Broken Vessels, Amazing Grace: or, Why We Can Still Sing with Luther and Other Scoundrels
by David L. Johns, Ph.D., Earlham School of Religion for Joint Worship, ESR/BTS (October 26, 2001)
TEXTS: Matthew 6:9-15; Romans 5:1-8; Titus 3:3-8

Grace and peace to you, and the blessings of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ!

We gather in worship this morning on the threshold of two very important days on the Christian calendar. One of these days is celebrated and cherished by Christians from most traditions; the other is recognized primarily by children of the Protestant Reformation.

The first, of course, is All Saints Day, next Thursday, November 1^st. This is a day to remember the whole company of Christians in every place and in every period of history. It is not an ecclesial ‘catch-all day,’ or a religious predecessor to Arlington National Cemetery’s “Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.” Rather, it is a moment of recognition that it is impossible for the Church to officially recognize by name all of the many people who have in their lives, manifested the love and mercy of God; on this day we remember not only Saints Basil and Augustine, Saints Theresa and Catherine, but also Saints Grandmother and Uncle Billy, Saints Anita and Jamar. We give names to those of blessed memory who we implicitly acknowledge when we utter the words of the Apostles’ Creed: “the communion of saints.” John Wesley called this a “day of triumphant joy” a “festival I dearly love.” All Saints is one of my favorite days of the entire Church year; this year, next Thursday, I will spend much of the day traveling to Oregon—and I find that for me air travel provides much motivation to pray!

Links Selected Works of Martin Luther www.luther.de (German) Martin Luther Lutherstadt Wittenberg, Martin Luther

The second day is one that you won’t find listed in any breviary—Reformation Day, next Wednesday, October 31. On this day we remember the events set in motion by the professor at Wittenburg, the would-be attorney turned theologian, Martin Luther. Like many great figures in Christian history, Luther is at times embarrassing, unpredictable, a ‘loose canon.’ He was a remarkably brilliant theologian whose words edify even to this day; yet, some of his remarks, those to Erasmus for example, were so blistering that they would make even Bill Maher blush! Martin Luther is certainly one of my all-time favorite sinners—a classic example of a broken vessel. As a teen I loved Luther’s brazen advice to Phillip Melanchthon: “be a sinner, and let your sins be strong,” or, as it is often translated: “Sin and sin boldly!” Of course, less often do we hear the rest of the sentence: “…but let your trust in Christ be stronger [still], and rejoice in Christ who is the victor over sin, death, and the world.” [1]

While we are nearly on the eve of these two great days—All Saints and Reformation Day—we are situated in-between them as well. Between saints and sinners. Luther would love this. Simul iustus et piccatur! Always justified, always a sinner. Sin, the only Christian doctrine for which there is ample empirical evidence; sainthood, the only goal worthy of our effort.

Not long ago I had a conversation with a student, it was a conversation that I have had with others on several other occasions and in several other locations. I mentioned that I was looking forward to Reformation Day so that I could sing again the great hymn written by Luther: “A Mighty Fortress is Our God.” The student’s response was similar to responses from others with whom I have had this conversation.

Well, this may be in fact a fair reaction to his call for deporting Jews to Palestine. But please, let’s not stop there! Luther was also responsible for the persecution of Anabaptists and, while he initially supported the peasant uprising, he later criticized its increasingly political emphasis and supported crushing this movement. We could add to this the fact that Luther deserted his monastic vows and married Katharina von Bora who, according to Luther’s own account, made the best beer in all Saxony. And we mustn’t forget that he helped set in motion a religious revolution that eventually splintered Christianity into what the World Christian Encyclopedia reports is today approximately 34,000 distinct groups. When Luther sinned it was with a robust abandoned Teutonic boldness…this is part of his enduring charm.

My response to this hesitation to sing with Martin Luther is always the same. I think of (and speak of!) another famous sinner, a powerful man who committed adultery with a married woman, who then abused his position by arranging for his lover’s husband to be killed. A scoundrel if ever there was one. Yet, even today, when we are in pain, or when we are distressed, when we are grieving, or when we are filled with overwhelming joy, we sing the songs written by this adulterous, conspiring, manipulative, power- abusing man. In fact, the Scriptures even refer to him as a “man after God’s own heart,”—my namesake—the broken vessel, singer-song-writer-turned-politician, David.

We can sing with Martin Luther because he is our brother.

He is our brother in our becoming saints as well as in our broken sinfulness. Were brother Martin to be with us this morning I dare say he would not be the only broken vessel in this room…nor would he be the only scoundrel! There are undoubtedly sinners within the saints, but there are also saints within the sinners—Paul both addresses believers as “saints” and as those “who are called to become saints,” saints-in-the-rough…Sanctum in potentia. “I am a man of unclean lips and I live among a people of unclean lips!” Sin boldly, but let your trust in Christ be bolder still!

We can sing with Luther because of forgiveness.

When we pray the Lord’s Prayer we do not include Jesus’ difficult saying concerning forgiveness. To be sure, it stretches us to pray “forgive us as we forgive,” but Jesus increases the odds by adding: “if you forgive, God will forgive you; if you do not forgive, God will not forgive.” I would rather not think about this text…but there it is. It says something about me, it says something about God; neither makes me comfortable, but our comfort is not necessarily the intention of Holy Writ.

In environments charged with “political correctness” orthodoxy a lot of energy is spent distancing oneself from another so as not to be ‘guilty by association.’ So, if we criticize, protest, demonstrate, shun, sanctimoniously separate ourselves, or refuse to sing with, then perhaps no one will mistakenly assume that we consent to the ideas or practices of another. But of what are we guilty if we sing with a brother or sister in Christ? Luther was a broken, sinful man; so, what do we propose God do with him? It’s time to forgive him and join the choir!

It never ceases to amaze me how some will point out the brokenness of another member of the household of God then pause to wait for a reaction. A recent biographer attempted to titillate us by revealing that Mother Teresa was known to yell at sisters in her order. And your point is? Only those with a nave and utopian view of people would be shocked by such a revelation! We can sing with Luther and other scoundrels because the prayer that teaches us to pray recalls not only my need to forgive—even Luther—but my need to be forgiven.

We can sing with Martin Luther because of grace.

No one states more beautifully than does Saint Paul the radical gratuitousness of God’s grace…and not surprisingly, Paul was honest enough to name himself the ‘chief of all sinners.’ There is something transformatively liberating about such self-awareness. Luther once wrote: “the saints are always sinners in their own sight, and therefore always justified outwardly. But the hypocrites are always righteous in their own sight, and thus are always sinners outwardly.” [2] The nature of God’s love for us is one of risky and bold forgiveness. “But God demonstrates God’s love for us in this way: while we were still ‘scoundrels,’ Christ died for us.”

Throughout Paul’s writings (and throughout the Gospels for that matter) we are offered a portrait of a God who treats humans unfairly…thanks be to God! Quite frankly, there is no more frightening concept than that of a God who is fair; I simply do not understand why people are so interested in divine justice. Justice is over-rated and only a fool would demand that God deal justly with him or her. Paul’s great gift to us is a vision of God who dismisses the demands of justice in favor of mercy—grace, amazing grace. And this is a vision that comes to us at the hands of another great scoundrel, one with whom I am most happy to sing!

We can sing with Martin Luther because we too are broken vessels.

The reading from Titus leaves no doubt that the scoundrel is within us. “…we too were foolish, disobedient, deceived, and enslaved…we lived in malice and envy, being hated and hating one another.” That’s not a pretty picture; but you know, it is much easier to sing with scoundrels when we acknowledge the inner-scoundrel in ourselves. Solzhenitsyn once remarked that the line dividing good and evil runs directly through the human heart—your heart and mine. This text reminds us yet again that the salvific work of God through Jesus Christ is generous, gratuitous, and not based upon “righteous things we have done.” Even the thorough-going honesty of this text is not devoid of hope. The NIV renders Titus 3:3a: “At one time we too were…” and the NRSV reads: “We ourselves were once…” There is a hint that something may be happening within us even now, “behold I am doing a new thing!” Perhaps broken vessels are beginning to be healed through God’s amazing grace. Perhaps sinner is moving closer to saint, and saint is moving a little closer to God (e.g., St. Athanasius’ apotheosis). And with all this God-prompted movement, perhaps we are even being moved closer to Martin Luther and that great company of scoundrel/saints who are our brothers and our sisters.

When scoundrels like us lift our voices with scoundrels like Martin we must sing and we must sing boldly!

Amen