October heralds change. We can smell it in the air, see it in a swirl of leaves caught up by the wind and feel it in our bones. And yesterday, we watched and felt change, as snow fell from a steel-gray October sky.In this same season, many Protestants mark another kind of change. It was in this month in 1517 that a German monk nailed to the door of the castle church in Wittenberg a list of ninety-five theological points he wished to debate. The thirty-one-year-old Martin Luther could feel change in the air. He had seen it with his own eyes as he scoured the scriptures. He knew it by his own prayers. Many Protestants mark this pivotal event on October 31st, Reformation Day.
Martin Luther was among the most defining change-agents in Western Christendom between the 14th and 17th centuries. It was during this time that a series of reformations – or changes, or, for others, heresies – occurred, by which the unity of Western Christendom was shattered and the ecclesiastical map of Europe was forever redrawn.
Luther upset the tables of Christendom by arguing, among other things, that all believers, ordained and lay, have a direct relation to God and all are called to ministry. It was this biblical principle – the priesthood of all believers – that led to the translation of the Bible into the languages of Europe and which has opened the Christian scriptures to all.
God is multilingual, claimed Luther. God is not limited to Latin, Hebrew or Greek. Therefore, God's word, the Bible, should be available to everyone in their native tongue. Luther yanked the Bible out of the exclusive control of the clergy. He then handed it to the people, in their own language, for their own inspection. By providing access to the sacred writings of the faith, he empowered the people to assess the teaching and preaching of the clergy. He also empowered them to realize that every Christian is called to ministry. It takes one's breath away: the gall, the courage and the vision of it.
At great personal cost, Luther defended the right of the individual to stand on the dictates of his or her beliefs, even if those beliefs were in direct opposition to the church hierarchy. When he was ordered to retract his "errors" Luther replied, "It is neither safe nor honest to act against conscience. Here I stand. I can do no other."
It is from that moment, that the Protestant Reformation was born. It is from that, and subsequent acts of defiance, that we received our name: Protestants … protestors.
This year marks the bicentennial of the birth of another Christian protestor: William Lloyd Garrison. Born in Newburyport, Massachusetts, 200 years ago, Garrison was one of the most persuasive abolitionists of the 19th century. He founded his fiery, Boston-based newspaper, The Liberator, with the purpose of ending slavery. In his inaugural edition he wrote words that seem to echo Martin Luther’s in their fierceness and unwillingness to compromise. On the subject of slavery, in the very first issue of the Liberator, he wrote: “I am in earnest – I will not equivocate … I will not retreat a single inch AND I WILL BE HEARD.” (The Liberator, January 1, 1831, from the Inaugural Editorial).
It was also in this month, just a few days ago, that we all learned of the death of another Christian protestor, a leading figure in this nation’s struggle for civil rights: Rosa Parks. Rosa Park’s act of protest, her refusal to get up from her seat and move to the back of the bus, was one of the pivotal moments that led, eventually, to the Civil Rights Act of 1964. Later, reflecting on that moment – and echoing the words of Martin Luther and William Lloyd Garrison, Rosa Parks said about it: “I just did what I had to do.”
Yet, decades after her revolt on the Montgomery bus, her name was invoked by protestors across the globe, from Vaclav Havel of the former Czech Republic, to Nelson Mandela of South Africa. And, when a lone Chinese student faced down an army tank in Tiananmen Square in 1989, Mandela characterized it as "a Rosa Parks moment."
Where would we be without Luther and Garrison and Parks? Where would Christianity be without their courage and vision? Each of these three people – in their time and in their own way – each helped reform the Christian church, by protesting aspects and practices of Christianity that had become gross distortions of the religion of Jesus.
They each suffered profoundly for their protestations: between them they experienced excommunication, arrest, jail, threats to their lives, threats to their families, threats and/or damage to their property, loss of jobs, loss of income, loss of reputation, and ruptured relationships with family and friends. They were caricatured and vilified.
What prepared them for what they did? What sustained them?
As we ponder those questions, I invite you turn in your worship bulletins to page two. On the bottom of page two, you will see the text for the choral anthem and the scripture we have just heard. It is the full text of the 23rd Psalm. Please take a moment right now to read it through silently. Or, if you know it by heart – and I imagine some of you do – take a moment to recite it silently to yourself. As you do so, ask yourself: What word or phrase stands out for me? What word or phrase attracts my attention, captures my imagination, or speaks to my condition?
(The congregation takes time to silently read or recite Psalm 23.)
Now, I invite you to turn to someone sitting near you, preferably someone you don’t know. Introduce yourself (your first name is enough) and take a moment to share the word or phrase in the 23rd Psalm that stands out for you. You don’t need to explain or defend your choice … just name it to someone.
(The congregation takes time to share a word or phrase.)
Thank you.
This Psalm is so rich and dense in images and feelings; there is so much to choose from. Let me tell you what word stands out for me in this Psalm, the one word, upon which, for me, the whole Psalm turns: Yea. Yea! “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil …”
Yea is itself a word of protest. Yea: it is the lone, young monk, Martin Luther, brought before his elders and superiors. Yea: it is the single voice of William Lloyd Garrison raised defiantly against a whole system of slavery. Yea: it is one small woman, sitting in a beaten up old bus, who will not be moved.
As a young minister, I served a church in rural Maine, in a very impoverished community. Shortly after arriving there, I took my first funeral. A beloved matriarch of the church had died and the church was packed, standing room only, packed with church members and neighbors, but also with people from the hollows, from the shacks and cabins deep in the woods. Toward the end of the service, I invited this entire congregation to read the 23rd Psalm together. I had helpfully arranged to have it printed in the bulletin. I needn’t have bothered. The instant the congregation opened their mouths I realized in a flash that every single person there, young and old, churched and unchurched, knew this Psalm by heart. They owned this Psalm.
Over time, I learned how important this Psalm was, and is, to a people who live close to death every day. These people were extremely poor, far from hospitals and most never dreamed of health insurance. By the nature of their hard and rugged lives, they were vulnerable to illness, disease and accidents. They also sent a lot of their young men into the armed services, and too many of them returned less than whole.
I soon learned that the 23rd Psalm was a staple of their lives. It acknowledged that we live in the presence of death, that we do have enemies. It also gives assurance that there is another realm, beyond this realm, a realm lush with pastures and waters, with restoration and comfort, a realm where we do not experience isolation, but rather, the presence, comfort and guidance of God … where ‘Surely, goodness and mercy shall follow us all the days of our lives and we shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.’
As an aside, a member of that church in Maine, Shirley Barker, once confessed to me that as a child, she had always wondered who those three women were who would follow her all the days of her life: Shirley, Goodness and Mercy!
If you want to know what sustained Martin Luther as he faced off against the corrupt and powerful hierarchy of the Christian Church … learn this Psalm.
If you want to know what gave William Lloyd Garrison the courage and temerity to persevere, publishing issue after issue of The Liberator, and enduring threats to his life, his family and his property … learn this Psalm.
If you want to know what empowered Rosa Parks to stay seated when the bus driver, the arresting officer and the law all insisted that she move … learn this Psalm.
If you want to know something about the spiritual diet, the spiritual food and drink, upon which millions of Christians across time have sustained themselves through poverty and imprisonment, through tragedy and grief, through injustice and illness … learn this Psalm.
In memory of those whom we honor on Reformation Sunday, in memory of and in solidarity with the saints of old who loved Jesus more than their own lives, let us all read the 23rd Psalm. Let’s read it together aloud.
One more thing: when we arrive at that pivotal word, that tiny pivotal word on which the whole Psalm turns, when we get to “Yea”, let’s shout it … I mean shout it. May Martin Luther, William Lloyd Garrison, Rosa Parks and so many other reformers and protestors, and saints and martyrs whose day this is, hear us from their home in heaven.
Please join with me in saying the 23rd Psalm:
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul:
he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil;
for thou are with me:
thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:
thou annointest my head with oil;
my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Amen.
Copyright © 2005, Old South Church and by author.
Excerpts are permitted as long as full accreditation is made
to Old South Church and to the author.
