighbor. For Luther, as for many before him, worship is not merely between God and me; the neighbor is a central part of what it means to worship. To worship is to participate in ritual that forms us for service in the world. It is not merely a “break” from everyday life, nor a private service to God. It is a formative event that renews, reconciles, and reinvigorates us to be, as Bishop Elizabeth Eaton has said, “church for the sake of the world.”

This is not all that new, even for the Reformation. As Luther describes earlier in this essay, early Christians understood the “agape meal” (the precursor to Communion) as a key part of their service of one another and the world. At it, members of the community would bring food to share, and those who were hungry or thirsty were filled at the Table. (We see evidence of this in Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians.)

 

The community gathered at the Table is a witness against all that has crucified Christ and continues to cause suffering today, and it is a testimony to the truth of God’s grace active in the world to end suffering. To take Communion is to become part of a community, to “share the misfortunes of the fellowship,” and to receive the gift of grace that empowers us to participate in God’s transformation of the world. And, again, this isn’t accidental or optional: “the sacrament has no blessing and significance” without this.

So, What?

As we celebrate the 500^th anniversary of the Protestant Reformation today, we would do well to remember that this seismic shift was not merely a theological disagreement about Heaven and Hell. It was a fundamental conflict about what the church is called to be. Luther’s great insight – if seemingly simple, if in many ways unoriginal – was that the church is called to be more than a mere institution. It is called to be a living sign of the grace of God in the world. If it is to have power, it must be the power given by God to confront injustice and evil. If it is to be present, it must be present as a refuge for all who suffer. If it is to have authority, it must speak the authoritative word of grace. If it is to be wealthy, it must find its treasures in the richness of reconciled community. If it is to last, it must be worth keeping around.

We’ll end this series with an “honorable mention” quote that comes from none other than former Lutheran Walter Rauschenbusch, the founder of the Social Gospel movement in the early 1900s. In a 1910 letter, he challenged the Lutheran churches in the United States to reclaim their reforming heritage and join the frontlines in the struggle for justice:

Let the Lutheran churches remember their own brave revolutionary beginnings and summon up the daring spirit of the youthful Luther in his noblest days, when he was the voice of his nation and its darling, and embodied in his big, heroic heart all the noblest aspirations after national unity, social justice, moral health, and religious sincerity.

Truly, a challenge that still cries out to us today.

Happy 500^th!

 

 

 

Nearly 500 years ago, the young monk Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to a church door in Wittenberg, Germany, and kicked off the movement that would become the Protestant Reformation. The theological disputes that followed have been well-documented over the centuries, but what the Reformation meant for the church’s witness in the midst of hunger and poverty is often forgotten. In this series leading up to October 31, 2017, we will take a deeper look at the Reformation’s importance for the church’s social ministry – and the important work to which people of faith are called by the gospel.

As we celebrate 500 years and look forward to the future, let’s take a look back at the past, returning to the basics with quotes from Luther’s Large Catechism. Many thanks to Samuel Torvend and Jon Pahl for their essays in The Forgotten Luther: Reclaiming the Social-Economic Dimension of the Reformation (Lutheran University Press, 2016), which superbly highlight Luther’s approach to greed and the economic dimensions of the catechisms, respectively.

 

 

#3 – “Many a person thinks he has God and everything he needs when he has money and property; in them he trusts and of them he boasts so stubbornly and securely that he cares for no one. Surely, such a man also has a god – mammon by name, that is money and possessions – on which he fixes his whole heart. It is the most common idol on earth.”

#2 – “But beware how you deal with the poor, of whom there are many now. If, when you meet a poor man who must live from hand to mouth, you act as if everyone must live by your favor…and arrogantly turn him away whom you ought to give aid…he will cry to heaven…Such a man’s sighs and cries will be no joking matter…for they will reach God, who watches over poor, sorrowful hearts, and he will not leave them unavenged.”

I wonder how things might be different if we replaced all those “Cleanliness is next to godliness” and “Jesus is my co-pilot” signs and stickers with this flashing indictment from Luther: “Beware the cries of the poor you ignore, for they will reach God.”

 

We’ve discussed the Lutheran Catechisms in a previous post, but here we move into a different section: Luther’s discussion of the Ten Commandments. As before, while the theological explanations that Luther offers within the catechisms are relatively more familiar to many folks, Luther adds an interesting twist when it comes to his examples of theology in practice. Overwhelmingly, his examples are economic, particularly when it comes to the 1^st (“You shall have no other gods”) and 7^th Commandments (“You shall not steal”), from which the above quotes are taken.

What Does This Mean?

In the 1^st Commandment, Luther points out that the commandment is intended to underscore the demands of “true faith and confidence of the heart,” such that one clings to God alone. Quote #3 above is the first example Luther uses to demonstrate “failure to observe this commandment.” To have faith in something, according to Luther, is to cling to it with all your heart, to place in it all our trust, and to find consolation in naught else. The only proper object of this kind of faith is God. Theologian Paul Tillich had a great way of describing the object of faith. He called it one’s “ultimate concern.” Our ultimate concern is that object of faith which motivates our behavior, provides us with hope, and helps us understand our place in the world.

Luther saw that for many folks in his day – and, we could say, in our day, as well – the true object of faith was not God but wealth and possessions. This shaped what we might call their “active” and “passive” faith-lives. In the active faith-life, they pursued wealth, even to the detriment of other responsibilities, especially their responsibilities to their neighbors. In the passive faith-life, they rested secure in their wealth, as if they could sustain themselves with security and happiness with their possessions alone.

For Luther, this is idolatry. The active side of greed causes people to pursue wealth as if the world were merely a storehouse of possessions for them to acquire, rather than an abundant field of God’s gifts for them to steward. It also causes them to forget their dependence on God, passively resting in their own achievements as sufficient.

We might look at Luther’s discussion of the 7^th Commandment as dealing with the first, active side of this faith, while the second, passive side is treated in his discussion of the 1^st Commandment. Looking at the passive side first, putting our trust in our own wealth and possessions is a fool’s errand. Especially after the Great Recession, most of us should recognize the precariousness of wealth. Why place our trust in something so transitory? No matter how much wealth, how many possessions, we can never have the kind of “blessed assurance” that grace alone provides.

There is another insidious side to this. If we are convinced – even subconsciously – that our existence or salvation depends on our wealth, we will do anything we can to pursue it, even if it proves costly to our neighbors. This is where the active side of greed comes in, the side addressed in the 7^th Commandment. In the commandment against stealing, Luther notes the more obvious violations, but then he goes in a different direction, closely critiquing economic practices that harmed people in poverty , particularly in the marketplace. He writes,

Daily the poor are defrauded. New burdens and high prices are imposed. Everyone misuses the market in his own willful, conceited, arrogant way, as if it were his right and privilege to sell his goods as dearly as he pleases without a word of criticism.

Luther was not necessarily opposed to the market or to the emerging capitalism in his day. But he was concerned that the market was providing legitimacy to the practices of greed. He took issue with the “gentleman swindlers,” who “sit in office chairs and are called great lords and honorable, good citizens, and yet with a great show of legality rob and steal.” For Luther, idolatrous greed was at the root of unjust economic practices that left people mired in poverty throughout Germany. Indeed, he called for government regulation of the economy, writing that “[princes and magistrates] should be alert and resolute enough to establish and maintain order in all areas of trade and commerce in order that the poor may not be burdened and oppressed…”

Thus, Luther saw the two commandments tied together. The idolatry of wealth led to the sin of theft; the sin of theft revealed the idolatry of wealth. True faith, then, is tied closely to economic justice.

So, what?

Faith is not a private devotion, or merely intellectual assent to a set of beliefs. Faith is a living, breathing, life-shaping reality moving within us. If our faith is something we can set aside as we enter other spheres of life, as we move from pew to home to voting booth to office. Uncovering our faith, our “ultimate concern,” means closely examining how our faith shapes our daily practices, especially, for Luther, our economic practices. Economic injustice is not merely a sin of greed but rather a revelation of idolatry, if we are taking Luther seriously. True faith moves us into deeper relationships with our neighbors, not competition against them.

What is particularly interesting is that these teachings don’t come in some minor treatise on the economy and money, but rather right smack in the Large Catechism, the very instructional guide for the faith that Luther believed should be read “daily” by Christians. Contrary to what so many generations of Lutherans since have said, there is a clear and undeniable link between faith and justice here. Idolatry leads to unjust practices; true faith leads to just practices.

With this, we can start to get a better perspective on the Reformation and why it continues to be so important. This movement begun 500 years and one day ago was not merely an internal debate about theology but a protest against the economic injustice bred by idolatrous theology. For Luther, if faith is to mean anything, it must have meaning not only within the church, but within the home, within the public square, and yes, within the market. The Reformation, perhaps, was not just about crafting a more accurate theology but also about participating in God’s building of a more just world.

499 years and 364 days later, how are we doing?

 

 

Nearly 500 years ago, the young monk Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to a church door in Wittenberg, Germany, and kicked off the movement that would become the Protestant Reformation. The theological disputes that followed have been well-documented over the centuries, but what the Reformation meant for the church’s witness in the midst of hunger and poverty is often forgotten. In this series leading up to October 31, 2017, we will take a deeper look at the Reformation’s importance for the church’s social ministry – and the important work to which people of faith are called by the gospel.

Throughout the week, we’ll look at different quotes, counting down to the 500^th Anniversary. Today, we are doubling down, with two nuggets of wisdom from Luther. Without further ado…

#8 – “According to this passage [Matthew 25:41-46] we are bound to each other in such a way that no one may forsake the other in his distress but is obliged to assist and help him as he himself would like to be helped.”

In August 1527, a most unwelcome visitor arrived in Wittenberg: the bubonic plague. This deadly bacterial infection ignited fear and panic wherever it was found, and with even a brief survey of the symptoms and prognosis for victims, one can see why. While today, antibiotics can be effective in treating the disease, for medieval peoples, the plague meant certain death. The risk of catching the highly contagious disease bred fear within communities. In the 14^th Century, during the “Black Death,” European Jews were blamed for the spread of the disease and persecuted, even to the point of being attacked and killed as scapegoats.

When plague struck Wittenberg, the university closed up shop and moved, first to Jena, then to Schlieben, at the behest of Elector John. Luther, though, chose to stay and minister to the victims in Wittenberg. His pastor, Johannes Bugenhagen, stayed, too. Luther and Bugenhagen worked tirelessly until the plague dissipated in November 1527.

That same year, the plague struck Silesia, and Johann Hess, a Reformation leader there, wrote to Luther asking for his take on the question on a lot of pastors’ minds: can we flee from the plague, like the Wittenberg folks? Or, do we need to stay, like Luther and Bugenhagen? It took Luther a while to get back to Hess, but he did, writing the letter from which the quote above is taken. The “official” title of the letter is “Whether One May Flee a Deadly Plague.”

This leads us to our next quote from a very different writing of the Good Doctor Luther:

#7 – “Let us also be generous [as Abraham was], and let us open the door to poor brethren and receive them with a joyful countenance. If we are deceived now and then, well and good. In spite of this our good will is demonstrated to God, and the kind act…is not lost on Christ, in whose name we are generous. Hence just as we should not intentionally and knowingly support the idleness of slothful people, so, when we have been deceived, we should not give up this eagerness to do good to others.”

Luther’s lectures on the bible are filled with insights about the meaning of the Word of God for people of faith, and his analysis of Genesis is no different (though certainly not without problems.) Here, Luther is reflecting o Genesis 18. Abraham is sweating out a hot day near the entrance of his tent when three strangers pass by. He greets them, offering bread and water. Unbeknownst to Abraham at first, among the three strangers is the Lord, who in this chapter, promises Abraham and Sarah a son before heading toward Sodom and Gomorrah.

What Does This Mean?

In Luther’s perspective, the hospitality Abraham offered is a model for Christians still. Indeed, hospitality is no small thing in scripture but was a significant response to the stranger in one’s midst. Like many cultures today, there were prescribed behaviors for receiving a guest. Later on in scripture, this will become even more important for the Hebrews freed from slavery in Egypt. As “strangers in a strange land” themselves, they are called to remember their dependence on God and the care they received while vulnerable. As the recipients of God’s gracious “hospitality,” they were duty-bound to return this grace to their neighbors, friend or stranger. When they fall short, God through the prophets often reminds them of God’s care for them while in Egypt and during their long Exodus.

This isn’t that different from the basic thrust of Lutheran ethics, which above all else, is an ethics of memory. As we are saved by God’s grace in the midst of our own neediness, so too are we called to respond graciously and abundantly to our neighbors in their need. For Luther, this was a key mark of a life of faith. People of faith are saved by God, and thus have duties both to God and to their neighbors. The freedom we have in Christ is not a freedom of licentiousness and liberty, but rather a purposeful freedom.

We are freed from and for: freed from the powers of sin, death, and the Law; and freed for bold, loving service of God and neighbor.

This is the same ground on which Luther builds his response to the plague. To Hess, he cautions that the first thing to consider before packing up is the good of the neighbor. Will the absence of those who take flight leave neighbors without sufficient care? If all the pastors leave, who will minister to the people who must stay? He draws a telling comparison: how would you react if the person suffering from the plague were Christ? Would you not stay? Drawing on Matthew 25, Luther argues that Hess and others should act as if it were Christ suffering the plague in their midst. To flee from the neighbor is to flee from Christ.

He goes on to admit the dangers that those who stay might face, but reminds them, too, of the promises of God, which should give courage in the face of death. To flee without a thought to the neighbor is to deny the promise of God, and the person who does so “violates all of God’s law and is guilty of the murder of his neighbor whom he abandons.” If remembering God’s grace doesn’t get you to stay, Luther suggests, then perhaps the Law will.

The fear that Hess and his compatriots felt was real and palpable; but so, too, should their faith be, says Luther. And this should draw them toward their suffering neighbor, not away from them.

In the lecture on Genesis, Luther likewise addresses a common concern in his day: how to practice charity at a time when “professional beggars” were mixed in with people whose poverty was not merely a choice? Luther reminds his audience that service of the neighbor is done in the name of Christ, in response to the gift of grace we received in our own need. Thus, the call to service of the neighbor is rooted in something deeper than the rational discernment of authentic poverty.

So, What?

So often, when it comes to service of our neighbors, we make choices based on the intersection of two criteria: the neighbor’s merit and our own comfort or security. If we are going to offer charity, we want to give to people who “really deserve” it. It’s one of the reasons it’s so easy to drum up donations if the focus is on helping children. Who could be more “deserving” than an innocent child? But Luther upsets our notions of “merit” by reminding us that we are saved by grace, the free gift of God, apart from our merit. In fact, that free gift comes in the midst of our downright unworthiness, extended to us in love and mercy despite the fact that we didn’t – indeed, could never – deserve it.

Even if they “might” deserve our help, so often, too, our service is constrained by our own fears or insecurities. In reading Luther’s writing on the plague, I am reminded of the early AIDS crisis, when fear was given free reign in our communities and limited efforts to accompany the disease’s early victims. I think, too, now of the continuing stigma surrounding HIV and AIDS and the ways responses continue to be constrained or, more likely, avoided, despite the deeper, more balanced knowledge we have today about how HIV is spread.

Luther is clear that accompanying our neighbors sometimes means taking risks, not necessarily because our neighbors are dangerous, but because the deep needs of our neighbors and ourselves are often symptoms of vulnerability and uncertainty. “A man who will not help of support others unless he can do so without affecting his safety or his property,” Luther writes, “will never help his neighbor.” Sometimes, that risk might be direct, like the risk of contact with bubonic plague. Other times, though, the risk may be more subtle – the risk of losing social status, the perceived risk of crime in economically disadvantaged neighborhoods. Sometimes, the risk can be profound – the risk of working to undo our own wealth and privilege in pursuit of justice.

The risks are great, Luther writes, but anything less is a denial of God’s promise and our calling. The same was true for Abraham. To reach out to the passing stranger is to respond to God’s call to bold, loving hospitality; to accompany a neighbor even in the midst of uncertainty or risk is to trust in God’s promise.

And who knows, maybe by so doing, we will discover angels in our midst. But if even if we don’t, our call is not find angels in our midst, but to find ourselves among our neighbors, to uncover what binds us together. And to see God at work within.

 

 

Nearly 500 years ago, the young monk Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to a church door in Wittenberg, Germany, and kicked off the movement that would become the Protestant Reformation. The theological disputes that followed have been well-documented over the centuries, but what the Reformation meant for the church’s witness in the midst of hunger and poverty is often forgotten. In this series leading up to October 31, 2017, we will take a deeper look at the Reformation’s importance for the church’s social ministry – and the important work to which people of faith are called by the gospel.

Each day, we’ll look at a different quote, counting down to the 500^th Anniversary. This week, we start with a familiar but pithy gem from Martin Luther’s Small Catechism.

#10 – “I believe that God has made me and all creatures; that He has given me my body and soul, eyes, ears, and all my members, my reason and all my senses, and still takes care of them. He also gives me clothing and shoes, food and drink, house and home, wife and children, land, animals, and all I have. He richly and daily provides me with all that I need to support this body and life.”

This affirmation comes to us from Luther’s explanation of the First Article of the Apostle’s Creed: “I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth.” The aptly named Small and Large Catechisms were written by Luther as guides for teaching Christians about certain aspects of their faith. Luther saw a great deal of confusion about the Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, and the Commandments, especially as more folks moved away from Roman Catholicism. He published the catechisms to help them understand some of the basic contours of this emerging Protestant faith. The writings in them were so popular and well-accepted that they eventually became part of the Book of Concord, the traditional authoritative text for Lutherans.

The catechisms are meant to be informative for preachers, pastors, and laypeople, and were used both in formal education and in homes. Each commandment and article of the Lord’s Prayer and the Creed are explained by Luther with allusions to scripture and to real-life situations.

In this explanation of the First Article of the creed, Luther lays out a basic tenet of faith: all good things come from God. Unlike some earlier forms of Christianity that believed the material world was evil, or that being holy meant separating oneself from daily life, Luther believed that all creation testified to God’s grace and God’s intention for our well-being. The life of faith is not a life lived separate from the world but rather was lived immersed in the world, enjoying the fruits of God’s creation and working to ensure that others can enjoy them, as well.

What Does This Mean?

For Luther, food, clothing, shelter, family, and all that we have are gifts of God. Thus, the first lesson to be drawn from this is our dependence on God for our well-being. This factors into Luther’s teachings in other places, particularly when it comes to our behavior in an economic community. Rather than treat our possessions as solely our own or principally as the fruit of our own labors, Christians are called to see all that we have as gifts from a loving God—and to use them as such.

This places some radical limits on how we use our possessions. The sort of greedy acquisitiveness that can cause us to act selfishly or to “boast” in our own wealth, for Luther, is a denial of our dependence on God. Drawing on Christian thought that stretches back at least to Clement of Alexandria in the 2^nd Century (and probably much further!), Luther believed that we hold our possessions as stewards and not as full owners. This lays the groundwork for his later claims that Christians are duty-bound to share their goods with others in need.

This also points to a key nuance in Lutheran theology. Just because these things are gifts from God does not mean that those who lack food, clothing, shelter, or family are not blessed by God’s grace. Unlike the popular prosperity gospel preachers today, who teach that God rewards good people with wealth, Luther believed that these gifts are given indiscriminately. Inequity, if it exists, is not part of God’s “plan,” but rather evidence of failed stewardship by humans. Poverty, then, may be a sign of the sin of poor stewardship, rather than a punishment of God.

The other lesson this portion of the Catechism teaches is the expansive role of grace in our world. For Luther, the world is not formed in scarcity. People of faith don’t start from the premise of what the world lacks—though faith also means being honest about the deep need around us. Instead, faith begins from the notion that God has gifted the world abundantly, that grace is in evidence all around us as the foundational principle of existence. It’s grace, all the way down.

So what?

When it comes to the church’s ministries among people in poverty and hunger, there is much to lean on here. First, part of what it means to be human is to recognize our dependence. This balances claims to self-sufficiency. None of us is fully independent or self-sufficient. At the root, we are all dependent on God.

Second, people of faith are called to be good stewards and to remember from whom their possessions came. Ultimately, the food we eat, the clothes we wear and the comforts we enjoy are not products of our own doing, but rather gifts from God. This helps us put our stewardship of our material resources and of our personal relationships in a different light. How do I use my possessions differently, if I recognize them as God’s? How do I tend my personal relationships differently, if I see each of them as a gift from God?

Lastly, Luther reminds us that the basic fact of all existence is grace. We live by grace, are sustained by grace, and are saved by grace. This means that beginning with abundance – looking for those places where grace may reveal itself – is an important way to witness to our faith. It’s easy in the midst of hunger to focus on need or lack. The harder and more important step, though, is to recall continually the great gifts with which God has endowed every community. This includes the gifts of “reason and the senses,” those mental and emotional faculties that help us discern solutions to seemingly intractable problems. Faith in “God the father almighty, maker of heaven and earth” is a faith that calls us to look for the assets our community can bring to the table, even as we are honest about our needs.

 

Large, multinational corporations controlling prices and driving down wages, masses of people too poor to afford basic goods, an economy that favors the wealthy, politicians and church leaders at the mercy of banks….1517 was quite a year!  So much has changed, so much remains the same.

Many people remember Martin Luther’s sharp critique of the abusive practices of the church, but few of us are as familiar with Luther’s equally sharp critique of the abusive economy of his day, an economy that made a few people wealthy and a lot of people poor.

At the 2015 “Forgotten Luther” conference in Washington, DC, theologians and historians shared this little-known side of Luther’s teachings.  The presenters described Luther’s critique of monopolies, price gouging, and greed. They showed the clear economic teachings in Luther’s Catechisms and the political side of his theology. They also shared Luther’s insistence that the church be part of the solution to injustice, a heritage that can still be seen today in the many ways Lutherans respond to poverty and hunger 500 years later.

ELCA World Hunger is proud to offer for free videos of each presentation from this important conference, as well as video interviews with each of the presenters. You can find all of the videos on the ELCA’s Vimeo channel at https://vimeo.com/album/4043021. The presentations were also collected into a short book, complete with discussion questions and other contributions from the conference organizers. You can purchase the book for only $15 from Lutheran University Press at http://www.lutheranupress.org/Books/Forgotten_Luther.

Here on the ELCA World Hunger blog this month, we will feature some highlights from this collection of resources.

In this final excerpt from the video series, Dr. Jon Pahl of the Lutheran School of Theology at Philadelphia contrasts the devastating consequences of self-serving greed with the joy that can be found in working together toward a world in which all are fed – and how congregations, organizations, and partnerships can get us there. Find this video and more at https://vimeo.com/album/4043021.

 

Large, multinational corporations controlling prices and driving down wages, masses of people too poor to afford basic goods, an economy that favors the wealthy, politicians and church leaders at the mercy of banks….1517 was quite a year!  So much has changed, so much remains the same.

Many people remember Martin Luther’s sharp critique of the abusive practices of the church, but few of us are as familiar with Luther’s equally sharp critique of the abusive economy of his day, an economy that made a few people wealthy and a lot of people poor.

At the 2015 “Forgotten Luther” conference in Washington, DC, theologians and historians shared this little-known side of Luther’s teachings.  The presenters described Luther’s critique of monopolies, price gouging, and greed. They showed the clear economic teachings in Luther’s Catechisms and the political side of his theology. They also shared Luther’s insistence that the church be part of the solution to injustice, a heritage that can still be seen today in the many ways Lutherans respond to poverty and hunger 500 years later.

ELCA World Hunger is proud to offer for free videos of each presentation from this important conference, as well as video interviews with each of the presenters. You can find all of the videos on the ELCA’s Vimeo channel at https://vimeo.com/album/4043021. The presentations were also collected into a short book, complete with discussion questions and other contributions from the conference organizers. You can purchase the book for only $15 from Lutheran University Press at http://www.lutheranupress.org/Books/Forgotten_Luther.

Here on the ELCA World Hunger blog this month, we will feature some highlights from this collection of resources.

In this interview, Dr. Cynthia Moe-Lobeda from Pacific Lutheran Theological Seminary talks about her personal journey as an advocate for justice and the importance of seeing the well-being of the neighbor, including economic well-being, as a matter of faith. Find this video and more at https://vimeo.com/album/4043021.