Dear Sausage Savorers, 

 Smack dab in the middle of Lent as we are today, I’ve been musing about limitations imposed by tradition. We are not, as you may have noticed, pre-Vatican II Romanists required to observe various fast obligations throughout all 40 not-Sundays of Lent. These requirements were eased during World War I by Pope Benedict XV. Prior to his 1917 Code of Cannon Law, Fridays in Advent were also fast days, as were all Saturdays in Lent; but unprecedented times required unprecedented policies, and during the Great War the Lenten Saturday fast was flexed. The observant faithful were permitted to transfer Saturday obligations to any other weekday. Blanket exceptions were granted for children under seven, the sick, the frail and for any who performed hard labor requiring extra calories to complete the work of their day. Additional dispensations were granted to any individual who received personal permission from a bishop. 

 Professor and historian Martin Marty held the rare honor as a Lutheran pastor of attending the third of four sessions of the Council of Vatican II in 1964. Invited as a journalist and historian, Professor Marty spoke highly of the hospitality and generous access granted by the bishop delegates, being afforded a full pass to all but the executive sessions. Priests also assisted him in translation, as his rusty high school Latin was inadequate for interpreting the proceedings, all of which—including debate—were conducted in the rarified intonations of Ecclesiastical Latin. 

 One evening, at the conclusion of the day’s proceedings, a group of bishops invited Marty to dinner at a famed restaurant just outside Vatican City. As fate would have it, his order was taken first. Being a Friday, in deference to his hosts Marty ordered fish, in the strictest obligation of the day. Recounting the occasion to me, a fellow Nebraskan, he pointed out his dislike for fish and how several other menu items of beef or pork seemed far more compelling, but when in Rome…  Then, to his amazement, each of the other diners ordered some version of steak. When the waiter departed, he inquired of the bishops how he, the Lutheran, had abided by expectation while they, the Roman Catholic delegates, indulged. Laughter ensued around the table as they pointed out to him how the 1917 Code of Cannon Law permitted exemption from the obligation by personal permission from a bishop. They were all bishops—permission granted. Internally, Marty grumped that perhaps Luther was indeed onto something, but as a guest he repressed sarcasm and endured his grilled halibut. 

 We find ourselves in Lent, a season recently adopted by Presbyterians for spiritual reflection and perhaps physical denial. We have no expectation to give public account for adherence to whatever self-inflicted obligations we endure. Our tradition hearkens back to a time when eating meat during Lent was an act of political as well as religious defiance. During the Lenten fast of 1522, Priest Ulrich Zwingli was invited to join a supper that Christoph Froschauer, a printer in the city, served to his workers worn out from printing a new edition of The Epistles of Saint Paul. Various civic and church leaders were present, and the meal involved slices of smoked Swiss hard sausage. As the eating of meat during Lent was prohibited, Froschauer was arrested. Although Zwingli did not eat the sausages, he quickly defended Froschauer from allegations of heresy, giving a detailed defense in a sermon titled “Von Erkiesen und Freiheit der Speisen” (Regarding the Choice and Freedom of Foods). In his sermon, he used Martin Luther’s teachings to proclaim, “Christians are free to fast or not to fast because the Bible does not prohibit the eating of meat during Lent.” Zwingli concluded that fasting should be entirely voluntary; Lent was a matter of personal choice, rather than a rule for all. 

 As Reformed Christians, we have no directory for Lentenly behavior; we make it up as we go along or as the Spirit prompts us. Our theological forbearers, Zwingli, Luther, Calvin and others, leaned heavily into the declaration by Peter, “You are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the excellence of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.” (1 Peter 2.9) We proclaim a Priesthood of All Believers which encumbers each of us to be faithful to God’s leading in our lives. This means, of course, that Protestants are significantly less organized than are our Catholic siblings, but it does mean you don’t have to call a bishop to fire up the grill this Friday. 

 Glad we don’t have to fish for complements, I remain,

 With Love, 
Jonathan Krogh 
Your Pastor