Reformation Day: October 31, 2004.

Jeremiah 31:31-34

Psalm 46

Romans 3:19-28

John 8:31-36

A new covenant, not like the old one! A new church, not like the old one? Reformation Sunday is a festive day of red, a day we honor not only the reformers of the sixteenth century but the re-forming of the church up to the present day and on into the future, guided by the fire of the Holy Spirit. Much has been realized; much remains to be faithfully discerned and accomplished.

These words from the book of Jeremiah are certainly its high point. Believed to have been written after the exile, when (or after) the prophet remained in Jerusalem to help the remnant rebuild, they are powerful words of prophecy and of hope. Our text is set near the end of The Book of Consolation, a collection of prose and poetic oracles in chapters 30 and 31, which proclaim restoration and salvation for Israel and Judah alike. Woven throughout are the sins and hurts of the people, punctuated by their cries. Intertwined are evidences of the wrath and punishment of the LORD, right alongside the promises of the compassionate God to be faithful and to restore the people and directions on how to rejoice when that is accomplished.

"Thus says the LORD." Ten times we hear this call to attention, leading up to the text about the new covenant. Unlike the previous covenants with Noah, Abram, Abraham's descendents, and David, this covenant cannot be broken, because it will not be based on the law. People will not have to teach one another or to know right from wrong. The new covenant will not include rituals or sacrifices; the LORD will put it in our human flesh and blood, will write it directly on the hearts of the people. All the people will belong to God, and God will know their sin no longer.

Sins forgiven and forgotten--Here we have the definitive prophecy, then the ultimate gift, given through the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Through Christ's flesh, the covenant is written on our flesh. By Christ's promise and presence, we taste the covenant at the table, we taste the forgiveness on our tongues. Oh, but we're getting ahead of our ourselves....

Before the celebration of the Eucharist, we chant together the majestic Psalm 46, "God is our refuge and strength," from which Martin Luther wrote "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God." Filled with images of God's saving power triumphing over the forces of change and chaos, of war and desolation, the psalmist provides wonderful respite. We find comfort in streams which make glad the city of God; we feel the waters of the river of life washing blessings over us; we rejoice that God will help the city at morning's light; we find the ultimate rest in the stillness of God's perfection and God's covenant relationship with God's people, "Be still, and know that I am God!" Peace and quiet in God is the extreme opposite of human fear. Death, sickness, the nation at war, or the congregation in conflict; no matter what the trials, we can be certain of God's love and eternal protection, for God has written the covenant on our hearts. We know that we belong to God, we are God's chosen people.

The second reading is one of the famous passages from Romans about faith and about God's righteousness. This concept may seem second nature to us, even if we sometimes struggle with Paul's rhetoric or arguments. To them this was brand new, Faith 101. Talk about changes happening in our church, or in the church in Martin Luther's day, the early Christians were used to rituals and sacrifices that kept them right with God. There had been rules to follow and centuries of waiting to be endured until God would send a savior.

(Note that there are Old Testament references to faith and to the failure of the law to justify. Remember our text from Habakkuk 2:4 the first week of September, "The righteous live by faith"? Psalm 143:1-2 also speaks of our inability to earn justification with our works, "Hear my prayer, OLORD ... answer me in your righteousness. Do not enter into judgment with your servant, for no one living is righteous before you.")

But now the promised Savior had been sent. He had been given in life, and then in death, and after three days he had risen from the grave. On that third day the law had lost all of its power to save. It served only to identify sins and to make us painfully aware of our inabilities and failures to be in right relationship with God by our own reason or strength. Only Christ's sacrifice, once and for all, is effective, and only through faith.

One final thought about this second reading and how it underscores, by contrast, the texts proclaimed earlier this month. Verse 28 concludes this pericope, "For we hold that a person is justified by faith apart from works prescribed by the law." Perhaps works are necessary, but we will surely not find our righteousness in or near them. Apart from in this context teaches us that works and righteousness are at opposite ends of the spectrum, like the master and the slave (Luke 17:7), the lepers and their community (17:12), the unjust judge and the persistent widow (18:2), and the Pharisee and the tax collector (18:11-13). All of these begin diametrically opposed, and Jesus brings them together in healing, love, and justice through the power of faith, the gift of God.

As we close the door on October and move to this year's final weeks, Martin Luther and the doors of the Castle Church in Wittenberg come to mind. When I visited there the September before 9/11, the doors were under construction, a project whose goal was to commemorate in a permanent way the 95 Theses that may have been posted on them back in 1517. Those doors opened the way out of worthless indulgence purchases into belief in salvation through faith. Think of all the other doors to celebrate today. Jesus is the door out of slavery into freedom, the eternal door out of sin into truth and permanent sonship. The Rite of Confirmation being celebrated in many congregations today is the door out of childhood into affirmation of faith.

And there are the doors of Transfiguration Lutheran Church on the corner of East 156th Street and Prospect Avenue in the South Bronx. In Breathing Space: A Spiritual Journey in the South Bronx (Beacon Press, 2003), Heidi B. Neumark describes a wasteland of a city literally and figuratively dumped on and then deserted by its government, a place where the "intense concentration of overcrowded housing and poverty that resulted led to increased crime, drug use and gang violence" (p. 5). It is a place where God is working, so that church doors, once bolted and daily covered with crude graffiti, are now "spray-painted with a bright mural [that] shows an open fire hydrant with water splashing down into a baptismal font. Water brims and spills from the bowl onto the grass below as new buildings rise up from the sidewalk. An arm reaches out from the altar, with bread to place on a plateful of food--turkey, greens, and rice for the hungry" (p. 3).

Doors under construction, doors swinging wide, doors opening to new pathways in faith and truth; may the Holy Spirit continue her reforming and renewing work among us all forever and ever. Amen RKB