“In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain.”

(Isaiah 40:3-4)

A voice cries out in the wilderness, “Prepare the way of the Lord!”

What does baptism look like in your congregation? How is it celebrated? What rites are practiced? Without consulting an official survey, it’s probably a safe bet that most baptisms don’t involve camelhair vestments, locusts during the after-service meal, or much crying out (except, perhaps, for an infant who just got doused).

Perhaps this wasn’t even what most folks reading Isaiah envisioned when they first encountered John the Baptist, the strange messenger assembling a following from “the whole Judean countryside” (Mark 1:5). But the Gospel makes clear the link between John and the one prophesied in Isaiah, the one who would announce the coming of God’s salvation in the form of the Messiah.

The voice crying out, the one Mark identifies as John the Baptist, “calls for a radical transformation of earthly topography in prelude to a mind-blowing revelation of the glory of the Lord to all people.”

The very natural landscape of the earth will be changed by the arrival of the One who is to come. The author of 2 Peter keeps up this theme, proclaiming that “the heavens will pass away with a loud noise, and the elements will be dissolved with fire, and the earth and everything that is done on it will be disclosed” on the day of the Lord (2 Peter 3:10).

The world is about to turn, mightily, and that transformation is coming.

Mark’s brief but powerful introduction to John the Baptist is a prelude to Jesus’ baptism and the beginning of his ministry. Voices crying out, the transformation of the earth proclaimed, and release to captive Jerusalem is announced (Isaiah 40:1). It is quite the scene!

So, again, the question – what does baptism look like in your congregation?

In baptism, we are made children of God, “sealed by the cross of Christ forever.” In the covenant of baptism, Lutherans believe we are claimed by the power of grace, gathered into community with one another, and send by God’s grace into the world. When we affirm our baptism, we affirm our identity as part of the body of Christ with a solemn vocation to:

• live among God’s faithful people;
• hear the word of God and share in the Lord’s Supper;
• proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed;
• serve all people, following the example of Jesus; and
• strive for justice and peace in all the earth.

In baptism, we are baptized into Jesus’ death and resurrection, but we are also baptized into the transformation of the world that God is enacting, a transformation that heralds “new heavens and a new earth” (2 Peter 3:13) in which “God’s glory may dwell in our land” (Psalm 85:9).

John’s pronouncement, drawing on Isaiah’s prophecy, is “comfort” to the people who wait with eager longing for redemption and a word of warning to their oppressors: the world is about to turn, make straight the paths.

Change is coming, and that right soon.

We, the people of God, are called to be part of that chance. In baptism, we are commissioned to increasingly live, hear, proclaim, serve and strive for the transformation of the world. As it was in Jesus’ time, the baptismal announcement today should be joyous news to those anxiously awaiting transformation and terrible news for those who would perpetuate an oppressive and unjust status quo.

What would it look like for the pronouncement of Isaiah and John the Baptist to shape our own practices of baptism, to see the sacrament as the sacred calling, gathering and sending of one who will be part of the very transformation of the world? “I introduce you to the newest member of the body of Christ!” would be words that would shake the foundations of community, for they would announce the re-birth of a person into the work of God “who is turning the world around!”

Reflection questions

1. How can our celebration of baptism better reflect the commissioning of new Christians to be part of God’s transformation of the world? How does our celebration of baptism already do this?
2. What voices do we hear “crying out” today, declaring the need for the transformation of the world? What “voices crying out” today do we hear proclaiming the transformation of the world?
3. Re-read the baptismal covenant quoted above. What do each of these commitments mean to you? How do you live them out in your life?

Prayer

Gracious God, in baptism, you welcome us to fellowship with you and claim us as your own. Give us strength and courage to live our baptismal vocation as a sign of hope to all who await the fullness of your reign. Open our eyes and hearts to see your hands at work in our world, reconciling all creation to you. In the name of your son, Jesus Christ, into whose death and resurrection we are baptized. Amen.

Hymn suggestions

There’s a Voice in the Wilderness ELW 255

Prepare the Royal Highway ELW 264

I’m Going on a Journey ELW446

To download this entire study, or to see some of our other congregational resources, please visit www.elca.org/Resources/ELCA-World-Hunger.

Advent is a season of hope and expectation. It is a season in which we “prepare the way of the Lord” (Mark 1:3). Advent candles, wreaths and calendars are joined with as-yet unfinished nativity scenes to mark our preparations for the birth of Jesus Christ. This year, ELCA World Hunger’s Advent Study celebrates this season with reflections focused on the preparation of the people of God for the work of the new year – the work of feeding, clothing, accompanying and advocating with our neighbors for a just world in which all are fed.

The four sessions of this Advent Study and the accompanying Advent calendar are based on the Scripture readings for each week of Advent. Each week includes a meditation on the theme, reflection questions, a prayer and hymn suggestions.

May you, your family and your community be blessed this season to see the important role the people of God are called to play in God’s transformation of the world – as individuals, as families and as the church together.

We begin at the end, and we will end at the beginning. What an odd way to go through Advent! We enter this season of expectation of Jesus’ birth and the advent of his ministry, only to start by hearing the words of Jesus describing the end of days. In a few weeks, we will celebrate the beginning of Jesus’ incarnate life among us.

We begin at the end, and we will end at the beginning.

The heavy thumb of Roman rule, high taxes and widespread vulnerability to poverty were all part of everyday life in first century Palestine. The people among whom Jesus would be born were eager for the Messiah who would deliver them. And there was no shortage of “false messiahs” (Mark 13:22) claiming to offer salvation. Some promised military victory over the Romans. Others claimed gifts of magical power and prophesied re-taking the temple.

And yet, here, in the Gospel of Mark, the true Messiah comes offering a very different story. The people of God will not ride triumphantly into Jerusalem – they will “flee to the mountains” (13:14). They will not re-take Jerusalem and its temple – “all will be thrown down” (13:2b).

But “after that suffering” (13:24)…

In the end…

Of all the Gospels, Mark is perhaps the most honest about suffering. Facing persecution at the hands of Rome, early Christians needed a message that was honest about suffering. More than that, they needed to know that God was honest about their suffering. In Mark, Jesus does not hold back in naming that suffering. The Messiah is born into suffering. The people will face suffering. He himself will suffer.

This wasn’t a newsflash to first century Jews any more than it is to the millions of people today for whom suffering is a mournful part of life – those who know the pangs of food insecurity, those who long for clean water, those who grieve the loss of their homes or their jobs. The idea that suffering is a part of life is sadly nothing new to so many of us. But Jesus makes clear two things that transform how we understand suffering. First, God knows our suffering. And, second – God rejects it.

The “great buildings” (13:2) in Jerusalem, which occasioned the beginning of Jesus’ long speech in Mark 13, were not merely beautiful examples of architecture. They were symbols of the powers and principalities that maintained systems of oppression and marginalization and would eventually carry Jesus to the cross. They seem imperishable, unshakable, overwhelming.

But the world is about to turn. And those walls are coming down.

Advent is a season of hope and expectation, but with Jesus’ exhortation in Mark 13:33 (“Beware, keep alert”), we move from “Advent as anticipation” to “Advent as active alert.” As we await the birth of the Messiah, let Advent be a season not of patience but impatience, not of passivity but activity, seeking out those places where God is already at work undoing systems of suffering and living in the daring confidence founded on faith in the promised end of suffering, sin and death.

Reflection questions

1. How has God been present with you in your suffering?
2. Where do you see suffering in the world today? How are people of faith actively working to end it?
3. As people of faith who believe God rejects suffering, how are we called to respond to suffering in the world?
4. What is the difference between patient anticipation and being on “active alert” during Advent?

Prayer

Loving God, in your incarnation, you took on to yourself our humanity and our suffering. Be present with us today as we face the pain of hunger, thirst, war, disease and neglect. Keep fresh in our hearts your promise of an end to suffering and an eternity of well-being with you. Send us out among our neighbors, that we may share with them your promise and share with you in the transformation of our world. In the name of your son, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Hymn suggestions

Canticle of the Turning ELW 723

The People Walk (Un pueblo que camina) ELW 706

Each Winter as the Year Grows Older ELW 252

To download this entire study, or to see some of our other congregational resources, please visit www.elca.org/Resources/ELCA-World-Hunger.

December 1 is World AIDS Day, an important time to learn, advocate, and pray. It is a time to celebrate how far we have come in the fight against HIV and AIDS – and how far we have yet to go.

This September, six ELCA Young Adult delegates, supported by ELCA World Hunger and Lutheran Campus Ministries, attended the United States Conference on AIDS (USCA) in Washington, DC. The USCA is a key event for activists, medical professionals, non-profits organizations and others to learn about the latest challenges and opportunities in the fight against HIV and AIDS. ELCA delegates heard from leaders in a variety of fields and engaged in conversations around connections with their faith. Below, Yen Tran and Richard Adkins, attendees at this year’s conference, share their reflections on the event.

ELCA staff and delegates at the United States Conference on AIDS

Richard Adkins – “The stigma is real”

Richard Adkins has over 10 years experience involved in HIV and AIDS. He has led numerous workshops around stigma reduction. He has been a member of the ELCA’s Young Adult cohort, an ambassador for ELCA World Hunger, and a youth delegate for the 2014 International Aids Conference.  

One of the most dangerous obstacles in the fight against HIV and AIDS is stigma.  Yes stigma. The medical treatment of the disease has come a long way and HIV is no longer the death sentence it was in the early 1980s. In fact, the United States Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) recently agreed with the science from the U = U campaign, that if a person is on treatment and virally suppressed, they cannot transmit the virus. The medical community has provided the knowledge and treatment to keep people alive and reduce the spread of HIV.

Antiretroviral therapy (ART) preserves the health of people living with HIV…When ART results in viral suppression…it prevents sexual HIV transmission. CDC, 2017

Despite these medical advances, the rate of annual infections only decreased 10% in 2014.  What is the reason? Stigma.

Stigma is a mark of disgrace associated with a particular circumstance, quality, or persons. The stigma surrounding HIV is unique in that part of it comes from the history. In the early 1980s and 1990s, people were dying, little could be done, and little information was known about the disease. The stigma also comes from how it’s transmitted, through injection drug use and through bodily fluids exchange through sex, both highly taboo subjects. The population that HIV disproportionally affects are gay males and people of color, so HIV is further stigmatized through homophobia and racism. There is an intersectionality of stigma experienced that can be made worse by race, class, sexual orientation, gender identity and/or other factors.

The cycle of stigma is a vicious one that can reinforce negative beliefs and behavior. HIV stigma leads to discrimination, which can affect the ability of people living with HIV to find work or housing, which in turns contribute to a lower self-esteem. This can even cause a person to avoid doctor’s appointments, which leads to poorer health outcomes and more stigma. The stigma is then reinforced through negative or false beliefs or even stigma from enacted laws. The end result of stigma is that fewer people get tested, and those living with the virus live in secrecy and silence.

If stigma feeds on shame and isolation, the key to overcoming stigma, is community and understanding.  It starts with information, knowing how the virus is transmitted and how it is not. The next step is acknowledging HIV. The United States currently ranks 9th for most people living with HIV at 1.1 million people. These are people in our communities, in the same neighborhoods, attending our faith communities, the same schools. They are often in the shadows for fear of not being accepted and of facing discrimination. Ending stigma means seeing people for more than their status, and creating a safe and welcoming environment for all.

Yen Tran – “We Are Family”

Yen Tran is a Public Health Professional. She implements sustainable practices and promotes healthy living environments for the St. Paul Public Housing Agency in Minnesota. She enjoys collaborating with diverse populations, who have a common mission to flourishing equitable communities. Yen resides in Wisconsin with her partner, who is an ELCA Pastor for North Beaver Creek Church.

This upbeat, make-you-want-to-groove song by Sister Sledge, was played continually throughout the U.S. Conference on AIDS. Community members from across the country have united for more than two decades now at these important events. The annual frequency has transformed the gathering into something like a “family reunion.” A time to catch up with familiar faces, welcome new arrivals, to share and listen to numerous stories of triumphs, challenges, and hopes, and to be re-energized in the mission to end to this HIV and AIDS epidemic.

Reunions of any sorts always stir a spectrum of emotions. Whether it’s feeling excited to reconnect with distant friends or feeling dreadful to encounter new faces or re-encounter a particular person who drove you to the edge. During the reunion, I experienced both ends of the spectrum. I felt nervous, excited, amazed, saddened, disappointed, hopeful, empowered, and many times, hangry when I didn’t get a snack in between the workshops. However, at the end of this particular reunion, I felt overwhelmed with love and filled with inspiration.

As a Midwestern, first-generation, Asian-American, Catholic, cisgender, ‘negative-status’ person, I was welcomed open-armed into this diverse family. I felt privileged to be trusted and to hear personal struggles of how the social, environmental, and political systems have hurt or failed to protect the most vulnerable populations. I saw how various determinants of health, such as education, economic stability, society, access to health care, and the physical environment, have tremendously impacted a persons’ mental and physical well-being. Though there were many lessons I learned from the stories shared, but these three facts have blown me away:

1. There has been immense progress in medicine (like PrEP[1]) to help a positive-status person prevent the transmission to their partner(s), and innovative technology has improved access to health centers and resources.

2. Social stigma has been one of the primary culprits in hindering the end to the HIV and AIDS epidemic.

3. There are unjust laws that have incarcerated many populations based on their health status. Policies need to be re-evaluated, adapted, and implemented to prevent and address inequities.

Overall, the conference created a sanctuary, an environment that was inclusive and encouraged all voices to be heard. A community where I felt so at home. It would be wishful thinking that all communities – schools, workplaces, spiritual centers, healthcare clinics, public centers, etc. – can be just as inviting and supportive. I know not every community (and not every families) may have similar priorities, support systems, resources, values, and policies that may promote such environments.

However, we are equipped to learn open-mindedly, to love unconditionally and to listen humbly to diverse perspectives. We can set aside our differences or claimed identities and realize that we are not perfect human beings. We do wish to do good, to be valued and for our voices to be heard. Most importantly, we have the ability to unite as a family and to uplift each other.

The missions to end epidemics, stigmas, and inequities are attainable:

Here’s what we call our golden rule

Have faith in you and the things you do

You won’t go wrong, oh no,

This is our family jewel….

WE ARE FAMILY!

Yen and Richard at USCA

[1] https://www.cdc.gov/hiv/basics/prep.html

• Called to biblical and theological reflection in community
• Called to effective prevention, treatment, and care
• Called to eradicate stigma and discrimination
• Called to walk with companion churches and partners in other countries
• Called to advocate for justice
• Called to build institutional capacity and make strategic choices

The ELCA and each of its members have the opportunity to speak out powerfully against all forms of stigma, discrimination and systemic inequality. Together, we can be affirming communities and engage in open conversations. Collectively, we can raise our voices in advocating for just policies. And as a community of faith, we can begin in worship and prayer.

Coming together on Dec. 1st, or at our usual worship times on Sunday, Dec. 3rd, we join our neighbors around the world as we honor all who have lost their lives to AIDS-related illnesses; we seek encouragement to take bold action; we rejoice in scientific advances in effective prevention, treatment and care; and we are sent out in peace, freed to act.

As we gather this World AIDS Day, remember that on this and every day, we are called to respond.

You can find ELCA Worship resources here. The full ELCA Strategy on HIV and AIDS, along with other resources for World AIDS Day can be found here. You can also stay connected with the ELCA’s Strategy on HIV and AIDS on social media @ELCAHIVandAIDS, and can share what your congregation is planning for World AIDS Day 2017.

We thank you that by the life-giving power of your spirit you bestowed upon us, your people, such gifts as are needed to respond to the situation at hand. Pour on us all that we need to stop AIDS and reach out to everyone affected with compassion, healing and hope.

May we know your call to be leaders in this struggle and employ the courage, wisdom and resources you have given to respond to HIV and AIDS.

Many folks passionate about hunger issues are familiar with Shannon Jung’s work. He has written extensively on the topics of food and eating from a faith-based perspective. His books include Food for Life: The Spirituality and Ethics of Eating (2004), Sharing Food: Christian Practices for Enjoyment (2006), and Hunger and Happiness: Feeding the Hungry, Nourishing Our Souls (2009). In addition to his perceptive writing on these topics, Dr. Jung is a Presbyterian pastor and professor who has taught at Concordia College (Moorhead, Minn.) and Wartburg Theological Seminary (Dubuque, Iowa) as well as Dubuque Seminary and Saint Paul School of Theology. Below, Jung introduces us to his newest book, Building the Good Life for All: Transforming Income Inequality in Our Communities, available this year from Westminster/John Knox.

We hear a lot about the gap between the economically secure and those just getting by. What we wonder is, “How can we transform this gap in our communities?” We know that this is the sort of neighborliness Christ commended. But still the question: How can we build the good life for all?

Sometimes that neighbor is working hard to get by but seems to be falling behind and going further into debt. Many times, a single expense (doctor’s bill, car accident) will shatter a tight budget and force a family to choose between food or medicine or a house payment. “Getting by” can often be a pretty precarious way to live.

We see the devastation that natural disasters can wreak on vulnerable communities. Yet the income inequality we see now can leave communities vulnerable as well – to hunger, poverty, homelessness, and disease. What can we do about this?

In this new book, Building the Good Life for All: Transforming Income Inequality in Our Communities, the focus in on those who are working but find themselves struggling to get by, including those whose income already leaves them living in poverty.

As I contended in Hunger and Happiness: Feeding the Hungry, Nourishing our Souls, I argue here that our own happiness depends not on the quantity of goods we have stored up, but rather on our efforts to eliminate hunger and to ensure that all have access to the resources for a “good life”. Indeed, our own flourishing is tied into the flourishing of our neighbor. Thus, alleviating suffering and enabling long-term well-being is spiritually uplifting for the receiver, but even more so for the giver.

Building the Good Life for All maintains that our work at enabling all our neighbors to enjoy a good life will enrich our spiritual life. We are interdependent. God creates us like that. Striving to empower all people to have a sufficient and secure life–free from hunger and want–is one step towards recovering what God intended for the world.

This isn’t an attempt to harangue Christians into “doing more.” Instead, the book moves by way of stories from one strategy to another. People and churches are already working to feed the hungry and clothe the naked. They are also engaging in efforts to help people develop skills and abilities that will enable them to feed and clothe themselves. So, what the body of the book contends is that this effort is already underway and that Christians could enrich themselves by joining them or initiating similar efforts in their communities.

The beginning focus is on the specific community of Manatee and Sarasota counties in Florida, but many of the efforts there (advocacy, food pantries, tutoring programs, congregational-based community organizations) have branches around the country. So, the question is, “What fits your community?” There will be other similar efforts in your community. Many of the chapters in the book focus on one of four strategies:

1. Relief: This is the sort of program that a crisis like a hurricane calls for–feeding the hungry, finding clean water for the thirsty, making sure people are free from illness.
2. Self-Development: Here, churches can come alongside the working class and poor to assist them to learn English, to learn household management, to develop job skills, to get a job or to get a better job. People are thus able to feed themselves.
3. Public opinion formation: The church’s hunger ministries are efforts to shape public opinion in such a way as to see hunger as a scandal in the land of the free.
4. Public policy advocacy: This is the sort of work that ELCA Advocacy does with its partners, including Bread for the World, to influence legislation that will guarantee an income floor for all people and to support the rights of workers. It also includes such efforts as Fight for Fifteen – the movement to raise the minimum wage, and working to make affordable housing more accessible.

I strongly hope this book will be used by adult Christian education groups in churches. Each chapter has a list of discussion questions to spark conversation, and the last chapter encourages churches to develop or extend their own work. It is helpful that the operating assumption is that churches and other organizations are already doing this and the encouragement is to develop efforts that fit one’s own context.

In addition to the discussion questions in the book, there will be a video series to accompany the text, to help facilitate use by congregations.  Building the Good Life for All: Transforming Income Inequality in Our Communities is now available on sale from the Presbyterian Church (USA) store at https://www.pcusastore.com/Products/0664263186/building-the-good-life-for-all.aspx.

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.)

An early Christian fresco of the agape feast, from the Catacombs of Saint Peter and Marcellinus, Rome.

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.”

Now available under “Woke” in the cross-stitch aisle.

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.

Today, our two quotes highlight Luther’s understanding of Jesus Christ. At first glance, they might seem contrary to each other. But as we’ll see below, they reveal Luther’s complex understanding. If  you are interested in learning more about Luther’s teachings below, keep an eye out for ELCA World Hunger’s 2018 Lenten study, “Faces of Christ,” coming soon!

Fun fact: The name “Lutheran” was first used in a derogatory way by Johann Eck in 1519 to describe the “heresy” of Luther’s teachings.

#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…”

#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.”

Quote #5 comes from Luther’s famous treatise, “The Freedom of a Christian” (also sometimes called “On Christian Liberty.”) The second comes from his commentary on the Gospel of John. Together, they present two different ways of understanding Jesus and our relationship to him. In the first, the Christian is meant to represent or reveal Christ to the neighbor. In the second, the neighbor in need – the one facing hunger or poverty – represents or reveals Christ to the Christian. Luther didn’t see a contradiction here, even though there seems to be a subtle, yet important, difference. Luther saw these representations as related.

What Does This Mean?

The two quotes reveal different sides of the relationship between Christ, the Christian, and the neighbor. Luther believed that Christians should imitate Jesus in service to their neighbors. In fact, he compared true Christians to “little Christs,” acting out of love in service to their neighbors. Second, Luther believed that Christ was revealed in the neighbor, especially the most vulnerable neighbors – those facing poverty, disease, or hunger. Christians are called to both “be” like Christ and to look for Christ in others.

The first aspect reaches back to a previous blog in this series, where we saw that authentic Christian freedom is freedom for service of the neighbor. There is a reciprocity expected of people saved by grace: as we have been saved by God’s grace, so, too, are we to act with mercy, love, and justice toward our neighbors, without thought to their merit. In this way, Luther believed, Christians are called to use Christ as the model in their relationships with neighbors. What is Christ like? Merciful, gracious, bold in service, selfless, and so on. The qualities Christ embodied in his action on behalf of humanity are the qualities Christians are to embody in their service of one another.

Of course, there is no sense in Luther that this is going to be a perfect representation. It’s not meant to be. Grace saves us, but it doesn’t make us perfect. But the hope is that by using our freedom in this way, we can reflect God working in and through us. This isn’t a saving act, and we have to keep that in mind. It isn’t about saving our neighbors. Christians aren’t “heroines.” But we are meant to be mirrors, reflecting the grace that animates our world and works good through us. By imitating Christ, we participate in the revelation of grace in our world.

On the other hand, Christians are called not just to reflect God’s grace but also to be on the look out for it. Luther had an honest view of the world. Certainly, there is sin and evil to confront and dismantle when possible. But the world was also filled with grace and marked by the work of God. Anticipating more modern perspectives on Christian service, Luther saw the neighbor not merely as the object of a Christian’s good works but also as a revelation of Christ in the world. As much as Christians are called to “love and serve” the neighbor, so too, are they called to see the face of Christ within the neighbor.

This was particularly true of the neighbor in need. As his commentary on John suggests, Luther believed that, since God chose to come “in the guise of a poor beggar” in the incarnation, God continues to be revealed wherever people are in need.

In one of his lesser-known Christmas sermons, Luther captures this in an allegory of Jesus in the manger:

But what it is to find Christ in such poverty, and what his swaddling clothes and manger signify, are explained in the previous Gospel; that his poverty teaches how we should find him in our neighbors, the lowliest and the most needy; [and] that in actual life we should incline to the needy…

This is a striking step away from earlier interpretations in Christianity, which portrayed people in need merely as objects of Christian charity. (I’m thinking of you, Shepherd of Hermas.) Instead, what we find in Luther’s writings is the belief that Christians seek Christ among their neighbors, especially in their moments of need.

So, what?

Luther’s twinned understanding of Christ offers some insights to us today. Clearly, there is a distinct call to imitate Christ in service to the neighbor. Following Christ means more than imitating him in private devotion to God; it means taking Christ as the model for our relationships with our neighbors.

More than this, though, as Christians pursue service and love of neighbor, we are likewise called to see our neighbors as participants in the revelation of God. This is very different from approaching service as if the ones doing the service are the ones “bringing God” to people in need. Rather, for Luther, it is the neighbor in need who can reveal Christ to the one doing the service.

This speaks to the model of accompaniment that shapes the ministries of ELCA World Hunger. In accompanying our neighbors, we remain open to the presence of God in and among those whom we encounter. This fosters mutuality and openness to one another, forming service as a relationship with rather than a doing for. It dismantles models of ministry rooted in one-sided help and reshapes ministry as building the mutual relationships through which both giver and receiver participate in the revelation of God to each other and to the world.

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.

Obviously, the Reformation was more than just Martin Luther. So, today, we are looking at a quote from another great Reformer, Andreas Bodenstein von Karlstadt, with thanks to the eminent Reformation historian Carter Lindberg, for lifting up this important figure in his book Beyond Charity: Reformation Initiatives for the Poor. Quotes from Karlstadt in this post are from Lindberg’s book and earlier translation.

#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 was born in Karlstadt around 1480. He came to be known more commonly by the city of his birth, Karlstadt.  A theologian by training, Karlstadt became dean of the theology faculty at Wittenberg in 1512, five years before Luther posted the 95 Theses. In 1516, he became familiar with Luther’s teachings in a debate in which Karlstadt argued against a student supporting Luther’s views. Over time, though, he came to embrace many of Luther’s reforms, becoming one of the first priests to get married. It didn’t all go smoothly, though, and Luther and Karlstadt often disagreed.

Karlstadt was officially excommunicated from the Catholic Church in 1520, along with Luther. He spent most of his remaining decades moving from place-to-place, at times preaching and at times working as a farmer or merchant, in between regular bouts of disagreement with Luther and other reformers. In 1541, he died of the plague.

What Does This Mean?

Begging took at least two forms in Europe in the 1500s. First, there were folks who were poor by circumstance. These folks were unemployed, underemployed, or often, crippled by debt. In order to get the food they needed to survive and take care of their families, they sought the charity of their neighbors. Second, though, were various groups of mendicants, men and women who, as members of religious orders, took vows of poverty and were poor by choice. Mendicants relied on the charity of other Christians as they lived in and traveled through the towns of Europe.

Luther, Karlstadt, and other reformers had some major issues with the mendicants. Primarily, the difference was theological. The mendicant orders saw their chosen poverty as a good work that moved them along the path toward holiness. They then shared a piece of this holiness with other Christians through the charitable donations these other Christians made to them. For Luther and Karlstadt, though, this practice was, in Karlstadt’s words, “unchristian, fraudulent, and noxious” and ought to be banned.

Key to Karlstadt’s critique of the mendicants was his impression that the religious brotherhoods that practiced begging were deceiving people who were poor by circumstance. He argued that “they injure the poor with their demands for cheese, corn, bread, beer, wine and testament, and sorts of things.” Rather than work to earn their bread by their own labors, the mendicants, according to Karlstadt, were deceptively collecting it from people in poverty, who believed that their giving would merit God’s favor. Thus, both Luther and Karlstadt preached an end to begging and reserved special vitriol for the mendicants.

When it came to people who were poor by circumstance, however, the reformers were far more sympathetic. Knowing the tremendous economic challenges many in Europe faced at the time, Karlstadt and Luther urged the church to undertake coordinated efforts to address what we might call the root causes of poverty today – unemployment, medical care, debt, and lack of education. Beyond this, Karlstadt also argued that civil authorities bore responsibility toward people in poverty. Certainly, he argued, those who can work ought to work. But, he added, the civil authorities ought to “give them aid and help to begin their craft or work.”

We see in Karlstadt – and in Luther – an emphasis on addressing poverty at the root, as well as the need for a comprehensive response that included the church and the government in ending poverty and hunger.

This was nothing new at the time Karlstadt was writing (1522). In fact, right about this same time, the church in Wittenberg began the “common chest,” a literal chest that held donations to be used for poverty alleviation. In addition to the immediate relief needed to make sure people didn’t go to bed hungry, the chest was used to finance occupational retraining for people who were underemployed, no-interest loans to artisans, health care, and support for orphans. Luther wrote the preface to the ordinance establishing this first common chest and expressed his wholehearted support for the effort. Despite their many disagreements, he and Karlstadt at least concurred on this; in a city of Christians, there ought to be no begging because in a city of Christians, there ought to be no poverty.

So, what?

Karlstadt and Luther had to carefully distinguish between mendicants and people in poverty. Their distinction wasn’t based on who deserved charity and who did not, but rather based on the calling of the church and the tenets of Christian faith. Mendicant begging was rooted in the notion that charitable giving was meritorious, that humans could, by the effort of a few coins or loaves, curry God’s favor. Nothing could be further from the gospel truth, for the reformers. Serving the neighbor was not something a Christian did because it earned them a place in heaven. Rather, it was a response to God’s gift of salvation, extended to humanity despite our inability to earn it. No work, no matter how charitable, paves a path to the sweet hereafter.

However, that doesn’t mean that Christians have no vocation toward their neighbors. On the contrary, it made seeking the well-being of the neighbor that much more profound. Consider this: if we believe that the primary purpose of charity is to earn our salvation, and we can do this with just a few coins here and there, we are likely to engage in charity without much thought to the good of the neighbor. Our primary thought will be our own good, the good that comes from our action.

But, if we believe that our salvation is secured and that because of this, we respond to God’s call to love and serve the neighbor and to seek the neighbor’s well-being, we are drawn a bit deeper, into looking at the sources of their need. This is precisely the place Karlstadt and Luther went. What makes begging necessary for so many people? Their challenge to the church and to people of faith individually was to not merely respond to the suffering of their neighbors but to end it. And that means devising systematic approaches to ending poverty and hunger, including working with civil authorities, whose responsibilities included ensuring that everyone in their realm was fed and sheltered.

Karlstadt’s quote points to this profound take on poverty alleviation. Indeed, the Reformation itself has many similar examples to draw on. It hints, too, at questions we ought to ask about our responses to poverty today. Are we working to ensure, as Karlstadt suggested, that poverty should be eliminated such that there is no need for begging? Or, is our charity an attempt at currying the favor of God, without a thought to ending the suffering of our neighbors for good? Profound questions, still today.

Burial of Victims of the Plague in Tournai, 14th cent.

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.