The Catholic Consensus of the Church

I've recently made passing reference to the "catholic consensus of the Church," but without offering any specific definition of what I mean by that, and without indicating what the "content" of that "catholic consensus" might include.  A brother in Christ has helpfully prompted me to give some further thought to this, and to comment on it.

In part, I have not been more specific regarding the "catholic consensus of the Church," because it seems to me that the contours of what that comprises continue to grow and develop in the actual life of the Church.  Even so, what I do have in mind, especially, is that we (pastors and congregations of the Church catholic) ought to begin with what we have received from the saints who have gone before us, and that we should then proceed to live and to pray, to serve and assist one another, in continuity with both the past and the present communion of the Church.  Some aspects of that catholic tradition would be more obvious than others, at least in my view, such as following the Church Year, adhering to the basic Ordo of the Mass, using a Chalice for the Holy Communion, confessing the ecumenical Creeds, using clerical vestments in the celebration of the Liturgy, and so forth.  Although such things are, in one sense, "adiaphora," forsaking them for some novel alternatives would not be without significance to the confession and life of the Church.

The "catholic consensus" becomes more "narrow," if that isn't a self-contradiction in terms, within the particular "families" and "jurisdictions" of the Church on earth.  Here what I have in mind are such things as our Lutheran heritage and identity, which would include the Catechisms and hymns of Luther, for example; and then also the particular "synods" or territories of the Lutheran communion (albeit that "Lutheran" has become a more ambiguous and amorphous term in the course of generations; I use it positively here).

I don't believe that it contradicts catholicity for there to be different "local customs, traditions, and practices," from one place to another; but I would assert and maintain that the defining locus for those differences belongs, not to each individual congregation or parish (although each place, as each pastor, will have its own personality), but to the larger fellowship of congregations within a geographical proximity to one another.  This is where I struggle for a greater clarity in my own perspective and thinking, and yearn for clarity and consistency, as well, in the life of the Church at large.  In contrast to the past, modern transportation and communication have, on the one hand, given us a global community, while, on the other hand, they often separate us from those who are, in fact, our real "neighbors" (those whom God has placed right next to us).

Within our Synod, our Districts, and our Circuits, for example, my sense is that many, if not most, of our congregations tend to live as islands unto themselves, and that our pastors (myself included) have as much or more interaction with our self-determined online circles of like minds and kindred spirits, than active fraternal conversation, camaraderie, and consensus with those who are closest to us in the particular "loci" where God has actually stationed us.  So, I would offer that the current pattern of doing things, and the current "status quo," is certainly not "the catholic consensus of the Church."

ACELC Free Conference on Worship

The papers presented at the ACELC Free Conference, "Christ For Us: The Divine Service," and six of the sermons that were preached at the daily prayer offices during the conference, are now available online at the ACELC website.

In addition to my own paper, in which I attempted to address my assigned topic, namely, to represent and defend a "High Church" attitude and approach to the Liturgy and worship, I would call special attention to the papers by Pr. Rick Sawyer and Pr. Bryan Wolfmueller, and to the sermons by Pr. Scott Porath and Pr. Carl Roth. I don't highlight these several contributions to make light of the others, but simply to say that I found these to be especially helpful.  I appreciated the contributions made by my colleagues, Pr. Philip Hale and Pr. David Langewisch, and I thank them for the opportunity to engage in dialogue, discussion, and debate.  I thought the preaching throughout the week was really quite good.

Kudos to the ACELC for organizing and sponsoring a great conference, and to the pastor and people of Trinity, Austin, for their gracious hospitality and their excellent hosting of the conference.  Well done, one and all!  I was impressed with the tenor of the gathering, and with the way that everything aimed at promoting and facilitating theological conversation.  It was an encouragement to the rigorous engagement of the Scriptures and the Confessions, in a way that is often hailed but seldom found.

Of course, it added tremendously to my enjoyment of the conference, that my daughter and son-in-law, and three of my grandchildren, were in attendance.  Can't beat that with a stick!  But, in addition to the conference itself and my soak-it-up-while-you-can family time, I especially treasure the opportunity provided to share the mutual conversation and consolation of the brethren.  I was reminded, again, as I have been in the past, of what a blessing and a benefit that is, and I am truly grateful to have received that good gift of God this past week.

Those Who Believed Had All Things in Common

Here is Part XI of my ACELC free conference paper (16 April 2013).  It is one of the sections that I omitted in my presentation of the paper, because of time constraints.  The entire paper will be made available on the ACELC website.

The Lutherans of the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries regulated the practices of the churches within each territory, in the interest of a unified confession of the faith they held in common.  We in our day could, and should, learn something from them.

There does not need to be, nor could there be, a “lock-step uniformity” in all ceremonies.  However, a unity and harmony and consistency of practice, as belonging to our confession of fellowship in the Gospel, is desirable and would be edifying.  That was true at the time of the Reformation, and it is not less so in this modern age of internet communications and rapid mobility!

As Luther and others often cited, it is appropriate that we Christians should have common rites and ceremonies for the administration of the Sacraments, since we have the Sacraments themselves in common.  Indeed, we have one Lord, one faith, one Holy Baptism, one God and Father of all.  We are called, gathered, enlightened, and sanctified by one and the same Holy Spirit, and we all partake of one Holy Communion.  We are all one Body in Christ Jesus, because we all eat of the one Bread, which is His Body; so do we all drink of the one Cup, which is the New Testament in His Blood.  As our fellowship is found in the Sacrament, it is appropriate that our celebration of the Supper be similar.

The regulating of adiaphorous rubrics, rites, and ceremonies within the good order of the Church’s fellowship, within a particular jurisdiction of the Church’s life on earth, is not contrary to the Gospel, but serves the confession and catechesis of the Gospel within the Church’s catholicity of faith and love.  Such commonly agreed-upon rubrics, coupled with the supervision of an overseer, or “bishop,” provides for a common practice from place to place, and from week to week, while it also allows room for genuine pastoral care of the Church in each time and place.

This approach to the life of the Church, as a fellowship of congregations in the unity of the faith, is beneficial, not only to the mutual relationships of the congregations with one another, but also to the life of each congregation, and to the relationship of pastors and people within each congregation.

Pastors benefit from the use of what has been received and adopted in common.  Especially because  it is the case that pastoral piety, in both large and small ways, is never simply personal or private, but is public, “political,” and pedagogical.  The people learn from their pastor’s practice.  They also pick up on discrepancies between his preaching and his practice (as in his handling of the Sacrament).

Parishioners benefit, too, when pastors use the common rites and ceremonies of the Church, rather than inventing their own practices, or else importing practices from outside of the Lutheran Church.  Wilhelm Löhe advised, for example, that a layperson should be able to discern where there is Lutheran doctrine and Lutheran worship, by comparing what the pastor preaches and teaches with the Small Catechism, and by comparing what the pastor says and does in the Divine Service with the rubrics, rites, and ceremonies of the Lutheran Liturgy.  In any event, the people of God should not be asked or expected to pray and confess words which they have never seen before, and which they will most likely never see again.  How shall they give their “Amen” to such things, without even knowing where they came from?  Of course, they listen attentively to the sermon, which they haven’t heard ahead of time; but they are not asked to pray and confess the sermon, nor to give their “Amen” to it, without first being given an adequate opportunity to follow it through and to consider it against the Scriptures.

The Sacred Tradition of Christ in His Church

Here is Part III of my ACELC free conference paper (16 April 2013).
The entire paper will be made available on the ACELC website.

It is with His own Institution of the Holy Supper that our Lord Jesus Christ establishes the Ministry of this Sacrament for the Life of His Church.  His divine command, “Do This in remembrance of Me,” is the power and authority by which the pastor acts in the place of Christ; so that each celebration of the Holy Communion, even to the close of the age, is not the pastor’s supper, but the Lord’s Supper.

Therefore, the “remembrance” of Jesus, here, is not simply (nor primarily) our recalling of the past, but it is first of all His own active remembering of us in love, and so also the Father’s remembering of Him on our behalf.  And then, for us, it is not only an intellectual and emotional “remembering,” but a bodily receiving and trusting of Christ, who gives Himself bodily to us, by and with His Word.

There, on the Altar, is the Lamb upon His Throne in the midst of His Church on earth.  And where He is, there is heaven, and all the company of heaven: The angels and archangels, the twenty-four elders and the four living creatures, the saints and martyrs of all the ages, are gathered together around Him at the Altar of His Church on earth.  For it is there that the crucified and risen Lord Jesus reveals and gives Himself to His disciples in the Breaking of the Bread.  Right there is the Gospel: in the Flesh.

So it is that everything else — in the Liturgy, in the Church’s worship, and throughout the Christian faith and life — everything else leads to and from this central high point, that is, to Christ Jesus at His Altar, to His Body and His Blood, which are given and poured out for us Christians to eat and to drink.

Catechesis aims, not only at making disciples of Jesus, but at bringing them to His Holy Sacrament, to eat and to drink His Body and His Blood in repentant faith.  It brings them to and from the waters of Holy Baptism, to the Altar of the Holy Communion.  Not only to begin with, to get them going on the way, but catechesis continues in pastoral care, whereby the Lord our Shepherd leads His lambs and sheep beside the still waters, and through the green pastures, to the Feast at His Table in His House.

The pastoral care of ongoing catechesis and discipleship, which is rooted in the ongoing significance of Holy Baptism, is also continued in the regular practice of Individual Confession and Absolution; so that the baptized faithful are regularly brought to the Holy Communion, by the Spirit through the Gospel, in the holiness, righteousness, and worthiness of faith in the forgiveness of Christ Jesus.

It ought to be noted that pastoral care is the context in which the Sacrament is administered; and that the administration of the Sacrament, itself, is a fundamental aspect and exercise of pastoral care for the Church.  The catholic practice of closed Communion also belongs to this context of pastoral care.

Preaching, likewise, always aims at bringing the disciples of Christ Jesus to and from His Supper.  Liturgically speaking, the Sermon has for its primary task the bringing of the people from the Lectern to the Altar, from the Word to the Word-made-Flesh, by proclaiming His death “until He comes.”  By the same token, the right administration of this Holy Sacrament, in accordance with the Gospel, includes and requires ongoing catechesis and the preaching of the Cross and Resurrection of Christ (which is the preaching of repentance for the forgiveness of sins in His Name).  To be specific, the pastoral care that brings people to the Supper, also belongs to the right administration of the Supper.

“Word and Sacrament” is not simply a cliché, nor a “short list” of necessary parts to be performed. Indeed, the means of grace are not “parts” and “pieces” for us to put together like some kind of puzzle, but they are the means by which the Lord Himself lays hold of us in love, and puts us back together.  His Word and Sacrament are the heart and soul of the Liturgy, as well as its flesh and blood.  For these are His good gifts, and His good works, which He gives and does for us by the Ministry of the Gospel.

As we then live and worship the Lord by faith in His Ministry of the Gospel, by receiving His good gifts at His Altar, our Christian faith and life is characterized by thanksgiving (eucharistia), which culminates in the celebration of the Holy Communion: as Christ Himself gave thanks at His Supper.  From there, His Cup of Thanksgiving “runneth over” into the Christian life of love within the world.

Love for the neighbor is the fruit of Christ’s Love for the Christian in the Holy Communion.  That is the priestly vocation of all the baptized faithful, as they live to and from the Lord’s Altar, into the world wherever God has stationed them.  In the Divine Service, they stand in faith before the Father in Christ, hearing His Word and receiving His Gifts with prayer, praise, and thanksgiving.  So do they offer up themselves, their bodies and their lives, to serve their neighbors as Christ has served them.

This Divine Service is the sacred Tradition of the Church — the seat of true catholicity — namely, Christ in His “Word and Sacrament,” as the Lord’s Supper and its administration are handed over.  For Christ is the Head of His Church, and He is actively present with all of His speaking and doing and giving, within each congregation, wherever He gathers disciples, “in His Name,” by and for the preaching of His Gospel and the administration of His Sacraments in accordance with His Gospel.

It is the Tradition that begins on the night when He is “betrayed,” or, better to say, “handed over.”  Judas betrays Him, that is true, but it is the Father, first of all, who hands over His Son to the Cross. And the Son of God hands Himself over: To His voluntary suffering and death, yes, but so also to His Church, to His disciples as the first communicants, and to His Apostles as the first ministers of His Gospel.  The Apostles, in turn, hand over the same Lord Jesus Christ to the Church that comes after them, in the preaching of His Cross and Resurrection, and in the distribution of His Body and Blood.

The Divine Service is not a malleable tool in our hands, to be “used” by us to achieve some purpose (no matter how noble, sincere, or well-intentioned the purpose may be).  It is, rather, a sacred Tradition of the Lord, to be received from Him, and to be handed over faithfully to His Church, by His grace.

2nd Amendment, Gun Free Zones, Carry permits & The Church

Congress, the media, State Legislatures, Face book, and nearly every other social media source is alive with the conversation, debate, antagonism about, Guns, Gun owners rights, and the 2nd Amendment both of the American Constitution's Bill of rights and the same at State levels. With all of this "noise" coming from all directions, has the Church made any kind of a statement, should she, and what should that be?

I must admit that I am not a proponent of "Gun Free Zones" anywhere, and that includes the Church and her worship space. I am a proponent of swift and severe punishment of those who commit crimes/acts of violence with firearms of any sort. I will not quote statistics nor do I like to listen to them for "figures lie and lairs figure" has always been a mantra for me ever since my college days and my entry into the world of high finance a.k.a. the stock market and trading.

I know of  a fellow pastor whose congregation warned him the day he came into town that he had better carry a firearm because during certain times of the year, wild game ran through the streets and you would need it for self-defense. What is the view of your brothers about "pistol packing preachers"? Should there be the ability to protect the flock should a violent person enter the sanctuary or should that just be a case of "turn the other cheek" give them what they want and continue to worship. Of course, the question of personal protect or that of a pastor's family is very different.

Just yesterday, a story broke on Fox News about a Muslim in New Jersey who had murdered two Coptic Christian men who had recently emigrated to the USA from Egypt. They were beheaded and had their hands cut off. Definitely a ritual type of killing. This is not going to be an isolated incident, not with the American people blind to this religion of the devil that is propped up as a "peaceful" religion. There are Muslim worship centers near most larger towns and the radicalization of American Muslims is growing rapidly. (No, I am not paranoid or a conspiracy guy)

What should or shouldn't a pastor do to possibly prepare for such an occurrence? Tough for me, former Marine Infantry, to not think about what could happen and think about ways to prevent or contain such a horrid situation just like Sandy Hook, or Aurora.  I look forward to your sage advice and emotional responses.

Marching for Life with the Common Service

I attended the 2013 March for Life and was glad to walk with fellow Missourians and thousands of others on the National Mall, up Constitution Avenue, past the Capitol to finish at the Supreme Court Building.  Between the Capitol and the Supreme Court the LCMS folks gathered prayed the Our Father and for the end to the legalized murder of unborn children in this land.  The LCMS Life Conference, held in conjunction with the March, was worth the price of admission.  I hope it is held again and that thousands more LCMS people attend.  One presenter exhorted us to encourage all District Presidents to be present next year and to lead a delegation from their district.  Huzzah to that!

Of particular note was the Divine Service prior to the March for Life.  Presided by Father Christopher Esget of Immanuel Church, Alexandria, Virginia with sermon preached by our Synodical President, the Mass was joyous and yet somber.  We Missourians present were not there on a junket funded by the Synod’s bank, (Full Disclosure:  I recently became a “Partner in Ministry” with LCEF, which I guess is what one becomes when they sell their home, move into a parsonage and have to park their money somewhere) but rather to speak, confess, march and pray for those who cannot speak for themselves and to mourn the 55 million children legally killed in the womb since Roe v. Wade and Doe v. Bolton in 1973.  I must confess I had a sense of mourning and grief as I arrived in the Federal City.  I would think any pastor having done a decent amount of time in the Holy Office can rejoice in those lives saved through his ministrations, but also mourn over those lives taken despite his every effort.  All pastors need to repent of when we kept our mouths shut, when we did not open our mouths for the dumb and for those appointed to die or when our words were so convoluted that we hurt more than helped. 

So the Common Service (Divine Service III LSB) was a welcome gift.  Even though it was conducted in the ballroom of a hotel, one could close their eyes and consider that they were home.   Such is the strength of the Common Service.  Father Esget was Eucharistically vested, President Harrison was in cope, the Day of Saint Paul’s Conversion was observed, the Gospel Preached, the prayers were prayed and the Sacred Body and Precious Blood of Jesus were given for us poor sinners.  I was graciously asked by Father McClean, also of Immanuel Church, to assist in consuming the Holy Body and Blood and was given food and drink of life even more.  It was needed.  How thankful I am for Fathers Esget, McClean and Harrison and for their ministrations to those gathered, it steeled me for the March for Life, knowing that I, a poor sinner was cleansed of my wickedness and can speak with a forgiven voice for Life – Christ. 

How thankful I am for the Common Service.  Arriving a day before the March, I went to the National Mall to see my Uncle’s name on the Vietnam Memorial.  PFC Dennis L. Harmon, USMC, was killed in action 21 July, 1966 at Quang Tri Province, Vietnam.  I have his copy of The Lutheran Hymnal in my study, given to him on the day of his confirmation just a few years before his death.  He knew and prayed the Common Service, as do the children and grandchildren of his sister – Missourians, just like him.  So praying the Common Service, no real frills or extras added, Lutheran hymnody, Christ preached, Christ delivered, calmed me as my mind was filled with thoughts of the unborn killed, an uncle killed so long ago and my own gross sins.  The Common Service unites me to my uncle as it unites my mother, siblings, children, nieces and nephew to me in a way that is beyond our shared bloodline, but rather in a way that is of Christ, His Church and His Father.  It settles my soul.  If I am willing to listen, its familiar harmony brings me to the rest that has been enjoyed by so many for Sunday after Sunday and will in the future.  The retention (and re-introduction where necessary) of the Common Service in 21^st century Lutheranism following its near destruction in Lutheran Book of Worship/Lutheran Worship era will be a laudable and needed help toward true unity in practice within Missouri, if we all are willing to listen.

The Real Issue With Female Acolytes

I’ve been chewing, for some time, on the practice of having males only serve as liturgical assistants and acolytes in the Church. At my current congregation, for many years both boys and girls had been allowed to serve in this way. Most of our circuit congregations allow it.

The only definitive position that the Synod takes in its quasi-official documents is that there is no Scriptural prohibition to it. So, anyone who would use males only, especially in a place where both girls and boys have been allowed to serve, has “a lot of explaining to do.”

So I’ve been mulling it over how best to explain this to those who ask (and some have asked). Two things I come up against: 1) There is no word of Scripture that I can think of that would prohibit the use of females in that capacity, and 2) The tradition of most of our congregations has been to allow both males and females to serve as acolytes.

Given the lack of a definite sedes doctrina for female acolytes, the issue is usually thrown quickly into the adiaphora basket. However, the fact that something is an adiaphoron, if it is truly such, does not necessarily mean that we must do it. What it means is that the Church is free in this regard to do what seems best.

Furthermore, in matters where Scripture is silent our Confessions do give to pastors some freedom in making ordinances, so long as they do not make such things binding on consciences or teach that we are justified by them. The issue of who may serve as an acolyte, I believe, would fall into the realm of pastoral privilege. In other words, if the pastor’s preference is not to use female acolytes, then so be it.

In a recent newsletter article for our church, I explained what our acolytes do: they are liturgical assistants to the pastor, doing much more than lighting candles. They are also crucifers and torch bearers. They assist by collecting the Offering plates and taking them into the chancel. They collect the empty individual glasses from the elderly in the back of the Church when we take Communion to them. They vest in cassock and cotta.

I also explained that this is a good way for us to teach the boys and young men in our church about their role as leaders in the Church. It is a good way to teach them proper decorum and reverence. There are other ways the girls can serve. They are encouraged to shadow the women who care for the altar and prepare Communion. And, as in most congregations, there are many women’s organizations and activities for them to be involved in. I also mentioned the fact that today the Church suffers especially from a lack of male participation, and that this is meant to help curb that deficiency.

But all this aside, is there still a more fundamental reason why the practice of using males only for this role in the Church is ideal? I believe so. There is no question that we live in a time when there is much confusion regarding the roles of men and women in the Church. More and more churches are making it possible for women to have authoritative roles, as well as female pastors. There is a general lack of understanding of what roles are appropriate for women to fill in the church.

So, is it right for us who value male headship and authority, who do not allow women to serve as pastors, or to assist with the conduct of the Service, to allow girls to serve in these minor roles? Isn’t this rather confusing to them? If a girl has assisted in the conduct of the Service, has vested just like the boys, has carried crosses and torches, etc, isn’t she more likely to question when she gets older the practice of a male-only clergy? Isn’t she more likely to ask, “What’s the difference? Why was a girl allowed to do all these other things, but she can’t be a pastor?”

Maybe this is an overreach, but as a parent I know that it is necessary not only to tell my kids how to behave, but also to model that behavior for them. If I tell them not to do something, but go ahead and do it myself, that sets a bad example for them, and essentially confuses them. Why is it okay for Dad to do it, but not me? So also, I think that we almost become guilty of leading young women into temptation when we give them these roles. We tempt them by enticement, like leading a young child in front of a candy shop, even letting them taste the candy, but then saying, “You can’t have any.”

In this case, we let the young women get a “taste” of what it is like to assist in the Conduct of a Divine Service, but then we say, “You can’t do that” when it comes to being pastors. Not only is this unloving, but it creates problems later on down the road. If, however, from their childhood, they have learned to see only men leading the Service, and young men assisting with the Service, won’t they be less likely to be among those who question the propriety of a male-only clergy?

One could, I suppose, take the position that it doesn’t really matter who lights candles if this is done apart from the Service. We usually have ours lit 5-10 minutes before the opening hymn, and the boys extinguish the candles after the closing hymn. When I don’t have acolytes present, either I light them or an usher does (and our ushers are all men—go figure).

As a compromise, so as not to cause too much offense, I suppose a pastor could allow girls the opportunity to light candles before the Service and to extinguish them afterward, while reserving the roles of crucifer and torch bearer for males only since these take place during the Service. In this case, however, I wouldn’t have the girls vest, or remain up front after wards. I would just have them light the candles and go back to sit with their families.

In either case, I think that the real issue at hand is what is being taught and conveyed to the young people and the rest of the congregation. It would seem that with all of the confusion over the roles of men and women in the Church today, we might do well to listen to the words of the apostle: “All things are lawful, but not all things are helpful.”

If something is truly a matter of Christian freedom, then the rule should apply both ways. If the Church is free to use male and female acolytes, both lighting candles and assisting the pastor in the liturgy, then we should also be free not to do it. Too often, however, the opposite is true. People think that if we are free to do something then we must do it. St. Paul’s words above would not allow such thinking though.

Lingering

Wednesday evenings at 7:30pm are for the Divine Service.  It has been that way for me for years now.  Wednesday night after Wednesday night I have been at an altar with the image of Christ Crucified and His Holy Apostles all around.  Preaching Christ and distributing His Holy Body and Blood to but a few each time, and this past Wednesday for the last time, at this place, at this altar, with this paten, with this blessed chalice.

And so I found myself lingering last Wednesday evening.  The verba were...slow.  The distribution... slower.  The cleansing of the Holy Vessels... at...a...snail's...pace.

The Sunday before was the last too.  With a great crowd.  A huge banquet to say farewell.  Family, friends, Holy Brothers, speeches, tears.  A beautiful hymn sing to finish it off. It was not quiet.  In. Any. Way.  It shouldn't have been.  It is a Confessional Lutheran Church, with Confessional Lutherans who sing Luther and Gerhardt and Nicolai.  With gusto.  People who love their pastor and bid him all the joy and love they've got.

But Wednesdays.  They were always quiet.  The Divine Service spoken.  The prayers of but a handful - a dozen or so.  Maybe twenty, sometimes five.  But Christ, this altar, this paten, this blessed chalice, with the lips of countless saints imprinted, among them the almost 80 I buried from this church.   With Christ.  In Christ.  For them, the quiet of death, but given over to life.  Christ's death.  Their death.  Christ's life.  Their life.  The quiet of peace eternal.  The quiet of a Wednesday night forever.

Now I sit at this desk for the last time.  Books in boxes, crucifixes and icons off the walls.  It is quiet and I linger here in this study to go someplace else where He will make use of me.  Confident in that, I still linger here.  It is the hardest thing to do, to leave saints behind.  Not only the ones living, but the ease of going to the cemetery to see the graves of those I loved and buried.  To linger there for a little while in between visits.  Peaceful.  Restful.  Joyful.

I suppose at the altar of the new place I'll learn to linger, to stay and find rest at that altar, with that paten, with that Blessed chalice.  It will take awhile I think.

How soon can I get Wednesday Night services going down there?

A Presentation of God's Redemption

I met Dr. Kleinig for the first time just over a week ago. He is a kind, gracious, and engaging person. He is also widely read and has great command over this material. As a testament to both his kindness and his intellectual acumen, I relate this brief story: He actually sought me out in the student commons after a chapel service. As I was drinking my coffee, he approached me and said, “Are you Gifford Grobien?” After brief introductions, he told me he was reading my dissertation, which he appreciated. (My dissertation investigated the relationship between the divine liturgy and moral formation.) He then queried, “Who wrote the first Lutheran ethics?” After I wrongly guessed Melanchthon (who wrote about ethics, but not theologically), I quickly gave up, sensing that he was getting at something, which he was. He announced that the honor actually goes to August Vilmar (1800-1868), professor at the University of Marburg. His Moral was published posthumously in 1871, based on summer lectures he gave from 1856-1867. Dr. Kleinig then proceeded to educate me on the importance of great orthodox Lutheran writings, including in the area of ethics, and that I ought to give some attention to them. He did this in the kindest possible way. (My dissertation does, admittedly, overlook the orthodox period, focusing instead on Luther, the Confessions and contemporary problems.)

To remedy this void in my knowledge I immediately obtained a copy of Vilmar’s Theologische Moral (available in the public domain on Google Books), and have purposed to read through it in the next year or two, in the midst of everything else, even if I only get to a few pages a day.

I am delighted already with what I’m reading. Two points in particular are worth reflecting on here: 1) moral theology should not be confused with philosophical or secular ethics, which is concerned with customs or agreements about social behavior, but has little to do with the character or inner nature of a person; 2) moral theology covers as its scope the teaching about how God’s redemptive activity is carried out in men.

These points, of course, correspond. A moral person, from a theological perspective, must be the recipient of God’s redemptive activity, activity which regenerates the person and gives life to the new man who desires and pursues the things of the Spirit. True morality cannot be coerced through law. Outward behavior may appear to be orderly and lawful, but only the one who is converted truly lives the moral life in the Spirit. This gives moral theology its particularly theological character, and helps deal with the question of what morality has to do with theology.

Also interesting is that Vilmar goes so far as to say that moral theology is a “narrative of the fulfillment of the redemption of man” (6). He calls it a “Darstellung von Thatsachen” of God, a phrase which has the tone of an official report or presentation. It is almost as though moral theology, for Vilmar, is the documentary evidence of God’s saving work in people. Such a perspective not only argues for an important place for moral theology, but grounds it properly in God’s work. This helps to keep clear the movement from redemption to sanctification to good works, and not to confuse the relationship.

What is a Fan?

"Fan" is short for "fanatic." A fan is a person with a passion. In fact, to be a true fan of something is to place it above all things. To be a fan is to have commitment and zeal - and maybe even in quantities that some might find excessive. A fan doesn't care about that. A fan pursues his passion with gusto. 

Many people claim to be football fans.  What does a football fan look like?  What demographic characteristics define a fan, say, of the local NFL team, or of NFL football in general?  It certainly isn’t related to factors like age, sex, or race.  Football fans come in every shape and size.  There is a universality among football fans that transcends such cultural and physical markers.  Football is transcultural.  It brings people together – even across boundaries of generation, education, socio-economic status, political affiliation, and physical appearance.  There is a mutual love of team and sport that binds this “otherness” into “community.”

Local communities of fans rally around the local team, gathering at specific times and at specific places, e.g. the local stadium or sports bar.  Fans gather to discuss, to sing the praises of the team, and at times even argue about what is best for the local franchise and for the sport in general.  Fans listen to talk radio, and maybe weigh in sometimes.  Fans watch the NFL Network and local sportcasts, and they likely read articles in sports newspapers, magazines, or the Internet.

Fans share their passion with those around them, perhaps wearing an identifying mark of the team or of the sport, or perhaps decorating their homes and property with such symbols.  There may be ritual words and gestures known to other fans when they greet one another, when they cheer something positive, when they lament something negative, or when they participate on game day.

Fans observe a cycle, a season.  There is the ever-new excitement of the draft, of contract negotiations, of new players coming on and old players departing, of the pre-season games.  There is opening Sunday.  There is a regular season.  There are the playoffs, leading to the culmination of the football year: the Super Bowl.  In addition, there are special occasions, such as all-star games and other events during the course of the year.  A true fan participates with, and joins in, the cycle of the season.  Even during the off season, there are things fans can do to hold onto their zeal.  The season provides a personal and community framework that is both excitingly fresh and comfortably familiar.

Fans have a reverence for the past.  There is a Hall of Fame, there are trophies and rings and sculptures.  There are statistics.  There are cards honoring iconic heroes.  There are tributes and feasts and opportunities to call to mind times of glory, as well as to commiserate times of trial.  Fans watch videos, read books, and talk with one another about what came before.

Fans are ever hopeful for the future.  No matter how terrible last season was, true fans come back with the faith and hope to look forward.  For they know that anything is possible “on any given Sunday.”  They stand by their team, win or lose - even when their heroes throw interceptions or fumble the ball.  They are always there to cheer their kicker through the taunts of the opposition.  They will greet the team at the airport in victory and in defeat.

Being a fan is a family affair.  Children are brought in at an early age – often as babies, being initiated and photographed with a ball or a team logo well before reaching an age old enough to decide for himself which team to follow – or even to be a fan at all.  In fact, a true fan feels more that the team and sport have chosen him, grabbed hold of him, and shaped him - and not vice versa.  There is a trans-generational character of family fan life as older fans pass on not only knowledge and factual  information, but also customs and traditions, to the younger fans.  These in turn will pass the heritage on to posterity.  Season tickets are sometimes put in wills.

Family life of a football fan family revolves around the game and the team.  The family is eager for Sunday to come.  And when it does, young and old gather in stadiums or around televisions.  There is often tailgating and grilling of food and the serving of drinks.  There is special food and ritual that goes with game day – both regular Sunday games and those outside the Sunday cycle.  Birthdays and holidays are specially blessed for fans and their families, as gifts often bear the images of their favorite teams and players.  Fan families may toss around a ball or participate more fully in the sport – in both organized and spontaneous ways.  Their homes and offices bear reminders of their passion, love, and devotion for the game.

There is often great social pressure to be a fan – particularly at certain times of the season.  Many people are quick to describe themselves as fans, but do not bear the fruit of fanhood.  They may think that a fan is someone who simply says that he is a fan.  Such people may wear a jersey on occasion, or even watch a game once in a while.  There are people who claim fanship only when the weather is nice, when the team is winning, or only on Super Bowl Sunday.  But one wonders if such people are just going through the motions, seeking the benefits of being a fan without bearing the cost of fanship.  There are indeed those who will abandon the team when it is losing, when the coach or owner makes an unpopular decision, when the ball bounces the wrong way, or when another distraction comes along competing for attention.  On any given Sunday, one can observe the motion of crowds to determine where people’s passions are to be found.

To be a fan is indeed to be a “fanatic.”  It is to love one’s passion above all things – to the point even of irrationality.  A fan’s life is governed - in time and space, in family life and social fabric, in good times and bad - by that which makes him what he is.

Abraham and Lot, the 4th, and the Future

I thought about trying to be highly witty and begin this post with the words "When in the course of human events..." but no, I'm not quite that witty this morning.  Besides, what I am now going to suggest is not a violent dissolution, nor anything that needs be done.  Rather, I will suggest a course of action that I think would be a wise use of our freedom.

I write as a Lutheran who happens to be in the Oklahoma District of the LCMS.  Oklahoma is an interesting district.  We have all stripes - some of the most liberal folks in the Synod, some of the most conservative - we have some of the highest, most ornate worship, and we have some of the most contemporary, the most baptist styles.  And yet, we are at peace: I hear of terrible fighting and discord from other districts -- or if there is civility they speak of it as though it is a great surprise. 

At first my hope had been that every district would be as mine is -- small, only 80 or so congregations, where all the pastors know each other by name -- and without property to speak of, where all district positions are part-time and volunteer -- acts of love to the brother pastors and sister congregations.  Without the property, without the large purse to control, without the institutional belly to fill, we live in peace.  There is no haranguing, there is no bitter fight for control because we do not have anything of note to control. 

But I fear that this will not come to pass in the LCMS as a whole.  There is too much wealth invested to be disbanded and given away.  The Oklahoma model will not work, will not bring peace.  The powers that be in our institution would not give up their status - not enough, not gladly.

Thus, I have a new proposal.  Consider Genesis 13.  When there is strife between Abram and Lot, when they are fighting over the land, the resources, what do they do?  The separate in peace.  Lot goes one way, Abram the other.  And they part not in bitterness, not in contention - but in peace.  Indeed, Abram still rescues Lot when he is attacked, still prays for him when his Sodom is destroyed.

What I propose is this.  As there are two general wings in the LCMS - one which wishes to maintain a liturgical focus (be it high, low, fancy or bronze) and one which wishes to be more flexible and dynamic in worship style so as to appeal to as many as possible - let us split.

And let us do so blindly -- let us find two men, two committees to craft a description of the style, the order that would be self maintained.  And then let every congregation choose one of these ways and go.  And then let the Synod and her districts be divided proportionately...  Seminaries and Universities and District headquarters all divided and redistricted to fit as the two new bodies will need.  Let the name "Missouri" go with the majority - let the minority take a new label as they will deem proper.

And then, let us maintain fellowship.  Let us maintain a joint health and retirement plan.  Let this be a matter of institutional sundering -- and if down the line 10, 20 years theologies have completely diverged, so be it.  If then it means that one would rather seek greener pastures with the ELCA or NALC, so be it.  If it means one would rather seek the pastures of the old Synodical conference to be re-established, fine.  By that time institutional drift would let either or neither of these happen as an obvious matter of course - a gentle separation instead of a violent (and wantonly glorious) break.

And why do I think my idea is good?  Because no one would be happy.  Those who love to tout numbers and earthly glory -- well, the numbers would look bad either way.  Those who want the glorious ousting of the louts -- well, we would still maintain fellowship with them for a time, even as the institution divides and stabilizes on it's own.

Let there be a peaceful split.  Let each side think they are Abram looking on foolish Lot... but letting Lot be Lot with a shrug and in goodwill letting him go his own way, praying that it will not be too hard on him when he falls and struggles.

This is indeed a no win solution -- but the purpose is not to win, but rather to allow peace... peaceful growth, or perhaps the peaceful road to folly and ruin... but peace, peace without a Synod divided, with people demanding that others walk with them down a road the one believes best, the other believes ruinous.

Thoughts?

Clergy Confidential

Congratulations, my dear pastors-elect! Squarely in possession of that first set of call docs to Anywhere Lutheran Church, you are one pair of quasi-episcopal hands away from joining the ranks of the clergy. Even if you are first-born parsonage born and raised, you have no idea what you are getting into or you would have already run the other way like a groom with cold feet on his wedding day.

Rick Stuckwisch asked me to write a piece as the summer ordination season begins. He ought to have known better. He’s worked with me before. Rick, I’m the one who once suggested crowd-surfing the processional cross, remember? I’ll leave the lofty “from above” view to guys much more pious, capable, and holy. I’m here to deliver the view “from below,” the kind of practical “Real-theologie” one does not get at the seminary, chiefly because the professors would be summarily fired for pouring this brand of undiluted honesty.

What follows comes from my own experience twenty years downstream from that sweltering hot August afternoon hands when officially laid on my dripping head and I became, for good and for ill, a pastor. I’m going to channel my “inner Anthony Bourdain” for this one, and give you a piece of unvarnished truth-telling, a kind of “clergy confidential” of what I wish someone would have told me twenty years ago. The comment stream is sure to be full of indignant howls of “How dare you, you Philistine!” but never mind them. This drink needs to be served straight up, no ginger-ale.

Colleagues. You are entering a byzantine caste of rogues and scoundrels the likes of which the seminary was but a foretaste of the dysfunction to come. Your fellow pastors are a motley crew of slick entrepreneurs, ambitious ladder climbers, bookish scholars, chancel prancers, monks, zealots, pietists, PKs, and “bad boys” who smoke, drink, cuss, and generally “sin boldly.” I won’t mention the ones who will wind up in prison. These are your colleagues, your comrades in arms, your brothers. Learn to get along with all of them as best you can, and learn to love them for who they are: Deeply damaged, damnable sinners justified for Jesus’ sake. Any one of them, one day, could be your district president. Don’t ever burn a single bridge.

Conventions. None of us individually is nearly as dumb as all of us put together. Conventions prove this. Ignorance loves to pool around the floor microphones. Stay away from them. Floor microphones are not trees waiting to be marked by every bulldog in the backyard. Empty your theological bladder elsewhere. Resist the urge to spout off at conventions for at least three years. Six if you can possibly contain your brilliance. Make it an apostolic dozen, and we just might invite you out for drinks. Just chill, listen, and drink in the absurdity. Your time will come. And when it does, you’ll realize that what you so desperately had to say doesn’t matter anyway, and nobody is listening.

Congregations. Let me cut to the chase: You serve the Lord, and you work for your congregation. You may not like the sound of that, and you may even be tempted to argue with me on lofty theological grounds, but the sooner you get this, the better off you are going to be.

If you understand this one little paradox, you will understand why 80% of your future colleagues are giving serious consideration to buying that B&B in Vermont, opening a dive shop in Belize, a microbrewery in Milwaukee, or simply disappearing from civilization like an Australian on a “walkabout.” Your call and ordination remind you that you serve the Lord. Your W-2 and paycheck remind you that you work for the congregation. You also answer indirectly to a variety of ecclesiastical inspectors and regulators: your district, the synod, and just about every Tom, Dick, or Harry who decides to make your business his business.

There are standards and practices for which you are answerable beyond the immediate clientele. Like Hebrew National Hotdogs, you answer to a Higher Authority. The trouble is that the words “Lord Jesus Christ” will never once appear on the signature line of your paycheck. And therein, my friend, lies the problem.

Sometimes you must toe the Gospel line. Like the doctor asked to write a bogus prescription or the butcher told to put out marginally rancid meat, you may have to tell management to take a hike when you are asked to violate Scripture and Confessions. Just be sure that’s what you are being asked to violate. I’ve seen far too many guys invoke higher principles when in fact they were simply being jerks. Being ground between a Gospel rock and an institutional hard place is never without suffering and loss, and you will pay a price. So choose your battles wisely, don’t ruffle the feathers of management unnecessarily, never forsake principle, conscience or personal integrity, compromise when you can, pray without ceasing, and be sure to drink a little wine for the sake of your stomach and the frequent ailments you are sure to have in abundance.

A sense of humor helps. Pastors with good senses of humor, not to mention an appreciation for irony, are not necessarily more successful, but they are a lot more fun to be around and seem to be less prone to career destructive behaviors. And the institutional beast doesn’t know what to do with Gospel-crazed pastors who don’t take themselves, or their careers, terribly seriously. You have been, after all, declared forensically dead in your Baptism. The nice thing about being dead is that you have nothing to lose. This prompted Luther, who knew a thing or two about dealing with difficult management, to pen the line: “Take they our life, goods, fame, child, and wife. Let these all be gone. They yet have nothing won. The kingdom ours remaineth.” You’re dead to Sin and Self but alive to God in Christ. At the end of the day, the kingdom yours remaineth too. If Luther could survive the medieval papacy, you can survive the voters assembly.

Liturgy. How do I say this nicely? I can’t. Don’t mess with the liturgy! It’s not yours, it’s ours. The churches all together. Community property. You have the books, and you hopefully know what to do with your hands. Now learn to do the liturgy - naturally, reverently, respectfully, with a due sense of awe, wonder, and mystery. We don’t need the Rituale Romanum any more than we need Jesus Palooza. Do the liturgy you’ve been given. Do it without faux friendliness, fake accents, goofy gestures, and anything that would make a kid say, “Hey, what’s with that funny guy up there in the white dress?” Pretend that the people actually came to meet Jesus not you. I know most protestants, and even many Lutherans, come for the preacher, but pretend anyway. Maybe they’ll catch on one day, probably after you’re dead and gone.

People. People fatigue me. It’s not that I don’t like people; I actually do. Quite a lot. Maybe too much. But like a few beers on a warm summer afternoon, a round of meet and greet leaves me ready for a good, long nap. I’m an off-the-charts introvert in the Myers-Briggs world. It’s the way I’m wired; I make no apologies.

You’ve probably heard it a hundred times, but I’ll make it a hundred and one. Know your people. Visit them. Spend time with them. Listen to them. Do pastoral anthropology on them. Hang out with them in their homes and gardens, their businesses, barns, and garages. I won’t use that awful “relational” word the bureaucrats like to toss around, but like it or not, believe it or not, want it or not, pastoral ministry is a people business.

Consider Jesus - eating, drinking and generally hanging out with pious pharisees, greasy tax collectors, hot off the street hookers, and riff-raff of all shapes and varieties. He didn’t trust people, but He sure hung around with them. Rant, fume, and theologize about this all you want. Go and bury yourself and your dysfunctional personality under a pile of brocaded vestments, dusty books, a computer screen or theological presuppositions. But your people won’t trust you with the big stuff - their terminal illnesses their infidelities and divorces, their daughter’s out-of-wedlock pregnancy or their son’s coming out of the closet at family Christmas - if you haven’t been around for the little stuff.

This is where I have screwed up most royally. To be sure, I’ve burned more bridges than Patton on the march to Bastogne. I’ve pontificated at far too many microphones, far too soon, for far too long. I’ve alienated, angered, agitated, and generally pissed off quite a few people. But if I could undo just one thing, if I could retract just one sin of omission, it would be this: I would know my people better. This kind of pastoral work, what the old masters called Seelsorge, takes enormous amounts of time, patience, energy, endless phone calls, wasted trips, and stubborn persistence. There is no substitute for it.

OK, enough. Probably too much.  This article is beginning to rival the length of one of Stuckwisch’s tomes, and I have editors stalking me for projects whose deadlines are so long past they need to be tracked by carbon dating. It’s time to wrap up.

Had I known twenty-six years ago what I know today, had I known what the state of the church, society, and my own fragile, dysfunctional psyche would be, I probably would not have ditched a lucrative albeit morose career in chemistry to run off to the seminary. I had no idea what I was getting into.

However, knowing what I now know after twenty years of pastoring a congregation in my local patch of Anywhere, USA, all the remarkable saints I’ve come to know, all the heartaches, headaches, and bellyaches, all the heroes and villains, all the sermons preached, Suppers distributed, Baptisms administered, confessions heard, classes taught, weddings and funerals officiated, and people pastored more or less, I would not have things any other way.

The apostle Paul once wrote to a young pastor named Timothy: “He who desires the office of bishop, desires a noble task.” Even when viewed “from below,” this remains most certainly true.

Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.