In her essay, “An Expedition to the Pole,” Annie Dillard writes about

Dropping the Silver, Reformation Sunday, John 8:31-36, 10/26/14 In her essay, “An Expedition to the Pole,” Annie Dillard writes about an ill-fated Antarctic expedition. When the skeletons of the doomed explorers were exhumed, researchers discovered silver place settings tucked in the folds of their clothing, As they trudged through the snow, facing horrible peril and running low on the necessities of life, the explorers could not imagine parting with their family-crested flatware. They were literally weighed down by their tradition. So they died, clutching the symbols of a glorious past. This strikes me as a poignant parable for this particular day in the life of the church, Reformation Sunday. Reformation has sometimes been merely a tribal feast, when Lutherans pulled out the lutefisk or brats, depending on whether they hailed from Germany or Norway. Alternately, it was a day for smug self-congratulation that we proclaimed a more pristine Christian confession than the Catholics. Thankfully such attitudes are now rare, but we still tend to think of Reformation Sunday as more a of looking back than forward. Our society too often values mere novelty over substance, so there is merit in treasuring the wisdom of those who have gone before us. We can and should learn from Luther and the other reformers who cared enough about the power of the gospel to risk their lives in opposing its distortion. But one of the great ironies of church history is that the Protestant churches, which arose out of the conviction that no human confession of faith, no liturgy, no means of church governance is eternal, can be every bit as resistant to reform and rethinking as the Medieval church in Europe. The great Protestant insight is that the church is like a lake; constantly needing to be fed by fresh streams of thought and action if it is not to become stagnant and unhealthy. So let’s make this Reformation Sunday less a remembrance of a distant past than a day to reflect on how we might be engaged in re-forming both our personal lives and our community of faith, in the light of the gospel. To use the image with which I began, we are Christian explorers, trying to chart a path of discipleship in new, sometimes hostile landscapes. We might ask, “What’s the silver flatware, which we need to let go of in order to travel well?” Those arctic explorers were hampered by a symbol of wealth and prestige, and paradoxically it is sometimes our success which weighs us down. One of the central characters in Eugene O’Neill’s great play, Long Day’s Journey Into Night, is James Tyrone an aging and, to all appearances, successful actor. Early in his career Tyrone established himself in a signature role which he has played again and again to the exclusion of almost everything else. That role brought him some measure of fame and wealth, but it has also prevented him from expanding his repertoire and being taken seriously as a Shakespearean actor. His gifts are fading and in the play we see a man who is tired, uninspired, and filled with regret over what could have been if he had dared to walk away from success. Unfortunately, James Tyrone’s story is the story of many successful people, those blessed with uncommon gifts and determination. It is not that the paths we choose are necessarily wrong, it’s that we may cease to grow, so that our daily pursuits no longer energize us or give us satisfaction. The good becomes the enemy of the best. We sense that life could be more, but we

have a hard time dropping that hard won silverware of success on the ground. So we carry around a burden of boredom, exhaustion, and bitterness, our life having all the zest of day-old bubblegum. Success can also be a burden for institutions. I don’t know how true it is, but I remember being taught that one problem that the British faced in the American Revolution was an unwillingness to change their tactics. The disciplined ranks and files marching straight ahead, which worked so well on the open plains of Europe, were singularly ineffective when fighting an enemy hiding in the woods and marshes. It was hard for the finest army in Europe to let go of what had been so successful, despite the fact that it was not working. Congregations can have the same problem as armies. When something has worked well and done good things for the kingdom of God it is terribly hard for us to step back and consider whether the terrain has changed. Are there new needs which we are called to address? Do our programs still use our resources wisely? Are we answering questions that nobody is asking? Is past success preventing us from taking up new challenges with courage? These are good questions for Re-formation Sunday. But more often it is not success which we need to let go of, but fear and doubt. At first hearing that may sound a little strange. Nobody deliberately holds on to fear do they? Yet sometimes we take a perverse pleasure in our fears because they allow us to give ourselves a free pass. Mark Twain once waggishly observed that a woman of his acquaintance had “enjoyed ill-health for many years.” Here was a woman, he said, who bathed in sympathy and had few demands put upon her because she had convinced herself and others that she could do little. I am not minimizing the burdens which many persons carry; there are very real physical disabilities and crushing emotional shocks which keep those around us reeling. There is no higher calling that the ministry of compassion to those who are so burdened. But sometimes we allow a little voice in our heads to fill us with fear. Sometimes we internalize the messages which flood us daily that we are not valuable or worthy or competent. Sometimes we carry doubt and self-hate like a punchbowl in a polar blizzard, a totally useless burden which keeps us from walking with confidence and joy. That is the silver we need to dump. And sometimes congregations become fearful. We scan the cultural horizon and see apathy to our message. We see some empty pews. We worry about whether we can indeed take up the challenges of a new day. We hear dire predictions of the church’s future and we begin to tell ourselves that the best thing we can do is hunker down and keep what we have got for a little longer. In that moment we need to hear the word which comes to us in today’s gospel lesson. Jesus says, “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth and the truth will make you free.” I could spend a whole other sermon exploring all the facets of the “truth” Jesus promises to reveal, but perhaps the most fundamental truth is that because we are loved beyond measure we need not live in fear.

The core proclamation of John’s gospel is that when we look at Jesus we look into the very heart of God and there we discover care which enfolds and empowers us, whatever the challenges we face. Because that is true we are invited to be bold in our discipleship. Some years ago our campus ministry took a retreat to a place which had a climbing wall. Even then I my body had too much tummy and not nearly enough upper body strength to safely ascend 12-15 feet above hard ground. There is no way I would have dared to try hanging from tiny hand and toe holds except---except, I was strapped into belaying harness. So when my foot slipped or my arms grew leaden I knew I could not fall. So I tried things I would never have tried on a naked rock face. This is the great truth Jesus is proclaiming: “You can not fall! Trust in me and as scary as it looks, you will be okay. So try something bold in my name.” The challenge for us on this Reformation Sunday, which also happens to be the day we offer our financial pledges for the work of our congregation, is to believe that God is in the process of Reforming us for ministry. I recently read an article about the body’s incredible capacity to adapt. If the blood flow to an area is disrupted by injury our body can often rechannel the flow through a new vessel. If one neural pathway is broken, our brains can compensate by transferring the signal through another synapse. What is true of our bodies is true of God’s action in our lives and in the church. The old may become outmoded and dysfunctional, but God is lifting up new pathways for us to proclaim a message of love and justice. This is not a day for mere nostalgia and it is certainly not a day to despair because things are not the way they used to be. It is a day to ask how God might be trying to re-from us for ministry in a new day. You are loved and empowered by Christ; you need not live in fear. Believe that says Jesus, and “you will know the truth and the truth will make you free” to live boldly, whatever challenges you face.