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J.S. Bach and J.A. Ernesti: Similarities Today
by Brian Hamer
Pastor, Redeemer Lutheran Church, Bayside, New York
In 1736, the Lutheran Kantor J.S. Bach issued a complaint to the Leipzig Town Council over the results of the decision of the rector of the St. Thomas School to replace a musically competent student assistant with a musically incompetent pupil: "If such irresponsible conduct continues the services may be disturbed and the church music fall into the most serious decay, and the School, too, within a short time, suffer such deterioration as shall make it impossible for many years to bring it back to its former estate."1
Two and one half centuries later, Lutheran pastor John T. Pless published the following statement of concern over similar incidents on the campus of a Lutheran seminary after the administration removed the musically competent Dean of the Chapel and replaced him with a musically incompetent faculty member:
It is claimed by the seminary president that the liturgical life of the seminary campus should be reflective of what is happening in the parishes of the Synod. If that is the case, then we know what we can expect in the coming years from [the chapel]. We are astonished that a seminary president would demand that his faculty forsake that which is excellent in favor of mediocrity.2
This manuscript will examine the parallels between J.S. Bach's conflict with J.A. Ernesti and similar events on the campus of a Lutheran seminary in the mid-1990's. The following case study in tentatio in Lutheran higher education will explore the documents related to the conflict between Bach and Ernesti, examine similar episodes in the worship life of Concordia Theological Seminary, and draw theological conclusions for Lutheran higher education.
J.S. Bach's conflict with J.A. Ernesti in the 1730's was rooted in the selection of the General Prefect of the St. Thomas School Choir, who was expected to assist with conducting the choir. Johann August Ernesti, principal of the St. Thomas School, removed the General Prefect, Gottfried Theodor Krause, for having chastised one of the younger students too vigorously. After Krause fled the school to avoid the public whipping that Ernesti threatened him with, Ernesti took it upon himself to replace G.T. Krause with Johann Gottlieb Krause, who was incompetent in musical matters. Bach insisted on a different choice, noting the need for a musically competent assistant. The ensuing conflict revealed two different approaches to the relationship between music and theology.3
Bach's first complaint to the Leipzig town council (12 August 1736) addressed the realistic threat that a musically inept prefect posed to the church music in Leipzig:
Although according to the Regulations of a Noble and Most Wise Council concerning the School of St. Thomas here it is for the Cantor to choose as Prefects from among the schoolboys those whom he considers capable, and in choosing them he must keep in mind not only that they must have a good clear voice but also that the Prefect (especially the one who sings in the First Choir) must be able to take over the direction of the chorus when the Cantor is ill or absent.4
According to Bach, the appointment of the prefects is traditionally done in Leipzig "without the concurrence of the Rector and by the Cantors alone." Nevertheless, Ernesti "has, as a new departure, sought to effect the replacement of the Prefect of the First Choir without my previous knowledge and consent, and accordingly has recently appointed [J.G.] Krause...to be Prefect of the First Choir."5 Bach noted that the curious placement of a musically inept Prefect to the First Choir would lead to the disharmony and disadvantage of the students and begged the town council to instruct Ernesti to leave the appointment of prefects in the hands of the Cantor.
Bach's second complaint to the town council (13 August 1736) detailed the antics already in motion due to Ernesti's ill-advised appointment of a prefect of his choosing, during a time Bach believed Ernesti should have waited quietly for the town council to render its decision:
[Ernesti] nevertheless, disregarding the respect he owes to the Most Noble and Most Wise Council, yesterday made bold again to give all the students to understand that no one was to dare, on pain of expulsion and whipping, to take the place of [J.G.] Krause, the boy mentioned in my most humble memorial of yesterday, who is incapable of the direction of a chorus musicus (but whom he wishes to force on me by all means as Prefect of the First Choir), either in the chanting or in directing the usual motet.6
Bach recounted to the town council how the day before (12 August 1736), during the afternoon service in St. Nicholas Church, "there was not a single pupil, for fear of the threatened penalty, willing to take over the chanting, much less the direction of the motet."7 Bach knew that Ernesti's opposition to good church music would have both immediate and lasting effects on the preached gospel as the state of church music gradually deteriorated.
Bach's third complaint to the town council (15 August 1736), delivered only three days after his first complaint, focused on the incompetence of J.G. Krause to assist with the First Choir. According to Bach, Krause was not only musically inept, but had earned a reputation for disorderly living and unpaid debts. Despite this, Ernesti showed a fondness for Krause and wanted to appoint him as Prefect of the first choir. Bach replied that Krause was simply not fit for such a post. In an effort to conciliate, Bach offered to give Krause the post of prefect of the second choir, where all the conducting duties are handled by the professional organist. But entrusting the direction of church music to Krause was not an option for Bach:
I am accordingly fully convinced of his incompetence; therefore it was impossible for me to entrust the post of Prefect of the First Choir to him, especially since the concerted pieces that are performed by the First Choir, which are mostly of my own composition, are incomparably harder and more intricate than those sung by the Second Choir (and this only on Feast Days), so that I must be chiefly guided, in the choice of the same, by the capacité of those who are to perform them.8
Ernesti's lengthy reply to Bach's complaint (17 August 1736) cited a passage in the school regulations which stipulated that the Cantor shall accept eight boys, including the Prefect, "with the consent of the Rector," and in addition "shall always present the prefects to the director" [of the school] and request the consent of the Rector. According to Ernesti, Bach never followed the last step of asking for his consent for his selection of eight prefects to lead the four choirs. Ernesti conceded that "in the filling of a post of Prefect the Cantor has the most important part, inasmuch as he must judge their ability in singing."9 Nevertheless, Ernesti thought the Rector was ultimately responsible for the prefects since complaints about them were to be addressed to the Rector and subsequent punishments were under his consent.
After a lengthy summation of the events leading to the series of complaints filed by Bach, Ernesti claimed that the "complaint of the Cantor is unjustified, pretending as it does that I have newly taken it upon myself to appoint the Prefect in the first Choir without his previous knowledge or consent, and have made the Prefect of the Second Choir Prefect of the first." Ernesti said that he thought the appointment of a Prefect was not sufficient cause for vexation and that he only claimed the right of concurrence according to the school regulations and nothing more. Therefore, Ernesti requested that the council "dismiss the Cantor with his untimely and unfounded complaint...[and] earnestly reprimand him for his disobedience and insubordination to the Director and me" and encourage him "to attend to his duties more industriously."10
Bach's fourth complaint to the council (19 August 1736) mentioned the disturbances caused during the services eight days prior to the fourth complaint and on the day the complaint was filed, no doubt encouraged by the rapidly declining state of church music under Ernesti. Since the Prefect was not musically proficient and because Ernesti threatened to punish anyone who took over the duties of the Prefect, Bach decided to conduct the motet himself and delegate the responsibility of intoning the motet to a university student. Bach urged the council to prayerfully consider the deteriorating situation, noting that "without the most vigorous intervention on the part of You, My High Patrons, I should hardly be able to maintain my position with the students entrusted to me, and accordingly should be blameless if further and perhaps irreparable disorders should result from it." Therefore, the council should stop the actions of Ernesti and let Bach select his own prefects to prevent additional damage, "such as further public annoyance in the Church, disorder in the School, and reduction of the authority with the students that is necessary to my office and other evil consequences."11
Ernesti's rebuttal of Bach's third complaint (13 September 1736) claimed that Bach's concerns were neither complete nor truthful. Ernesti reasoned that if J.G. Krause was "unequal to the posts of First Prefect, then he is most certainly unequal to the other posts as well." From Ernesti's simplistic perspective, each prefect had the same basic responsibilities:
1. Conduct the motets in the church
2. Begin the hymns in church (intonation)
3. Conduct a choir at the New Year's singing in the homes.
According to Ernesti, Bach himself was conducting the more difficult pieces performed by the first choir. Moreover, Ernesti noted that the previous prefect, a certain Mr. Nagel, never did anything but play the violin. "And how does it happen, then, that [Bach] now wants to have a First Prefect who can conduct a difficult piece in the First Choir, since he never had one before, or at least never took care to have one, if he had a liking for the person in other ways." Ernesti further assessed that he never asked Bach to make J.G. Krause the Prefect, that it was Bach's idea, and they discussed it together as they rode home from a wedding during the Advent season.12
The decree of the town council (6 February 1737) cited the school regulations in which "The Cantor is to accept the eight boys for each of the four choirs with the consent of the Rector, and from them to choose four choir Prefects with the foreknowledge and approval of the Director." Moreover, "For the General of Inquilinorum Prefect the first students or, if he be not sufficiently capable in musicis, the next one is to be chosen." Therefore, Cantor and Rector were "bound to conduct themselves accordingly, and to refrain from suspending by themselves one or another of the students from an office once entrusted to them, or to exclude them, or to give instructions to the entire student body under the pain of exclusion" without fulfilling the necessary requirements in the school regulations. This decree probably pleased neither Bach nor Ernesti, as Bach was forbidden from employing a university student to assist with the first choir and Ernesti was limited in his freedom to punish students who demonstrated loyalty to Bach.13
Dissatisfied with the ruling of the town council, Bach made his first appeal to the Saxon consistory at Leipzig on 12 February 1737. After rehearsing the damaging effects of Ernesti's actions (probably new information to this higher council), Bach made two key points in his defense: (1) according to the school regulations, "the choice of the praefecti chororum from among the schoolboys belongs to me, without the concurrence of the Rector, and has always been so made not only by me but by my predecessors;" (2) Ernesti's "forbiddance of the students not to sing under any other Prefect is highly improper," for "if the students are not to give me their obedience in the singing, it is impossible to accomplish anything fruitful." Therefore, in order to uphold the Cantor in his office, Bach asked the consistory to order Ernesti to leave the selection of Prefects to him alone and thereby to reinstate the respect he needed from the school children.14
The following day, 13 February 1737, the consistory sent a communication to Dr. Salomen Deyling, superintendent of the diocese of Leipzig, noting that Bach had filed a formal complaint against Ernesti. Bach, Ernesti, and Deyling were notified of some action taken by the council the following April, the nature of which is unknown. However, the action did not settle the issue for Bach, as he issued a second appeal to the consistory on 21 August 1737. Bach noted in this appeal that he had attached a copy of the action taken by the council which "does not give me satisfaction in respect to the humiliation to which I was subjected by the said Rector." The memo is non-extant, but Bach was clearly unsatisfied with the decision of the town council and therefore repeated his urgent appeal to the Leipzig consistory to uphold him in his right to select his own Prefects and to preserve the obedience of the students.15
On 28 August 1737 the consistory informed Deyling and the council of Bach's letter of 21 August and ordered a reply on the matter within a fortnight. However, it took almost six weeks (4 October) to receive a reply as the council decided to table the matter. Bach finally took his appeal to King Frederick Augustus on 18 October 1737. After a brief summary of the precedent and rationale for the selection of musically competent Prefects by the Kantor, Bach tried to trump both the council and the consistory by entreating the King to (1) order the council to uphold the Cantor in his right to select Prefects and (2) order the consistory to compel Ernesti to apologize to the students, thereby encouraging the students to show due respect and obedience to the Cantor.16
The King's brief decree (17 December 1737) stopped short of fulfilling Bach's request to give marching orders to the council and consistory, but the King did manage to subtly side with Bach. After a brief "whereas" statement summarized the essence of Bach's complaint, the King simply told the consistory, "We therefore desire herewith that you [the consistory] shall take such measures, in response to this complaint, as you shall see fit. This is Our Will."17 On 5 February 1738, the consistory again requested Deyling and the council to draw up within a fortnight the report originally requested on 28 August 1737, nearly six months after the fact. Then the flood of documents in this prolonged case comes to an abrupt halt. Bach scholars suspect that when the King came to Leipzig for the Easter Fair in 1737, he personally intervened and settled the issue on behalf of Bach. Bach performed music in the King's honor on this occasion, probably in response to his decision to rectify the dispute with Ernesti in Bach's favor.18 Robert Stevenson summarizes the resolution of the conflict and its enduring effect on the working relationship between Bach and Ernesti:
By 1738 the original students involved, both Krauses and several others, had left the school. But although Bach seems to have received some kind of order verbally delivered from the King that the Cantor was to be left alone, nevertheless relations between Bach and Ernesti had in the intervening period so deteriorated that any further understanding or cooperation between the men proved impossible.19
II
A brief description of the liturgical life of a certain Lutheran seminary on American soil before the installation of the fifteenth president (and, subsequently, a new administration and vision from 1993 to 1996) will establish the parameters to study contemporary similarities to Bach's conflict with Ernesti.
The typical chapel schedule in this conservative seminary before 1993 included daily chapel in the mid-morning hours-- usually Matins, Morning Prayer, or Morning Suffrages--and the occasional use of The Divine Service and Luther's catechism offices. Strong, Christ-centered hymns were selected based on the lessons of the day, the season of the church year, or the time of the service (e.g. morning or evening). The daily offices were prayed in all their fullness and splendor, including chanting the liturgy, singing the canticles, utilizing Anglican chant settings, and singing responsive Psalms. Official choirs of the institution or other capable choirs sometimes sang appropriate church music for the chapel services. Occasional evening services in the chapel usually consisted of Compline with preaching and incense, but no instrumental accompaniment to preserve the solemn character of the evening hours. Seasonal choral services (Reformation, Advent/Christmas, Epiphany, Passiontide) involved the campus choirs as well as guest preachers and professional musicians from the surrounding community. The annual presentation of a Bach passion was one of the highlights of the academic year.
However, the installation of the fifteenth president in 1993 was the beginning of a sea change in the liturgical and musical life of this historic Lutheran school. The introductory notes to a chapel booklet entitled "Sixteen Short Offices for School and Home"revealed the new president's view of Lutheran liturgy and hymns. The compiler of the booklet noted in the preface that the book of short offices was prepared at the request of the seminary president to keep the morning chapel time to twenty minutes, consisting of ten minutes of liturgy and a ten minute sermon, allowing twenty-five minutes for doughnuts and coffee before the start of the next academic hour. The sixteen offices include three morning prayer services (Morning Prayer, Morning Suffrages, and Responsive Prayer II), seven hymn offices (Hymnic Matins, Prime, Lauds, Suffrages, Missions, Advent Luther-Hymn, and Christmas Luther-Hymn), and one catechism office for each of the six chief parts of the Small Catechism.
A survey of the sixteen short offices reveals the difference between the Lutheran heritage of this school before 1993 and the new administration's emphasis on adjusting the chapel life to match the general scheme of Lutheran worship life in the typical parish. Since the offices were edited by a confessional representative of a previous administration, they still reflected the catholic and evangelical natures of Lutheran worship. However, the request of the President that chapel be limited to twenty minutes challenged the campus to maintain a vibrant chapel life that would utilize the rich resources at their disposal. For example, a service entitled "hymnic matins" was an abridged service that retained some continuity with the historic office of matins. The service consisted of spoken versicles, one Psalm, a lesson, office hymn, homily, metrical Te Deum, and spoken prayers. To be sure, there was no false doctrine in this service. But the approach was to retain only the bare essentials of the gospel in liturgy and hymns instead of exploring the fullness of the gospel. (The rubrics in the Office of Lauds indicated that the canticle was to be sung "if time permits.")
Perhaps the most striking parallel between Bach's conflict with Ernesti and events in this Lutheran school was the replacement of the Dean of the Chapel, an inherently musical position, with a faculty member who lacked musical credentials. A video and bulletin of the annual Order of Vespers with the Distribution of Calls into the Lutheran Ministerium (April 1995) shows how the most important and visible services of this seminary changed under new leadership. After the processional hymn, the new Dean elected to delay the invocative phrase "O Lord, open my lips" in favor of the secular greeting, "Good evening," followed by a warm welcome to the guests and visitors. The Dean then took a few moments to correct the mistakes from the prior evening's Vespers (with the distribution of vicarage assignments) in which the directions for chanting the Psalm were vague and resulted in liturgical chaos. He then invited anyone who did not have a service folder to raise their hand so the ushers could provide one. The newly appointed Dean then spoke the versicles ("O Lord, open my lips") while the congregation sang their responses ("And my mouth will declare your praise"). The lessons were introduced with the words "Our first reading this evening comes to us from I Timothy where St. Paul speaks of the duties of the ministry." Candidates who received their Calls normally wore clerical collars and reverenced the altar after receiving their call documents. However, one member of the administration politely informed the candidates that a suit and tie constituted the appropriate dress for this occasion and the new Dean of the Chapel encouraged the candidates not to reverence the altar because the service was over by the time the candidates received their Calls.
The hiring of professional orchestral players to accompany the volunteer seminary choirs also changed at the hands of the new administration. The most visible service involving orchestra and chorus was probably the annual Choral Matins that was held during a theological conference that attracted Lutheran pastors and laity from all over the United States. In the tradition of maintaining the highest possible standard for Lutheran church music, the conductor of the SATB choir-who stood in continuity with J.S. Bach's theology of sacred music--requested funds to hire professional instrumentalists to play for a service that lasted about forty minutes. However, the new Academic Dean refused to approve the funds, even though the funds were within the auspices of the SATB choir and its director. In a letter to the choir, the Academic Dean indicated that the request to spend that amount of money for one church service was "frivolous."
Hymnody also took a different direction under the new administration. To be sure, most of the hymns sung in chapel were still from the approved hymnals of a confessional Lutheran church body, but the selection was geared toward the more Protestant fare for the sake of mission. A glance through chapel bulletins during the years of the new administration reveal hymns such as "Hark the Voice of Jesus Calling," "Crown Him With Many Crowns," and even one attempt to schedule "Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me," but this was later abandoned because it was not long enough for the mission offering that was collected during the mission hymn. Stronger hymns such as Luther's metrical settings of the ordinaries and catechism hymns were difficult to find under the new leadership.
But why this impatience with church music? The late choral conductor Robert Shaw used to say that if Christianity is the word made flesh, then music is the flesh made word. In other words, as sure as Christ was made flesh to live among us, so in church music the flesh of Christ is physically present as an expression of the preached gospel. The pastor stands in the stead of Christ when he preaches the gospel and church musicians echo the preached Word in the sacrifice of Psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs. The reaction of the administration to a sermon preached by one confessing pastor on St. John 14:8-14 (2 May 1994), which espoused this incarnational view of the preached gospel, revealed the impatience of the administration with the Christological character of the ministry and its sung confession. The sermon, preached by a guest pastor from the surrounding community, described pastors as those "who bear in [their] bodies the divine office of the sacred ministry." A short commentary on the Hebrew word shaliach (messenger, angel, authoritative representative) applied the concept of shaliach and its Greek companion, apostello (to send [with authority]) to Christ as the shaliach of the Father and pastors as the shaliach of Christ. Quotes from the Talmud, Luther, Chemnitz, and C.F.W. Walther indicated that pastors preach in the stead and by the command of Christ himself as his shaliach. In short, this guest pastor preached an incarnational view of the office of the ministry as he taught that pastors bear in their own bodies the person and work of Christ as they baptize, absolve, and feed the flock of Christ. However, the administration indicated that pastors talk about Christ (rather than standing in his stead) and subsequently banned this pastor from preaching on campus.
However, as King Frederick Augustus once settled Bach's conflict in his favor, the installation of the sixteenth president of this seminary signaled a return to the right doctrine and confession. A booklet entitled "Seminary Prayer Book" (22 July 1997) revealed the richness and renewed vigor of chapel life at this school after suffering a few years of tentatio. After the appointment of a competent and tenured Dean of the Chapel, the worship life was elevated to a richness that even surpassed the chapel life before 1993. "Seminary Prayer Book" offered a brief glimpse of what Lutheran worship can and should be on a seminary campus. The introduction to the missal stood in contrast to the introduction to "Sixteen Short Offices": "This booklet [1997] was written with the encouragement that the Word of Christ dwell in us richly, providing many opportunities for listening to the Gospel and singing Psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, as His holy Word exhorts us to do." The booklet contained the skeleton and propers for the three main daily offices: Matins, Vespers, and Compline. A chapel schedule in the front portion of the booklet indicated the following daily schedule of corporate prayer:
7:30-7:45 a.m. Matins
8:30-9:30 a.m. Private Confession (Communion days only)
10:00-10:30 a.m. Morning Offices (Communion on Tue or Wed)
11:30-a.m.-12:30 p.m. Private Confession (non-Communion days)
4:00-4:15 p.m. Vespers
10:00-10:20 p.m. Evening Offices (Tue & Thu)
11:00 p.m. Compline (in the dormitory or at home)
John T. Pless summarized the conflict on this campus in 1994 in an insightful and, in retrospect, prophetic analysis:
It will not be so easy, however, for [the president] to eradicate the good heritage that [the dean of the chapel and the kantor] have implanted on the Fort Wayne campus.
The members of the faculty who are most influential on the students are those who are most committed to a Christological understanding of church and ministry set in the framework of high doxology. They are, in the words of their detractors, "high church," and they are not ashamed of the church's song. Throughout the church the song will go on. The majority of the students have been captured (not brainwashed) by the rich melodies of the church's song. It is a song far sweeter than the assorted pragmatisms that are offered in its place as it embodies the treasures of the saving doctrine in noble vessels that will endure long after the shallow songs have faded away.20
III
In an essay entitled "J.S. Bach and J.A. Ernesti: A Case Study in Exegetical and Theological Conflict," Paul S. Minear asks two questions of the enduring legacy of Bach and Ernesti that will shape the third and final portion of this manuscript: (1) Should secondary education continue to be grounded in Christian theology? (2) If so, should music be given a central place in such training in theology?21
Lutheran theological education traditionally divides the seminary curriculum into four facets of theology: exegesis, systematics, history, and pastorale (so-called "practical theology"). The strength of this approach is the balance between languages, theology, catholicity, and the application of these three disciplines in the daily rhythm of the pastorate. The danger of the traditional nomenclature, however, is the temptation to believe that the first three disciplines are not practical. If a seminary has an entire department devoted to pastoral theology (often called "the practical department"), it may send a message to the future pastors of the church that exegesis, systematics, and history are not practical in and of themselves.
This is precisely the notion promulgated by Ernesti and his spiritual children in theological education. The fifteenth President of the aforementioned seminary wanted to make his school a place where pastors would learn how to function as a pastor, how to run a church, and how to make their church grow. The watchword of this President and his administration was "tolerance," as they called for pastors who would be sensitive to people's feelings and willing to tolerate false doctrine as long as it did not blatantly subvert the gospel. A brief essay in Concordia Journal entitled "Able Ministers for the ‘80s" subtly promoted this ephemeral view of theological education: "Synodical higher education must always be reformed. That is, it must be open to adaptation, alteration, modification, or perhaps even transformation as it seeks to respond to the challenges laid upon it."22
How might one respond to efforts to reform theological education to make it more practical? In other words, how might one defend the place of theology in theological education? Perhaps our understanding of the traditional four-fold division of the seminary curriculum is the key. It is often said that exegesis is the heart of seminary education, systematics and church history are supplements to exegesis, and pastoral theology is the application of all of the above. This is not wrong, as far as it goes; but it risks creating an artificial bifurcation between doctrine (exegesis, systematics, and history) and practice (pastorale). This manuscript wishes to suggest the following formula for understanding the traditional four-fold division of the theological curriculum:
exegesis + history = systematics = pastorale
The example of the Trinity, the first topic of the Christian faith, will suffice to elucidate this formula. The exegesis of the word "trinity," though the word is not present in the Scriptures, indicates three of something (tri) and one of something (una). But one cannot settle the issue entirely by etymology. Three of what? And one of what? Church history (e.g. Nicea) informs us that the concept of the Trinity is used to describe one God who is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Systematic theology (AC I) combines exegesis and history to place the Trinity first in theology proper (rather than prolegomena) to establish who makes, saves, and keeps us. Pastoral theology applies the systematic view of the Trinity to the church in the creed (word) and baptism (sacrament).
This approach stands in contrast to Ernesti. As an exegete, Ernesti wrote an influential book on hermeneutics in which he stressed a mechanical, face-value exegesis. Minear cites Ernesti's hermeneutical principles as seeking the one, literal sense of each word (sensus literalis unus est), understanding language in strictly philological terms, and attaching greater weight to grammatical considerations than doctrinal ones.23 It is difficult to say whether Ernesti was the spiritual progenitor of Liberalism (exegesis without faith) or Evangelicalism (faith without doctrine). Perhaps one can sense elements of both trends in Ernesti's hermeneutic. In either event, Ernesti treated overtly literal, "show me a passage" exegesis as the apotheosis of theological education and was impatient with systematics, church history, pastorale, and church music. Lutherans today can sense a similar trend among Evangelicals, Fundamentalists, and Biblicists who believe in the inerrancy of Scripture, but are impatient with the Christological content and ecclesial context of Scripture.
How might one overcome Ernesti's monotheism of exegesis and his spiritual step-children's separation of doctrine from practice? The formula suggested above unites the four schools of theology in an integrated whole in which each one is distinct from its counterparts, avoiding the twin evils of separating or muddling each aspect of Christian theology. If systematic theology is an alloy of exegesis and history, and if pastoral theology is the application of systematic theology, the whole of theological education will be inherently grounded in theology. Exegesis, systematics, and history are practical in and of themselves. Similarly, practical theology is inherently exegetical, systematic, and historical, or it is no longer worthy of being called "theology." The answer to Minear's first question, then, is affirmative: secondary education must be grounded in Christian theology.
Before answering Minear's second question about the place of music in this scenario, a brief word is necessary about the context for music in Lutheran higher education. Minear asks if music should be given a central place in theological education. Is Minear speaking of music in general as a first article discipline or specifically of church music as a servant to the gospel? Minear and this manuscript are speaking of the latter in the spirit of Erik Routley:
For while church music is not exempt from the requirements music in general must meet, it stands also under the discipline associated with its being used to further the aim of worship. It is always used in a context where the performers are not exclusively, and hearers are not even primarily, concerned with music itself. It seems reasonable to assume that a musically informed church authority and a theologically informed musical authority can between them work out a counterpoint of criticism and precept in these matters. I am afraid, however, that this has very rarely happened and does not appear to be happening at all in our time.24
In other words, music is not present in the church as music, but precisely as a servant to the preached gospel, as sure as people are not members of the church as people, but precisely as believers. Having established the appropriate context for Minear's question, one may now ask what place church music has in the worship life of schools of higher theological education.
In his essay, "Liturgy and Theology," Maxwell Johnson identifies three distinct understandings of Prosper of Aquitaine's (c. 390-463) famous dictum, ut legem credendi lex statuat supplicandi ("The law of prayer may establish a law for belief") from the writings of three influential liturgical theologians:
Alexander Schmemann: lex orandi lex est credendi
Geoffrey Wainwright: lex orandi, lex credendi
Aidan Kavanagh: ut legem credendi lex statuat supplicandi25
Johnson identifies the strengths and weaknesses of each approach and, in my estimation, does more to further the argument about the relationship between the church's prayer and the church's doctrine than to settle the debate per se. However, the common denominator between these three variations on a theme is the mutual influence of worship and doctrine. Johnson says:
The law of praying is the law of believing (Schmemann) and the law of praying constitutes the law of believing, providing a kind of theologia prima, "pre-reflective perception of the life of faith" (Kavanagh). But, just as importantly, the law of believing cannot be allowed to function in isolation from other legitimate theological principles without distorting the theological quest for an articulation of truth (Wainwright). Therefore...both the lex orandi and the lex credendi must and do function together in the development of doctrine and in the theological reflection...of the Church Catholic.26
If the rule of prayer and the rule of faith complement one another, then one might ask why Ernesti and his spiritual offspring were apparently teaching the right theology in the classroom yet impatient with good church music and its place in the worship life of Lutheran education. At first glance, it is tempting to think that the foes of good church music had so radically isolated exegesis from doxology that they did not believe in the mutual relationship between lex orandi and lex credendi, between chapel and classroom. This is true to a point. However, the antagonistic involvement of Ernesti and his spiritual step-children in the worship life of their respective academic communities suggests that both Bach and Ernesti believed in the mutual relationship of lex orandi and lex credendi, but in a different way and for a different purpose. Minear describes the difference between Bach and Ernesti:
One [Bach] used an artistic mode, the other [Ernesti] a rationalistic perspective; one used a musical, the other a non-musical, mode of expression; one was concerned to do justice to the multiple meanings of the text, the other sought out the single meaning; one stressed the uniqueness of the Bible, the other exploited its kinship to other books; one wanted above all to comprehend the mind of the ancient author, the other sought to share the responses to the event on the part of the ancient audience.27
According to Minear, Bach sought to express exegesis in good church music. Ernesti sought to leave exegesis in the classroom. Therefore, the conflict between Bach and Ernesti was over theology, not merely personal taste. The prayer of the church (worship, church music, sermons, etc.) does teach the church, as Bach and Ernesti would certainly agree. But Bach wanted good church music to express in concrete ways the doctrine the students learned in the classroom. (Minear makes the intriguing observation that about one-fifth of the students' typical day at St. Thomas was devoted to church music and about one-fifth was devoted to theology.28) Ernesti did not care about good church music and considered it at best a matter of personal style or at worst a mere distraction to learning hermeneutical principles. His lack of care for church music reveals that at heart he believed the wrong doctrine and sought to promote false teaching by gutting the worship life at St. Thomas.
If music is to have a place in theological education (as per the precedent at St. Thomas), then where might church music fit into the traditional four-fold division of theological studies? Using the formula already mentioned above, this essay suggests including church music under the realm of pastoral theology and, by implication, systematic theology. Placing sacred music under the realm of systematic theology will guard it from becoming dislodged from theology. If pastoral theology and sacred music are separated from systematics, then the theology is no longer pastoral and the music is no longer sacred. Pastoral theology will disintegrate into the latest Pandora's Box of clever methods to help the church grow and church music will become music eo ipso. Again, church music is more than a garnish to Christian theology. Rather, it is the living expression of the doctrine learned in the classroom. Similarly, worship is the school of the church where she learns the Christian faith and life. To take a lead from Robert Shaw, pastoral theology is the word made flesh and sacred music is the flesh made word. The answer to Minear's second question, then, is also affirmative: Music should be given a central place in theological education.
To be sure, our insistence that secondary education continue to be grounded in Christian theology and that music be given a central place in such training will invite tentatio from the devil, the world, and our sinful flesh. What John T. Pless said in the midst of the battle at the aforementioned Lutheran seminary also applies to tentatio in the broader scope of Lutheran theological education:
In his putsch to transform [this seminary] into a missions institute, there is another factor with which [the fifteenth president] has not reckoned. The church's song thrives under pressure. The liturgy may have to go underground at [this institution], but it will not be eliminated. It will, in fact, shine with renewed glory in the face of these puny efforts to silence its confession of the faith once delivered to the saints. The pressure is on at [this school]. Thanks be to God!29
Satan loves to tempt those involved in Lutheran higher education to make our schools a place where future church workers learn the pragmatic tricks of the trade instead of learning Christian theology. Satan will continue to try to seduce us into believing that church music is an optional extra to Lutheran higher education instead of an integral part of receiving a theological education set within the context of a high and holy doxology. To ground secondary schooling in Christian theology, and to give sacred music a central place in theological education, is to invite tentatio from all sides. But in the midst of persecution, our theological pedagogy and our well-regulated church music will ring with a renewed vigor.
The tentatio is on in Lutheran higher education. Thanks be to God!
1. The New Bach Reader: A Life of Johann Sebastian Bach in Letters and Documents (hereafter TNBR). Edited by Hans T. David and Arthur Mendel. Revised and Expanded by Christoph Wolff. (New York and London: W.W. Norton & Company, 1998), 174-175.
2. John T. Pless, "On Silencing the Lord's Song," Logia III:3 (Holy Trinity1994), 85.
3. TNBR, 172.
4. TNBR, 173.
5. TNBR, 173.
6. TNBR, 174.
7. TNBR, 174.
8. TNBR, 176.
9. TNBR, 177.
10. TNBR, 181.
11. TNBR, 182-183.
12. TNBR, 183-185.
13. TNBR, 189-190. It is interesting to note that the decree was dated 6 February 1737, several months after the initial complaints of Bach and rebuttals of Ernesti. It is also intriguing that the decree mentions the forthcoming end of J.G. Krause's stay at the school (Easter 1737) and encourages Cantor and Rector to keep in mind the school regulations as they select the next Prefect. Perhaps the council was trying to avoid the conflict by their delay and their refusal to take definitive action.
14. TNBR, 190-191.
15. TNBR, 192-193.
16. TNBR, 194-195.
17. TNBR, 195-196.
18. TNBR, 196-198.
19. Robert Stevenson, "Bach's Quarrel with the Rector of St. Thomas' School," Anglican Theological Review 35 (1951), 223.
20. Pless, 85-86.
21. Our Common History as Christians: Essays in Honor of Albert C. Outler. Edited by John Deschner, Leroy T. Howe, and Klaus Penzel. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1975), 134.
22. David G. Schmiel, "Able Ministers for the ‘80s," Concordia Journal 8:1 (January 1982), 2.
23. Minear, 135-136.
24. Erik Routley, Church Music and the Christian Faith (Carol Stream, IL: Agape, 1978), 65.
25. Maxwell Johnson, "Liturgy and Theology," Liturgy in Dialogue (Collegeville: The Liturgical Press, 1994), 203-227. Kavanagh's version of Aquitaine's dictum is the only one in Johnson's list that duplicates Aquitaine's original saying. However, this does not imply Kavanagh is the only one with a right understanding of the rule of prayer and rule of faith, as Johnson is summarizing each theologian's interpretation of the saying, not their ability to repristinate the Latin dictum.
26. Johnson, 227.
27. Minear, 143. Minear's talk of Bach's "multiple meanings" refers to multiple audiences (i.e., the church ancient and the church modern), not the Medieval concept of multiple layers of meaning.
28. Minear, 133.
29. Pless, 85.
Blogia Begins
Well, here it is. LOGIA's giant leap into the third kingdom, the kingdom of blog.
Since Reformation 1992 (when LOGIA was first published), LOGIA has had no lack of good confessional Lutheran theology to print. In fact, there hasn't been enough room in the journal to publish everything that was submitted. Good articles sat in the editors' desks waiting for another theme they could fall under. Needless to say, some are still waiting to be published.
Next, there were articles the editors weren't sure about, for one reason or another, whether to print or not to print. These merited their own place in the editors' desks. Then, years passed by. The Internet expanded. Blogging was born. But alas, no one at LOGIA put two and two together until Michael Albrecht, Senior Editor, said, "Hey, how come we don't have a blog?"
Therefore, today is the advent of Blogia. You'll find two categories: Web Forum and Web Extras. Web Forum will consist of forum type pieces, the type you'll find in our journal, except on the web. Web Extras will consist of the articles mentioned above (good articles that didn't fit in the journal). Both categories are intended to promote good Lutheran theology and thoughtful discussion for you, the dedicated LOGIA reader and our guests. We hope Blogia becomes a great medium for you to interact with the authors, editors, and other readers without having to wait for a letter to the editor.
We invite your comments! We invite you to vote on other people's comments and, if necessary, to report abuse. You can also use the provided options to submit articles appearing here as links to other online blogs and social networks in order to invite more readers and comments. And if some comment is worthy enough, who knows, maybe it will make it into print. Or it may make it into another new pile of good intention. Either way, enjoy Blogia.
Masthead
View our masthead (PDF)
History
[Adapted from "After Ten Years" from LOGIA, Epiphany 2003, Volume XII, Number 1]
The first issue was published at Reformation 1992. (Wishing to observe the church year, the editors decided to number Epiphany 1992 Vol. 2, No. 1.) Not everyone, including the editors, was convinced that the enterprise would last. At least one predicted less than a five-year life. Those of us at the heart of it didn’t even think about how long LOGIA would be on the scene. We were more interested in significant theological reflection.
For the longevity we've enjoyed, we thank our readers and contributors. The debate forums we envisioned for our journal pages have not always been as lively as we imagined they would be. But we have always been gratified to know that LOGIA provided discussion material for pastoral conferences, seminary classrooms, and personal study and discussion.The regular vote of confidence expressed through the renewal of subscriptions has been encouragement enough. Nearly always, our readers and contributing editors have offered us much more material than we could use, often forcing us to make some hard choices in what to include.
We thank our readers for tolerating our sometimes irregular appearance. The entire editorial staff is a volunteer staff, and all have regular duties in the parish and the classroom. Especially parish duties often have had to take precedence over beating a deadline, and those who labor in the classroom often have to give precedence to those duties. The support staff are paid pitifully little, and it is a labor of love that keeps them at their tasks.
For this issue (After Ten Years), we asked several of our contributing editors to write on issues they consider important. And you can see how they have responded: Baptism and the Supper; church unity, fellowship, and doctrine; the church’s confession and the identity crisis in the twenty-first century, Was Heisst Lutherisch?, What does it mean to be Lutheran?; and the church in the world, the problem of the state church, and more importantly, the Christian in the state, the doctrine of the two kingdoms. Other issues could have been addressed as well, but we think our contributing editors have aimed at issues that will continue to be our focus.
Early on LOGIA identified itself as “a free conference in print.” The contributing editors represent an approximation of a pan-Lutheran perspective, albeit from the side of conservative confessionalism. The working editors represent the Synodical Conference tradition, particularly Missouri, Wisconsin, and the Norwegian Synod, with a nod to the brethren to the north. The readership is worldwide, with every continent on the mailing list. The readership is largely Lutheran, but with a significant part outside of the Lutheran world as well.
Whether or not we have succeeded in our ideal of being a free conference in print, we will leave it to others to judge. But we have tried to give a voice to those who take the Lutheran Confessions seriously; who are committed to an inspired, inerrant Scripture and to a ministry that is truly apostolic; who believe that the Divine Service belongs to God himself, not to the whims of a trendy generation; and who are convinced that the proclamation of the gospel in this age does not require a revision of our confession.
LOGIA is a free conference in that the editors and writers speak for themselves and not for their churches. They presuppose a fellowship in the gospel that unites them before the throne of grace, but they do not presuppose a fellowship that can be expressed now in a visible way. They continue to pray for a time soon when confessional Lutherans around the world will come together with a unified confessional voice and practice.
LOGIA has provided a forum for professional theologians and parish pastors. While the larger part of this issue is written by teachers of theology, at least half the writing in LOGIA has come from parish pastors, and in a few cases, students preparing for the parish ministry. We have been happy also to hear the voices of some lay men and women.
Issues addressed in these ten years have reflected the concerns of the 1990s; the office of the ministry and the nature of worship have been at the forefront, but certainly were not the sole focus. In the present decade, the nature of church fellowship and ecumenical relations, the secularizing slide of world Lutheranism, and syncretism will be important. But it is doubtful that the issues of church and ministry will fade very quickly. The question of the ordination of women is certainly not likely to be discussed (or be discussable) in most of world Lutheranism, but it will undoubtedly be debated in the orb of the Synodical Conference churches and its world associates.
As a journal, LOGIA has not aimed to react immediately to the church news of the day. But we have tried to give deliberate attention to the theological issues behind the church news and the hotly debated issues. We intend to continue to formulate our agenda in that way and to invite our contributors and our readers to offer their study and reflection on current theological issues.
Finally, we wish to renew the pledge we made in LOGIA I:1, Reformation, 1992:
In sum, we wish to return to the one source—the Holy Scripture, and our Lutheran understanding of it expressed in the Book of Concord. That, and that alone, will inform and mold our thought in this journal. We do that in unity with the fathers of the church, of both ancient and reformation times as well as from more recent times. We appreciate their struggles and we look to them for guidance in our own struggles. We may not be able to return to the past. Who would want to? But if there is an ecumenical unity possible, surely we have it with our confessing fathers. We want to sit at their feet and hear their teaching and sing with them the praises of him who is the same yesterday, today, and forever.
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Upcoming Themes
LOGIA is published quarterly (Epiphany, Eastertide, Holy Trinity, and Reformation) Missio Dei Holy Trinity 2014 (XXIII:3)
Wittenberg, Wall Street & Welfare Reformation 2014 (XXIII:4)
Luther As Exegete Epiphany 2015 (XXIV:1)
Martyrdom & Suffering Eastertide 2015 (XXIV:2)
Interested in contributing to one of these issues? See our Call for Manuscripts
Mission Statement
LOGIA is a quarterly journal of Lutheran theology published by The Luther Academy featuring articles from diverse contributors worldwide on exegetical, historical, systematic, and liturgical theology that promote the orthodoxy of the Evangelical Lutheran Church. We cling to God's divinely instituted marks of the church: the gospel, preached purely in all its articles, and the sacraments, administered according to Christ's institution. In Greek, LOGIA functions either as an adjective meaning "eloquent," "learned," or "cultured," or as a plural noun meaning "divine revelations," "words," or "messages." The word is found in 1 Peter 4:11, Acts 7:38 and Romans 3:2. Its compound forms include homologia (confession), apologia (defense), and analogia (right relationship). Each of these concepts and all of them together express the purpose and method of this journal.
LOGIA is committed to providing an independent theological forum normed by the prophetic and apostolic Scriptures and the Lutheran Confessions. At the heart of our journal we want our readers to find a love for the sacred Scriptures as the very Word of God, not merely as rule and norm, but especially as Spirit, truth, and life which reveals Him who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life—Jesus Christ our Lord. Therefore, we confess the church, without apology and without rancor, only with a sincere and fervent love for the precious Bride of Christ, the holy Christian church, "the mother that begets and bears every Christian through the Word of God," as Martin Luther says in the Large Catechism (LC II, 42). We are animated by the conviction that the Evangelical Church of the Augsburg Confession represents the true expression of the church which we confess as one, holy, catholic, and apostolic.
We are also distributors of confessional Lutheran resources, such as the Confessional Lutheran Dogmatics, the Pieper Lectures, and other media from theolgoical conferences.
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Call for Manuscripts
The editors hereby request article manuscripts, book reviews, and forum material for the following issues:
| Issue | Theme | Deadline |
| Epiphany 2015 | Luther as Exegete | June 1, 2014 |
| Eastertide 2015 | Martyrdom & Suffering | September 1, 2014 |
| Holy Trinity 2015 | Preaching in the 21st Century | December 1, 2014 |
| Reformation 2015 | Called and (or?) Ordained | March 1, 2015 |
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Wittenberg & Athens
Reformation 2008, Volume XVII, Number 4
Table of Contents
(Introduction by Carl P. E. Springer)
This issue of LOGIA is dedicated to answering Tertullian’s famous rhetorical question, “What has Athens to do with Jerusalem?” from a contemporary Lutheran perspective. While Tertullian would probably have answered his own question along the lines of “obviously, nothing at all,” there have been many other Christians, from patristic writers like Clement of Alexandria, Basil of Caesarea, and Augustine, to nineteenth-century churchmen like Thomas Arnold and John Henry Newman, who have found substantial areas of commonality between the two cities and what they represent. Not all...Lutherans, including Luther himself, have endorsed Tertullian’s radical rejection of the Classics. Indeed, Lutheran higher education has, until relatively recently, participated enthusiastically in what has been called “The Great Tradition,” namely, the idea of an “education rooted in the classical and Christian heritage.”1 Luther himself praised “the languages and the arts” highly and regarded their study as a great “ornament, profit, glory, and benefit, both for the understanding of Holy Scriptures and the conduct of temporal government.”2 The relationship, however uneasy, between Athens and Wittenberg has been long-lasting and pervasive. It was by no means restricted to the time of the Reformation or limited by the borders of Germany or even of Europe. In America, too, young men preparing for the Lutheran ministry were expected not only to study biblical Greek and Hebrew, but to read the Greek and Latin pagan poets, philosophers, and historians as part of their training in the liberal arts. This practice persisted in at least one Lutheran preministerial college until 1995, when Northwestern College in Watertown, Wisconsin, ceased to exist. Every student who went through the four years of the Untergymnasium (Preparatory School) and the Obergymnasium (College) was required to learn classical Latin (four years in high school; one in college), German (two years in high school; more in college); classical Greek (two or three years); and Hebrew (two years in college). It is true that Northwestern College was somewhat exceptional in this regard. As one of its best known professors, John Philipp Koehler, notes in his history of the Wisconsin Synod:
The Missouri schools were different from what Northwestern now set out to be. Although organized at once after the pattern of the German gymnasium (excepting that they had only one Prima, hence only a six-year instead of a seven-year or today’s eight-year course at Northwestern), they lacked a something in the study of languages that narrowed down the whole educational outlook. Walther liked to say humorously of the college study of the ancient languages that it was “the Court of the Gentiles.” Many of his students misunderstood this to mean that the only purpose of such study was to prepare the student for the reading of the Bible in the original tongues and of the Latin church fathers. Just like the misunderstanding of Luther’s saying (An die Ratsherren): As we love the Gospel, so let us cling to the study of the ancient languages. . . . These languages are the scabbard which sheathes the sharp blade of the Spirit; in them this precious jewel is encased. American and English teachers of New Testament Greek like to cite Erasmus in the same connection because he was the chief exponent of Humanism in the Reformation period, and we Lutherans, from the same point of view, might refer to Melanchthon. But the proper thing is to fall back on Luther, provided you understand him, because of his genius for language.3
In this connection, as Koehler notes, many will no doubt think first of the contributions of Philipp Melanchthon, a gifted philologist, who played a critical role in helping to shape the curriculum of Lutheran schools and universities along humanistic lines, but it would be a mistake to overlook Luther’s own enthusiastic support of the Classics. While Luther certainly was no friend of ancient philosophers like Aristotle or Epicurus, he valued the ancient languages highly, praised the works of pagan poets and rhetoricians like Virgil and Cicero in hyperbolic terms, and recommended the continued study of logic in Lutheran schools. It is altogether possible that without Luther’s advocacy of the classical curriculum, the anti-intellectual ideology of contemporaries like Carlstadt and the Anabaptists would have held sway and Tertullian’s vision of a clean divide between the church and the academy would have won through to a belated realization. Koehler observes that it was Luther, not Melanchthon, that
penetrated into the life of the language concerned and mastered its psychology. He was not concerned only with vocables and grammatical forms but with the peculiar logic and mental processes of a people as expressed in its language. . . . He was not a pedantic scholar, but the artist and poet whose lines and colors and metaphors are true to life, and to him language was life.4
None of this is to gainsay Luther’s famous repudiation of Aristotle and his insistence on the primacy of faith rather than meretricious reason in matters theological. Luther most emphatically rejected the notion, propounded by Plato and reinforced by centuries of ascetic thought and practice in the medieval church, that, given a proper education, human beings could free themselves from the powerful grip of sin. Aristotle’s advocacy of human self-improvement through the power of moderate living runs completely counter to the Lutheran principle of sola gratia and the theology of the cross. This said, it would be a mistake to go so far in the other direction that we end up seeing Luther as some sort of proto-existentialist, teetering on the brink of irrationality or even insanity, whose truest interpreters are Kierkegaard and Nietzsche. Of these last two, Jaroslav Pelikan once observed that “their insanity helped them to insights of which the normal and balanced mind is rarely capable.” In his famous assemblage of “fools for Christ,” Pelikan also includes Paul, Luther, and Bach, but admits that these last three
may not have been insane in the clinical sense of the word. But by sacrifi cing themselves to the service of God and subordinating their values to the lordship of Christ, they evidenced the madness of the Holy, an insanity that saw what sanity refused to admit.5
Luther certainly can be described as “a fool for Christ,” but, as the following articles amply demonstrate, it would not be fair to suggest that Luther was an irrationalist or that he did not highly value rationality. Everything he wrote, even his most emphatic attacks on Aristotle and Erasmus, reveals the pervasive influence of his own traditional Greco-Roman education in the liberal arts, grammar, rhetoric, music, and, yes, logic. It is true that he lived a spectacularly brave life (some would call it foolish, no doubt) in defi ance of a world “filled with devils” and the imminent threat of death and yet he thought and wrote with the utmost clarity and sanity and sense of balance about how his followers should live safely and wisely and well in a world that might very well end with the Lord’s return tomorrow. It is hoped that this issue of LOGIA may help readers to understand why Luther valued “Athens” as he did, to consider how influential his own endorsement of the Classics was for “Wittenberg,” and to think more clearly about how best to reappropriate this neglected part of the Lutheran legacy today.
Carl P. E. Springer Southern Illinois University Edwardsville Guest Editor for Reformation 2008
1. The second of Tertullian’s questions in De praescriptione haereticorum 7:9 makes it clear that he has higher education in mind: Quid ergo Athenis et Hierosolymis? Quid academiae et ecclesiae? Quid haereticis et christianis?
2. From Luther’s 1524 address To the Councilmen of All Cities in Germany, as cited in Richard M. Gamble’s anthology, The Great Tradition: Classic Readings on What It Means to Be an Educated Human Being (Wilmington: ISI Books, 2007), 374–75. Gamble addresses himself to a growing community of educators, many of them involved in the homeschooling movement, that “values liberal education for its own sake; desires to educate for wisdom and virtue, not power and vanity; finds tiresome the present age’s preoccupation with utility, speed, novelty, convenience, efficiency, and specialization; and refuses to justify education as a means to wealth, power, fame, or self-assertion” (xviii).
3. John Philipp Koehler, The History of the Wisconsin Synod, ed. Leigh Jordahl, 2nd ed. ([Mosinee, WI]: Protestant Conference, 1981), 138.
4. Ibid., 138–39. Th ere is no question that Luther understood the importance of the study of the Classics for the intellectual formation of those preparing to be servants of the word. In the preface to his study of Isaiah, he wrote: “Two things are necessary to explain the prophet. The first is a knowledge of grammar, and this may be regarded as having the greatest weight. The second is more necessary, namely, a knowledge of the historical background, not only as an understanding of the events themselves as expressed in letters and syllables but as at the same time embracing rhetoric and dialectic, so that the figures of speech and the circumstances may be carefully heeded.”
5. Jaroslav Pelikan, Fools for Christ: Essays on the True, the Good, and the Beautiful (Philadelphia: Muhlenberg Press, 1955), ix. 1. The second of Tertullian’s questions in De praescriptione haereticorum 7:9 makes it clear that he has higher education in mind: Quid ergo Athenis et Hierosolymis? Quid academiae et ecclesiae? Quid haereticis et christianis?
Löhe Bicentennial
Holy Trinity 2008, Volume XVII, Number 3Table of Contents
(Introduction by Dennis Marzolf)
The nineteenth century was a time of dramatic renewal in the Christian church. The sixties and seventies of the previous century had been decades of experimentation. The ideals of an optimistic rationalism gave birth to the revolutionary dreams of the eighties and nineties. In both cases orthodox Christianity seemed to be outmoded in light of a new faith in the rights and possibilities of man. Christian energy, for so many centuries the shaping force in European culture, was eclipsed during the “great upheaval.”
The church, eager to survive within the new culture, conformed her thought and practice to the world. Pragmatism and unionism replaced dogmatism. Truth was experienced rather than known.
This kind of truth is short-lived, however. It is bound to the span of a single life, a single generation. This led to the perennial bloom of the dogmatic church showing itself in various corners of Christendom in the first half of the nineteenth century.Trinitarian orthodoxy blossomed again at Oxford and Solesmes. The invasive weeds of politically expedient unionism and evangelical pragmatism threatened orthodox Lutheranism, but the hearty root would not yield its life and character.
For Wilhelm Löhe true Lutheranism drew its strength from the means of grace. All of mission and preaching and pastoral care had as its goal the encounter with the real presence of Christ in the sacrament of the altar. Löhe knew no greater comfort in this life, and the Supper nourished him in his work as a shepherd. The sweet fellowship of the altar inspired him to explore the rich liturgical heritage of Lutheranism, but his was no empty ritualism. His responsible sacramental practice included sound preaching, thorough catechesis, and a conscientious cultivation of individual absolution, which he viewed as the cornerstone of church fellowship.
Löhe’s work was not just the product of an idealistic Romantic yearning for the warmth of the ancient liturgies and rites of the church. He was a Lutheran who was not ashamed to confess that the brightest light of evangelical catholicism could only be found in a Lutheran Church which knew and confessed its birthright according to the doctrine and practice set forth in the Book of Concord. His personal and public confession of the faith, articulated in “Why I Declare Myself for the Lutheran Church,” was a dynamic Lutheran confessionalism that viewed the Concordia as the basis for a lively, ongoing development of doctrine and practice. This view of the Confessions was a source of tension between Neuendettelsau and other centers of the nineteenth-century Lutheran revival, notably the Saxon immigrants in Missouri. His confessionalism, not strong enough for some, was too strong for many in his own regional church. A study of this is pertinent today as we continue to examine our own confessional relationships in congregations and synods.
Löhe rediscovered the vibrant life of dogmatic Lutheranism, and the fruits of that experience continue to color Lutheranism in the United States and throughout the world. It is hard to avoid overstatement of the case, especially when we consider his work with regard to liturgy, mission, pastoral theology, the diaconal ministry of mercy, and the establishment of institutions of care and education. His pastoral genius continues to be felt in Lutheran ministries of mercy as well as in American Lutheran seminaries and colleges. One can hope that an observance of the anniversary of his birth will encourage further scholarship, especially in English, for the benefit of the English Lutheran Church.
Dennis Marzolf Mankato, Minnesota Guest editor, Trinity, 2008
Free Books, etc.
The following books are yours FREE, provided you do not reproduce or sell them: Even Unto Death: The Spiritual Armory of the Evangelical Lutheran Church by G. Mark Steiner. Download Now (PDF 560KB)
[Jeff Shapiro writes:] Incrementalism: the policy of approaching a desired end by gradual stages. Sounds okay, doesn't it? Seemingly minor changes are barely noticed and are either willingly or grudgingly tolerated at each stage. But then a light bulb starts to flicker, and you realize that the change is not one of degree; it's a change of kind. A change desired, designed and delivered by the devil in his assault against your religion! Is this happening to your church? Has it already happened? How can you know? What can you do? The scriptural, evangelical, creedal, confessional, liturgical, catechetical and sacramental tenets of Lutheranism can help you understand and deploy the spiritual weapons at your disposal. Read this book for your blueprint.
See also:
An Evangelical Lutheran Presence: A Retreat for Congregational Elders by G. Mark Steiner. Download Now (PDF 100KB)
[Jeff Shapiro writes:] What can we say about opposites? That they attract? That one is right and the other is wrong? That one is good and the other is bad? With Solomon and Jonah as models of opposite motivations and behaviors, we see how both words in a set of paired opposites can be wrong, bad and dysfunctional. In this companion document to "Even Unto Death," you will see how Liberal/Conservative, Inclusive/Exclusive, Open-minded/Close-minded and other dyads of the "language of the world" can push congregations away from the truth of the gospel. Designed primarily for elders, this treatise will demonstrate that the distinguishing characteristics of the Evangelical Lutheran Church represent gifts of God for us to go forward in words of faith, rather than words of fear. The discussion questions in each chapter will aid in congregational self-analysis.
The Lord's Supper in the Theology of Martin Chemnitz by Bjarne Wollan Teigen. Download Now (PDF 2.89MB)