Tuesday of the Fifth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 330

"You disregard God's commandment but cling to human tradition." He went on to say, "How well you have set aside the commandment of God in order to uphold your tradition!

I am reading a biography of Martin Luther, the Augustinian monk, priest and reformer. He is sometimes credited with single-handedly changing the course of history by defying the Roman Catholic Church. There is no doubt the Church needed reform, and still does. There is some doubt whether it can be reformed, ever. But it's good to keep trying.

Luther found a church which both failed to reassure his anxious heart, and didn't care that it had failed. If its methods of reassurance didn't reassure, why should it change a method that worked well enough for most people? It wasn't in the business of reassurance, anyway! It's only purpose was to glorify God, and if some prelates lived scandalous lives as they grew fat on the sacrifices of poor people, God was nonetheless glorified by their pompous ceremonies. The Church, like many governments, parties and businesses, had grown fat, lazy and stupid. It was ripe for reform and needed some healthy competition.

I think Jesus described the problem precisely when he rebuked the Pharisees for clinging to human tradition. Human beings create traditions where other animals have instincts. If something works well we do it again, and again. We teach our children these successful practices because they work! Eventually we can use these traditions mindlessly, like birds building their instinctive nests.

But old customs, like instincts, don't adjust to changing times and circumstances. Salmon kill themselves trying to swim through the turbines of a hydroelectric dam. They just don't get it! When humans refuse to adjust we cling to our traditions.

Alcohol, for instance. A good thing? A bad thing? Good alcohol tastes wonderful; its chemistry can relax an anxious body and soothe a troubled mind. Sharing its reassuring properties, groups of people can enjoy their fellowship when, without the alcohol, they might be tearing at each others' throats. Alcohol works so well we make a habit of drinking it and serving it to others! Many good liquors have deep historical roots, giving one a traditional connection with ancient ancestors.

But sometimes the habit, or practice, fails. People drink too much and the body gets sick. Sometimes drinking people say things that would have been better left unsaid. The bitter memory persists when the mellow glow has faded.

The foolish and unwary suppose that alcohol will fix most any problem, even medical! The story is told in my family of my great grandfather. The young cowboy in Texas, bitten by a rattlesnake, was treated for two weeks with huge amounts of whiskey. There was no serum for snakebite. Fortunately, he lived to tell the tale to my entranced uncles.

Beyond a certain point alcohol becomes addictive and lethal; a single bottle of beer can kill. And yet, even then, the addict will drink, thinking it might yet ease the mind and comfort the miserable body. A human tradition has become lethal.

Jesus challenged the traditions of the Pharisees; Saint Paul challenged the "super apostles;" Luther challenged Rome. Reformers challenge reformers and Christianity shatters into innumerable sects and denominations; each one looking for that habit, practice or protocol which will never fail.

With Luther and his imitators reform became an institution within Christianity, a persistent challenge to Roman hegemony. Of course, historians point out, Church history was already rife with reform movements, including institutionalized ones like the religious orders, societies, and congregations. They had not failed in a process that cannot succeed. They had made their contribution and, like all their predecessors, become fat, lazy and stupid. Or they had disappeared into the dustbin of history.

Jesus' scold in today's gospel ends with a cry of futility: "You nullify the word of God in favor of your tradition that you have handed on. And you do many such things.” Human words must fail to list all the grievances.

Is there a cure? Luther believed he was echoing Saint Paul when he taught sola fides ("faith alone!")

If I were to recommend a solution it might be "faith and a sense of humor." True faith knows what it does not know and that allows space for the ridiculous. As one fellow said, "I can't agree with everything you say; but I don't agree with everything I say."

Humor was especially lacking in that sixteenth century controversy. But humor is also abused both by those who have faith and those who despise faith.

What is the state of reform today? It's ongoing; still skeptical of tradition and still traditional. It's still gentle, sincere and well-intentioned; it's still barbaric, crude and malevolent. We still turn to God to save us and guide us through much perplexity.