Book Review: Die Erlanger Theologie

Editor's Note: As an extra for the Eastertide 2013 issue of LOGIA, we are posting this book review from the Eastertide 1997 edition of LOGIA. If you'd like to purchase a copy of all the back issues of LOGIA, please click here. Die Erlanger Theologie (no. 67 in Einzelarbeiten aus der Kirchengeschichte Bayerns). By Karlmann Beyschlag. Erlangen: Martin-Luther-Verlag with the Verein für bayerische Kirchengeschichte, 1993. 295 pages.

Since the nineteenth century, the theological faculty at the University of Erlangen has been the citadel of confessional Lutheranism. In the 1940s and 1950s, students from America and other foreign countries streamed to Erlangen, attracted by the world theological leadership of its university.

But after the deaths of Elert and Althaus, a reaction set in the theological faculty as well as in the Lutheran churches of Germany. The teachings of Karl Barth, the Barmen Declaration, and the “Confessing Church” began to suppress confessional Lutheranism. Principles of the Union Church, including intercommunion and open communion (Leuenberg Concord), were accepted by the Lutheran churches. A much less talented group of theologians replaced the great ones at Erlangen. Several of these sought notoriety by denouncing Elert and Althaus. In 1971, they succeeded in having the traditional subscription of the Lutheran Book of Concord abolished at Erlangen. Since then, Erlangen has been the launching pad for attacks upon the Lutheran Church and its symbolic books. The special target of their assaults has been the Lutheran distinction of law and gospel and the doctrine of the two realms.

The significance of this new book is that Karlmann Beyschlag, a pupil of Elert and Althaus, has written both a brilliant historical work and a strong defense against many falsehoods that have been leveled against these stalwart Lutherans.

The author begins by delineating the background of Erlangen theology, stemming from the Awakening Movement of the nineteenth century. Important impulses came from Christian Krafft, Carl von Raumer, and the earlier thinker Johann Georg Hamann. He then gives sketches of the most important theologians at Erlangen.

First is Adolf von Harleß (1806–79), who was both an important scholar and a powerful church leader. As theologian he was the founder of Erlangen theology and one of its most important writers; as churchman and friend of Löhe he was able to separate the Lutheran and Reformed parts of the Protestant state church and to create a confessional Lutheran church in Bavaria (33–57). Next, Beyschlag discusses the greatest Erlangen theologian of the nineteenth century, Johann Christian Konrad von Hofmann (1810–77), giving a brilliant presentation of his complicated thought. Hofmann made a deep impression upon several Americans, including the Dubuque theologian Johann Michael Reu.

Within the scope of this theology came the “Erlangen School,” a movement that built upon the theologian’s personal experience of salvation and emphasized the Lutheran Confessions. Beginning with Harleß and explicated through Höfling, Hofmann, Thomasius, Delitzsch, Theodosius Harnack, von Zezschwitz, Schmid, and Frank, the movement spread from Erlangen to the universities of Leipzig, Rostock, Greifswald, and Dorpat. The “Erlangen School” as a specific theological movement ended with the death of Frank in 1894, but another important theological program was to appear at Erlangen in the twentieth century, building upon the earlier movement.

In a separate chapter, Beyschlag characterizes a group of church historians at the university who did not really belong to the “Erlangen School” movement, especially Theodor Zahn, Albert Hauck, and Reinhold Seeberg. He then discusses three other important historians: Gustav Plitt, Theodore Kolde, and Karl Schornbaum.

In chapter 7 he presents “the second blossoming of Erlangen theology” (143–203). This movement began with the criticism of the old “Erlangen School” by a pupil of Frank, Ludwig Ihmels. Without rejecting the importance of the religious certainty of the theologian, Ihmels warned that not human experience but divine revelation must be the true basis of a sound theology (143–145). Beyschlag names three great men in the rebirth of Erlangen theology: Otto Procksch, Werner Elert, and Paul Althaus.

The Old Testament scholar Procksch, who was a very strong teacher as well as writer, renewed Hofmann’s conception of Heilsgeschichte. Unfortunately, Procksch’s important theology of the Old Testament was not published until after his death (1950), so that it was already superseded by the fine work of his pupil Walter Eichrodt (148). Procksch is remembered equally for his firm confessional Lutheranism and for his determined stand against the Nazi movement.

Beyschlag ranks Elert and Hofmann as the two most important Erlangen scholars in the past two centuries. He describes Elert as “the totally unclerical man who, in his outward appearance, looked more like a general in civilian clothing than a theologian” (151). Elert, “like all intellectual giants,” was “an uncommonly complicated character, who was just as easily offended as he was polemically feared” (151–152). He cites the remark of Trillhaas: “Elert had not a single friend with whom he had not at least once had a sturdy fight” (151).

Elert’s early writings were historical and systematic, and were largely devoted to Luther, Melanchthon, the Lutheran Confessions, and subsequent developments in the history of theology. In some way or other, the distinction of law and gospel took an important place in all these writings. ((A balanced evaluation of Elert appears in the new monograph by the Icelander Sigurjon Arni Eyjolfsson, Rechtfertigung und Schöpfung in der Theologie Werner Elerts, no. 10 in new series of Arbeiten zur Geschichte und Theologie des Luthertums (Hannover: Lutherisches Verlagshaus, 1994).)) After 1945 he turned increasingly toward his long-projected history of dogma; however, except for the volume on church fellowship and several important essays, this work lay uncompleted at his death, after which Wilhelm Maurer and Elisabeth Bergsträßer edited an additional volume from the materials that he had left. ((Since Werner Elert is of special interest to American readers, we present here his principal writings. The first major work of Werner Elert, written while he was still head of the Old Lutheran seminary in Breslau, appeared in 1921 under the title Der Kampf um das Christentum; this was an investigation and evaluation of recent philosophy and apologetics, mainly of the nineteenth century. In 1924 appeared the first edition of his Die Lehre des Luthertums im Abriß, which was translated and published by Charles M. Jacobs under the title An Outline of Christian Doctrine, 1927; the second German edition, 1926, was greatly revised and enlarged. Elert’s chief work was his two-volume Morphologie des Luthertums, 1931, of which volume 1 was translated by Walter A. Hansen and published by Concordia Publishing House as The Structure of Lutheranism, 1962. The first edition of his dogmatics, Der christliche Glaube, appeared in 1940; parts of this have been published in English by Concordia Publishing House. His Das christliche Ethos followed in 1949 and was translated and published as The Christian Ethos by Carl Schindler, 1957. The last work that he prepared for publication was Abendmahl und Kirchengemeinschaft in der alten Kirche, hauptsächlich des Ostens, 1954, translated by Norman E. Nagel and published by Concordia Publishing House under the title Eucharist and Church Fellowship in the First Four Centuries. This book interprets communio sanctorum in the Apostles’ Creed as a neuter, i.e., as the participation in the sacraments, and it presents a spirited case for closed communion. An important essay by Elert, Gesetz und Evangelium, 1948, was translated and published by Edward H. Schroeder as Law and Gospel, 1967. Posthumously appeared Der Ausgang der altkirchlichen Christologie, 1957, edited by Maurer and Bergsträßer.)) Elert had a revolutionary concept: whereas previous historians had traced the “beginnings” of a dogma, proceeding chronologically from an early date and working downward, Elert proposed starting with the outgoings or conclusion of a churchly dogma, tracing it back toward its beginnings. Thereby Harnack’s speculations that the development of dogma was the hellenization of Christianity could be refuted by showing instead that the completed dogma represented the dehellenisation of Christian doctrine (176–177).

Before taking up Althaus, Beyschlag briefly characterizes some other important men on the faculty: the Old Testament scholar and widely-respected Rechor magnificus Friedrich Baumgärtel, the church historian and Luther scholar Hans Preuß, the “high Lutheran” church historian Hermann Sasse, the Reformation scholar Wilhelm Maurer, the multi-faceted historian and Luther scholar Walter von Loewenich, the art historian Fritz Fichtner, and the practical theologian Eduard Steinwand, who was also important for his work in the eastern churches (178–181).

Beyschlag gives a thorough presentation on the theology and personality of Paul Althaus (182–203). Althaus taught systematic theology, New Testament, and the theology of Luther. ((The most important works of Althaus are as follows: Die Prinzipien der deutschen reformierten Dogmatik im Zeitalter der aristotelischen Scholastik, 1914. Die letzten Dinge. Lehrbuch der Eschatologie, 1922. Grundriß der Ethik, 1931; 2nd ed., 1953. Die christliche Wahrheit. Lehrbuch der Dogmatik 1947; 3rd ed. 1952. Die Theologie Martin Luthers, 1962. Translation by Robert C. Schultz, The Theology of Martin Luther, 1966. Die Ethik Martin Luthers, 1965. Translation by Robert C. Schultz, The Ethics of Martin Luther, 1972. Althaus also edited a commentary, Das Neue Testament Deutsch, 12 vols., for which he wrote Der Brief an die Römer, 1936; 7th ed. 1953. An important part of his work is also reflected in the volumes of collected sermons which he delivered as University Preacher at Erlangen.)) His systematic theology was characterized by his emphasis upon the First Article (Althaus held “a theology of Creation,” 190–194), a theology marked by the contrast between the original revelation (Ur-Offenbarung) and the revelation of salvation (Heilsoffenbarung), “in which the creator will of God included almightily the revelation of salvation” (191). In the discipline of ethics, this theological concept was expressed in a “theology of orders” (Theologie der Ordnungen). These orders were a part of God’s creation: marriage, family, community, government, and cultural development (199). Althaus did not spare criticism of the Nazis. Referring to Althaus’s Theologie der Ordnungen, 1935, Beyschlag cites Althaus: “Also in the Third Reich, our critical ethics of orders cannot resign and rest at ease,” and then Beyschlag adds: “There now follows a public catalog of vices which is so close to reality that one at least wonders that the book was not immediately forbidden. For under this ‘critical ethics’ falls not only the ‘autonomous legality’ of the state and the economy, but also the idolatry of folk, race, destruction of law, and also eugenics, euthanasia, ‘the destruction of unworthy life,’ etc.” (201). In his “creation theology,” Althaus came into fundamental conflict with Karl Barth. Since the death of Althaus, the followers of Barth, of the old Bekennende Kirche, and of the Union Church have leashed a merciless attack upon both Althaus and Elert for rejecting the Barmen Declaration. ((An example is the attack by Arthur C. Cochrane, a Presbyterian professor of theology at a Lutheran seminary, The Church’s Confession under Hitler (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1962), in which he attacks confessional Lutheranism en masse and takes the intolerant position that only Reformed theology is allowable. He feels that everyone must accept the theology of Barth and the Barmen Declaration. More moderate are the criticisms of Robert P. Ericksen, Theologians under Hitler: Gerhard Kittel, Paul Althaus and Emanuel Hirsch (New Haven: Yale, 1985). Totally irresponsible and intellectually weak are the attacks on Elert and Althaus by the Erlangen professor Berndt Hamm, “Schuld und Verstrickung der Kirche. Voruberlequngen zu einer Darstellung der Erlanger Theologie in der Zeit des Nationalsozialismus,” in Kirche und Nationalsozialismus, ed. Wolfgang Stegemann (Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1990), 11–55. Both Ericksen and Hamm lack what American historians call “a historical frame of reference”; instead, they judge and condemn past scholars on the basis of notions contemporary with our time. Ericksen, however, does not write with the malicious invective found in Hamm.))

In view of the attacks upon Elert and Althaus and the allegations that they supported Hitler and National Socialism, Beyschlag presents an excursus, “The Erlangen faculty and the Kirchenkampf ” (160–170). He specifically deals with their statement on the “Aryan Paragraph” and the “Ansbach Resolution” and shows that the former actually protected Jews and that the latter was leveled against the German Christians as well as the Barmen Declaration. He points out that during the long period in which he was dean of the theological faculty (1935–1943), Elert managed to stave off attempts of a Nazi takeover, that he protected professors and students alike from the state, and that Erlangen remained almost the only “intact” theological faculty under National Socialism. In Appendix 8, Beyschlag reprints Elert’s “Report regarding the deanship of the theological faculty of Erlangen 1935–43” (266–286). He wonders why this Report, which obviously clears Elert’s reputation, was officially suppressed for many years. He points out that, in spite of severe pressure over many years that as theological dean he must join the Nazi party or at least the German Christian Movement, Elert stubbornly refused throughout; that not a single Nazi was able to become a regular professor of theology at Erlangen; that Elert as dean and at considerable personal risk protected 40 or 50 students (including Jews) who had been denounced before the Gestapo (161–162; see also 279).

Beyschlag’s book is important for American readers for two reasons. (1) This book is an excellent resource for learning about the confessional Lutheran theology of Erlangen that dominated scholarship in Germany the past 150 years, a subject about which many younger theologians in America are not well informed. (2) Confessional Lutheranism, which has seriously declined since the death of Elert (a decline brought on partly by the dominance of Karl Barth, the Barmen Declaration, and the Union churches, with their attacks upon the Lutheran distinction of law and gospel), receives an important defense in Beyschlag. This book needs to be widely read in America. It is to be hoped that it will be made available in an English translation.

Lowell C. Green

State University of New York at Buffalo

Buffalo, New York

NOTES

The Office and the Sacrament

—Prof. John T. Pless

The practice of licensing laymen to preach and administer the sacraments by The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod at its convention in Wichita in 1989 is widely recognized as theologically problematic. Attempts to address the so-called “Wichita Amendment” to the Augsburg Confession, as the late Richard John Neuhaus called it, have been diverse and have, in some incidences, created additional and ongoing difficulties of both a doctrinal and practical nature. Sometimes the debates surrounding the office and the attempt to correct Wichita overlook the fundamental unity of the office.

The office is inseparable from the means of grace that it is instituted to serve (cf. Matthew 28:16–20; Mark 16:14–16; Luke 24:44–49; John 20:19–23; AC V).

In the view of the New Testament there is but one office which derives its right to existence from the founding will of Christ Himself, namely the *ministerium verbi*, the ’ministry of reconciliation,’ administered by persons bearing varying titles. For practical reasons, it may also, according to the discretion of its incumbents, create special sub-agents for itself. However, titles and sub-divisions are human regulations. The *jus divinum* is confined to the *ministerium verbi*, because it was bestowed on this office, and on this office alone, by the one materially indivisible commission of Christ.[1]

The “ministry of reconciliation” of which the apostle writes in 2 Corinthians 5:18 is singular even as there is one Gospel announcing that God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself. Those placed in this one office are “ambassadors for Christ” (2 Corinthians 5:20) making Christ’s own appeal to be reconciled to God. As Elert points out, the nomenclature of the New Testament may vary as the officeholder is identified as evangelist, teacher, elder, overseer, and so forth, but these are not divinely established grades or ranks but ways of speaking of the singular office instituted by Christ for the sake of the Gospel. “For there is only one office of preaching the Gospel and administering the sacraments.”[2]

AC XIV tells how men are put into this office in the way of the *rite vocatus* without which no one is to preach or administer the sacraments. Preaching and administering the sacraments go hand in hand. There is not one office for preaching and another for the administration of the sacraments. The linkage of proclamation and administering the sacraments demonstrates what Elert has identified as the coordination of word and sacrament. Problems come when word and sacraments are split off from each other so that preaching becomes a verbal abstraction or the sacraments become wordless rituals.

The coordination of word and sacraments is expressed in the fact that the one office of preaching has responsibility for the administration of both. The office bearer is entrusted with the stewardship of the mysteries of God according to the apostle: “This is how one should regard us, as servants of Christ and stewards of the mysteries of God. Moreover, it is required of stewards that they be found trustworthy” (1 Corinthians 4:1–2). The preaching of God’s word both calls to the sacrament of the altar and governs its use.

One person must bear the responsibility for the conduct of this concrete worship. If this is to be orderly and really edify the congregation. Its course dare not be determined by opposing or clashing wills. All other wills must cooperate with and merge in the will of one man. The administration of the sacrament of the altar in particular demands one man, who is responsible for the admission to it. Thus every administration of the Holy Communion also includes an act of church government. Therefore the chief form of worship cannot be executed properly without a man, who as shepherd of the congregation, administers the main worship service.[3]

Writing during World War II, Hermann Sasse makes the case for the unity of word and sacrament:

The office of preaching the Gospel is also the office which baptizes and celebrates the Supper. It is also the office of the keys, whether or not this is reckoned among the sacraments, as in the Augustana, or viewed as a special case of proclamation of the Gospel, as happed later in the Lutheran Church. At all costs it is the office of the administration of *the* means of grace, not only of *one* means of grace. And the Lord who left behind these means of grace for his church is also the Lord who instituted the office of the ministry.[4]

More recently Dorothea Wendebourg:

The ministry is one. It is one because its task, the public proclamation of the gospel in twofold manifestation, preaching and the administration of the sacraments is one.[5]

The role of the pastor cannot be viewed in a reductionist way that only applies to the speaking of the words of consecration; the pastor is also responsible for admission/distribution. The practice of having the pastor speak the words of consecration and then have vicars, deacons, or lay persons distribute the sacrament at another time or place cannot be defended on the basis of the Lutheran Confessions.[6] If a layman assists in the distribution in the Divine Service, he should do so by serving the Lord’s blood as the pastor admits to the altar with the administration of the Lord’s body. But it should be recognized that the practice of laymen assisting with the distribution is relatively recent in American Lutheranism and is not known in some areas of the Lutheran world, Madagascar, for example.[7]

The apostolic exhortation for self-examination (1 Corinthians 11:27) does not relieve the pastor of his responsibility as a steward of the mysteries of God (see 1 Corinthians 4:1–2). Also see AC XXIV: “Chrysostom says that the priest stands daily at the altar, inviting some to Communion and keeping others away” (AC XXIV:36, Kolb-Wengert, 71). Nor can the pastor hand this responsibility off to others; it belongs to the nature of his office as overseer. Again Sasse:

The *ministerium ecclesasticum* may also be unburdened of peripheral tasks through the establishment of new offices. That happened already in the ancient church through the creation of the diaconate, or in more recent times by the creation of the office of church counselor, church elder [*Kirchenvorsteher*, *Kirchenältesten*], or whatever else those who lead the congregation may be called. The essence of the *ministerium ecclesiasticum* is in no way impinged upon by these offices. Preaching of the Gospel and the administration of the Sacraments belong neither to the deacons nor to him whom we today call the presbyter. The former have the work of love and caring for the poor. The latter has the duty of helping in the administration of the parish. According to Lutheran doctrine, they do not have a part in church government [*Kirchenregiment*]. For Luther and with him the confessions of our church (AC XIV and XXVIII) mean by church government the exercise of the functions peculiar to the office of the ministry: ‘an authority and command of God to preach the Gospel, to forgive and retain sins, and to dispense and administer the Sacraments’[AC XXVIII:5].[8]

The suggestion of the “Specific Ministry Pastor (SMP) Task Force” that perhaps the Synod establish an “ordained diaconate” where “perhaps they (the ordained deacons) could preach and baptize but not consecrate the elements” (Convention Workbook: Reports and Overtures 2013, 417) splits apart what the Lord has joined together in the one, divinely instituted office. It amounts to attempting to fix one problem (laymen functioning as pastors) by creating another. A more careful solution is needed for which Lutheran theology has the resources.

Prof. John T. Pless teaches Pastoral Theology at Concordia Theological Seminary, Fort Wayne, IN.

As an extension of LOGIA, BLOGIA understands itself to be a free conference in the blogosphere. As such, the views expressed on Blogia are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of LOGIA’s editorial board or the Luther Academy.

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1. Werner Elert, The Christian Faith, 264.  ↩
2. Edmund Schlink, The Theology of the Lutheran Confessions, 230.  ↩
3. Peter Brunner, Worship in the Name of Jesus, 237.  ↩
4. Hermann Sasse, The Lonely Way Volume II: 1941–1976, 128.  ↩
5. D. Wendebourg, “The Ministry and Ministries” Lutheran Quarterly XV (Autumn 2001), 139.  ↩
6. Here see, Roland F. Ziegler, “Should Lutherans Reserve the Consecrated Elements for the Communion of the Sick?" Concordia Theological Quarterly (April 2003), 131–147.  ↩
7. See “Administration, Not Presidency” in Reclaiming the Lutheran Liturgical Heritage by Oliver K. Olson, 36–39.  ↩
8. Sasse, The Lonely Way Volume II:1941–1976, 128–129.  ↩

Salt & Light: Syncretism?

—Prof. John T. Pless

Jesus says that his disciples are the salt of the earth and the light of the world (Matthew 5:13–14). Salt preserves, but, rubbed into an open wound, it irritates even as it purifies and heals. The light of the world is not concealed under a basket (Matthew 5:15) but enlightens so that “they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven” (Matthew 5:16). There is no question that Lutherans should not be sequestered in their religious ghetto but in the world, in the public square, as salt and light. It is precisely for this reason we must reject syncretism.

With syncretism, the salt loses its saltiness as under the pressure of pluralism distinctions between the truth and the lie are blurred and obliterated. Salt will sting just as the confession of Christ alone will stand in necessary contradiction to the claims of other religious systems. Where truth is confessed, error must necessarily be denied. Letting the light shine means that works of darkness are exposed for what they are (see Ephesians 5:7–11). We are not to have any fellowship with unbelievers for “what communion has light with the darkness” (II Corinthians 6:14–16). Worship with those who do not confess Christ Jesus is a denial of the light. This is not a self-invented Missouri Synod doctrine but the teaching of Holy Scripture. For many in our pluralistic age this is a “hard saying” in the way of John 6:65–66. Yet it is necessary if Christians are actually to remain in the public square as salt and light. Proclamation of the saving truth of Jesus Christ requires also the antithesis, that is, the rejection of all that is not Christ.

Participating in interfaith worship does not allow for the antithesis. Civility prevents the preacher from announcing the truth of Acts 4:12, “Nor is there salvation in any other, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved.” Where this proclamation is not made, the salt loses its saltiness and the light is dimmed.

Much is made of “witness in the public square.” But “witness in the public square” does not equate with “worship in the public square.” We will indeed witness to Christ Jesus in the public square, speaking his truth both prophetically to the powers that be and evangelically to those broken by their sin and victimized by evil. But we will not worship in the public square in such a way as to diminish the clarity of the only saving Gospel. We will be guided by the words of our Lord in Matthew 6:5–6 not to pray so as to be seen by men but pray rather in “our room” which is the church. There in the liturgy we will make thanksgivings, intercessions, and prayers for all people in the way I Timothy 2:1–6. “Worship in the public square” of American pluralism cannot help but be molded into the therapeutic and universalistic nature of civil religion. The context will even shape how the texts of Holy Scripture and Christian prayer are heard and thus undermine the capacity for confession and proclamation of Christ. On the other hand, genuine witness in the public square can take place through discerning dialogue and engaging conversation as well as acts of human care and mercy.

We witness in the public square, but we do not worship there. I asked one of my African students, “What would your people perceive if in your village during a time of drought or famine, the Lutheran pastor appeared alongside of a Roman Catholic priest, the village shaman, and a Muslim cleric in a community prayer vigil, each praying in his own way for favorable weather?” His answer was clear: “We could never do this. It would contradict our witness to Jesus Christ, the only true God.”

Lutherans will show mercy to all who suffer and groan in the travail of this fallen creation regardless of their religion. We will exhibit the compassion of Christ Jesus to those who tremble in the face of indescribable evil in word and deed. We will be the salt and light Christ has made us to be in this dying and desperate world. It is precisely for this reason that we must decline syncretism. Witness in the public square, “Yes!” Worship in the public square, “No.” Both the yes and no enable us to remain salt and light in the world.

Prof. John T. Pless teaches Pastoral Theology at Concordia Theological Seminary, Fort Wayne, IN.

As an extension of LOGIA, BLOGIA understands itself to be a free conference in the blogosphere. As such, the views expressed on Blogia are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of LOGIA’s editorial board or the Luther Academy.

The Temptation of a Church Growth Culture

—Ryan J. Ogrodowicz

In seminary my theological thinking resembled a refined box of perfect corners and refined edges. Every question had an answer; every situation had an applicable Bible passage. The ministry would be easy, I mused. By dynamic preaching coupled with a sharp understanding of doctrine, people will come in droves, filling the coffers and showering praise for my fidelity to confessional Lutheranism.

Once in the parish, however, I realized what I should have known: abstractions and reality don’t always play well together. Making a quia subscription was easy in seminary. Why? I wasn’t facing firsthand budget concerns, slow growth, and a concerned congregation. Against such obstacles, the right confession hangs in the balance as the devil chisels at your faith and integrity with questions that were previously dismissed out of hand. Am I doing something wrong? What more can I do? How far can I push the envelope? Maybe I should change some things.

It’s hard to be faithful when the old Adam never stops taking inventory and looking for the fruits of his labors. Just a glance at the gap between budgeted figures and year-to-date giving thrusts me into we-gotta-grow mode, as if growth is to be done for the sake of filling the treasury instead of serving sinners. At times it seems as if getting people in the doors at all costs is the end-all solution.

Here’s an example.

At the January voter’s meeting, one of the agenda items was to vote on moving to the Lutheran Service Book (LSB) from The Lutheran Hymnal (TLH). Allegiances were well known, as some strongly desired to retain TLH while others earnestly wanted to move to LSB. Personally, I was ready for the move. The vast majority of the LCMS uses LSB; our Altar Book is already LSB; the rites I use come from the LSB Agenda; we’re almost there, so why not complete the process? Arguments were made and the votes were cast. When the dust settled, the result was this: LSB can be used for everything except Matins, which will be done out of TLH. On hearing this, the old Adam once again put me in a choke hold. TLH Matins? How are we going to grow with this? How will people new to Lutheranism ever learn Matins from a 1941 hymnal? We’re in the 21st century and we need to cater to 21st century mindsets. This is not going to fix our budget issue.

Lord, have mercy. It’s as if I thought God was inhibited from saving because of our liturgical preference.

The truth: God has grown the church well before we went to LSB. And He did it not through gimmicks, practices, and modern hymnals, but through his spoken word. It was through his gospel that people were bestowed faith to believe in our crucified savior Jesus Christ, something human reason and strength cannot do. How foolish it is to think God cannot work through an older liturgy. How foolish it is to think God will work better when we provide emotional stimulation via bands, lights, and lapel mics. But such thoughts are powerful, and the temptation is real to jettison the emphasis on God’s objective means of grace for some human invention just to get people in the door. And the reasons for this, as mentioned, are not always good and godly, but sometimes just financial.

Thanks be to God we have a Savior whose Word never changes, and who speaks to us a freely given and underserved absolution. And we hear something we cannot hear too much of: God is faithful to do what He sets out to do. His Word will not return void, which includes bringing people through the doors to receive the gifts He promises to give.

The Rev. Ryan Ogrodowicz serves as pastor of Victory in Christ Lutheran Church in Newark, Texas.

As an extension of LOGIA, BLOGIA understands itself to be a free conference in the blogosphere. As such, the views expressed on Blogia are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of LOGIA's editorial board or the Luther Academy.

How to Raise Girls

—by Gifford Grobien

Feminism has pushed the idea that women are equal to men. According to this logic, the education of girls should be the same as for boys. In contemporary America, this means education for both boys and girls is pragmatic and instrumental: considering my skill set, what will get me the most prestigious and highest-paying job? Young women and men go to college seeking a degree that will serve this goal, while offering the best college experience of peer interaction and social indulgence.

There are problems with this perspective for both young men and young women, primarily in that they view a university degree and college experience as determinative for their lives. They miss a more fundamental appreciation of vocation.

In the Lutheran understanding, vocation manifests in three areas of life: the church, the family, and the political realm. Significant in this division is that an occupation falls under family responsibilities. What one does from nine to five is in support of his or her family relations and responsibilities, whether as a man or a woman. The vocation as a husband or wife, and as father or mother—should they be blessed with children—takes precedence over how prestigious or high-paying any job might be.

This is the case both for men and for women. It is important to oppose the feminist masculinization of the modern woman, yet it is also important to remind men that they have responsibilities to their wives and children that go beyond bringing home the bacon. A family man cannot resolve everything with his wallet, no matter how thick. Buying his children an education and sending them to the best summer camps and vacation spots is a weak—if not destructive—substitute for personally catechizing them and being involved in their maturation and development. A husband has a wife to die for, meaning his time with the boys, in the man-cave, or with his favorite pastime, takes a backseat to serving his wife and developing his love for her.

With regard to young women and girls, one could argue— in reaction to feminism—that they should be educated as homemakers and prepared to raise many children. Formal higher education, in this instance, could be viewed not only as superfluous, but as corrupting. When we ask our daughters what they want to be when they grow up or funnel them into the pragmatic occupational factory of the modern university, we are implicitly training them to seek fulfillment in the workplace and to despise motherhood and family.

I take a slightly different view in opposing feminism. Feminism is inspired at its root by the perceived inferior treatment of women. What better way to undermine this than to explicitly teach a kind of superiority of women? What I am thinking of is a juxtaposition of two biblical texts. The first is the exhortation to husbands in Ephesians 5:25–29:

Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, so that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish. In the same way husbands should love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. For no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as Christ does the church… .

The second text is from the Lukan account of the Last Supper, 22:24–27:

A dispute also arose among them, as to which of them was to be regarded as the greatest. And he said to them, "The kings of the Gentiles exercise lordship over them, and those in authority over them are called benefactors. But not so with you. Rather, let the greatest among you become as the youngest, and the leader as one who serves. For who is the greater, one who reclines at table or one who serves? Is it not the one who reclines at table? But I am among you as the one who serves.

In considering these together, the husband serves his wife in order to present her without blemish. Like Christ serves the church, the husband serves his wife. The wife is set in the place of the greater one by being served by the husband, who is willing even to give his life for her. I recognize that in the Lukan passage Jesus is overturning notions of greatness by demonstrating that true greatness is in service. My point is that feminism, at least within the church, may be addressed by following Jesus’ lead and overturning the language of greatness in favor of acts of love and service.

The wife, then, is set in the place of greatness by her husband’s service. She is superior as the one who is served. Her fundamental vocational role is to receive this service: to submit to her husband who is active and giving to her in all things. In other words, within marriage, the wife receives all things for her benefit. She needs not clamber for status or recognition; she need not be enslaved by servitude for a paycheck. She is not bound by an occupation or limited by occupational identity. Instead, her life overflows in vocational receiving and giving. She is free to rule her household and pursue her interests in loving service to others. Because she is made free by the service of the husband, she also loves others using her many talents and gifts.

Normally, central to this freedom and love of others is motherhood, yet not in every case. God may not bless every wife with children. Thus, while it is important to prepare women for motherhood, their vocation should not be presented to them as finding its fulfillment in motherhood. Women and wives who are not mothers also fulfill their vocations.

Young women should be taught to love motherhood and to see this as typical to their vocations. Yet motherhood is not the only aspect of a woman’s vocation. St. Paul notes to Titus, “Older women likewise are to be reverent in behavior, not slanderers or slaves to much wine. They are to teach what is good, and so train the young women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled” (2:3–5). Motherhood is central to the typical woman’s vocation, but there are manifold qualities of virtue and industry also to be exercised.

Let us tear down the university as an idol, while acknowledging that it need not be utterly discarded. Let us restore the central place of vocation to the family so that men and women see their focus and dedication is to love and serve their families, and employment is only one way of doing this. For women, especially, let us free them from their slavery to the masculinity of feminism. Free them from the assumption that they are bound to a paycheck, that they are bound to an occupation from which they must make their living. Instead, let men be men. Let the men of their lives provide for their bodily needs, so that they may be free to rule their households and to love others.

What do I teach my daughters? To cherish and give thanks for this freedom they have as women. That they do not need to worry about where their food or clothing or shelter will come from. As their man, I will always provide for them, as God gives me strength, until they are married. Then their new men, their husbands, will provide for them. Does this mean they will never work outside the home? Probably not, although they could choose to remain in the home as they desire. Yet it means, as God provides daily bread, they will never HAVE to work outside the home. Such work would be a free choice, a way a woman chooses to love and serve others.

I teach them to hope for and look forward to motherhood, for there is no greater earthly blessing than children. I teach them that they have great responsibility in nurturing and raising these children, and that the Lord gives his word and strength that all children would be cared for and saved. I also teach them that, whether they marry or not, it is possible that God will not grant them children. And even in such a case, they still have the vocation to love. I teach them that there are many whom they may love and serve with their gifts, whether the church as a congregation, individuals in the church with various needs, their neighbors in the political realm, or their extended family. There will always be others to love.

So I encourage them to pursue the education that they desire. They all have various interests, whether music, computer programming, art, cooking, or sports. My wife and I teach them these things, and we help them to learn these things. The university is not an idol; they will not attend the university because it will give them a diploma or a higher paying job or a social experience. It is unlikely that they would attend a university away from home, and they will not attend a university away from home without a man whom I trust to serve them in my stead. They will not live in a dorm.

But they are free to study what they want. They are free not to go to college, and they are free to go to college. They are free to pursue whatever education will help them to love others better. And that is the way we talk about education.

Feminism teaches girls to overcome misogyny with masculinity. Feminism actually succumbs to misogyny because it sets forth masculinity as the only way to live a fulfilled life. Restore femininity by raising girls to be feminine. Raise girls to be free.

The Rev. Dr. Gifford Grobien is Assistant Professor of Systematic Theology at Concordia Theological Seminary, Fort Wayne, Indiana.

Book Review: Theology is Eminently Practical

Pless

Theology is Eminently Practical: Essays in Honor of John T. Pless. Edited by Jacob Corzine and Bryan Wolfmueller. Fort Wayne, Indiana: Lutheran Legacy Press, 2012. Paper; 272 pages. Click here.

These fourteen essays by Concordia Theological Seminary (CTS) alumni pay tribute to the thirtieth anniversary of the ordination of their teacher, John Pless, who is well known to LOGIA readers and those who uphold confessional Lutheranism. The high academic caliber of these essays testifies to the outstanding education offered at Ft. Wayne—a benchmark due not only to the faculty’s academic stature or to library resources, but also to the quality of the students. The essays are somewhat eclectic, but, in general, focus on issues broadly related to apologetics, the use of reason in Christian theology, aspects of the Christian life, the work of Christ, and Christian theology. While these forays are products of young theologians, it does not mean the essays lack weight. Just the opposite: they are meaty, vigorous, wise, and daring. Several of the papers had been developed originally for CTS’s “Luther Seminar,” a group of faculty and students facilitated by Prof. Pless for presentation and discussion on Luther and Lutheran theology.

Originally raised in The American Lutheran Church, Prof. Pless was persuaded to join The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod due to the efforts of Norman Nagel. Prof. Pless was called as the LCMS campus pastor for University of Minnesota for nearly two decades. Naturally he had a concern for apologetics. Since the summer of 2000, he has taught pastoral theology at CTS. He expresses a passionate commitment to law and gospel preaching and ministry and those who support that view, a voice in right-to-life issues, and a critic of liberal trends in American Lutheranism.

To summarize the essays, we start with Peter Brock who makes a case for apologetics among Lutherans. Apologetics encourages faith and helps with evangelism. For instance, it helps counter hostile objections to faith and can offer arguments for the historicity of the resurrection. Even so, it has its limits. As David Scaer notes, faith is grounded finally in history not logic. Even appealing to evidences from science is limited in its apologetic prospects since science produces knowledge that is ever under constant review. Most importantly our audience, as the late Kurt Marquardt noted, is composed of “condemned criminals searching desperately for escape” but who seldom want the gospel to rescue them (27). For Brock, apologetics is best understood as a secular task of the baptized. Following C. S. Lewis, Brock concludes that the “best apologetics in which Christians can engage will be the best secular work such Christians can produce” (29).

Roy Axel Coats offers an interpretation of Johann Georg Hamann’s political theory, showing how Hamann finds autonomy as a basis for government to be inadequate. Hamann’s work is done in conversation with that of the Enlightenment thinker Moses Mendelsohn. Both Mendelsohn and Hamann seek a path to political theory beyond the voluntarism of Hobbes, based on individual’s agreeing to establish a political state, or the essentialist approach of Leibniz, in which government is etched into human nature. What Hamann sees in Mendelsohn, however, is a stance more Hobbesian than what Mendelsohn intends. Mendelsohn’s political theory grounds the basis for society in the individual agent’s will (42). What he ignores, as Hamann points out, is that the basis from which social contracts can be formulated—reason—is mediated through language (43). Mendelsohn’s approach to government is far too simplistic. Ultimately, for Hamann, Jesus Christ is the Word by which all created reality holds together.

Jacob Corzine raises the question: from where have the Reformation “solas” come? He notes that there is no standard list of solas and that there is often a hidden agenda when someone favors one list of solas over another. A thorough list of proposed solas include: sola gratia, sola fide, sola scriptura, solo verbo, solus deus, solus Christus, and (new for me) sola experientia. Corzine shows how contemporary German thinkers such as Jüngel, Beintker, and Beutel situate the solas within preestablished commitments. Interestingly, while sola gratia and sola fide have long histories in the Lutheran tradition, the triad of solas can be traced to the work of Theodore Engelder who, in 1916 advocated three: sola gratia, sola fide, and sola scriptura, the latter a likely confessional Lutheran response to modernism’s rejection of scriptural inerrancy (67).

With pastoral sensitivity, Michael Holmen comments on Romans 1–3, focusing especially on the phrase “let God become true and every man a liar.” Given that people tend to be hypocritically pious (self-justifying), if we are to apprehend Christ our savior and thus justify God in his words, it will only happen by agreeing with God against ourselves (79). Thereby our salvation renders all the glory to God.

Jason Lane takes on the critical supposition claiming that since Luther called James as an “epistle of straw” we are not required to maintain the trustworthiness of the Bible. Lane skillfully points out that Luther only seems to reject James. In fact, he preached on James, affirmed that James shows that faith leads to new impulses and good works (93), and finally interpreted Abraham in his Genesis commentary as an example of the working out of such a Jamesian approach to good works within the life of faith (97).

Benjamin T. G. Mayes points out the weakness of Wolfhart Pannenberg’s doctrine of the atonement that is due primarily to Pannenberg’s Hegelian, panentheistic belief that God will not fully be himself until the ultimate fulfillment of all in the eschaton. Given this philosophical commitment, Pannenberg’s view of the gospel does not square with that of historic Christianity.

Finnish pastor Esko Murto situates prayer within the context of battle—the believer as a battlefield between God and the devil. He notes that for Luther the creation is spiritual, a mask (larva) of God, but given the devil’s contention throughout the world, the masks of God are countered with larva diabolic. Christian prayer must pray against such evil powers (137).

Steven Parks examines Johann Gerhard’s classic Loci Theologici as “pastoral care.” Of course, for some, that is a counterintuitive claim. However, Parks makes it clear that the “greatest of dogmaticians” offers pastoral care especially in his polemics (154). He guards the flock from the wolves of false doctrine.

For Mark A. Pierson, Luther’s view of grace is no more compatible with Thomas Aquinas’s than it is with nominalists such as Duns Scotus, William of Ockham, and Gabriel Biel. Luther’s Against Scholastic Theology is directed as much against Thomas Aquinas as the nominalists (168). In common with the nominalists, Thomas affirms the exercise of free will and cooperation in our pilgrimage toward God. Pierson wants us to understand that for Luther, the problem about reason in our relation to God is not reason per se, but reason under the control of the bound will that wants to take credit for believing in Christ (167).

David R. Preus shows how the Wittenberg theologian Balthasar Meisner (1587–1626), following Luther, was able to show how philosophy can serve theology. “Since one branch of learning operates with a set of principles that is different from another (geometry deals with shapes and sizes, whereas arithmetic involves the study of quantities), the one cannot deprive the other of its unique properties. Likewise, theology, which assumes the grammar of Scripture and teaches salvation and eternal life, may no more rescind the laws of physics than physics may annul the promises of the Bible” (190). Each discipline can honor its unique sphere making a mixture between them unnecessary.

Mark Preus shows that our original righteousness was destroyed by Adam’s sin, and thus no sinful man can propitiate God’s wrath. Christ’s atonement is absolutely necessary if sinners are to be saved and express the truly human vocation of praising our Creator.

David Ramirez presents the phenomenon of evangelical Catholicism as found in recent decades in North America. He highlights a distinction between the Neo-orthodox type found in the Society of the Holy Trinity from that of Concordia Theological Seminary, who appeal to the standards of orthodoxy. Both are to be contrasted to high church liberals found in the ELCA and who support various unscriptural decisions in the ELCA.

Holger Sonntag notes that in opposition to Catholic views of sanctification and antinomian rejection of sanctification, Luther contends that we need to exhort people to good works that constitute Christian love.

In the concluding article, Bryan Wolfmueller accentuates one of Pless’s favorite topics, law and gospel preaching as able to overcome the devil’s hold on the conscience.

The most important book a teacher will ever write is that of his impact on his students’ lives. That alone makes this collection a powerful tribute to John Pless. More importantly, each essay in its own way witnesses to Christ.

Mark Mattes

Grand View University

Des Moines, IA

Fanaticism is Not the Answer

–Prof. John T. Pless

In a very instructive essay of 1965, “The Ecumenical Challenge of the Second Vatican Council,” Hermann Sasse wisely observes: “We have been too much influenced by a certain type of sectarian Christianity which for a long time flourished in America. The sect cannot wait; it must have everything at once, for it has no future. The church can wait, for it does have a future. We Lutherans should think of that.”

I have pondered these lines from Sasse often these last few days, watching and hearing charges and countercharges within the LCMS. The president of The Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod attempted to deal with a difficult and problematic incidence of syncretism. He attempted to address the pastor involved “in the spirit of gentleness” (Galatians 6:1). Admitting that he had mishandled the case, failing in his efforts, and causing additional pain for a community that had already endured much suffering, President Harrison repented and asked for forgiveness (see video here or text version here). Stirred with self-righteous indignation, some launched violent verbal attacks even calling for his “impeachment.” The ex-president of the Synod fanned the flames even more by suggesting in a widely distributed letter that he would be available to stand for election if nominated by February 20.

Zealous defenders of syncretism do so in the name of compassion. Speaking to a situation in his own church body, the ELCA, Steven Paulson’s observation also fits Missouri’s liberal Pharisees: "[T]he ELCA has become enthusiasts, fanatics, who swallow the Holy Spirit, feathers and all. They are not immoralists; instead they are on a quest for a greater holiness than yours—and you ought to be ready, since they are ready to fight you on this particular matter.” Paulson continues “At the root of this fanaticism lies a confusion of law and gospel, and so a demonic lie—that justification is by love—unconditional love.” Fanatics cannot be convinced from the Scriptures. Their righteousness is already established and, make no mistake about it, they are on a crusade, and they cannot wait. They must have the church of pure and unconditional love now and nothing, not even the First Commandment, dare stand in the way.

But the problem does not reside with Missouri’s liberals only. Those of us who rightly recognize how lethal syncretism is to authentic Christian witness can also be lured into fanaticism. There are voices from the right, criticizing President Harrison for not acting decisively or even for having the audacity to repent and apologize. They want a church free of the leaven of syncretism and they want it now. No waiting on the Word to do its work, no imploring the Lord of the church to look down in mercy on this poor, wretched, and miserable band of sinners known as the Missouri Synod. Instead there should be an apocalyptic show down. The church cannot wait. This is a fanaticism to be repented of.

The New Testament bids us be “sober-minded” (1 Tim 3:11; 2 Tim 4:5; 1 Pet 1:13; 1 Pet 4:7). Rather than becoming intoxicated with a fanaticism to the left or the right, we pray the Lord would give us minds of discernment rooted and grounded in the Holy Scriptures that do not overlook or brush aside the real threat of which the Newtown prayer vigil was a symptom of, namely, the pluralism of American civil religion that requires an even more stringent “no” to unionism and syncretism of every stripe. Indeed, it is for the sake of witness in the public square that we will decline to worship there. Fanaticism is never the answer; faithfulness is.

Prof. John T. Pless teaches at Concordia Theological Seminary, Fort Wayne, IN.

Faithful before God and Man

The recent storm of controversy over Rev. Robert Morris’ apology for participation in the Newtown, CT worship service reveals several common misunderstandings. If reporters had looked more closely into the events, the letter from Rev. Robert Morris and the letter from Pres. Matthew Harrison both make it very clear that no “censure” or “reprimand” was given, but the apology was freely offered and accepted. Other misunderstandings come from a difficult tension that arises during times of tragedy, such as the shootings in Newtown, CT. Church leaders must struggle to 1) be faithful before God and 2) faithful to those with whom they share a confession. Here's an essay from Werner Elert that reflects on some of these truths below. By way of introduction to this essay from Werner Elert, Prof John T. Pless comments:

"Robert Preus once described Werner Elert (1895–1954) as one of the 'the three most significant confessional Lutheran theologians of our century.' (( see Letters to Lutheran Pastors, Volume I by Hermann Sasse, p xiii)) Like Sasse, Elert was no sectarian but widely engaged in ecumenical conversation. His ecumenical engagement was fueled by his recognition that truth must be confessed and error rejected. In 1927, Elert gave this short essay at a meeting of the World Conference in Lausanne. It was published in Faith and Order: Proceedings of the World Conference, August 3–21, 1927, 1927, edited by H.N. Bate (New York: George H. Doran, 1927), 13–18. There is much in this essay that is still timely nearly 90 years later. Especially note the Erlangen theologian’s accent on the confession of the truth necessitating a rejection of error. Timely, indeed, in light of defenses being offered for the Newtown prayer vigil."

PROFESSOR DR. WERNER ELERT

University of Erlangen (Lutheran)

I

“He that is of the truth heareth my voice," saith the Lord. If we are of the truth we follow where He calls; and He calls us to unity. So following, we are at one in Christ, and—which is the same thing—we are one in the Truth, for Christ called Himself the truth. Conversely, if we are not one in the truth, we are not at one in Christ. Therefore, all who seek for union in Christ must examine themselves whether they are in the truth. Truth indeed is not a thing which we can possess like a book which may be opened or closed at will. We can possess truth only in an act of recognition, which no wilfulness of our own can affect. To recognise truth is to feel its compulsion; and this yielding to the compulsion of truth is faith. Faith is, indeed, more than this: in faith we receive our individual deliverance, the forgiveness of sins. Only in virtue of this faith are we members of the one Holy Catholic Church. But what binds Christians into a oneness that transcends individuality is the objective force of that truth in which we, through faith, come to have a share.

Since faith and truth are so closely linked, whenever truth is obscured faith is imperilled, and with it our membership of the Church of Christ is imperilled also. We must, therefore, allow ourselves no communion with error: truth and error can enter into no concordat. When truth is involved there must be no compromise. The early Councils were right in appending a rejection of error to the positive clauses in which they expressed and acknowledged the truth. Not infrequently, perhaps, they failed to distinguish rightly between the true and the false: still, they did believe in truth, even though they discerned it only in part. They knew that truth is no child of this world: that truth betokens its presence, as Kierkegaard said, by a challenge. There can be no recognition, no confession of truth without a recognition and rejection of error. To say this is not to demand a heresy hunt. We love those who err, as our Lord and Master loved them. But unless we would deny the truth, we must combat their errors.

The task laid upon the Church to discern between the true and the false becomes more complicated as the centuries pass on. History evolves ever new forms of error which seek to disguise themselves in the luminous garb of truth. This is a process which we are unable to reverse, nor can we silently evade the problems which it creates. As soon as they are asked, the questions raised by the subjects of this Conference demand to be answered. It is, therefore, our desire that this Conference, seeking the unity of Christendom, may find it in the truth, and that it may express the truth in plain terms, making no compromise with error.

II

The true cannot be discerned from the false until both are expressed. Wherever the need has been felt to make a common acknowledgment of truth as a basis of unity, it has always been found possible in the Church of Christ to discover terms which gave undisguised expression to that truth. This is the meaning and origin of the Creeds, Confessions and dogmas which are held to be valid, universally or locally, in Christendom. Our convictions, indeed, do not permit us to admit the existence of laws of belief. Councils cannot determine what must be believed: they can only establish what is believed.

I ask leave now to speak from the standpoint of the Church to which I myself belong: believing that the sense in which I declare my adhesion to the idea of this Conference is of cardinal importance.

It is true that the special Confessions of the particular Churches are in one sense divisive. But they did not create the divisions which they express: these already existed. Nor have they been merely divisive. They divide because error always dogs the steps of truth. Yet their primary purpose was not divisive but unitive. The Confessions have always expressed the common convictions of a multitude of individuals. And, further, they have served to hand on the convictions of one generation to its successors, and thus to form not only a link between contemporaries, but also a bond of unity between successive epochs and generations.

We Lutherans have, therefore, followed the activities of the World Conference on Faith and Order with close attention. The members of our Church present here to-day are in sympathy with the general aim and the work of this gathering. We thank God it has been possible to assemble a Council of the Christian Churches in which the problems of belief, doctrine, dogma, are to be taken quite seriously into consideration. We fear, indeed, that the discussions now about to begin will disclose differences of grave import. But we rejoice that the evil of disunion is here to be grasped by the roots. Our chief Confession teaches thus: Ad veram unitatem ecclesia satis est consentire de doctrina evangelii et administratione sacramentorum. Nec necesse est ubique esse similes traditiones humanas seu ritus ab hominibus institutos. We are glad, therefore, to note that the unity of Christians will be sought for in a consensus de doctrina evangelii. For history has shown us that there are spurious modes of unity which offer an illusory oneness in which true Christian unity, unity in the truth, is not found. We come, therefore, not as individuals, but as a great and world-wide community with centuries of history behind it. Indeed, we own our oneness with all those who in any age have confessed the Christian faith as we profess it. And thus our second desire for this Conference is, that the great unity towards which it strives may not destroy existing unities, but may rather, like a mother, gather within one home the mature and independent children of the house.

III

We believe that such a respect for existing unities does not imply the enduring perpetuation of confessional division. As far as our Church is concerned, this would only be a real danger if our Reformers in the sixteenth century had purposed to found a new Church and to cut themselves off from the Church Catholic. It was not so. Our chief Confession lays stress upon our agreement with the Church of antiquity, and it was thus that our theologians in the seventeenth century persisted in claiming membership of the true Catholic Church. The man who joins in the affirmations of the confession of our Church must have the will to be a Catholic Christian. Desiring, moreover, as we do, to find ourselves in agreement with the sound faith of the Church in all centuries, we give our assent to the development which history has brought. With all Christians we believe that Holy Scripture has Divine authority, as the document and evidence of the historical revelation of God. But we are convinced that it is impossible to reproduce the conditions and order of primitive Christianity as the Bible reflects them. It is for this reason that the leaders of the Lutheran Reformation would not consent to destroy the existing fabric of the Church, or to set in its place a structure framed on the pattern of the primitive Church. They knew that to do so would be Utopian. Therefore, while determined to do away with usages and teachings which seemed to them to stand in contradiction with the Gospels, they pursued a conservative policy wherever no such aberrations were concerned. And thus they were able to link themselves on to the dogma of the mediæval Church at all points where they observed no contradiction with the Gospels: they took over many liturgical forms; they translated the hymns of the mediæval Church into their own language; and they preserved much of the episcopal constitution of the Church.

It is upon this assent to the facts of historical development that the great tolerance of our Church in outward and temporal things is based. We tolerate much variety of constitution and rite; and we yield to each other mutual recognition as equal members of the orthodox Christian Church, because we agree in one and the same confession of belief.

Our third desire for this Conference is, therefore, this: that varieties in constitution and rite may form no hindrance to that affirmation of unity in the truth, which it is our desire to achieve, and we feel in particular that all those forms which give external expression to our unbroken relationship with the ancient Church have a special claim upon our sympathy.

Patres reverendissimi! Fratres carissimi! The call of unity has been sounded. We have heard it and count ourselves bound in duty to obey. I have attempted to tell you what it is in this call that specially moves us, and have spoken from the standpoint of the Lutheran Church. I have done so because I believe that no one can abandon the standpoint of his own Church without losing his relation­ship to the Church of Christ in general. But we also believe that the best contribution we can bring to the deliberations of this Conference consists in the truths and the experiences which we have gathered in the Church which is our home. The great inheritance handed down to us by the fathers of our Church includes the will to Catholicity; and I trust that this will to Catholicity has made itself plain to you all in the words that I have spoken.

There are two responsibilities of which we are gravely conscious—our responsibility before God, and our responsibility before those whose faith we share. We, therefore, ask the help of the Holy Spirit that the great hour of this Conference may find us not narrow-hearted, not contentious, not self-assertive, not faithless or of little faith, but broad-minded, peaceable, conscious of high responsibility, filled with faith and with the wisdom of God.

UPDATE: For an update on the situation from all the involved parties, please click here.

A Lament from the Ruins

Prof. Pless preached this sermon at the LCMS Life Conference on January 23, 2013.

Text: Job 30:16–24

This evening’s text from the Book of Job puts us with Job in the midst of the ruins, teaching us how to lament—that is, how to cry out to God. In a day when worship is judged effective and meaningful if it is upbeat, inspirational, celebratory, and positive, there is not much room for lament.  It is far too negative, too depressing to meet our refined taste for liturgies that are affirming, creative, and exciting. But where the church lacks the capacity for lament, a fragile human optimism replaces the hope which does not disappoint and the praise of God becomes shallow and empty. In fact, we may even praise ourselves under the guise of adoring God.

We stand with Job tonight who knows God’s judgment and wrath cannot be evaporated by wishing them away. We stand with Job, tossed about by a God who plays rough with his children to paraphrase Luther. We stand with Job who does not explain away the hidden work of God—his inscrutable ways which as Luther said often appear as those of a mad axe man let loose in the forest, chopping and hacking way. We stand with Job, slimy and muddy in the mire of our sin, ourselves like him “dust and ashes” and bound for death.  We grieve over a wrecked society where the murder of children is considered a fundamental human right and the elimination of the injured or aged is thought to be an act of compassion.  We stand with Job, whose complaint is not merely about faceless forces or evil, a decadent culture, a cancerous secularism, or corrupted enemies; His complaint is directed to the Almighty God who, he says, “has turned cruel to me.” We stand with Job who is not asking for an answer to the riddle of evil but for the Lord’s salvation.

Hence Job’s lament: “Yet does not one in a heap of ruins stretch out his hand, and in disaster cry for help?”  We know, of course, something about life in the middle of devastation.  The ruins among which we live, move, and have our being is not a bombed out Dresden of crumbling, charred buildings but of a land where death is regularly administered under the most clinical of conditions.  In fact, the ruins are hailed as monuments of enlightened progressiveness. We may indeed reflect on how we have come to such a time as this where the weakest of our neighbors are the most endangered. We may look for reasons for the shifts in morality and the denial of truths once held to be self-evident. We might well look at strategies to recover and restore the recognition of the inherent value of human life and God-given dignity.  We may seek venues for teaching and advocacy. This is all well and good. But tonight we are not here for that. Tonight we are here to stand with Job, with outstretched hands praying in the midst of a disaster.

Our prayer, like that of Job, is nothing other than a lament. It is a protracted “Kyrie, Elesion!” It is a plea for God’s own mercy; his compassion. Lament might be described as prayer in those times when God leaves “the wound open” to use the words of Oswald Bayer. It is not a self-directed whine, but a prayer addressed to God himself.  Job’s lament is not the whimper of one who sees himself victimized by society or circumstances, but one who has a God-sized problem. Listen again to his lament: “God has casted me into the mire, and I have become like dust and ashes. . . .You [that is, God] have turned cruel to me; with the might of your hand you persecute me. You lift me up on the wind, you make me ride on it, and you toss me about in the roar of the storm. For I know that you will bring me to death and to the house appointed for all the living.”  Job’s lament is directed to God who is his judge, his critic, who stands by, gazing on his shame but does not act, at least not yet.

Like Job, we lament before the God who leaves the wound open. We lament before the God who certainly has the power to bring an end to all that contradicts his will. We lament before a God who has the power to put down the mighty from their thrones, close abortion clinics, and reverse the hearts and minds of those who institutionalize evil. God instead leaves the wound open.

In the fullness of time, Job’s lament was answered. The redeemer whom Job confessed that he would see in his own flesh and with his own eyes has come into this ruined world where we live.  The Book of Hebrews tells us that this Jesus, God’s own Son, was given to lament: “In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications with loud cries and tears to him who was able to save him from death” (Heb 5:7).  This Jesus is the Word of God come in our flesh to bear our sin and be our Savior. He is God’s own answer of grace and truth, of life and salvation, through the forgiveness of sins to God’s wrath revealed from heaven against all unrighteousness. Jesus’ wounds—his side split open by a Roman spear and his nailed-pierced hands and feet—are forever the foundation of our confidence to live in a world where God leaves the wound open.

In that confidence we live and work, repenting of frustration and weak resignation. Bringing our exhaustion, unbelief, and fatigue to his cross, we have his promise: “Come unto me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matt 11:28).  Resting in the wounds of this Jesus and alive in the hope that his resurrection guarantees, we stand in the midst of the ruins calling upon the Lord in this troublesome day, knowing that he will hear and he will hear and that our lament will be answered “for the Lamb who is in the midst of the throne will be our shepherd and he will guide us to the springs of living waters, and God will wipe away every tear from our eyes” (cf Rev 7:17).

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

Prof. John T. Pless teaches at Concordia Theological Seminary, Fort Wayne, Indiana.

Tentatio of Technology

—By Michael Schuermann

iPad, iPhone, Kindle, Nexus, MacBook Pro, Surface, Windows 8, Accordance, Logos 5, printers, SSDs, Apple TV, Roku, flat-panel TVs, Blu-Ray, and 3D. Consumerism has gone high tech, and neither laity or clergy are immune. There’s a good chance that something above is on your wishlist this Christmas, and for many pastors some of those gifts may very well be desired to help in our pastoral duties of preaching and teaching. Did you get it? How will you use it?

At this time, our culture in the United States is based on entertainment. Technology is first and foremost marketed to fulfill our never ending need to be entertained. Yet technology, whether modern and high tech or old fashioned and Luddite, is at its most basic a tool. From the first time man figured out how to use a rock as a hammer, to Tubal-Cain the forger of all instruments of bronze and iron; from Noah building the ark and waterproofing it, to Jesus fashioning cords together into a tool with which to drive out the money changers from the temple, technology as tool is present throughout the Scriptures.

In the history of the church, technology remains a constant driving force, both positively and negatively. The invention and refinement of the organ contributed to a blossoming of congregational singing, which we still benefit from today. The invention of the printing press arguably factored into the success of the Reformation. Amplification of the voice and musical instruments, and electrification of those same instruments, has led to significant change in church architecture, worship practice, and preaching style.

The pastor’s life and study has been invaded too. In my pastoral work, I find my iPhone practically invaluable. In ones and zeros, both in its local storage and transmitted into the cloud to sync with my computer, reside my calendar, the contact information of parishioners and prospects, emails and text messages from the same, various notes and ideas for articles and sermons, and reminders about who I need to visit or check on. There is even an app version of the LSB Pastoral Care Companion on my iPhone!

With any technology there come great temptations. After all, the good gifts of God which we receive—and certainly technology and the tools enabled by it are good gifts—always find themselves prone to abuse. Great snares lie in wait in the technology that we use. There are the obvious ones—pornography is rampant, slander and the spreading of misinformation is simple, wiling away one’s day on the web is as easy as shutting the study door. All these temptations exist. All these temptations and their resulting sins of commission have received much press and lip service both in the church and the world. But there is another temptation which I rarely see discussed.

Many pastors now rely on software to assist in their exegetical study and sermon preparation. These technological tools serve a specific purpose: “Explore the Bible, understand the original languages, craft sermons, and more” ((Logos Bible Software website, http://www.logos.com/features)) is how Logos pitches version 5 of their software. BibleWorks, Accordance, and the other software companies market in a similar fashion. The implication is this: “You’re busy, time is short, our tools will help you accomplish more exegetical study more efficiently and more effectively!” Who doesn’t want that? And the results are generally inarguable. These tools work, and work well. It’s as simple as hovering over a word to parse it or double-clicking that word to pull it up in BDAG or BDB or whatever resource you’ve selected as your preferred lexicon.

But we are not talking about ways to crank out widgets in a more efficient manner. This is not about the most effective way to memorize a list of facts for a history final. A pastor is not called to craft an ever more efficient assembly line for his study of the text. He is called to “read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest it,” wrestling with the words sentence by sentence, listening to them and letting the word work on him so that he can take the living voice of God found in the Scripture and proclaim it forth to his hearers in the assembly.

Do these tools and their promise of efficiency place a temptation in front of the pastor? Is the toiling and striving that is found in the pastoral office something that we should aim to make easier? Can these tools serve a pastor who must struggle with God’s word via Luther’s oratio, meditatio, and tentatio, or will they instead cause him to embrace an ever more pragmatic and simplistic approach to studying the text?

There’s no simple answer to these questions—I certainly don’t know it. After all, these tools are essentially neutral. I make use of them. But I wonder if forcing myself to use a more difficult approach (as in, forcing myself to use only physical books) would yield better results (like a non-theological writing discovery that I read the other day). These tools do enable a pastor to accomplish more in the same amount of time than before, when he had to cover his desk with concordances and lexicons and the Scriptures themselves in his study. Yet, therein lies the temptation that each of us must fight against, prayerfully asking the Lord to rescue us from our lazy bellies and instead rightly use his good gift of technology to do the work of listening to the word in faith, slowly and with much effort.

The Rev. Michael Schuermann serves Good Shepherd Lutheran Church in Sherman, Illinois.

Lessons in Typology from Johann Gerhard

—By Roy S. Askins

In studying Johann Gerhard’s Theological Commonplaces: Exegesis IV: On Christ (available here or Kindle here), I read a series of beautiful typological exercises Gerhard works for his readers. He directs them to On the Interpretation of Scripture for a more complete study of the practice, but, alas, this volume has yet to be published in English by Concordia Publishing House. Regardless, Gerhard’s brief foray into typology in On the Person and Office of Christ renders us some helpful principles.

The practice of finding typological connections between the Old and New Testaments seems to me freighted with problems. I tend to approach typology with fear and trepidation over making a “bad” typological interpretation. There’s the persistent fear of overstepping my bounds and stepping into Origin’s errors. I worry about making a connection that isn’t exegetically valid or warranted. And yet, the practice of typology fascinates me, especially as I read the early church fathers, Luther, and others, such as Johann Gerhard. I wonder if the historical critical framework of much scholarly discussion in the last centuries has become so pervasive that even we who hold to the inspiration and inerrancy of Scripture hesitate before making connections between biblical authors who wrote in such different times. (For more on the relationship between modern and ancient exegesis, read John J. O’Keefe and R. R. Reno as they try to understand, but refuse to evaluate, early Christian interpretation in Sanctified Vision: An Introduction to Early Christian Interpretation of the Bible, [Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 2005].) The doctrine of inspiration, though, almost demands typological interpretation; if the God is behind the entire book, why wouldn’t he deliberately foreshadow the coming Messiah in as many ways as possible so that when the Messiah comes, we would might recognize him?

Regardless of its healthy pedigree, it seems that typological interpretations still lingers on the fringes of exegetical and homiletical practices. You won’t find papers at the Society of Biblical Literature drawing the same connections Gerhard does. A quick skim of Gerhard, however, provides a number of helpful principles for appropriate typological interpretation.

• The typological and the analogy of faith.

I’m beginning at the end, as Gerhard gives this warning at the end of his typological diversion, but it’s sometimes helpful to begin with the warning. He writes:

Here, however, we must note that when we deal with allegories, we must use special circumspection, lest we put forth anything contrary to the analogy of faith and provide a stumbling block for the weak and material for mockery for our adversaries. ((Johann Gerhard, On the Person and Office of Christ, trans. Richard J. Dinda [St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 2009], 33.))

Gerhard warns against excessive or inappropriate allegorical interpretation. The analogy of faith determines at what point the typological interpretation oversteps its theological bounds. He also exhorts us to use allegories and typology as “seasoning” rather than the food. With this warning in mind, here are some of the categories he uses in making typological connections.

• Types via Linguistic Connections

Gerhard offers these typological expressions when discussing the various synonyms of the name of Christ. Old Testament names provide fertile grounds for typological interpretations of the Scriptures. For instance, “The name ‘Adam’ means ‘red’ because he was formed out of reddish dust (Gen. 2:7). Christ is the one ‘who comes from Edom, in crimsoned garments from Bozrah’ (Isa. 63:10).” ((Gerhard, 31)) In another typological comparison, Gerhard connects the name of Noah, which means comfort, with Christ who is the comforter. ((Gerhard, 32))

Other linguistic connections can also be made, connections that might seem suspect to ears trained by modern exegesis. Once again, without the doctrine of inspiration, the connection between Noah’s name meaning comforter and Jesus who is the comforter cannot be made; it’s merely coincidence. These linguistic connections were commonplace for the early church fathers. In fact, O’Keefe and Reno identify this as one of the primary means of typological interpretation done by the early fathers.

• Types of Origin

In this category, Gerhard looks at Old Testament figures and compares their origin with the origin of Christ. Adam for instance, was made from “virgin soil” while Christ was born of the “virgin Mary.” Or, in a brilliant analogy of Christ’s two natures, he writes, “Adam’s origin was from heaven and earth because his body was formed out of the earth, but his soul was breathed into him by God (Gen 2:7).” ((Gerhard, 31)) The connection to Christ’s two natures is obvious.

• Types of Function

Types can also derive from the various functions of Old Testament figures. Just as Adam was the father of the entire human Christ, so also “Christ is the ‘eternal father’ (Isa. 9:6), from whom and through whom we are reborn to eternal life (1 Cor 15:45).” ((Gerhard, 31)) Adam’s purpose was to be the “guardian and colonist of Paradise” while “Christ is the master and guardian of the mystical paradise, which is the Church.” ((Gerhard, 31)) Thus, Christ was typified, in the Old Testament, by the functions of various Old Testament figures. Noah’s ark building becomes a type of Christ’s work in the church. Abel’s shepherding prefigures Christ’s own work as shepherd.

• Types by virture of Divine Action

In this category, Gerhard sees a type by virtue of similarity of action by God upon an Old Testament figure and upon Christ’s life. My personal favorite is the connection between Adam and Christ:

A rib is taken from the side of the sleeping Adam, and from it a wife was made for him (Gen. 2:21). So also, from the side of Christ, dead on the cross, flowed forth blood and water, the two sacraments of the church of the New Testament, through which the Church is built as the Bride of Christ (John 19:34). ((Gerhard, 32))

God acts upon certain figures in the Old Testament for the purpose of and with the intent to prefigure the Christ. Moses’ life was lived to prefigure the Christ. God acted upon him in certain ways in order to act upon Christ in the same way, thereby further cementing the identity of Christ the prophet greater than Moses.

Studying such typological connections provides fruitful food for thought as well as helpful homiletical illustrations. It requires a deep knowledge of the Scripture and a healthy trust in the Holy Spirit to have inspired the Scripture for a reason—to point to the Christ. When inspiration is sacrificed to fit the Scriptures to various theories of hermenuetical interpretation, then the typological interpretation of Scripture faulters; typology depends on the notion of one source behind the Scriptures, namely God. When used in accordance with the analogy of faith, as Gerhard here suggests, typology adds a liveliness to the text, a depth and breadth that brings the testaments, old and new, to life.

The Rev. Roy S. Askins serves Trinity Lutheran Church, Livingston, Texas.

Quotes from Johann Gerhard’s Theological Commonplaces: Exegesis IV On Christ © 2012 Concordia Publishing House. Used by permission. For ordering information go to www.cph.org.

Why?

Editor's Note: This article was written about three years ago but speaks to suffering in light of the events in Connecticut last week.  —John T. Pless

“But who can supply the reason for the things that he sees the Divine Majesty has permitted to happen? Why do we not rather learn with Job that God cannot be called to account and cannot be compelled to give us the reason for everything He does or permits to happen?” –Luther on Genesis 3:1 in Luther’s Works, Volume I:144.

Preparing to write this article on Easter Monday, 2009, I heard the news of a fire in Prague that claimed over twenty lives as it swept through a shelter for the homeless. Recent memories of 9/11, the tsunami, and Katrina are compounded with countless personal tragedies that press people to ask the ancient question, “Why is there suffering?”

More existentially put, “What did I do to deserve this?”

In 1981 Rabbi Harold Kushner wrote a best-selling book, When Bad Things Happen to Good People. The book is an anguish-laden attempt of the rabbi to come to terms with a painful illness that claimed the life of his young son. Struggling with issues of God’s providence and mercy, creation and chaos, the rabbi can finally only conclude that those who suffer must “forgive God.” God’s intentions might be good but His power is limited seems to be a better solution than calling into question His goodness.

If a Lutheran were to do a re-write of Kushner’s book, it would have a different title, When Good Things Happen to Bad People. In the Divine Service, we confess that “we justly deserve” God’s “present and eternal punishment,” but times of calamity call into question whether we really believe it. In defiance or moaning resignation, we cry out “why me?” as though God had to explain himself. In this role reversal, God becomes the defendant and man the judge.

Theodicy is a term coined from two Greek words theos(God) and dike(judgment) literally meaning a judgment of or justification of God. The term became the title of a book by G.W. Leibnitz (1646–1716) in which he argued optimistically that this is the best of all possible worlds. After the destructive All Saints’ Day earthquake of 1755 killed thousands in Lisbon, his argument was ridiculed but the term remained. Its use indicated something of a reversal. Werner Elert writes “We try to ensnare God in our moral categories, and we do it with the best of intentions because we wish to rationalize our assertion that he is just and kind." ((Werner Elert, The Christian Ethos. Trans. Carl J. Schindler (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1957): 156.))  But as Elert goes on to explain, there is a reversal going on. The Creator who is the judge now becomes the defendant while the creature now becomes judge over the Creator. Rather than God justifying man, man now attempts to justify God.

Recent attempts at theodicy often attempt to excuse God. After the tsunami, one North American clergyman when interviewed on a national television broadcast claimed “that God had nothing to do with it.” In a futile effort to protect the Lord God from anything that might cause human beings to fear him, this cleric tried to extract God from the picture altogether! The attempt falters, leaving a God who is remodeled according to human imagination. This is hardly the God known by Job and Jonah in the Old Testament.

Others would suggest that God is not the cause of suffering, but he merely allows it. If God is almighty then it is of little comfort to assert that this all powerful God allowed evil when he could have stopped it. To this argument, Oswald Bayer responds: “The first attempt is an effort to soften or give up completely on the concept of omnipotence. It is thus often said that God does not cause evil, but simply lets it happen. But such talk about the bland ‘permitting’ (permissio) of evil is too harmless. It assumes the possibility of a power vacuum or even that there is an independent power that is in opposition. At the very least, it assumes that the human being has the power to stand up against God.” ((Oswald Bayer, Martin Luther’s Theology: A Contemporary Interpretation. Trans. Thomas H. Trapp (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008): 206-207; Also see Oswald Bayer, “God’s Omnipotence” Lutheran Quarterly (Spring 2009): 85-102.))  But God is not impotent. He is “God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth” as we confess in the creed. Attempts to get God off the hook, to defend him by limited or weakening his omnipotence end up with an idol.

Rather than try to construct a philosophical theodicy that assigns human beings the impossible task of justifying God, we do better to listen to Jesus as he responds to the “why” question in Luke 13:1–9. Whether it is Pilate’s slaughter of the pious as he mingles their blood with the blood of sacrificial animals, the engineering failure of the Tower of Siloam, or more contemporary examples of seemingly unjust suffering, such stories prompt us also to inquire of God, “Why?” Yet the words of Jesus preempt the question with a stark warning: “Unless you repent, you will all likewise perish” (Luke 13:3).

Jesus does not offer a philosophical explanation for the religious massacre in the temple or the random toppling of Siloam’s tower upon the heads of eighteen innocent bystanders. The Lord wastes no time with theoretical distinctions between the malicious banality of the butchery done by the human will of Pilate and catastrophic collapse of stone and mortar. Jesus’ words will not let us go there. His words call for repentance, not speculation.

Repentance lets go of the silly questions that we would use to hold on to life on our own terms, to try to protect ourselves against the God who kills and makes alive. The theologian Oswald Bayer observes that the world is forensically structured, arranged in such a way as to demand justification. We find evidence of this, Bayer says, in the way we defend our own words and deeds. ((Oswald Bayer, Living by Faith: Justification and Sanctification (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003): 1–8)) What happens when you are confronted with wrongdoing? We attempt to justify our behavior. It is a rerun of Eden: “The woman whom you gave to be with me, she gave me of fruit of the tree, and I ate” (Genesis 3:12) Adam blames Eve. But behind his accusation of Eve is the accusation of his Creator. To repent is to die to self-justification and turn to the God who justifies the ungodly by faith alone. He is the God who takes no pleasure in the death of the wicked but instead has sent forth his own Son to pour out his blood in atonement for the world’s sin, to be crushed by the weight of God’s wrath that in his righteousness sinners might not perish but have life in his name.

Unexplainable tragedies bring pain and chaos. God leaves the wound open to use the words of Bayer. ((Oswald Bayer, “Poetological Doctrine of the Trinity” Lutheran Quarterly (Spring 2001), 56. Also see Oswald Bayer, “Toward a Theology of Lament” in Caritas et Reformatio: Essays on Church and Society in Honor of Carter Lindberg. Edited by David M. Whitford (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 2002): 211–220.)) We cry out to God in lamentation in the face of events that defy our capacities for understanding. But the anguished lament ascends from the crucible of faith, not unbelief. It is a confession of trust in the God who works all things for the good of those who are called (Romans 8:28). Living in repentance and faith, we are freed from the inward turn of speculation that seeks to investigate the hidden God, and instead we trust in the kindness and mercy of God revealed in Christ Jesus. With such a freedom we are liberated to rely on God’s promises and turn our attention to works of mercy to bring compassion and relief to those who suffer in this sinful world.

Prof. John T. Pless teaches practical theology at Concordia Theological Seminary Fort Wayne, Indiana.

On that Notorious "Trailer"

—by Charles Ernest Yunghans

Piss Christ by Serrano Andres (1987)

I noticed that, beginning on September 27, 2012, the Edward Tyler Nahem Gallery in New York City featured a retrospective on the works of Andres Serrano, including his  1987 photograph, Immersion (Piss Christ), usually simply called Piss Christ.  It is hard to imagine that many informed Christians would not remember Piss Christ, a photograph of a crucifix, comprised of a white plastic corpus on a wooden Latin cross, immersed in a jar of Mr. Serrano’s urine.  Its debut aroused a chorus of outrage from offended Christians, and copies on display have since been vandalized in Australia and France.  Since its current display, Piss Christ briefly became a foil in the 2012 presidential race, with President Obama’s opponents citing the opprobrium he and others of his administration have leveled against a video that is said to be a “trailer” for an apparently unfinished film to be entitled The Innocence of Moslems.  This trailer has been criticized as a bigoted and disgraceful denigration of the sincere beliefs of Muslims.  Why, then, the president’s critics asked, should he not also condemn the showing of Piss Christ, equally considered a denigration of the sincere beliefs of Christians?

Mr. Serrano has since claimed that he had no intention of denouncing Christianity.  He only wanted to criticize the cheapening commercialization of Christian symbols within our culture.  This claim seems rather lame, since he has by now become rather infamous for using bodily excrescences as provocative artistic media, including, lately, his own feces, claiming that God shows him faces therein.  Lucy Lippard, an art critic, would on the other hand rather view “Piss Christ” as mysterious and “darkly beautiful,” the illuminated crucifix appearing to her “virtually monumental as it floats . . . in a deep, rosy glow that is both ominous and glorious.”  Perhaps she’s on to something useful for us.  Furthermore, a Catholic art critic, Sister Wendy Beckett told Bill Moyers that she preferred to consider it not blasphemous, but a statement of “what we have done to Christ.”  She comes even closer to what I now propose.

Even if Mr. Serrano intended to affront Christians and despise Christ Himself, and even though such intentions would be worthy of our outrage, perhaps we as followers of our Lord would do ourselves and the world a favor by transfiguring the issue, carrying it to a level to which Christ himself would inspire us to rise.  We can view the photograph as an allegory of the burden of the sins of all humanity that God put upon Christ “for our sake” as he went to the cross, making him “to be sin for us, Who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Corinthians 5:21).  He did this even as “we were yet sinners,” and indeed “we were enemies” of God (Romans 5:8, 10).  We might, more particularly, reflect deeply upon the photograph as a representation of all the enmity, scorn, reviling and punishment heaped upon him who has been “despised and rejected by men” (Isaiah 53:3) from the days of his earthly ministry, through his crucifixion, and on through the great apostasy, until he returns again on the eventual day of judgment.  We who “once were estranged and hostile in mind” (Colossians 1:21) ought to identify our thoughts, words, and deeds with that urine.  We also remember that instead of retaliating with Peter’s sword or many legions of angels (Matthew 26:52–53), our Lord meekly and generously allowed his Father to “lay upon him the iniquity of us all,” including my iniquity and that of Mr. Serrano, and generously “bore our griefs and carried our sorrows, . . . yet he opened not his mouth” (cf. especially Isaiah 52:13–53:12).

The Scriptural record of the meekness and self-sacrifice of our Lord and Savior stands in strong contrast to the record of the brutality and self-indulgence of another religious founder who has been given much attention recently.  As this assertion is explained, please first consider the accounts of Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness in Matthew 4:1–12 and Luke 4:1–13.  In these accounts we see that Jesus endured temptations to presume audaciously upon his Divine nature and priestly office, and to set aside communion with the Father on the basis of a spurious claim upon God’s kingdom of power, in favor of satisfying physical appetites and worldly attachments:  When our Lord became hungry during his forty-day fast, he was tempted by the devil to turn stones into loaves of bread.  Thereafter he was also tempted to hurl himself from the pinnacle of the temple.  Finally, he was tempted toward pride and idolatry when he was promised “all of the kingdoms of the world and their glory” were he only to worship Satan.  Yet all of these he resisted, saying that abiding in the contemplation of God’s Word was far to be preferred over the relief of hunger; that we should not tempt God by creating a situation that, steeped in implicit doubt of his promises, “calls his bluff”; and that we should only serve God and God’s purposes rather than seek to empower ourselves, particularly at the expense of deflecting our allegiance from God to some principality or power that is only a depraved part of the created order brought under the curse of the Fall into sin.

innocence_of_muslims_a_l

I believe that on these issues Christ stands in stark contrast with Muhammad (A.D. 570–632), whom many in this nation rose to defend against that notorious YouTube trailer video, which they alleged to have been the reason the Middle East exploded in a paroxysm of anti-American violence, culminating in the lethal attack upon our nation’s consulate in Benghazi, Libya.   They condemned the video as “disgusting and gratuitously insulting” of Muhammad, the founder of Islam.   After so much brouhaha, I decided to Google it and watch the video myself; it proved to be what I suspected:

The trailer is indeed lurid; but what makes it lurid is that it exclusively portrays, visually and dramatically, criticisms that have been leveled against Muhammad for centuries and that are based in passages actually found in the Qur’an,the Sirah (official biographies of Muhammad), or in the Hadith, the Mohammedan traditions about things Muhammad said or did.

St. Matthew (4:2–4) and St. Luke (4:2–4) present the tempter as taking advantage of Jesus’ hunger to urge him to demand that the rocks scattered about him become bread.  In response Jesus does not deny, but he subordinates his appetitive need (hunger) to our spiritual need to be fed by constant communion with God.  The Dutch psychologist H. H. Somers claimed in Een andere Mohammed (Antwerp:  Hadewijch, 1993) to have found in the Hadith evidence that, by contrast, Muhammad had an immense appetite.  Perhaps because my exposure to these texts may be more limited, I am not aware of passages in the Qur’an or the Hadith that indicate that Muhammad was gluttonous.  In the hadiths of Jami’ at-Tirmidhi 2380 and Musnad Ahmad 17186, Muhammad said that there can be no worse vessel to be filled than the stomach.  He famously added that the faithful should, at any meal, fill only one third of the stomach with food and one third with drink, eating only that which is sufficient “to keep his back straight.”  In short, he typically urged restraint in eating, lest one lose control of this gustatory appetite.

He seems, however, never to have required fasting in the sense of withholding all daily food.  All Muslim fasts, including the month-long fast of Ramadan, only bind the believer to abstinence during the daylight hours.  Presumably, then, Muhammad never undertook a fast as rigorous as Jesus imposed upon himself.  In fact, when he would go to the cave, Hira for protracted meditations, he would take lunches with him, and would return home to replenish them as necessary (Hadith of Sahih Bukhari, Volume 9: Book  83: Tradition 111); so we do not know how he would have responded to this particular temptation under the circumstances Jesus undertook.

However, as the notorious trailer graphically suggests, Muhammad seems to have largely disregarded self-control of such other appetites as that for sexual gratification.  In the Qur’an, Sura (Chapter) 4:3, Allah is supposed to have commanded that a man must marry no more than four wives, although marrying only one is “more proper.”  Yet, according to the most sympathetic sources, Muhammad had eleven to thirteen wives, at one time at least nine concurrently.  Others say he had as many as sixteen, and one account suggests he had as many as seventy-seven.

Muhammad’s sixth wife, Zaynab of Jahsh, was Muhammad’s first cousin.  At the time he decided to take her for himself, she was the wife of his adopted son Zaid.  Although a number of sources assert that Zaid and Zaynab were having marital problems and Zaid voluntarily divorced Zaynab, one source (Sahih Muslim 8:3330) asserts that Muhammad “came to her without permission.”  This is excused as Allah’s will in the Qur’an, Sura 33:37–39.

Beyond that, he is said to have had two concubine slaves (Mariya the Coptic, see Hadith of al-Tabari 9:141; 39:193–194; and Raihana the Jew, see al-Tabari 8:39; 9:137, 141).  Various texts suggest that he also was sexually intimate with Umm Sharik, Maymuna, Khawla  and Zaynab, four “devoted followers” who occasionally “gave” themselves to him.  (This Zaynab was the third woman of that name in Muhammad’s life, besides Zaynab of Jahsh and Zaynab of Khozayma, who were two of his wives.)

In a number of places in the Qur’an, notably Sura 4:24, Sura 23:5–6, Sura 33: 50–52 and Sura 70:29–30, Allah is supposed to allow a man to have sexual relations with slave girls and women taken captive in war.  The aforementioned Mariya was one such slave girl given to Muhammad by Makaukas, the Governor of Egypt.  One account says that after Muhammad was given Mariya, he directly took her to the bed of his absent wife, Hafsah.  When Hafsah later learned about this, she was outraged and demanded an explanation.  Muhammad swore to her an oath that he would not touch Mariya again and that he would designate Hafsah’s father, Umar, as his successor after Abu Bakr if she would agree to tell no one what he’d done.  She, however, told his favorite wife, Aisha, and the scandal spread rapidly.  Enraged, Muhammad then set aside all his wives for a month and spent that entire month with Mariya (Rauzatu’r Safa 2, p. 188).  Aisha, however, continued to berate Muhammad for his deceit.  This led to a convenient revelation recorded in Sura 66 of the Qur’an, where Allah supposedly absolves Muhammad of his oath to Hafsah (verses 1–2).  The incident is then briefly summarized without explicitly mentioning Muhammad’s adultery (verse 3), and Hafsah and Aisha are the ones who are told to repent lest Allah, Gabriel, and all believers come to Muhammad’s rescue (verse 4), and Allah replace them with “better wives” (verse 5).  The entire circumstance indicates that Muhammad was not above abusing his position and power to victimize and manipulate women when it served his desires.

The case of Muhammad’s third and favorite wife, the aforementioned Aisha, also raises the concern that Muhammad abused the political authority and power granted him to take sexual advantage of children.  Aisha was the daughter of his close advisor and immediate successor, Abu Bakr.  According to Bukhari, she was six years old when Mohammed married her.  It is said he put off consummation with her for a while; still she was only nine years old when he, at age 53, took her to his bed (Sahih Bukhari 7:62:64).  According to one tradition among the Hadith, she was yet much inclined to play with her dolls at the time he did so (Sahih Bukhari 8:73:151).  Child that she was, she was playing with other girls of her age, swinging on a tree-swing when her mother came to take her to Muhammad for her consummation (al-Tabari 9, p. 131; Sahih Bukhari 5:58:234).

Muhammad’s abusiveness may have also extended to pederasty:  Hadith 16245 in Musnad Ahmad’s volume on The Sayings of the Syrians states that Mu-awija Ibn Abu Sufyan reported, “I saw the prophet sucking on the tongue or the lips of Ali-Hassan, son of Ali, may the prayers of Allah be upon him.  For no tongue or lips that the prophet sucked on will be tormented [in hell].”  It should be noted that Ali was Mohammed’s son-in-law; hence Ali-Hassan was Muhammad’s own grandson.  Other sources, including Al-Zamakhshari, present the excuse that Ali-Hassan refused his mother’s breast so Muhammad nurtured him with his spittle and allowed Ali-Hassan to suck Muhammad’s tongue in lieu of his mother’s breast.  Yet Sahih Bukhari  8:73:27 cites Aisha as reporting that a scandalized Bedouin once rebuked Muhammad with the words, “You kiss the boys!  We don’t kiss them.”   What in the case of Ali-Hassan is discretely ascribed to the reflections of a commentator, a promise to a child that he will escape the rage of an irascible and tyrannical divinity and certainly go to heaven if he surrenders himself to abuse, all because of a privileged relationship with that divinity, seems a particularly disturbing example of a perpetrator’s all-too-common abuse of the power relation between himself and his victim.  What an impassible gulf separates this conduct from Jesus’ refusal to presume upon his relationship with God to indulge appetites or whims, as we see in the temptation narratives!

According to Ibn Sa’d, (vol.1, p. 438–439), Muhammad was once asked whether he retained his sexual potency.  Muhammad is reported to have said, “Gabriel brought a kettle from which I ate and I was given the power of sexual intercourse equal to forty men.”

There is some speculative discussion that Muhammad’s sexual potency became an issue because he had erectile dysfunction, and that his profligacy and his tendency to be drawn to widows and divorcees was the result of a reactively defensive, if also grandiose obsession with sexual potency.  In fact, his first wife, Khadija was a widow fifteen years older than he (he was 25 and she 40 when they married).  This marriage was monogamous and lasted 25 years, until Khadija’s death.  Thereafter he gave himself up to a flurry of marital and extramarital relationships, which, as noted in the Mariya incident mentioned above, led to scandals of jealousy and competition among his wives.  We have observed that the taking of Mariya proved so embarrassing that Muhammad found it necessary to excuse it in Sura 66.  Considerable effort is also made in Sura 33 of the Qur’an to excuse Muhammad’s behavior.

Aisha, as his favorite wife, was sometimes able to provoke Muhammad and yet escape with her life.  On two occasions in Book Eight of the Hadith Sahih Muslim, Traditions 3453 and 3454, Mohammed is supposed to have told her that Allah told him, “You may defer [divorce] any one of them you wish, and take to yourself any you wish; and if you desire any you have set aside, no sin is chargeable to you.”  You will find that this “divine permission” is also granted Muhammad in the Qur’an,Sura 33, verses 49, 51 and 52:  “(49) Prophet, we have made lawful to you the wives to whom you have granted dowries and the slave girls whom Allah has given you as booty, the daughters of your paternal and maternal uncles and of your paternal and maternal aunts who fled with you, and the other women who gave themselves to you, and whom you wished to take in marriage.  This privilege is yours alone, being granted to no other believer. . . . (51) You may put off any of your wives you please and take to your bed any of them you please.  Nor is it unlawful for you to receive any of those who you have temporarily set aside.  That is more proper, so that they may be contented and not vexed, and may all be pleased with what you give them. . . .  (52) It shall be unlawful for you to take more wives or to exchange your present wives for other women, though their beauty please you, EXCEPT where slave girls are concerned.”  To this the saucy Aisha’s famous response was, “It seems to me that your lord hastens to satisfy your desire.”

All of the above sharply contrasts with our Lord’s refusal to take unholy advantage of His supernatural power to gratify appetitive urges.  At that turn, our evangelists recount a further temptation:  Satan holds out a splendid vision of all the nations of the world and, in effect, says to Jesus, “So you want to right all the world’s wrongs?  I can help you by handing you control of all of these, and enwrap you in their glory; for they have been given to me, and I will give them to you if only you will prostrate yourself before me and worship me” (Matthew 4:8–9; Luke 4:5–7).  Our Lord firmly rejects this temptation by turning Satan aside with the words, “’You shall worship the Lord your God, and him only shall you serve’” (Matthew 4:10; Luke 4:8).

Behavioral economist Dan Ariely believes that dishonesty arises even in otherwise honest people when their creative ability promotes rationalization in situations where the rules of conduct seem flexible or unclear, and they experience a conflict of interest or have a particular bias in their view of reality (Scientific American Mind 23:5, Nov–Dec 2012, p. 26–27).  In this fallen world, laws and rules are indeed often written imperfectly, and we all experience conflicts between our immediate interests and what we might otherwise concede to be the more appropriate benefit or the more basic need of another person or the community at large.  We all have an inordinate bias toward self-preservation and self-interest.  Many assert that we owe no consideration to God and act on that assumption each time they voluntarily violate what we understand to be God’s will.  And “the imagination of [our] hearts,” which Genesis 8:21 reminds us “is evil from [our] youth,” hastens to help us reason our way to our worst intentions. Despite his privileged knowledge of Jesus’ pure heart and purpose, the father of lies obsessively sought to prove that Jesus did not rise above this.  Satan knew that Jesus understood himself to be the Son of God; indeed, he even incorporated “If you are the Son of God . . .” as a condition in the other two temptations (Matthew 4:3, 6; Luke 4:3, 9).  So he apparently hoped Jesus would have an inordinately grandiose bias about his place in the world, and therefore tried to present him with a situation that seemed plausible and morally ambiguous.  It might have run something like this:  “God sent me to rule the world” (see Revelation 12:9; 13:2); “and, as I am under God, I will allow you to rule the world if you will only place yourself under me.”  Jesus is the Son of God, and he saw directly through Satan’s temptation, rejecting it out of hand.  His victory would not be won by a seemingly convenient bargain with Satan, political maneuvering, or armies with butchering swords.

Muhammad, too, claimed the desire to win the world for his god; he also faced a similar temptation, but, after persecution and a death threat, he allowed himself instead to be drawn to rationalize the advantages of seizing the world by his own hand through brute power.  And, when that notorious trailer portrayed him as murderous and blood-thirsty, it was only referring to passages from the book he claimed he was inspired to write and the traditions gathered about him.  The video wasn’t even the first attempt to dramatize Muhammad’s brutality. This was done by the French Enlightenment philosopher Voltaire, who wrote a play entitled Fanaticism, or Mahomet the Prophet in 1736 and first staged it in 1741.

When Muhammad first lived under his new religion in Mecca, he apparently attracted only about seventy followers and so was compelled to live peaceably with those of other beliefs lest he and his followers suffer violent persecution.  Hence, while the Qur’anic Suras from that period often arrogantly disparage those Christians and Jews who refuse to see that Allah’s messages are echoed in their holy writings, they also include irenic passages, such as Sura 2:62, “Believers, Jews, Christians and Sabaeans—whoever believes in Allah and the Last Day and does what is right—shall be rewarded by their Lord; they have nothing to fear or to regret,” or the famous Sura 3:113, “There are among the People of the Book some upright men who all night long recite the revelations of Allah and worship him; who believe in Allah and the Last Day; who enjoin justice and forbid evil and vie with each other in good works.  These are righteous men:  Whatever good they do, it shall not be denied them.  Allah knows the righteous.”  Yet they are not to resist Allah’s revelations, and it appears that only those who at least blend their original faiths with Allah’s Qur’anic transmissions are truly acceptable:  “If the People of the Book accept the true faith and keep from evil, we will pardon them their sins and admit them to the gardens of delight.  If they observe the Torah and the Gospel and what is revealed to them from Allah, they shall be given abundance from above and from beneath” (Sura 5:65–66).

Still, in Mecca, persecutions eventually grew serious; and one day Muhammad learned he was about to be assassinated.  He and Abu Bakr then decided to flee.  They fled to Quba, a community on the outskirts of the ancient oasis city of Yathrib in A.D. 622.  From there he moved into Yathrib itself where he gained political control and considerable support for his religion when he mediated a 120-year-long conflict among local Arabic tribes.  At this time, Muhammad’s conflicted imagination was tempted into a grandiose rationalization for using legions of the sword to spread religious faith.  Far from accepting a cross, he changed the name of the city to Madinat an-Nabiy (“the city of the prophet,” which we render as Medina) in honor of himself, and, in the Charter of Medina, he stipulated the terms of the settlement of the conflict and the establishment of the world’s first Islamic state.  Then other “revelations” began to take precedence in the Qur’an, such as those of the hellish Sura 9.

Sura 9, entitled “Repentance,” is one of the last Qur’anic chapters to be “revealed.”  Hence it is one whose commands and allowances are to be preferred over earlier, contradictory passages under the Rule of Abrogation, whereby Allah is allowed to change his mind.  This sura presents the conditions under which Muslims may kill non-Muslims, and threatens damnation on those Muslims who refuse to participate in the fighting.  Some of its passages include:  “Proclaim a woeful punishment to the unbelievers, except those idolaters who have honored their treaties with you and aided none against you.  With these keep faith, until their treaties have run their terms. . . .  When the sacred months are over, slay the idolaters wherever you find them.  Arrest them, besiege them, and lie in ambush everywhere for them. . . . If they repent and take to prayer and pay the alms-tax, they shall become your brothers in the faith.  Thus we make plain our revelations for men of understanding.  But, if after coming to terms with you, they break their oaths and revile your faith, make war on the leaders of unbelief—for no oaths are binding with them” (verses 3–5, 10–12).

Sura 8, aptly named “The Spoils,” presents Allah as commanding, “I shall cast terror into the hearts of the infidels.  Strike off their heads!  Maim them in every limb. . . . Make war on them until idolatry is no more and Allah’s religion reigns supreme” (verses 12, 39).  This chapter also succinctly summarizes the temptation to power that we’ve discussed above:  “Remember how [Allah] gave you shelter when you were few in number and persecuted in the land, ever fearing the onslaught of your enemies. . . .  Remember how the unbelievers plotted against you.  They sought to take you captive or have you killed or banished.  They plotted—but Allah plotted also.  Allah is most profound in his machinations” (Sura 8:26, 30).

The opening minutes of the trailer to The Innocence of Moslems shows quite explicitly that Moslems are by no means innocent of the persecution and murder of Coptic Christians.  In fact, this is something which Muhammad’s followers have been doing in Arabia, Egypt and the Horn of Africa from Muhammad’s lifetime down to this very day.  The video’s producer, himself a Copt, went to considerable length to depict what Muhammad’s critics across the centuries have cited about his own brutality and blood-thirstiness from sources that are revered by Moslems themselves. Muhammad himself ordered at least sixty raids or wars during his ten-year rule in Medina and actively participated in twenty-seven of them.  The producer knows the Moslem traditions that during the Massacre of Banu Quraiza, briefly mentioned in the Qur’an, Sura 33:25–27, Muhammad ordered up to 900 prisoners tortured and executed—all males from adults to boys who’d just begun to sprout pubic hair.  He knows that Muhammad himself beheaded a number of these prisoners; for this is mentioned in the Hadith of Sahih Bukhari 5:59:448 and is covered in detail in Muhammad ibn Ishaq’s official biography of Muhammad, commissioned by the Caliph Al-Mansur (p. 464–466).  He knows the report that during the Massacre of Khaybar Muhammad personally used a firebrand to torture Kinanah, the chieftain of a Jewish tribe he’d attacked and overwhelmed, until Kinanah revealed where he’d hidden his treasury, and that Muhammad then beheaded him (Ibn Ishaq, p. 515; al-Tabari 8, p. 123).  Then, seeing that Kinanah’s seventeen-year-old wife, Safiyaah was beautiful,  he took her for himself.  Muhammad was 60 years old at the time.  For details on this matter, see Sahih Bukhari5:59:512, 522–524.

On several occasions, when people objected that noncombatant women and children were killed in Muhammad’s wars, Muhammad simply shrugged off these murders with the words, “They are of them,” implying that if these innocents happened to be killed in the assaults he led, it was their fault  because they were related to and present with his enemies at the time of these attacks (see Sahih Bukhari 52:236, Muslim 19:4321–4323).  His callousness is well-condensed within a saying ascribed to him in al-Tabari 9, (p. 69):  “Killing unbelievers is a small matter to us.”

By “unbelievers” he was referring to pagans, Jews, Christians, indeed even personal enemies—anybody who opposed his oppressive rule.  In fact, Muhammad, from time to time, ordered the assassination of those he perceived to be his enemies.  The most notorious case involved the assassination of Kab’n bin Ashraf, which Muhammad publicly ordered, calling for volunteers to murder the unfortunate poet from the pulpit of his mosque.  This is recounted in detail in al-Tabari 7 (p.94–97) and in Ibn Ishaq, (p. 367–368).

Presently I see no point in citing more of the many other examples one may easily discover of Muhammad’s malignant attitudes and heinous behavior than those included within this essay, since my aim is only to encourage a more balanced consideration of the matters covered in a video that has been relentlessly and indiscriminately stigmatized.  Is this film therefore lurid?  Yes, insofar as it dramatizes certain of Muhammad’s outrageous thoughts and actions audio-visually.  Yet, while the video does seem intended to disparage Muhammad, it does not deserve the public impression that it contains insults gratuitously invented out of whole cloth.  After all, it does not go beyond criticisms that have been advanced against Mohammed ever since the Qur’an and the deeds and sayings of Muhammad were published and made available for public inspection.

A loyal Muslim would retort that in quoting the Qur’an we are citing not the raw desires of a man, but the intentions of Allah.  I would agree:  Whatever that “Allah” happens to be, he entirely masterminded the personality of Muhammad.  Martin Luther often said that to the extent that we depart from focusing on Christ as the true and essential revelation of God, we wander off-target and eventually come face to face with an alien spirit that Luther emphatically identified with Satan.  Commenting on Psalm 131:1, Luther stated even more starkly, “To seek God apart from Jesus Christ—that is the devil.”   Apart from the gracious work that God performs within us through his appointed Word and sacraments, whereby we see in the face of Christ a God of mercy and grace, we who seek our own way to God soon blunder into an unanticipated encounter with Deus absconditus, the Hidden Godin his terrifying absoluteness as the exacting judge of all that are bound by the curse of the fall, a disconcerting encounter with the wrestling Spirit of the ford of the Jabbok (Genesis 32:24–28), and with that Satan who briefly appears in Job 1 and 2 as a perverse agent of God’s permissive will.

In fact, Muhammad himself occasionally worried that he was actually demon-possessed.  According to Sahih Bukhari 9:83:111, the ever-candid Aisha once reported that Muhammad told her about his first Qur’anic revelation:  An “angel,” presumed in later accounts to be Gabriel, appeared to him and ordered him to “Read.”  Muhammad, who was illiterate, answered, “I don’t know how to read.”  The angel then “grabbed me and squeezed me so hard that I could not bear it anymore.”  He then released Muhammad and again demanded, “Read!”  Muhammad repeated, “I don’t know how to read!”  Again the angel grabbed him and squeezed him “until I could no longer bear it.” Then again he released him and once more demanded, “Read!”  For a third time Muhammad answered, “Look, I can’t read; any way, what should I read?”  For the third time the spirit grabbed and squeezed him, and spoke the words that were to become the first passage of the Qur’an ever set in writing (Sura 96:1–5):  “Read!  In the name of your lord, who created, created man from clots of blood.  Read!  Your lord is the most bountiful one, who by the pen taught man what he did not know.”  Muhammad was so frightened by this experience that he ran home to his first wife, Khadija, “his neck muscles twitching with terror,” and exclaimed, “Cover me!  Cover me! . . . I fear that something will happen to me!”  Khadija covered him and comforted him; but for some time thereafter, thinking he had been captured by a demon and not wanting his enemies to realize that fact, he upon several occasions climbed to the brows of cliffs, considering whether to cast himself, not into the arms of angels who would bear him up in their hands (Matthew 4:6; Luke 4:11), but to his death on the rocks below.

Muhammad himself was not the only person who considered him demon-possessed.  For example, as early as when he was a nursing child, he had some sort of seizure and, upon recovering, told his Bedouin nurse that two men dressed in white had split his body open, then split his heart, then removed from his heart and discarded a black blood clot, and finally purified his heart and body with snow.  His astounded nurse quickly returned him to his stepmother who asked what had happened.  When told, she asked the nurse if she thought he was possessed by an evil spirit.  The nurse said she indeed thought so.  Before returning the child, however, she’d also been given the opinion of one who had more of an appreciation of the distinction between the primary cause of God’s active will and those secondary causes that serve his permissive will in the created order: the father of a friend had told her, “I am afraid that this child has had a stroke, so take him back to his family before the result appears” (ibn Ishaq, p. 72).

This man was by no means the only one who considered Muhammad to have some sort of psycho-neurological problem.  Frank R. Freemon, in the medical journal Epilepsia (17:4, December, 1976, 423–427), published a study of what had come to his attention from the traditions about Muhammad’s  mentation and behavior during his peculiar experiences.  Dr. Freemon pursued a differential diagnosis that considered other such conditions as schizophrenia, hallucinogen-induced brain trauma, transient ischemic attacks, hypoglycemia, labyrinthitis, Meniere’s disease and other inner ear disorders before he decided that Muhammad’s experiences are best explained as psychomotor or complex partial seizures associable with temporal lobe epilepsy.

More recently, in the work cited above, psychologist Herman H. Somers claimed to have found evidence in the traditions that Muhammad suffered persistent depression, brooding, irritability, a quite baleful persistence that he is pleased to call ”conscientious reliability,”  and hallucinosis.  He also claimed to have found other evidence that Muhammad had an unusually large nose and ears; that he had large hands that felt doughy to those who clasped them; that he had large feet and a plunging gait; that he had a swollen tongue and spoke unusually slowly; that he had fertility problems (all of Muhammad’s sons were stillborn); that he had an odd, roseate-to-straw-colored complexion and profuse, malodorous perspiration (which, Somers reports, he sought to control by bathing three times daily, coating his skin with musk or ambergris and perfuming his residence with camphor); that he was hirsute (Somers speaks of Muhammad’s heavy eyebrows); and that he was hypertensive, experienced frequent seizures , experienced persistent back and abdominal pain, yet, as mentioned above, had a considerable appetite.  Somers then linked these sets of traits to propose a diagnosis of acromegaly, a life-shortening malady caused by the chronic hypersecretion of growth hormone by the anterior region of the pituitary gland, probably due to a pituitary tumor called a somatotrophic  adenoma.

I will not commit myself or attest to Somers’ assertions.  Were they, however, true by half, I envision that the ruler of this world (John 14:30) may have come upon Muhammad with another and tragically fundamental temptation, one that would likely dispose its target toward the psychiatric condition known as Body Dysmorphic Disorder.  Satan’s challenge might have run something like, “Why would God or man wish to have anything to do with such a loathsome creature as you?”  It would not surprise me if, faced with such a challenge, a mere man would choose to escape from despair into egomania.  The challenge is somewhat similar to the last temptation faced by our Lord, which by the time he was hanging from the cross ran somewhat like “Look at you!  Why should we trust in you?  Come down from the cross and save yourself!  Then we might believe in you!”  But the bruised, abraded, bloody, nail-shot God-man who had only hours earlier acknowledged the power of this temptation in the prayer, “Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me” (Matthew 26:39) now remained firm in the charge he received from the Father—to lay down his life of his own accord (John 10:17–18).  He would let others peel his lifeless body from the cross, “marred, beyond human semblance” (Isaiah 52:14) and scoffed by the world as “stricken, smitten of [the very] God” he so fervently professed (Isaiah 53:4).  This is because He knew that in three days He would take it up again (Matthew 17: 22-23; John 10:17–18) and as “the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings . . . for all who fear [God’s] Name” (Malachi 4:2).

Whether, on the other hand, we conclude that Muhammad was directly possessed or conjecture instead that disease processes further complicating his fallen nature disposed him to a self-absorption that made him vulnerable to be tempted to the grandiose sense of entitlement and consequent callousness that our Lord Jesus renounced in the wilderness and upon the cross, we have seen how the powerful influence of his evil passions perverted the minds of legions of followers down the centuries to the present.  Recently, for example, one anonymous admirer, speaking from within the midst of the openly-inquiring civilization of the West, seemed bafflingly oblivious to the chilling irony of his conclusion that Muhammad, a person he still blindly considered “the ideal man who is the pattern for all humanity at all times . . . went from being a poor orphan to the first ruler of all Arabia and died without a single enemy left alive.”

Hence, even if we may be disappointed with the blatant content within that notorious video, we ought also appreciate the conclusion of Muhammad’s Christian critics, that the spirit who set the same possibilities before Muhammad as those that Christ repudiated appears identical with the Satan that our Lord, at the time of His wilderness temptations, rebuked.  I furthermore insist that the supposed prophet who surveyed the carnage he caused and boasted, “I have been made victorious with terror” (Sahih Bukhari 52:220) was as needful as Andres Serrano and all of the rest of us of the Atonement made by him who did not cling to his own life or comforts at the expense of those of others, but generously and compassionately “became sin for us, who knew no sin,” allowing our heavenly Father to “lay upon him the iniquity of us all.”

Muhammad’s choice is now sealed in eternity; and, as the enduring residue of his bitterness, Islam is the only notable religion in the world that persistently expresses the belief that those who despise and reject it may—and ought—to be killed.  Yet it is surely not this bitterness that has sustained Islam across the centuries in spite of the scandals of its fallible founder.  It has been the core insight that submission to God brings us peace.  Shall we not respond by carrying into the world the message that God’s peace is indeed ours, but by a submission that the Holy Spirit initiates and works in us through Word and sacraments, leading us to faith in the God who himself purchased our salvation with a prior submission?   That submission is our Lord and Savior’s blessed propitiatory submission to the suffering and death that has been bound upon us all, whereby he has won for us true peace with God and eternal life in God’s Presence for all who are gathered to him in this faith that his Holy Spirit instills.

_____

Quotations from the Qur’an are, for the most part taken from the very readable 1974 translation by N. J. Dawood in Penguin Classics (New York: Penguin Books, 1979), with some supplementation and occasional modification from the 2004 translation by M. A. S. Abdel Haleem in Oxford’s New World Classics (New York: Oxford University Press, 2008).

At-Tirmidhi, Hafiz Abu Eisa:  Jami’ At-Tirmidhi.  Abu Khaliyl, trans.  Riyadh:  Dar-us-Salam Publications, 2007.

Bayer, Oswald:  Martin Luther’s Theology:  A Contemporary Interpretation.  Thomas Trapp, transl.  Grand Rapids, MI:  Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2008.

Ibn Ishaq, Muhammad:  Sirat Rasul Allah (Life of Muhammad).  A. Guillaume, transl.  Oxford:  University Press, 1955.

Ibn Sa’d al-Baghdadi, Muhammad, Ibn Sa’d’s Kitab Al-Tabaqat Al-Kabir (Book of the Major Classes), Vol. 1.  S. Moninul Haq, transl., New Delhi:  Islamic Book Service, 1967.

Musnad Ahmad’s collection of traditions is not yet fully translated into English.  To find the citation about controlling one’s appetite in an Islamic source, see Food for Thought:  Prophet Muhammad’s Recommendations Regarding Food, on Islamweb.net.  To find the citation about Ali-Hassan in an Islamic  source, click here.

Sahih Bukhari.

Sahih Muslim.

Rauzatu’r Safa:  cited in “The Prophet of Islam,” www.answering-islam.org/Nehls/tt1/tt2.html

Yaeger, Lynn:  “Andres Serrano’s Shit Show.”  The Village Voice, August 27, 2008.

Yarshater, Ehsan, Ed.:  The History of al-Tabari.  New York: SUNY Press, 2007.  This is a 40 volume work, but the life of Muhammad is covered in Volumes 6–9.

The Rev. Charles Ernest Yunghans is an Emeritus LCMS clergyman who lives in Chippewa Falls, WI.

Art & Provocation

—By Gifford Grobien “I know it when I see it.”

When Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart said this to describe his test for obscenity, he was not far off the mark. Beauty can be defined simply as that which pleases when it is perceived. Traditionally, such pleasure was not mere opinion. Rather, pleasure referred to what appealed to the mind through contemplation. Perceiving beauty in something meant to recognize its beautiful qualities: proportion, unity, radiance, order, and the like. To modern ears Stewart sounds subjective, but his aphorism assumes basic, objective notions of beauty. True art and beauty are recognized by the reasonable person who considers an artistic subject. Pornography takes precious little contemplation for the observer to recognize that it not only fails to have the aforementioned qualities, but undermines them.

Many artists, however, no longer appeal to beauty, but to provocation. A recent article by Jennifer Schuessler in The New York Times observes that shock art has a century-long history in the United States. (Warning: some references and descriptions in the article are explicitly sexual and/or violent.) It notes that social shifts have led to acceptance of performances and depictions that would have been considered scandalous one hundred or even twenty years ago. Schuessler queries, “Can art still shock today?” She goes on to report that the typical contemporary artist seeks to shock in even greater ways. “[M]any artists say that generating shock remains the duty of anyone who aims to reflect the real world back at itself.” Whatever the standard of society, the “duty” of the artist is to breach this standard from beyond.

Schuessler is correct in that art imitates “the real world.” The disagreement is over what part of the real world it ought to imitate. The provocateur thinks that the real world is about unbridled passions; about unleashing the visceral response of human nature; about revealing the degraded condition of man, so as to shock the audience into repentance. Shock art becomes a way to surprise audiences with an icon of their prurient nature, in hopes of bringing about some change in what is socially acceptable.

Shock artists are right about the corruption of human nature. But they are wrong to appeal to it, as if this will lead to improvement. By giving expression to vice, they authorize vice in the mainstream. Schuessler’s article is a testimony to this authorization of vice, even if it doesn’t recognize it. If scandalous art becomes acceptable, and art imitates life, then the scandalous life becomes the expectation.

This is why true art does appeal to the “real world,” yet specifically to the vestige of the good and the beautiful in the real world. Beauty matters in art because it portrays to the audience the beauty that is and the beauty to which we may still aspire, even in a world degraded by vice and scandal.  Beauty calls us to order and goodness. Shock art assaults order, pushing society toward destructive license.

Perhaps you are nevertheless wary of the traditional view of art, of notions of objective beauty. Art is supposed to appeal to the emotions, isn’t it? Indeed. To speak of objectivity in art is not to cast off the emotions. No true anthropology pits the intellect against the passions. Emotions and the mind are qualities of humanity. In the goodness of creation they serve each other.

Thus, the appeal of objective beauty to the mind does lead to emotional reaction: joy, ecstasy, anger at injustice, melancholic longing for salvation—the possibilities are limited only by human emotion itself. Objectivity does not suppress emotion, but invites it to its best expression. Artists ought to seek emotional reactions from their audience. By appealing to the beautiful, artists aim at the integrity of the human person, of the mutuality of the intellect and the passions, and the picture of reality that such integrity pursues. This is the reality of God’s good creation as He intended it.

It may be more difficult each day to know art when we see it. The harder something is, the more we need to practice. So, when it comes to art, St. Paul’s words apply also: “[W]hatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things” (Philippians 4:8). See, contemplate, feel, and pursue the beauty of God’s world.

The Rev. Dr. Gifford Grobien is Assistant Professor of Systematic Theology at Concordia Theological Seminary, Fort Wayne, Indiana.

A Response to "The Story"

—By Ryan Ogrodowicz

Upon receiving Zondervan’s publication The Story, its subtitle “the Bible as one continuing story of God and his people” suggested I was about to encounter another diluted translation made palatable for the masses. Instead it’s a compilation of various pericopes organized in a narrative format free from chapter-verse divisions. It literally reads like a story, providing readers with an overall feel for the contour and message of Holy Scripture. It uses one translation throughout, the NIV, and finishes with an epilogue followed by study questions relevant to the particular chapters.

Concordia Publishing House published something similar when it released its beautifully illustrated The Story Bible. With clear wording in simple yet faithful grammar, The Story Bible contains select scriptural texts in an easy-to-read format, but also achieved the rare feat of being edifying for both children and adults, a gap few books successfully bridge. The method of selecting certain texts and using a particular translation in order to better communicate a message is worthwhile and can be faithfully done. That said, we should expect our children eventually to grow into a deeper understanding of Scripture, probing its depths and learning to handle the entire Word of God. The Story contains more Scripture and study questions than the normal children’s book; so for adult neophytes and any Christian seeking to understand the outline of Scripture, a book structured like The Story has its benefits. I especially liked how some of Paul’s epistles were inserted into the Acts narrative to give the reader a sense of continuity between the mission work of Acts and the Pauline corpus.

Unfortunately the few benefits offered by The Story’s structure and form cannot compensate for other looming issues.

Setting aside the translation problems intrinsic to the NIV and the fact mature readers receive only a fraction of Scripture, the main problem with The Story is its doctrine. The Story provides its own commentary on the texts. Woven into the text are footnotes with definitions to particular biblical words and phrases that should concern any Lutheran. For example, consider the hint of modalism in The Story’s definition of the Holy Spirit, defined as the “manifestation of God . . . God is one God but acts in three ‘persons’ of God the Father, Jesus the Son and the Holy Spirit.” Also, the righteous person is the one who “values God above everyone and everything. A righteous person lives a life of obedience to God” (230). The Scriptures teach a strikingly opposite doctrine: righteousness is imputed upon the unbeliever by God through the gift of faith in Jesus Christ. In contrast to Lutheran teaching, baptism is defined not as the work of God in water and his Word, but a “symbolic act demonstrating that new believers have abandoned their former ways and have embarked on new life” (322). The true colors of decision theology become fully revealed in the definition of the gospel, “the message that Jesus has come to reconcile humanity to God and that each individual can accept this underserved gift . . .” (354). Perhaps the most egregious is the definition of justification, the core article of the Christian faith, defined as “the process by which one is made acceptable in the sight of God” (409). Consider the stark contrast to the Lutheran definition: God declares the sinner to be justified for the sake of Christ, a gift apprehended by faith. These definitions are in bold on the bottom of the pages, and the reader is bound to see them.

Most of the study questions are fair, without answers, but indicative of The Story’s Baptist-mystical-works righteous doctrine. While explicitly denying the means of grace elsewhere, some passages in The Story implicitly deny them when it calls us to seek communication from God in the manner of Elijah: “God revealed himself to Elijah in a gentle whisper. What does this tell you about God’s character and methods of communication?” (479).

The Story is more than just a compilation of biblical texts organized in an easy-to-read, narrative format. It promulgates a clear doctrinal position akin to much of that pouring out of the camps of American Evangelicalism. It undermines justification and the means of grace, meaning the doctrine it puts forth is incompatible with Lutheranism. In the context of a Bible study focused on comparing and contrasting different theologies led by faithful pastor or layman, The Story would make for a good study.

As the Word of God exhibiting sound biblical doctrine it comes with no such endorsement.

The Rev. Ryan Ogrodowicz serves as pastor of Victory in Christ Lutheran Church in Newark, Texas.

Leviticus for the Christian: Order and Sacrifice

Editor's Note: Pr. Ogrodowicz will be writing a series of articles on Leviticus for the Christian. This is the first, but please stay tuned for more.

—by Ryan Ogrodowicz

Leviticus can frustrate intentions of reading the Bible cover to cover. The minutiae are difficult to grasp. Strict civil punishments and the intricate sacrificial system seem counter to the New Testament message of salvation by grace through faith in Jesus Christ. But first impressions aside, Leviticus is still the Word of God to his people and sacred Scripture relevant in many ways to the baptized believer. In fact, it contains many themes and messages continued within and highlighted by the New Testament.

Just a cursory reading reveals Leviticus to be a highly structured and ordered book, a characteristic that speaks a message about our Lord and God: He is a God of order who cares about how his people live and worship. That it begins with the words “the LORD called Moses and spoke to him” (Lev 1:1) reminds us that God is speaking, and so the order within is divinely instituted. It may seem overly legalistic to the more free spirited minds of modern Christians, but order is not necessarily negative or legalistic. Take, for example, the order and instructions pertaining to sacrifices.

The word "sacrifice" conjures up notions of the sinner giving something to God. The sacrificial system of Leviticus certainly entails subjective giving, but it does not preclude the act of God giving objectively to his people. Lest we forget, the sacrificial system was instituted by God through his Word for the benefit of his people.  The benefits imparted through sacrificial worship were God’s gifts to an underserving congregation. Ordered and detailed, yes, but with these various sacrifices the Israelite had the assurance of leaving worship as one right with God. Second, the sacrifice itself was provided by God who gives daily bread to all people. Finally, underlying Leviticus is the initial salvation worked by God alone. The levitical congregation was a group of people graciously saved from Egyptian tyranny and now bestowed the opportunity to offer up sacrifices as holy people redeemed by God and clinging to his Word and promises. It follows then that sacrifices were never intended to be disjointed from the initial act of God saving a people incapable of saving themselves. When the Israelite left after having had the privilege to bring an offering before the Lord, he left with the comfort of knowing he was accepted and right with the God he served in faith.

Yes, faith in Leviticus mattered. Sacrifices weren’t meant to be rote offerings given from hearts devoid of faith. They were intended precisely for a living congregation of believers. The same holds true in Leviticus as it does in the New Testament: faith produces works.  The good tree bears good fruit. By faith the Israelite sacrificed rightly in accord with the very Word of God in which he or she believed. The Psalmist echoes this when he writes “the sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise . . . then will you delight in right sacrifices, in burnt offerings and whole burnt offerings; then bulls will be offered on your altar” (Ps 51:17, 19).

Orderly worship centered on God giving to his people who respond accordingly. This theme in Leviticus continues into the New Testament. We worship the God revealed to us in his Word, just like the levitical Israelite. But there is one thing we have they didn’t. As their bloody sacrifices foreshadowed what was to come, we live knowing what God has accomplished—the sacrifice of his only begotten Son for the sins of the world. This is something the blood of bulls and goats can never achieve (Heb 10:4).  Praise be to God for his sacrificial work for us.

The Rev. Ryan Ogrodowicz serves as pastor of Victory in Christ Lutheran Church in Newark, Texas.

That’s Not Very Pastoral . . . or Is It?

A sermon preached by Prof. John T. Pless on 24 October 2012, in Kramer Chapel, Fort Wayne, Indiana.

Text: Jeremiah 23:16–17; 23–32

In an essay entitled Union and Confession written just prior to WWII in 1938, Hermann Sasse penned these words: “Where man can no longer bear the truth, he cannot live without the lie” (Union and Confession, 1). In this wonderfully lucid little booklet, Sasse goes on to contrast the truth with the lie. He notes that from the beginning the lie and the truth have done battle within the church. So it was in the days of the apostles as Paul said to the congregation at Corinth: “For there must be factions among you in order that those who are genuine among you may be recognized” (I Cor 11:17). The lie, Sasse said, takes on various forms. There is the pious lie, that hypocrisy with which man lies to himself, to others, and even to God. The pious lie easily becomes the edifying lie. This is the lie that takes comfort in untruth. Sasse sees an example of the edifying lie embraced by medieval Christians when they trusted in the power of the saints, relying on the excess of their merit to further them in the struggle toward righteousness. The edifying lie was the lie unmasked and expelled by the Reformation. Then there is the dogmatic lie, the assertion that we have come to greater doctrinal maturity and old teachings are to be changed for a more contemporary, relevant theology. Finally there is, Sasse warned, the institutional lie when the churches embody the lie in their own life, instituting false teaching as normative.

Jeremiah has the lie, in all of the forms Sasse described: pious, edifying, dogmatic, and institutional lie in the crosshairs as he takes aim at Jerusalem’s prophets. With inflated visions of peace and prosperity, they have lulled the people of Israel into a state of spiritual drowsiness. Instead of proclaiming the certainty of the promise, they have peddled the sweet security of the flesh. Thinking themselves to be pastoral they say: “It shall be well with you; and to everyone who stubbornly follows his own heart, they say, ‘No disaster shall come upon you.’” (Jer 23:17). It is a soothing homiletic to be sure; but it is devoid of consolation for it is not true. It is not a message that God has authorized. It is a lie that edifies only by building up a hardened resistance to repentance. No talk here of God’s wrath and judgment on unbelief; no mention at all of a God who both kills and makes alive. Just sweet spiritual nothings whispered into ears plugged to the voice of God.

Instead Jeremiah harangues against prophets whose lips God did not open, whose mouths give exposition to dreams woven out the deceit of their own rogue hearts. With their reckless sermons they lead the Lord’s people astray, so that the Lord is not remembered as the God that He is. Rather than awakening faith which is bold to call upon the name of the Lord, these preachers lull their hearers into complacency with unauthorized promises of well-being: No disaster will come upon you. They cannot preach the invasive God, this wild God of the Old Testament, the Lord who is jealous to have a people exclusively for Himself, so they advertise a domesticated deity who will put his benediction on the desires, the plans, and the programs of the heart whatever they might be.

Jeremiah denounces this as idolatry, no different in substance from the way that Israel’s fathers had been seduced into the worship of Baal. God’s ears are not closed to these lying words. From his sight nothing is concealed and no utterance is so quietly or softly spoken so as to be beyond his ears. Truth and falsehood have no more in common than wheat does with straw. God comes, and his coming is in judgment. The fire of his Word ignites the stubble of unbelief. The hammer of his law pulverizes hearts that have become granite monuments of unrighteousness. The Lord sets his face against these lying prophets. That’s about as far as today’s text takes us. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place! Not a very good place for teachers and students at a seminary to be! There is plenty of dire warning in Jeremiah for us who are preachers or aspire to the preaching office lest we be numbered with those lying prophets who preach peace when there is no peace, who proclaim that all is well when disaster is imminent. There is much here to remind us that we are to “afflict the comfortable if we are ever to comfort the afflicted.” But there is not much in our text to give opportunity for the comfort and consolation of the Gospel to predominate. Not much, but something. Listen again to verse 28: “let him who has my word speak my word faithfully.”

We have the promise of the Righteous Branch proclaimed by Jeremiah, the One who for all time will be known as “The Lord is our Righteousness.” We have Jesus’ word and his “words are spirit and life” (John 6:63). His word is truth–the truth of God’s attitude toward sinners for the sake of his Son. The truth that when we confess our sins God “is faithful and just and will cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” We have the word of the cross, the certain truth that God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself through the blood of the cross. We can live without the lie, because we have the truth in Jesus Christ. It is him that we proclaim. Amen.

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

Prof. John T. Pless

Prof. John T. Pless is associate professor of Pastoral Ministry and Missions at Concordia Theological Seminary, Fort Wayne, Indiana.