Over five centuries ago, allegedly on 31 October 1517, the Reformation began. That day, a German priest, Martin Luther, sent his Ninety-Five Theses on the Power and Efficacy of Indulgences his to the Archbishop of Mainz. In these theses, Luther criticised the common practice of his fellow priests, who sold indulgences to their parishioners.
He also disputed the teaching of the church about purgatory (an intermediate state after death, before entering heaven or hell), and criticised the authority which had been claimed by the Pope. As a result, he was excommunicated by the Pope and condemned as an outlaw.
Actions from that time unleashed a series of protests and changes across the church. This Reformation led to the formation of numerous Reformed churches. The Uniting Church stands with these churches, as a Protestant church, an heir of the Reformation. Our forebears held firm to the belief that the church was always to be seeking renewal; that supreme authority rested in the Bible; that salvation was possible only because of God’s abundant grace.
As we recall this event, on Reformation Day (31 October), we might well ask: is it time for a new Reformation? Have we come to a point in time when we need to kick off the shackles of old traditions and practices? Is it time to set forth on a new venture, as the people of God, to protest what we have left behind, to reform ourselves once more?
There are some very clear pointers in this direction, I believe, within my own denomination, which is a relatively young (45 years old) denomination. In the Basis of Union, the foundational document for the Uniting Church, for instance, I can find 12 occurrences of words like “new, anew, reform or renew”, as well as one “fresh” and one “afresh”.
Para 1 declares that the three denominations which united in 1977 “remain open to constant REFORM under his Word” and affirms that “they look for a continuing RENEWAL in which God will use their common worship, witness and service to set forth the word of salvation for all people”.
Foundational theological affirmations about Jesus which are included in Para 3 reiterate this perspective: Jesus is “the beginning of a NEW creation, of a NEW humanity”, “a pledge and foretaste of that coming reconciliation and RENEWAL which is the end in view for the whole creation”, and “a representative beginning of a NEW order of righteousness and love”. Para 4 concludes with a similar affirmation, that “in his own strange way Christ constitutes, rules and RENEWS them as his Church.
Para 15 locates us in “a period of RECONSIDERATION of traditional forms of the ministry, and of RENEWED participation of all the people of God” in the various aspects of ministry. And since the Basis was written, we have renewed the Diaconate and invited ongoing experimentation with other forms of ministry (Lay Pastor, Community Minister and Youth Worker—all now ended, and taken up in the umbrella Ministry of Pastor).
In para 11, the church declared that it “prays that it may be ready when occasion demands to confess the Lord in FRESH words and deeds”. Para 15 enjoined the councils of the church to “enter a period of self-examination in which members are asked to consider AFRESH their common commitment to the Church’s mission and their demonstration of its unity”. All of these phrases point to a hope for ongoing renewal, refreshment, and revitalisation.
There’s one reference to “history”, but it is in the phrase “the CHANGES of history”, and three uses of “tradition”, one of which is in the phrase “a period of RECONSIDERATION of traditional forms of the ministry”. So these excerpts are oriented towards change and reform.
“Inheritance” pops up twice: once, “the inheritance of the Kingdom” (hardly an advocate for the status quo) and once in “the inheritance of literary, historical and scientific enquiry which has characterised recent centuries”, which promotes a sense of exploration and discovery.
Then, of course, there are the widely-known references to being a “pilgrim people” (once) who are “on the way” (twice). This imagery clearly points to the hope for still more reforming and renewing within the church.
The closing sentence in the opening paragraph of the Basis sets the horizons of openness to the future: the church “awaits with hope the day of the Lord Jesus Christ on which it will be clear that the kingdom of this world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of the Christ”. It is this openness to whatever the future will bring which is most clearly to characterise the Uniting Church.
I think the primary orientation is very clear: as people of the Uniting Church, we are oriented towards the future with hope, and we are called to work for a different future. We are people with an inheritance from the Reformation and with a calling to continue to reform the church.
A guest post from Geoff Dornan, for Reformation Sunday (31 October)
I want to do three things in this article. I want to ask three questions. First, what is the essence of Protestantism? Second, what is the connection between Protestantism’s essence and what is often understood to be itsbedrock doctrine: justification by grace through faith? Third, what does it mean to be Protestant in our contemporary world, entrenched as it currently is, in arbitrary unreason?
The essence of Protestantism and the Protestant Principle
I would make a bet that most Protestant Christians when asked what being Protestant is about, would answer, “not Catholic”. That was my experience as a child, when I saw that being Protestant carried an essentially negative identity: something that you were not. Creatures of history, we Anglo-Celtic Australiansin particular, read Protestant identity through a sectarian lens, in large part because of the Anglo-Irish conflict of our ancestors. But we need to be able to understand Protestant identity positively, for what it offers in modern times.
And so, to the first question: what is the essence of Protestantism? The answer is both simple and complex.The simple answer is this: protest. That should be no surprise. The word protest sits within the very term Protestant. For those who have a smattering of knowledge about the Reformation of the 16th century, you would know that this ethos of protest was triggered by the practice of indulgences in the then sole western Church, the Catholic Church.
Indulgences were an expression of late medieval piety and ‘coincidentally’, a “nice little earner” for the Church, not to mention a few colourful personalities among the leadership. For example, in 1517, an indulgence to fund the rebuilding of St Peter’s Basilica in Rome – one that promised lavish spiritual benefits for the subscribers – was marketed especially successfully in Saxony by papal “pardoners”.
Not to be outdone, Archbishop Albert of Mainz also promoted the same indulgence and demonstrated his ample entrepreneurial skills, skimming off his own cut.
The mechanics of the indulgence were quite simple. In return for good works such as going on pilgrimage or making charitable donations, indulgences (from the Latin, indulgentia – permit) were believed to set asidethe “temporal punishment” that was due, because of God’s just character, after sin itself had been forgiven.
These transactions were also transferrable to the dead, shortening the suffering of souls in purgatory. It was like a metaphysical tax for sin, which released you from having to pay the consequences – time in purgatory – for that lover, addiction to alcohol, or dodgy financial transaction you may have had.
But there is more to it than this since the protest about indulgences was not just a one-off thing, but rather reflects the very soul of what Protestantism really represents; its DNA.
Paul Tillich, the German clergyman who fled Nazi Germany in 1933 and ended up in North America, becoming a leading theologian, wrote in 1931 an article called the “Protestant Principle and the Proletarian Situation” (Tillich, The Protestant Era; London, Nisbet & Co Ltd, 1951, pp.237–259). In that article, Tillich made the point that while institutional Protestantism may have a “use-by date”, the ethos that it represents, the ethos of protest, may outlast it.
Tillich proceeds to analyse what this ethos of protest is about. In a nutshell, he says, it includes two points: the first, the Protestant obligation to build justice and love in a resistant world, to build the kingdom of God in a world that denies it.
The second aspect is more subtle, and because of its subtlety, more difficult: the Protestant reservation. What he means by this, isscepticism or doubt about human beings and the cultural, political, and of course religious structures which we build around us.
And the reservation is this: that we claim too much for ourselves, that we over-reach ourselves, that we pretend to represent absolute truth in our world, whichcan always be only ambiguous, always be just relative, always be contingent. In Tillich’s thought, there is targeted in the crosshairs, fundamentalist and authoritarian movements – political and religious – that claim absolute mastery, unqualified power, because they and they alone, apparently ‘possess the truth’.
What is it about the human condition, Tillich asks, that predisposes us to need to claim a monopoly on the truth? Tillich understands that we humans long for the final word, from someone, from anyone; we long for the definitive truth. People hang, literally hang on the words of politicians, scientists, and pastors, slavishly repeating their latest thoughts.
Tillich tells us that the Protestant Principle, pushes back at that, the Protestant reservation asserts that the only absolute truth is this: human beings can never attain absolute truth, that “the final word” is always with God and only with God, and will only be revealed to us at what Catholic theology refers to as the “beatific vision”: when we directly see and relate to God after death or at the end of history.
Tillich argues that claims to understand, to represent the entirety of truth, are delusional and dangerous, that such claims are disastrously tied up with the will to power. And so, he writes, “The Protestant Principle is the prophetic judgement against religious pride, ecclesiastical arrogance and secular self-sufficiency”.
Justification by faith through grace
The second question I want to ask is how does this ethos of protest fit with what the apostle Paul’s idea concerning justification by grace through faith? (Romans 3:19-28)? The answer is not difficult. You may recall that Martin Luther, the father of the Reformation, was an Augustinian friar. What marked his personal journey was a gnawing insecurity and anxiety about his unacceptability to God: a common question for philosophical and theological thought of the time.
Luther’s reading of the book of Romans fell like a thunderclap, awakening him to the realization that he was made acceptable to God by the work of Christ alone. In short, it dawned upon him, that he was already justified before God, by God.
This insight about our acceptability to God, because of what God has done for us in Jesus Christ, achieves two things. The first, is that it serves as the great leveller, it exposes, uncovers the bloated claims we make for ourselves, the intumescent platforms upon which we stand. Put another way, it goes to the very heart of the problem of the human condition.
Driven by anxiety – a universal human experience – the insight that we are acceptable to God and accepted by God, potentially does for people what it did for Luther: frees us from the pathological need to prove ourselves, the neurotic drive to dominate, the narcissistic behaviour that uses others for our purposes.
The teaching of justification by grace, assures us that “it is not all about us”, that we can get over ourselves and the anxieties that we carry. Justification by grace is the antidote to the human behaviour of over-reach. The second, is that we are not only freed from our individual and collective anxieties, but equally and most importantly, free to really live.
The eminent German theologian, Ernst Käsemann put it this way: “Where we no longer have to strive for our salvation, and no longer need to fear external powers, we become free for other people, for whom we otherwise at most, only find time and attention as allies or opponents.” He adds, “the one who is liberated from himself…perceives his neighbour”. (Käsemann, “On Paul’s Anthropology”, Perspectives on Paul; London, SCM Press, 1971, p.30)
What is then the connection between Tillich’s Protestant Principle and Paul’s idea of justification by grace through faith? They both encourage a genuine and realistic sense of ourselves, a deep humility about our identity. The Protestant Principle warns against the will to power and the doctrine of justification by grace, relieves us of the need to aspire to such power.
And so, to the final issue: what does it mean to be Protestant in the contemporary world, a world marked by the peril of unreason?
In my lifetime, I have experienced what I refer to as the increasing dogmatization of Protestantism. This is due to at least two factors: the decreasing literacy of Protestant Christians about their own identity, but additionally in these dogmatic times, reason is failing across the board, and people submit to superficial, perfunctory explanations for complex changing realities.
During my 5 years in the United States (1999-2004), that which concerned me most was the distortion, subversion of evangelical Protestantism, as it rapidly became the religious tail of a conservative Republican Party worldview.
More recently, the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, has shown itself to be headed in the same direction for different reasons, truncating the breadth of Catholic Social Teachings to emotive narrow issues, in particular opposition to Roe v. Wade (1973), a landmark decision of the U.S. Supreme Court regarding a woman’s right to abortion.
In Australia, organizations like the Australian Christian Lobby, an evangelical body whose very name misleadingly suggests it speaks for the broad church, pursues a not dissimilar but marginally more moderate agenda.
In this new disturbing situation, Luther’s insight into Paul’s justification by grace through faith, and Tillich’s Protestant Principle, ask us to be cautious about faith’s creeping dogmatization and predisposition to authoritarianism.
The danger is two-fold: first that we fail to acknowledge the limitedness of our faith interpretations, we claim too much for ourselves, we overreach ourselves. But secondly, we idolatrize Scripture and Doctrine with a quasi-sacramental weight, forgetting that truth transcends all human fixation, even the letters of a sacred book.
Protestantism then, is not just about “not being Roman Catholic”. It is, positively speaking, about challenging all fundamentalist claims to absoluteness, in a world where social, economic, political and religious power increasingly do just that. The deep, deep insight of Protestantism is as Martin Luther put it in one of his better moments: “Christian theology, like everything else, is only ever partial. Total faith and total theology are impossible because we are only human.”
The Rev. Dr Geoff Dornan is minister in placement at Wesley Forrest Uniting Church in Canberra. This article was originally written in Spanish and published in RevistaLatinoamericana de Teologia through the Central American University in El Salvador.