What if. . .

The post just below on Liturgical Order gets me thinking. . .

Especially with the great changes being pushed by the Purple Palace for our structure and whatnot, I wonder if the following will ever shake out:

A group of pastors and parishes seek to leave the jurisdiction of the LCMS but not its fellowship. What I mean is, we all feel a great deal of love for the confession, history, and (many) institutions of the LCMS. We don't want to sever fellowship with our brothers and sisters here.

What many of us are actually frustrated with is the bureaucracy, by-laws (the real canon law around here!), and the scandal-causing lack of uniform practice in worship, closed communion, etc.

So what if a group of pastors and congregations that desire such things as compliance with AC XIV and an evangelical but binding canon law on the liturgy were to separate from the LCMS' bureaucracy and form a jurisdiction of its own, but remain in fellowship with MO.

The LCMS is now once again in fellowship with another jurisdiction in the US - the AALC. Perhaps in the decades to come a devolution of the bureaucracy can take place wherein one or several other jurisdictions will spin off of the LCMS leading to a resurrection of something like the Synodical Conference: a group of jurisdictions in fellowship with each other, critiquing each other fraternally, and providing a living and visible picture of what differing visions for the practice of our shared doctrine look like. Perhaps the recent heavy-handed proposals from the current bureaucracy will make something like this more attractive to some of our parishes.

One benefit of this would, I think, be a general calming of the nerves and thus an improvement in our discourse. In other words, I think a separate jurisdiction in fellowship with MO might prove a better leaven for MO than the current disjointed scattering of traditionalist minded pastors and congregations.

+HRC

Maintaining Liturgical Order and Decency in a (Canon) Law-less Church Body

Proponents of contemporary worship and even those who generally use the traditional liturgical forms but substitute 'praise songs' or other 'contemporary' songs for parts of the liturgy always fall back on the argument that neither Christ nor the Apostles laid down any specific laws or instructions for how our worship is to be conducted. The only commands were to preach the Word and administer the Sacraments. The rest, so they say, is up to the individual congregation or pastor, "as long as it brings glory to God and focuses on Christ." And they point inevitably to the section of the Confessions that gives the "congregation of God" in "every time and place" the power to change or alter the ceremonies and worship forms as they see fit. Of course, it always comes down then to how broadly or narrowly we define that Confessional "freedom."

Bottom line is that confessional pastors who oppose such "experimentation" with the liturgy have a difficult time arguing against these folks. We can speak about the positive theological and practical virtues of the traditional liturgy, even show how the spirit behind the traditional ceremonies and rubrics is Biblically based (thanks Paul H. D. Lang for teaching us the four Biblical precepts behind these: Reverence, humility, order, and love). But when it comes down to it, we really can't tell our brother pastor down the street that he *may not* substitute contemporary songs for hymns and use "creative worship" in place of the rites found in the hymnal. We have to admit that in our Synod, which has no Liturgical Canon Law, we are pretty much on our own when it comes to the conduct of the service and the rites and ceremonies we use. You and I might be committed to using the orders of worship found in the hymnal and the Altar Book but that doesn't mean that Pastor Joe down the street has to follow suit, since the Synod does not legislate or make anything except the Word of God binding on the congregation (and some of us wonder if it is even doing that anymore).

Certainly we can agree that the New Testament lays down no specific "laws" for how the Divine Service is to be conducted, and that the Confessions do give to the churches the freedom to change or alter the ceremonies that are used in the Divine Service. But isn't it equally true that the New Testament does not forbid the Church to agree upon certain forms and agree to use them. In fact, I think one could argue on the basis of certain texts in the Epistles of St. Paul that this is actually desirable. I think this is what the Church Orders of the 16th & 17th centuries set out to do. They were not just "friendly suggestions" from a non-legislative church body, but instructions on how services and other rites would be conducted in a certain territory. In evangelical freedom, these theologians and churches agreed to use a uniform service, for the sake of good order, so that there weren't 10 different orders of service being used at 10 different churches.

The closest thing that we LC-MS pastors have to such a Church Order or "Canon Law" is our Agenda and Altar Book (and one could possibly argue, the hymnal itself). But even these have no binding force on the pastors and congregations of the Synod. And even if they did, would it even matter? I guess my point in this post is simply that as long as we abide in a Synod that has no liturgical Canon Law or Church Orders that require the congregations of a particular district or region to use certain rubrics or ceremonies, we may simply have to accept the reality that there will be wild and crazy stuff going on, liturgically speaking, and we are pretty much powerless to do anything about it, except try to help individual people see the value of using the historic liturgy. And to a large extent, this may be happening through the services of Higher Things.

We cannot rely on the Synod to say, "You may or may not do this or that." All we can say is: "We beseech you by the mercies of God not to do so and so." So says Lang. I'm not saying we should all just keep our mouths shut and not protest the silliness that passes for Lutheran worship in our Synod. I'm simply making the point that there is nothing inherent in our Synod that forbids it. To a large extent, the way our Synod is set up, or at least the way our by-laws are written, each individual congregation really does have the freedom to "do what is right in its own eyes." Am I off base here?

St. Bartholomew

We observed the day of St. Bartholomew today, and I mentioned in the sermon how he is not a very popular apostle. No words of his in the synopics. Of course there is the faithful declaration after Jesus told him He saw him (Bartholomew/Nathaniel) under the fig tree. Not too many people name their kids Bartholomew like John, James, Matthew, Peter, Paul and Thomas.

At our church above the altar and around the crucifix are the symbols of the blessed apostles. If you haven't been you can see a pic on the website http://www.stpaulsbrookfield.com/ but...

St. Bartholomew isn't up there. St. Paul got his spot, being our patron I guess he needed a place. I suppose it would have been quite uneven to have 13 up there, so Bartholomew was chosen somehow to be the one left out. Even, St. Matthias, the replacement, got his shield up there before Bartholomew, one of the first to be chosen.

Now I think I kind of like this actually. His absence on the altar goes very nicely with the Gospel for his day, Luke 22:24-30. Our Lord saying "not so among you"; greatness found in being last, in service, with our Lord being the One who serves. So I've been pondering the Ministry today.

It is OK for us preachers not to be known, to hide ourselves in vestments now and to be hidden in the earth when we die, forgotten. Most of us will not be fondly remembered, and if we are remembered it might be as "oh pastor X, he was strict." We should not wish to be remembered at all I don't think, trying to make a name for ourselves, but rather our office is to serve Christ and have Christ serve those He redeemed through us in the preaching and the ministrations.

Most of us preachers will be lost to history; sure we'll have a little obit in the Lutheran Witness, if there will still be such a thing when we die, and that will be that. Our families might remember us, but after a while they'll die too. We'll be the great-great grandpa who was a preacher. Maybe our name will be in a history book of the parishes we served, but if our parishes endure there will be a time when no one we baptized will be around, no one we preached to will be able to say, "I heard him." And this is all just fine, because it is not we who are to endure, or our memory, but Christ, His Word, His Work, those things will endure and the fruit of all that will be revealed when the Blessed Twelve, Bartholomew included, will be on their thrones in the Kingdom and we'll see them and all those who heard and believed the Apostolic preaching that came out of our own mouths will be there too. And our Lord Jesus Christ will remember us; He has promised that.

For now we should take comfort in being least, in being left out, being derided and rejected by men for such happened to the prophets who were before us, and the apostles too, and much worse. Remember, St. Bartholomew got skinned alive, but he will receive a throne, Jesus promised that. And Jesus promises a place for us too, and He's seen to it that we'll get it.

So as men redeemed to live eternally we can bear this office, knowing that like Bartholomew we might be lost to men, living as servants, maybe dying as the least, maybe with service not remembered, but in this is the greatness of Christ. And this is just fine.

Female Acolytes and Issues of Adiaphora

Rev. Bill Weedon had a post on female acolytes over at his blog and I wanted to piggy-back on it a little bit here. I had originally posted this on my blog but thought it would be a better discussion on this list. In one of my posts on my other blog I discussed the slippery slope of the argument that says: "Scripture is silent, therefore go ahead and do it." Scripture is also silent with regards to female acolytes, or any acolytes for that matter. In other words, much like the issue of preaching from pulpits, the Bible nowhere says: "Thou shalt not use female acolytes." Does this mean that we ought to use them for this service? Does the silence of Scripture give the Church free reign to do things as she sees fit? Is tradition the only ally of those who do not think using female acolytes is such a good idea?

There may be no clear passage in the Bible forbidding the use of female acolytes, but you have to admit that women and girls seem to be largely absent whenever there is any kind of altar service being carried out. Is that merely coincidence? Can the example of Scripture prove anything? Would our pastors and congregations listen to such an example, or would they demand a clear passage of Scripture? Probably the latter.

I wonder who lit the candles for the service in the early church. Has anyone ever seen a historic study on this? It would be interesting to know how it was done before the different grades of the ministry came into vogue. As far as I know, only ordained clergy carried out this service. Perhaps we shouldn't have anyone serving the altar who is not ordained into the Office of the Ministry. Perhaps we should not even have young boys doing it. I'm really just thinking out loud here.

This is often a thorny issue in congregations. Our Synod allows it. Pastors who oppose it as a practice or who do not prefer it are not likely to receive calls even to otherwise conservative parishes. It would be different if it were a thing like closed communion which our Synod officially endorses (even if a majority of congregations and pastors do not uphold it or practice it). But it is something to which the Synod has given its blessing, so unless someone can produce Biblical support for opposition to the practice, it is likely to remain a matter of adiaphora. What say you?

Evaluating the Lutheran Service Book

My son-in-law recently brought to my attention a critical review of the Lutheran Service Book; not the first I've seen, but from a somewhat different angle. There have been positive reviews, as well, and the overall assessment and reception of the book by the Church at large has frankly been impressive. The reasons for its acceptance vary, rather widely I suspect, as do the criteria by which it has been criticized.

I have my own thoughts and opinions concerning the Lutheran Service Book; not unbiased, given my extensive participation in the project that produced it and the adoption of the book by my congregation. Here, though, I am first of all raising the questions for others: What are your assessment and evaluation of LSB? What are its strengths, and what are its weaknesses? Has your congregation adopted it? Why, or why not? What unanswered questions do you still have? What do you most regret? What's missing, and what should not have been included?

I'm asking because I honestly want to know what others think, and because I also intend to share my own perspectives in turn, but I'd like to initiate a conversation. We're coming up on two years of using LSB at Emmaus (since the Feast of St. Michael and All Angels in 2006). That seems an appropriate juncture at which to step back and take stock of things. So, what say you?

The Prayer of Thanksgiving

I was talking to a friend recently about the seemingly new Lutheran practice of inserting a "prayer of thanksgiving" between the Sanctus and the Our Father (or between the Sanctus and the Words of Institution), as can be seen, for example, in Lutheran Worship (LCMS, 1982), Lutheran Service Book (LCMS, 2006), and the brand new Christian Worship Supplement (WELS, 2008). My friend expressed his objections to this, seeing it as an ill-advised modern ecumenical concession to those who insist that a prayer at this point in the Liturgy is a necessity. I pointed out in response that the liturgical tradition of American Lutheranism included such a usage long before the advent of the modern "Liturgical Movement" with its various Dixian demands, and that another way of interpreting the appearance of such prayers in modern hymnals is to see it as a restoration of something that was previously used by American Lutherans within the memory of many who are alive today.

The Evangelical Lutheran Hymnal was published in 1908 by the Lutheran Book Concern (Columbus, Ohio), by order of the First English District of the Joint Synod of Ohio and Other States. The second part of "The Order of Morning Service," entitled The Holy Communion, includes the Preface, the Proper Preface, the Sanctus, the Exhortation, the Consecration, the Agnus Dei, the Pax, the Distribution, the Nunc Dimittis, the Thanksgiving, the Post-Communion Collect, the Benedicamus, and the Benediction.

Below you'll find the texts that appear under the heading "The Consecration," from pp. 21-22 of the 1908 Evangelical Lutheran Hymnal. You'll notice, by the way, that there is also a prayer following the Words of Institution. But the Words of Institution themselves are not embedded within a prayer. Luther D. Reed, on p. 351 of The Lutheran Liturgy (1947 revised edition), says that these Ohio Synod sacramental prayers were taken from the 1879 Liturgy of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Bavaria. This 1908 hymnal, with this order of service, was not supplanted in the Ohio Synod until its 1930 merger with the Iowa and Buffalo Synods, at which time the new American Lutheran Hymnal - which removed such prayers from the Liturgy - was published. It is very likely, however, that many former Ohio Synod congregations in the new American Lutheran Church continued to use the 1908 hymnal well into the middle part of the twentieth century.

My friend was unaware of all of this. With the thought that there may be others who have a similar liturgical interest, but who likewise are unfamiliar with this tradition, I am sharing the pertinent section from the Ohio Synod liturgy here.

________________________________________

GLORY be to Thee, O Lord Jesus Christ, Thou almighty and everlasting Son of the Father, that by the sacrifice of Thyself upon the cross, offered up once for all, Thou didst perfect them that are sanctified, and ordain, as a memorial and seal thereof, Thy Holy Supper, in which Thou givest us Thy body to eat, and Thy blood to drink, that being in Thee, even as Thou art in us, we may have eternal life, and be raised up at the last day. Most merciful and exalted Redeemer, we humbly confess that we are not worthy of the least of all the mercies, and of all the truth, which Thou hast shown unto us, and that, by reason of our sins, we are too impure and weak worthily to receive Thy saving gifts. Sanctify us, therefore, we beseech Thee, in our bodies and souls, by Thy Holy Spirit, and thus fit and prepare us to come to Thy Supper, to the glory of Thy grace, and to our own eternal good. And in whatsoever, through weakness, we do fail and come short, in true repentance and sorrow on account of our sins, in living faith and trust in Thy merits, and in an earnest purpose to amend our sinful lives, do Thou graciously supply and grant, out of the fulness of the merits of Thy bitter sufferings and death; to the end that we, who even in this present world desire to enjoy Thee, our only comfort and, Savior, in the Holy Sacrament, may at last see Thee face to face in Thy heavenly kingdom, and dwell with Thee, and with all Thy saints, for ever and ever. Amen.

OUR FATHER, Who art in heaven; Hallowed be Thy Name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven; Give us this day our daily bread; And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us; And lead us not into temptation; But deliver us from evil; For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and over. Amen.

OUR LORD Jesus Christ, in the night in which He was betrayed, took bread; and when He had given thanks, He brake and gave it to His disciples, saying, Take, eat; this is My body, which is given for you; this do in remembrance of Me.

AFTER the same manner, also, He took the cup, when He had supped, and when He had given thanks, He gave it to them, saying, Drink ye all of it; this cup is the New Testament in My blood, which is shed for you, and for many, for the remission of sins; this do, as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of Me.

PRAISE, and honor, and glory, be unto Thee, O Christ! The bread which we bless is the communion of Thy holy body, and the cup which we bless is the communion of Thy holy blood. O Thou everlasting Son of the Father, sanctify us by Thy Holy Spirit, and make us worthy partakers of Thy sacred body and blood, that we may be cleansed from sin and made one with all the members of Thy Church in heaven and on earth. Lord Jesus! Thou hast bought us: to Thee will we live, to Thee will we die, and Thine will we be forever. Amen.

Criteria for Selecting Hymns

I've always had a passion and appreciation for hymns. Even as a little boy, I loved hymnody and the hymnal (I treasured having my own copy of the book), and I would often spend hours on end studying the information given about each hymn. The hymns that I loved best as a child are not the ones that I appreciate most now, but I remember how much they once meant to me, and I know the power that hymnody can have. As I pastor, I have become increasingly aware of the benefits and dangers inherent in that power of hymnody. There's a strong emotional component, which can be either detrimental or beneficial, depending on whether it's serving or distracting from a good text (or aiding and abetting a poor one). Both the music and the poetry of hymns, and the fact that they are sung (and that they are sung together as a congregation), serve their potential for catechesis. A good hymn well-learned through regular use will teach people the faith more efficiently and stick with them far longer than almost any sermon. I say that not to disparage the importance of preaching, but to exalt the significance of hymnody.

Over the past several years, especially in connection with my work on the Lutheran Service Book, and then also in the process of introducing and using that new book in my congregation, I've become even more conscious of hymns and more conscientious in the way I select them. I'm more deliberate about the process by which I choose them, considering not only a week at a time, but the whole scope of the Church year and the whole corpus of our Lutheran hymnody. I have tried to learn from both my own pastoral experience and my study of historic precedent and practice. I have listened carefully to my colleagues in the ministry and to my musician friends, in the hopes of benefiting from the experience and expertise of others. I have taken into account the way in which certain hymns especially commend themselves for use, in a variety of ways, and have accordingly made an effort to use those hymns regularly. I have also followed the cues of my fathers in Christ in my catechetical use of hymns.

There's frankly a lot to be considered and taken into account when it comes to selecting hymns for the singing of the Church. There's a lot at stake, too, because hymns are not neutral or innocuous. They make a tremendous impact, whether positive or negative. I honestly believe that almost nothing else we do has greater long-term catechetical consequence than the hymns that we sing with our congregations over the course of weeks and months and years and lifetimes. Singing is fundamental to who we are as Christians, and what we sing matters.

Contrary to some recent scuttlebutt, it's not true that I only have ears for ponderous sixteenth-century chorales written in a minor key. It is true that I appreciate many of those hymns very much, and I do consider the Lutheran chorale a precious treasure of our heritage. The classic chorale is not "ponderous" (not if it is played correctly and well), but musically sturdy and solidly supportive of the text; and the text, which is definitive when it comes to hymnody, tends to be a rich and full confession of the Word of God. It really is hard to beat that combo. But I welcome good hymnody from wherever and whenever it may originate, in diverse musical styles, and serving sundry purposes; much as the inspired Psalter spans a wide range of moods and uses. There are truly great hymns from every age and every corner of Christendom. The measure of a hymn's worth, in every case, is its faithfulness in confessing the Word of Christ. With that, a number of different criteria come into play in determining how, when and where a given hymn may best be used in the service of that Word. Here follow a dozen of those criteria that I have found most helpful in my approach to this important pastoral task:

1. Not every hymn can or should say everything, but every hymn should say something. What it says should be a confession of the Word of God (that is, it should say what God has said), both the Law and the Gospel, properly divided, with the Gospel predominating.

2. The hymns selected for a particular day should confess the Holy Scriptures appointed for that day, in particular the Holy Gospel. That is especially true for the Sundays following Pentecost. During the festival seasons of the Church Year (Advent through Eastertide), many of the hymns may reflect more generally the seasonal emphases rather than any one particular Reading.

3. Hymns should be implicitly (if not explicitly) Trinitarian and Christocentric. There should be no doubt or ambiguity as to who the "God" of a hymn is, nor as to what He has done and is doing in the Person and work of Christ Jesus. Which also means, by extension, that hymns should be implicitly (if not explicitly) Sacramental in proclaiming the Gospel. Not just "God," but the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Not just "Christ," but Him crucified for our transgressions and raised for our justification. Not simply "once upon a time," but actively present and at work, here and now, to forgive sins and give life in the means of grace, through the preaching and administration of the Gospel.

4. The appointed Hymn of the Day should be regarded as one of the Propers, and should therefore be used. Exceptions to this rule should be exceedingly rare, and only for compelling reasons.

5. At Matins and Vespers, Morning and Evening Prayer, the "office hymn" should be appropriate to the time of day (morning or evening), comprehensively pertinent to the season of the Church Year, or directly related to the particular occasion.

6. The Hymn of Invocation is fundamentally a prayer for the Holy Spirit to open our ears and our hearts to hear and receive the Word of God and the gifts of Christ in the Service. In some way, more or less, the hymn should articulate that purpose.

7. Distribution hymns may specifically speak of the Lord's Supper. It is not necessary that most of them do so. It is appropriate and helpful for distribution hymns to pick up on aspects of the Holy Gospel of the Day, or on the special emphases of the liturgical season, in order to identify the Jesus who gives His body and blood in the Sacrament with the Jesus proclaimed, confessed and celebrated in the preaching.

8. If there is an offertory hymn, it need not describe the offering, because it is an offering, that is, a priestly sacrifice of prayer, praise and thanksgiving. An offertory hymn should give thanks and praise by confessing what God has said and done, or else it should pray for that which He has promised.

9. If there is a final hymn following the Benediction, it should not put the people back under the Law, but it should underscore and emphasize the gift and certainty of the Gospel and express a joyful confidence in the life that is already theirs in Christ Jesus. It may also serve as a prayer of eschatological longing and hope for the consummation of God's promises in the resurrection.

10. A solid core of good Lutheran hymns should be used with a fair degree of repetition throughout each year, in order that the people learn to know those hymns by heart through singing them.

11. It is helpful to identify a particular hymn from the Divine Service on Sunday (usually the Hymn of the Day) to be sung throughout the week: in the daily prayer offices of the congregation, in the daily catechesis of the home and family, and at meetings and other gatherings of the people.

12. Hymns that have established themselves in the piety of the people over the course of years, even if not the strongest examples of good hymnody, should be used with careful consideration, allowing for the significance that has attached itself to such hymns in association with the life of the Church. Weaker hymns, however, should be supported by a context of stronger hymns (with reference, in either case, to both text and tune).

In Praise of Cowboy Boots

Reflections on Pr. Kenneth Korby as Preacher and Presider

Beside Norman Nagel, the other great influence in my work as a preacher and presider was the sainted Dr. Kenneth Korby, who now rests from his labors and his works do indeed follow him. Kenneth was a remarkable man, both in the classroom and in the chancel. The key word is “man.” I recall him saying to a seminary class once, “God ordains men to the pastoral office. Be one.” Anyone who has seen and heard Korby in the pulpit and at the altar knows of what I speak. Korby was a man’s man in the liturgy.

Korby as preacher and presider reinforced for me the Lord’s wisdom in making the pastoral office a male office. I recall once standing for the Liturgy of St. Basil at Holy Virgin Mary Russian Orthodox Church in Los Angeles. The priest in charge there was a large statured Scotsman with long red hair and beard and a Scotsman’s earthy sense of humor to match. Hearing him chant the liturgy, I whispered to a friend, “This is why there will never be female priests in the Orthodox church. I don’t know any women who could sing so low.” I vastly prefer the baritone range to the squeaky tenor than many of our settings, including TLH, impose on the presider, making him sound as though he had just taken a knee to the groin. Korby’s voice was seasoned by much speaking, unfiltered Camels, pipes, cigars, and vocal chord polyps, which together lent a certain gravitas to everything he said.

What many people don’t know is that Kenneth always wore cowboy boots in the chancel, a gift from his daughter and son-in-law. He also had a black Stetson, which Jeanne strictly forbad him to wear east of the continental divide (though he did anyway). I recall picking Kenneth up from Ontario Airport the day before my ordination where he was to preach. He paused dramatically at the top of the stairway (this was back in the day when Ontario used stairways instead of jet ways and resembled an airport straight out of Mayberry RFD), scanned the orange, dusk horizon, and put on his black Stetson. The man had landed in the West.

Where Nagel could preach the Gospel as though there were no tomorrow, Korby could preach the Law. His preaching of the Law left you in the dust, and it was sure to be answered by an equally powerful word of Gospel. But it was the law in all its diagnostic, killing severity that I remember most. You tasted the dust of your death when Korby was in the pulpit, and he pulled no punches when it came to his use of the language.

Liturgically, Korby was a man who had no patience with high-church chancel prancing or low-church pietism. He wore his pastoral robes like work clothes, including the black cowboy boots. He was known to scold congregations, my own included, who did not respond to a prayer or blessing with a vigorous priestly “Amen.” He would come out of the chancel to put hymnals into the hands of non-participants with an admonition to “open your mouth and sing.” He even called audibles in the chancel like Tom Brady at the line of scrimmage, suddenly deciding by some strange movement of the Spirit to “sing another psalm or hymn,” much to the consternation of organists and liturgical assistants. His wife Jeanne tells of Kenneth’s “lining” of unfamiliar hymns in the old American-Shaker tradition. He would speak a line and the congregation would then sing the line alternately through the verses. She also testifies that Kenneth would, for no apparent reason, momentarily leave the confines of the pulpit during a sermon to wander into the chancel or the nave. The Word could not be bound but had to have free course and be preached when Kenneth was the preacher.

This is not to suggest that Korby was sloppy or careless with the liturgy. On a vacation visit to Notre Dame (the one in France), Jeanne and Kenneth attended Mass there and discussed what they had seen and heard afterwards. Korby took approving note of the orderly, clean precision of the presider saying, “The way the man moved, you barely even noticed him.” Korby advocated clean and precise liturgics without affect or pose. You tend not to notice men at work; you take note of their work.

Korby was quite familiar with old Una Sancta crowd and the Society of St. James, the Lutheran liturgical revivalists of the generation before us. He had a full set of their journals in his possession. Korby knew Piepkorn, von Schenk, Kretzman, and others personally. He embraced their strengths and critiqued their weaknesses. He was a part of the great Lutheran confluence that came together at Valparaiso University in the 1960’s; Kenneth was the first celebrant at Valpo’s magnificent chapel. Though he soared in the heights of liturgical theology, Korby never joined in the excesses that inevitably come with “renewal movements.” He was a Lutheran in the most organic sense of that word - earthy, rough, 60-grit - able to conduct the liturgy across cultural boundaries with ease precisely because he handled the liturgy as a skilled workman at his trade. For Korby, clericals were work clothes, and cowboy boots were his favorite work boots. When chasubiles became the fashion rage among the liturgical set, Korby too rejoiced. He loved their seasonal colors and how they made the pastor a billboard for the church year, in which Korby, ever the teacher, took great delight.

That’s the image I take from the memory of Kenneth Korby as preacher and the presider - a workman hard at his craft. A workman, free in Christ, expertly handling the Word of God in the bold confidence of one who has been ordained to speak and act in the Savior’s stead. I have learned through hard lessons and experience that the Church doesn’t always want such pastors, as the expectations of the holy Office have become increasingly feminized, psychologized, and soft-edged. People seem to seek a nurturing mother more than a strong, loving, and wise father, perhaps due to the breakdown of our families and the absence of strong fathers in our society.

Korby never cared much for the honorific title “Father.” “Pastor” got his attention quite nicely, thank you. Yet for me, and for many others who had the privilege of studying with him, he exemplified genuine spiritual fatherhood in the pulpit and at the altar - a roll up your sleeves, put on your boots and go to work kind of father, for which I am forever grateful.

It is for this reason that I wear my boots in the chancel in memory of that great, gruff, sainted man with the black Stetson and gravel voice who taught us all to say a vigorous and manly “Amen.”

wmc

(Note: This essay and the material contained therein have been fact-checked and approved by Mrs. Jeanne Korby, Kenneth’s widow, who added some personal stories and observations of her own. It is published here with her blessing and approval.)

Piggy Backing on Pr. Cwirla...

...here's a homily that Dr. Nagel delivered at St. Paul's on the Third Sunday after Trinity a few year's back. It was the 20th anniversary of my ordination into the holy office. We use the historic lectionary, so the texts were: Micah 7:18-20 / 1 Timothy 1:12-17 / Luke 15:1-10.

Homily for Trinity 3 - Doctor Norman Nagel (Text: 1 Timothy 1:12-17)

In the name of Jesus.

It's amazing what turns up Sunday by Sunday in the Scriptures we hear read. Take today. We could spend a happy time with the Gospel. In this congregation, I've been told, no one can get away with saying, "Oh, we know all about that business of the lost coin and sheep." You have gotten in the way of being surprised with what more and deeper there is with the lost sheep and the lost coin than you ever imagined. And that can also hit you in Bible study, or when the pastor visits you, celebrating some special gift and occasion. Or when you are sick, or dying.

So you have a pastor. That was our Lord's idea, which is where today's epistle comes in with talk of ordination. So let's run with the epistle. If you'd rather have a sermon about the gospel, sorry. Be sure to be here, then, next year, third Sunday after Trinity. Besides you can always count on more from your own pastor than you can from any one-shot preacher. However, a one-shot preacher may have one usefulness. If your pastor preaches the doctrine of the Office of the Holy Ministry, some may suspect he's puffing up himself.

Actually, you see, Holy Ordination does exactly the opposite. It gets the man out of the way of what the Lord puts him there for as His instrument. As Dr. Luther says, "It is the Lord who ordains and makes ministers." And weightier than Dr. Luther is the Apostle Paul, who has only the Lord to thank that he is a minister.

"I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who enabled me because he counted me faithful, putting me into the ministry, although I was formerly a blasphemer, a persecutor, an insolent man. But I obtained mercy because I acted ignorantly in unbelief, and the grace of our Lord was exceedingly abundant with faith and love which are in Christ Jesus."

That's where it's at. "In Christ Jesus." As a place, that is where He is doing His Christ Jesusing. Since He is the only one who does that, what is going on there is only by His doing. And what's the first thing to say about Him and His doing, and where it is going on? "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief."
Paul not only had no score; he was clearly in negative, in minus territory, well below zero, a blasphemer and a persecutor. The Christ Jesus whom he confesses is the one who reached down below zero, rescued him, and - would you believe it? - put him into the ministry. That's enough to bowl Paul over.

But he isn't stuck there with himself. He is talking for the sake of those who are Christians or who are being drawn toward being Christians. Look, if He's such a Lord Jesus as can reach down to where I was, well below zero, you can surely count on Him, you can surely count on Him to do that for you. He saved "a wretch like me."

You've all sung it, but do be careful. Are you drawing attention to yourself or to your Savior? The Apostle points to the Savior: the one who has done the saving job. The only one. Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners. If you are not a sinner, don't play pretend and make a mockery of the liturgy; of the Savior, whose liturgy it is.

The liturgy begins before the Lord, in His name. We are sinners; there's no denying it. But are baptized. He put His name upon us with the water. There's no denying that. He will not deny that although we may try to get rid of it to our peril. The Lord runs the liturgy with His name. Out of His name, He speaks to us, and we say back to Him what He says to us. That this is what is going on is clearly confessed when the Lord speaks His words to us by the use of the mouth that He has put there for His speaking it.

Now it's not because we figured out it was a good idea to have a minister doing that. It is the Lord's idea. Ours by His gift and mandate. No one may dare to speak same as the Lord speaking, unless the Lord has put him there to do it, as the Lord's instrument for what He, the Lord, is having to say. You are being spoken to by the Lord, by what He is saying and delivering with His words. "It's not my two bits with" says the pastor. "By virtue of my office, as a called and ordained servant of the Word, in the stead and by the command of my Lord Jesus Christ, I forgive you all your sins, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit."

In the name means He is doing it. And doing it in the way that He has given for it to be done. To say "office" is to say "instrument" is to say "the Lord is doing it." His doing, according as our text puts it, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners. He did that. Answered for our sins in our place. At Calvary. And then, as we read at the end of the Gospels, He arranged for the salvation He had achieved Good Friday and Easter to be delivered. He instituted the office of the holy ministry. And that continues on as He puts men into it. If there's no one put in, it's not going on.

His putting Paul in is where today's Epistle begins. Today we are celebrating His putting in, some 20 years ago, him upon whom He put His name in his baptism some twenty years earlier, named William, of the lineage of Weedon, and now called to be your pastor at St. Paul's.

The Lord doesn't let things float. He achieved salvation. He sees to its delivery. Proclamation, Baptism, Absolution, Lord's Supper. And for these to be going on, He instituted the Office of the Holy Ministry, as the Augsburg Confession so clearly confesses. To say "office" is to say "instrument", to say "instrument" is to say "the Lord is doing it." Or the other way round. To say that the Lord is doing it, is to say that His instrument is doing it, to say that the Office He instituted is doing it. The Office He put William Weedon into and called him to be your pastor at St. Paul's.

Did Pastor Weedon baptize you? You can say that. It wouldn't have happened unless somebody did it. But you confess, rather, with the Large Catechism, we see a man's hands doing it, but it is done in the Lord's name. That is, HE is doing it. Only what the Lord does can we be utterly sure of.

Lots of things, then, of His doing to be giving thanks for today, tomorrow, next Sunday. And next year's Third Sunday after Trinity, expect some surprises with the lost sheep and the lost coin. Then, there's heaven coming. That's where the Epistle's doxology swings us up to: "To believe on Him for everlasting life. Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the God who alone is wise, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen."

In a moment we'll be pulled into doing that with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven. The Lord who gives 20 years has always lots more that He is leading us onto. Open your mouth wide, says the Lord, and I will fill it. Amen.

The peace of God which passes all understanding keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.

Nagel as Preacher and Presider

A Personal Reflection

Two men have shaped my liturgical and homiletical theology more than any others - Dr. Norman Nagel and Dr. Kenneth Korby. I have working closely under Dr. Nagel as a reader, grader, and graduate student for 3 privileged years, and I consider Dr. Korby to be one of my spiritual fathers in the faith. I still keep contact with his widow, Jeanne, a godly woman in the way of Proverbs 31 if ever there was one.

Dr. Nagel as presider was always a sight to behold, and great fun, as he quite innocently ran roughshod over all the fastidious precision of the “liturgiologists.” He would come to the seminary chapel with cassock and surplice rolled under his arm, making it look as though he had just slept in it. A frock of hair would be dangling down over his glasses and a typewritten manuscript with some handwritten “clincher” scrawled on it, likely conceived on his way to the chapel. His disheveled appearance stood in sharp contrast to the “spit and polish” taught in worship classes.

In the pulpit, Norman read his sermon with face buried in the manuscript, occasionally looking up over glasses that were slowly creeping down his nose. These were some of the finest sermons every preached in the St. Louis seminary chapel. So much for modern communication theory. Dr. Nagel’s sermons were intricately woven narratives, often retelling the text in a colorfully embellished way, interweaving the Law and the Gospel in a taut dynamic tension that was the trademark of his preaching.

I recall a lengthy discussion in Dr. Nagel’s office once after a lecture by the sainted Gerhard Forde over the proper distinction of the Law and the Gospel. Forde seemed to run these as static categories, and Dr. Nagel appeared somewhat displeased by it all. I asked him, “How would you distinguish the Law and the Gospel in a text?” Dr. Nagel replied, “First, one must look for what of Jesus the text is trying to deliver; then one must look for what gets in the way of the delivery.” I’ve carried that insight with me into the pulpit to this day.

At the altar, Dr. Nagel was unpretentious. He despised excessive pomp and ceremony. For Dr. Nagel, the Office was causa instrumentalis, the instrumental means, by which the Gospel and Sacraments delivered Christ to the people. He was adamant that the instrument never overshadow the gift. Liturgics that drew attention to the celebrant and away from the gifts of Christ would draw a furrowed frown from the good doctor. One sacristan tells the story of being literally thrown out of Dr. Nagel’s office for asking him to impose ashes on Ash Wednesday. Far be it from Dr. Nagel to soil a man’s forehead with the Law.

I recall but one amusing attempt by Dr. Nagel to wear a chasubile. It was in the old chapel/auditorium at St. Louis, prior to the building of the magnificent Chapel of Saints Timothy and Titus. Dr. Nagel abruptly exited to the sacristy after the prayers, and returned wearing a rumpled chasubile, slightly askew, glasses crooked and hair displaced even more than usual from the vesting experience. He never attempted it again, at least while I was at the seminary.

What I learned from Dr. Nagel is to hold the holy things with a rather loose, even dead hand of faith, trusting in the efficacy of the Word to do its killing and making alive work. What matters is Christ and the delivery of His gifts - that the words of Christ go into ear holes and the Body and Blood of Christ go into mouths. These treasures are delivered in weak, earthen vessels, and we can, if we are not careful, get in the way and become a distraction. Dr. Nagel was unpretentiously and transparently himself in the pulpit and at the altar. His eccentricities were natural - to him - and he taught by example that free men in Christ are not afraid to be themselves as they conduct the stewardship of their Office.

At the same time, I acquired a deep and abiding respect for the liturgy as a holy tradition, a trust handed down from our fathers who have come before us. Every paper written for Dr. Nagel was an exercise in liturgical theology, as he demanded from us that we examine how the worship of the past handled the holy things and whether they got it “Gospel right.” I would never have known of the ancient liturgies, both East and West, were it not for all my Nagel classes. Liturgy is doctrine put into practice, as the gifts of life and salvation won at Calvary are delivered in the present time and place.

Dr. Nagel’s oft-quoted introduction to Lutheran Worship (1982) summarizes well this way of faith’s receiving that which is handed down, and handing it on to the rising generation:

“We are heirs of an astonishingly rich tradition. Each generation receives from those who went before and, in making that tradition of the Divine Service its own, adds what best may serve in its own day - the living heritage and something new.”

In short, Dr. Nagel taught and celebrated and lived the liturgy “in the way of the Gospel.”

Next, Dr. Kenneth Korby and why I wear boots in the chancel.

wmc

Bending and Lifting: Ceremonial Catechesis

I had a pleasant and productive visit with my District President, the Reverend Daniel May, earlier this month. I met with him in my capacity as the chairmain of our district's Worship and Spiritual Care Committee, and I appreciated both his time and his attentiveness to what I had to say. I certainly don't envy his job, nor the hours he has to keep and the many miles he has to drive, but I have been thankful for the pastoral perspective and demeanor with which he has approached his office these past five years. His several decades in the parish shaped him in a way that climbing the bureaucratic ladder would not have.

Our meeting was chiefly to discuss a set of guidelines that the Worship and Spiritual Care Committee recently completed, intended to assist the president in giving evangelical direction to pastors and congregations when they are hosting services for gatherings of the Synod in this place. We're all painfully aware of the rampant diversity that has increasingly plagued the worship practices of congregations across the Synod. There seems to be little that synodical officials can do about that trend, other than encouraging the use of mutually agreed-upon orders of service and hymnody. When it comes to gatherings of the Synod, however, at the circuit, district or national level, Christian love for the neighbor and practical propriety commend the use of those things we have agreed upon together in our fellowship. By and large, the guidelines developed by our district committee urge that approach, specifically the use of service orders and hymns from the Lutheran Service Book.

Along with the suggested use of LSB, our committee has also urged that pastors and congregations who are contemplating practices that are likely to seem unusual, or even questionable, should seek the counsel and advice of the District President before incorporating such practices at district gatherings. Although we did not attempt to specify a list of what those particular practices might be, our committee discussions included the examples of "incense and rock bands in the chancel" as two extremes. Never mind that the use of incense is about as ancient and scriptural a practice as one may find, and that rock bands in the chancel are a modern novelty that intentionally draws upon the pop culture of the world; in today's Indiana District of The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod, both practices may be found, but neither is common, and either one is likely to raise eyebrows. For those inclined to use such things outside the ordinary experience and expectations of brother pastors and sister congregations, we have asked that the District President be consulted at least.

Our approach to these guidelines, happily, is very much in sync with the goals that President May has advocated since he was first elected in 2003. His leadership in this area has been toward the common acceptance and use of LSB, with due allowance for evangelical freedom and a healthy consideration of love for the neighbor. In my opinion, this is a worthy goal, although I think it is a shame that it should have to be a goal instead of the way things simply are. Of course, I'm not talking about LSB vs. TLH or LW, but the use of any official service book and hymnal as opposed to the smorgasbord of local creativity and cleverly invented spectacles that no eye hath seen nor ear ever heard. How can the people of God confess such things? How should they even attempt to do so, not knowing whence they come or whither they are going?

Anyway, if we could all humble ourselves in Christian love to use the agreed-upon service orders and hymns of our official books, such as LSB, then we'd be a long way toward a greater unity of confession and practice. The sticky wicket, then, comes mainly with the question of ceremony, in the way that optional rubrics are followed (or not), and in the use of freedom where the rubrics do not give directions or suggestions. It is in such areas, again, that we have urged an exercise of caution when it comes to gatherings of the Synod in this place; lest, by our freedom, we sin against the weaker brother by distracting him from the Word of God. From what I am given to understand, it is especially in response to such things (at district gatherings and within congregations) that complaints are most often raised. Which goes to show that adiaphora are not indifferent, incidental or insignificant things, free though they be of divine command or prohibition.

My point is not to comment on the practices of the Indiana District, far less to criticize anything in that regard. I'm more interested in some general observations pertaining to adiaphora and the evangelical use of ceremonies. I'm quite adament about the freedom of genuine adiaphora, notwithstanding the misunderstanding, misapplication and widespread abuse of this teaching and confession. I've had my own frustrations in this area, and at a times a visceral resistance to it, but it is what it is; it belongs to the proper distinction of the Law and the Gospel, and it should be embraced within the bonds of faith and love. In particular, I recall a passage from Wilhelm Löhe, great liturgical scholar and reverent liturgist that he was, in which he praises the Lutheran teaching and confession of adiaphora as one of the most precious gems of the Reformation. I am grateful for his instruction and good example in this respect, which I strive to follow faithfully.

In faith toward God, we exercise our freedom in love toward our neighbor. We don't insist upon our freedom for the sake of serving ourselves, but for the benefit of others, that we may glorify the grace of God in Christ. Thus, we lay no laws upon others which God has not laid upon them or us; and we place no weight upon the consciences of others, whom Christ has redeemed and cleansed with His own blood. Sometimes that means foregoing pious practices which, in and of themselves, are meet, right and salutary. Else it means patient teaching and careful catechesis, in order to introduce a salutary practice as a gracious gift and as a way and means of confessing the Gospel. As pastors, even our exercise of personal piety bears a public witness and example, which may unwittingly impose itself upon the weaker brother or the uninitiated observer. It is for such reasons, for the sake of love, that I urge the avoidance of "extremes" in gatherings of our synodical fellowship, wherein our common confession and the common good is served by a recognizably common practice. To speak somewhat crassly, the "high church" brothers bend down to serve their neighbor, and the "low church" brothers lift themselves up for the many.

With those thoughts in mind, I have been contemplating a couple of particular examples. For I have it on good authority that two of those pious practices which are frequently perceived and questioned as "extreme" and outside of the norm are genuflecting and the elevation of the Holy Sacrament. Another sort of bending low and lifting up, both of which belong to my pastoral practice at Emmaus. Would I insist upon either one of these in a gathering of my brothers and sisters in Christ, knowing that many of the faithful in that context may be distracted or troubled by them? No, I would not insist upon either of these ceremonies. But in consideration of these two examples, I have wondered whether there are times and places for pushing the boundaries a bit, and how one might go about doing so in a loving, evangelical fashion. At the Divine Service in St. Louis for the Higher Things conference, I exercised both of these ceremonies; because they are my usual practice at Emmaus, and because I believe them to be, in their own unique way, a beneficial form of catechesis. Along with that, a written catechesis on these and other liturgical ceremonies was provided to all of the participants in the conference, so that all things might serve to the glory of God and for the edification of His people. Similarly, though I would not presume to insist upon genuflecting or the elevation at a synodical gathering, it is my opinion that catechesis in these ceremonies would be appropriate and beneficial to the Church.

Somewhere in our Lutheran Confessions, perhaps Apology XXIV, it is stated that the purpose of ceremonies is the teaching or instruction of the faithful, especially the young and the simple. I think there is more to ceremony than such instruction, and I resist the trend to make everything didactic in a cerebral manner; yet, I wholeheartedly agree the ceremonies do teach the faith in a particularly powerful way. It is certainly true, in my observation and experience, that the little children are formed significantly by what they see and experience in the Divine Service. They are also among the first to detect a dissonance or contradiction between what is said and what is done. A pastor can repeat ad nauseam that the bread and wine in the Holy Communion are the true body and blood of Christ, but, if he comports himself as though he were handling nothing else than bread and wine, the children will wonder if he is either a fool or a liar. My dear father in Christ, Professor Marquart, once described this sort of problem with a reference to pastors who distribute the body and blood of Christ as though they were hawking fish at the market. Such conduct is not only inappropriate and unbecoming, but misleading and offensive; it is surely as much a stumbling block to the simple faithful and the weaker brethren as any insistence upon that which is free. If some pastor has such a strong faith and confidence in the freedom of the Gospel that he may comfortably act the buffoon in the presence of God, he ought to rein himself in and forego his own freedom for the sake of those who may be led to wonder if they are in the presence of God or the devil.

I genuflect at various points in the Divine Service because I am there and then given to receive and to administer the very Lord Jesus Christ, the almighty and eternal Son of the Living God. I do it to discipline and govern my own body, that my outward actions may confess and assist the faith of my heart; no less than my lips also confess the Word that I believe with my heart. And I genuflect, also, to teach and remind the people of God that there is more happening in the Divine Service than we can see with our eyes on the surface. We enter with boldness and confidence, yes, but we enter into the Holy of Holies through the very flesh and blood of Christ our Savior.

To genuflect at the consecration of the Sacrament is an adoration of that Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. He is not present for the sake of our adoration, but He is surely present, and it is truly meet, right and salutary that we should worship and adore Him: with our lips and with our lives, with the prostration of both our hearts and our bodies. It is not necessary, but it is appropriate.

I elevate the body and blood of Christ before the congregation of His disciples at the Pax Domini for the very reasons that Dr. Luther advocates in both his Latin and German orders of the Mass: It is an appropriate ceremonial affirmation of the Peace that Christ grants with the giving of His body and His blood for the free and full forgiveness of sins, and it offers a visual invitation to His Christians that His Supper is now ready for them to eat and to drink at His gracious Word. I am honestly surprised that this ceremony should be questioned among Lutherans, though I do not doubt what I have been told, that it is. Again, for the sake of love, I would not presume to insist upon the elevation; nor do I suppose it to be necessary. But I would like to suggest that the elevation not only enriches the celebration of the Holy Communion, but also serves to catechize the faithful in the Gospel of the Sacrament: that Christ comes to them in love, personally and bodily, to give Himself to them, and to welcome them to Himself.

The elevation invites and draws the communicants to Christ precisely in the Sacrament, in those external elements which are His very body and precious blood, rather than leaving the people to wander about in their minds looking for Christ in their hearts or in heavens far above, somewhere over the rainbow. It is a powerful confession of the Word of Christ, echoing their "Amen" to the Pax Domini, when the people sing the Agnus Dei to the Lamb of God who is right there lifted up before them in the bread and in the cup, concerning which He has spoken: "This is My Body. This is the New Testament in My Blood." And how shall we not bend low before that?

I'm not pushing for anything, nor suggesting that there be an imposition of liturgical law upon pastors and congregations. But I wonder if the absence of genuflecting and the elevation have not only impoverished our Lutheran ceremonial but also impoverished our Lutheran catechesis of the Sacrament. It goes hand-in-hand with a tendency to speak most often of the bread and wine, but seldom of the Lord's body and blood. That is like describing Sarah as Abraham's sister (true enough) without mentioning that she is his beloved bride.

I would like to suggest that faithful catechesis may include the gentle restoration of these two historic ceremonies; and that their evangelical use in the freedom of the Gospel would itself be a meet, right and salutary catechesis in the Word of Christ.

In the way of the Gospel?

What's Law got to do with it?

Over at his always insightful and well-thought-out blog (I need a "writing day" on my weekly calendar. . . ), the founder of this blog provided a thoughtful and thought-provoking discussion of man and wife and child-bearing.

But that's not what this post is about - Fr. Rick's blog would be the place to comment on that. But I want to take just a line from Fr. Rick's analysis on this point and move that discussion here for the Four and Twenty Elders. In his post, Fr. Rick wrote that his way of thinking on the topic offered "not only a different consideration, but a different way of thinking: in the way of the Gospel instead of the Law, for the sake of my neighbor instead of my self."

What I've always wondered about Lutherans when they begin talking about serving the neighbor and acting out of the Gospel instead of the Law is this:

How do I know what Love looks like? How can I protect my neighbor from my own notions of what Love is? How do I know I'm being truly Loving and not instead swamped by my own sentiments in the way of the Gospel?

A crass example for the sake of clarity: When Jack Kavorkian says that he is being loving by killing people, we know he's wrong.

But how do we know he's wrong? I take him at his word that he thinks he's being loving. I believe that his sentiments honestly hold that death is immediately preferable to suffering. But I know he's wrong. I know that is not Love.

And I know it because of the Law. The Law shows us what love looks like, for love fulfills the Law. That is a reciprocal relationship. If I want to know what action is Loving, I can look to the Law and see.

Now, our Lord Jesus fulfills the Law by his actions which actions are Gospel to us. So I am certainly not opposed to talk of doing things in the way of the Gospel. But I struggle with this: What's the process for deciding if some one of our actions is loving in the way of the Gospel?

If I want to decide if something is loving based on the fact that love is the fulfillment of the Law, I have a built-in algorithm, if you will, for finding out if it is in fact loving: compare the action to the precepts of the Law.

But how do I find out if an action is loving in accord with the Gospel? Where's the algorithm? Does it boil down to WWJD? Isn't that a bit subjective?

Or another example: In college we used to debate at this Mennonite college. They had a poster in one of the rooms depicting the scene of the woman caught in adultery. The caption read: "The only time Jesus was asked about capital punishment, he was against it."

That seems to me to be an attempt at judging an action in the way of the Gospel. But I also think it is faulty reasoning. Because capital punishment is part of the Law of God (Gen 9, Rom 13) and the Law is the fulfillment of Love. . .

So, I remain confused. What does it mean to judge an action in the way of the Gospel? Can that ever be anything other than a subjective judgment along the lines of WWJD? And what's wrong with judging moral actions in the way of the Law, that is, to see if a moral action measures up to Love?

I'll look forward to reading all your comments when I get back from vacation. . .

+HRC