Award of Merit (2nd place) — Best in Class: Journal

Concordia Journal, Travis J. Scholl, editor; William W. Schumacher, executive editor; Dale A. Meyer (President, Concordia Seminary), publisher; Melanie Appelbaum, editorial assistant; Jayna Rollings, graphic designer.

Honorable Mention — Theological Reflection: Long-Format

Concordia Journal for “The Tapestry of Preaching” by David R. Schmitt, writer; Travis Scholl, editor; Melanie Appelbaum, editorial assistant. The article appeared in the Spring 2011 issue (pictured above).

“We are honored by this recognition, but it’s not the first,” commented Dr. Dale A. Meyer, president of Concordia Seminary. “Many theologically-minded people are increasingly recognizing the Concordia Journal’s depth with practical relevance. We’re eagerly working on future issues!”

To view the full list of awards, please visit: http://www.theacp.org/index.php/best-of-the-christian-press-awards-2011-winners-announced/

Issued quarterly by the faculty of Concordia Seminary, St. Louis, Missouri, the Concordia Journal is the successor of Lehre und Wehre (1855-1929), begun by C. F. W. Walther, a founder of The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod. Lehre und Wehre was absorbed by the Concordia Theological Monthly (1930-1974) which was also published by the faculty of Concordia Seminary as the official theological periodical of the Synod. Archives of the Concordia Journal may be accessed on www.concordiatheology.org.

To subscribe to Concordia Journal, contact Melanie Appelbaum at cj@csl.edu or 314-505-7117.

The oldest interdenominational religious press association in North America, the Associated Church Press, founded in 1916, is an international community of communication professionals brought together by faithfulness to their craft and by a common task of reflecting, describing, and supporting the life of faith and the Christian community. For more information, visit www.theacp.org.

Dale Meyer talks about the intersections between preaching and politics in today’s America and in an election year.

Jim Voelz remembers Fred Danker.

Jeff Gibbs wraps up the series of reflections on the LCMS tri-fold emphasis on “Witness, Mercy, Life Together” by reflecting on “witness,” as it is presented to us in the Acts of the Apostles.

Chad Lakies explores how a Lutheran can approach the emergent church movement.

Reed Lessing talks about translating Isaiah.

And there’s more where that came from. Look for it soon in your mailbox.

To order individual issues or to subscribe to Concordia Journal, contact the editorial office at cj@csl.edu or 314-505-7117. Annual subscription rates are $15.00 USA, $20.00 Canada, $25.00 overseas. Concordia Journal is published quarterly by the faculty of Concordia Seminary, St. Louis.

The journey from text to pulpit can be a long and winding road, filled with false starts, surprising discoveries, and hard choices along the way. On a semi-regular basis, the homiletics faculty of Concordia Seminary invites you to walk the road with the preacher in the 

Preacher: Charles Arand, Professor of Systematic Theology. (Text: Hebrews 12)

Moderator: David Schmitt, Gregg H. Benidt Chair in Homiletics and Literature, Concordia Seminary, St. Louis.

Chapel Sermon: 

Preacher’s Studio Video: 

The audio and video files can also be downloaded at Concordia Seminary’s iTunes U site.

Both the Confession of Sins and the Absolution are, properly speaking, composed of two parts.   The Confession consists of (1) a description /admission of sin, followed by (2) a direct plea for mercy, forgiveness, renewal, etc.  The Absolution also consists of two sections: (1) a description (or proclamation) of what God has done in Jesus, followed by (2) the act of absolution itself.  The simple diagram below summarizes well enough.

One may disagree, of course, with the way I have tried to lay out the conceptual logic of the clauses and phrases.  What is striking and immediately obvious, however, is how Part 1 of the Confession outweighs Part 1 of the Absolution.  There is no corresponding lengthy proclamation of Christ (Absolution, Part I) that matches up with the detailed and entirely appropriate and correct admission of sin (Confession, Part I). Just in terms of numbers of words, Part 1 of the Confession (sixty words) is almost three times as long as Part I of the Absolution (twenty-two words).

I don’t know why this is the case; perhaps there isn’t a reason.  I am certainly not trying to link the efficacy of absolution with a certain rhetoric or length.  There is, however, a relatively obvious analogy to the preaching of sermons.  On the one hand, the efficacy of the preached word is not ultimately tied to a particular kind of human eloquence.  On the other hand, we all know and admit (I think) that one should be clear, biblically faithful, textually specific, and appropriately vigorous in how one preaches the good news of Christ in a sermon.  The analogy, I would suggest, fits in this case.  There may be  an opportunity for reflection and responsible liturgical creativity.  If the Confession is going to lay out and articulate the problem, then it seems truly good, right, and salutary to articulate the solution, that is, Christ.  I quickly set my own hand to the task of  broadening and lengthening the proclamation of Christ that introduces the Absolution proper, and here’s what I came up with:

“In the mercy of God, Jesus Christ came into the world, pure and free from sin.  In every thought, word, and deed, he loved and served the Father—and he loved you and all people as himself.  He left no good deed undone; he perfectly kept the Father’s will.  With his whole heart, Jesus willingly suffered the punishment of the cross in your place.  Raised from the dead, Jesus lives forever with the authority to forgive every sin.  When he comes again in glory, all who call upon the name of the Lord will be saved.  As a called and ordained servant of Christ, therefore, and by his authority, I forgive you all your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.”

I make no particular claim to eloquence of expression, and I have no doubt that this sample could be much improved.  I did try to do two things.  First, I matched the language of the gospel proclamation with the language of the admission of sins.  And second, I expanded the gospel proclamation in a more fully creedal fashion, to declare the essential Gospel truths both of the resurrection and the return of Jesus.  The good news proclaims not just that Jesus died for our sins.  The good news announces that Jesus rose from death, and, risen, he offers repentance and forgiveness of sins to all the nations (Luke 24:47).  The good news declares that Jesus will come again, to bring full and final and cosmic salvation and restoration on the Day known only to the Father (Mark 13:32).

If there is, as I have tried to show, something of an imbalance where there ought not to be, what should be done about it?  I’m not quite sure.  I am no fan of a “book of Judges” approach to liturgical forms, where everyone does what is right in his own eyes.  Perhaps the servants who are entrusted with the task of offering to the church worship materials that are doctrinally sound and health-giving might at least consider some ways to expand the proclamation of Christ on Sunday mornings.  I genuinely don’t know what to suggest.

I do know this.  If Satan cannot take the Gospel away from us, he will do his best to limit our proclamation of Christ, to truncate it or to make it less than it could be.  Again, the Gospel is the Gospel wherever it is proclaimed.  But it is also the Church’s task to teach all that Christ has commanded us to hold fast (τηρεῖν, Matt 28:20).  And what Christ has commanded us to hold fast more than anything else is the story, the message of what he has done, is doing, and will do for us and for the world.

New Life and New Hope in Christ
General Comments: During my tenure as a parish pastor and currently serving as an interim pastor, I hear, “What’s the use? This world is turned upside down. The economy is in a tailspin, gas prices are going up along with many food items, power companies are charging more, and political correctness is king. This world is going to the ‘dogs.’” Hopelessness abounds in this sin-filled world. All seems to be lost in such a sin-filled world. Despair, desolation, and depression appear to be on life’s agenda, even for those who seem to be doing financially well, making ends meet. One person recently told me, “We need to pump some new life and some new hope into this church!”

All is not lost, and new life and new hope is on the way, says Ezekiel. For all Christians living in this world driven by greed and the ongoing moral necrosis of society, this Pentecost text brings the reality of the work of the Holy Spirit as one who restores and sustains by the power of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Now comes Ezekiel’s vision of the valley of the dry bones. It’s not a horror movie; it is about the restoring and uniting power of the Spirit of God through the means of grace.

The people of Israel were at their wits end. Suffering in their captivity from arrogance, pride, self-conceit, and, in general, their refusal to believe in their Creator God, they appeared reluctant to hear the words of the Lord through the prophet Ezekiel; words that would bring them from their death of despair and hopelessness to a new life and new hope by the power of God’s Spirit: the power of the gospel to bring the dead in their trespasses and sins to the new life in Christ Jesus. He restores and he reunites! His grace in action!

Since I am not an Old Testament exegete, I will not presume to present an exhausting verse-by-verse explanation. As a parish pastor, I have always found this text to be the quintessential Pentecost text. Obviously, verses 1–10 contain the vision, and verses 11–14 give the interpretation. Ezekiel is taken from his home to a valley that contains a myriad of dead bodies. These bodies have decayed into nothing but bones. They were lying on the surface, scattered everywhere, all around. Everywhere he looked and stood, there was nothing but dry bones. Yahweh asks Ezekiel, “Son of man, can these bones live?”

The power of God’s word brought these dead bones together with all of the physical identification needed to identify them as living human beings: sinews and flesh. His divine breath brought them to life and they stood. These dry bones were reanimated to life together in fellowship, again.

Dr. Horace Hummel writes regarding the use of “breath” in verses 8–10: The Holy “Spirit” is not appropriate as a translation in 37:9–10, but must be in the picture implicitly. As a person’s body is “dust from the earth” (Gn 2:7), his breath is the same element as the wind or air that covers the earth. But no combination of the two will produce life without God’s Spirit providing the life (see Job 33:4). “Breath” resonates with the verb וּפְחִ֛י (Qal feminine singular imperative of הפנ), “breathe, blow” (Ez 37:9), the same verb used for God “breathing” the breath of life into man in Genesis 2:7.[1]

Those dry bones were restored to new life and new hope. When Israel believes that it’s the end for them, that all is lost, and that they are cut off from the Lord (v. 11), God speaks his words of restoration and hope. He will put his Spirit within them, and they shall be restored to their land and live in hope and joy. He united and he restored the whole house of Israel. All hope is not lost in their hopelessness. God speaks and his word accomplishes the purpose for which he sent it (see Is 55:6–13).

Application: We hear and see that people who believe that Jesus Christ is the way, the truth and the life, are laughed at, persecuted, and murdered. His church is under constant assault from Satan and his demons. With all of the political correctness permeating theological language, I recently heard a television commentator say that the Christian community better get with the times. And so, we take a bite from the world and the sinful flesh, cutting off ourselves from Yahweh Sabaoth. We all know hopelessness and despair and, being cut off from Jesus in our sinful lives. Yet, he reunites and restores his church on earth.

As the people of Israel were dead in their trespasses and sins, so we, too, who are dead in our trespasses and sins, are brought back from death to life in Christ Jesus. The Valley of the Dry Bones reminds me of Psalm 23, especially verse 4: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou are with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”

As I said earlier, his grace gives us new life and new hope in Christ whose dead bones and body were resurrected to life so that we have the sure and certain hope of eternal life with him in the new heaven and the new earth. Our baptism into the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ brought us from death to life. Through Holy Baptism, we are all relatives of one another in Christ. We do not stand alone; we stand together in Jesus Christ for fruitful labor and service. “Then you shall know that I am the Yahweh; I have spoken, and I will do it, declares Yahweh” (Ez 37:14).

Endnote
[1]Horace D. Hummel, Ezekiel 21–48, Concordia Commentary Series (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 2007), 1068.

I sense deep sadness in Peter’s voice: “The scripture had to be fulfilled…for he was numbered among us and was allotted his share in this ministry” (vv. 16–17). I sense sadness in Peter as he stands before the rest of his sibling disciples (the remaining ten, as well as other sisters and brothers, numbering “about 120”). He is preaching a word to make sense of the death that had left a hole in their fellowship. The sadness comes of the fact that they spent three momentous years with this dead man. They shared an incredible journey, and he was as close to them as a blood brother.

The death, of course, was the death of Judas Iscariot. Even more so, the hole he left was made sharp and painful by his betrayal.

Peter’s homily is perhaps a good case study on how to preach in the aftermath of emotional trauma, how to preach when the circle has been broken. Notice how he doesn’t spend much time recounting the past, or dwelling on the pain, or trying to explain it away. (Interestingly, anything we know about Judas from Acts doesn’t come from Peter; it comes from the narrator’s long parenthetical interrupting Peter’s homily.) Peter notes the pain simply and quickly as a reminder of the fulfillment of the word in their midst, then turns to the hope of their future.

In short, he uses the pain to focus on the resurrection, the death to focus on the new life. There is a lot for a preacher to learn in Peter’s little homily.

The sole reason Peter can preach a word at all in the trauma of betrayal and death is because of the other dead man they had spent three years with. The dead man who is raised from the dead. Peter and his sibling disciples have hope in the face of the one man’s death because they are witnesses to the other man’s resurrection.

I pray you do not have to use this text to make sense of a recent trauma or betrayal in the life of your congregation. Nevertheless, we preach resurrection in the face of all that is dying in the world.

In this sense, I find the context of Peter’s words illuminating. Verse 13: “…they went up to the upper room, where they were staying…” I don’t think it is a stretch that this is the same “upper room” of Luke 22:12. Today’s Gospel reading makes this connection more explicit by quoting Jesus in the upper room from John’s high priestly prayer. “Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth” (Jn 17:17). The sibling disciples have returned to the place where they felt the truth of their discipleship most intimately, to the place where the Lord of their fellowship washed their feet and gave them his own body and blood to eat and to drink.

In the context of Acts, it isn’t coincidental that the population of witnesses in this room has gone from its original 12 to now 120. The renewing of all Israel in the resurrection of Jesus Christ is already growing, and it will soon burst open in the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. What is now hidden in an upper room will soon be revealed to the whole world.

But, here, in this room, there is still unfinished business. The circle must be made whole and unbroken again. And this business is the business of prayer. Everything these sibling disciples are doing in this upper room is permeated with prayer (see vv. 14, 24–25). Indeed, prayer is the never finished business of every disciple of Jesus Christ.

Of course, the prayerful lot will be cast on Matthias, who will promptly never be heard from again. Thus, we may ask: How is the circle now unbroken? The numerical symbolism is obvious enough. Israel has 12 tribes; the new Israel will have 12 apostles.

And yet, if I may push a questionable exegetical leap for a good homiletical purpose, I wonder about the phonic similarities of the Greek name Matthias with another common Greek word in the New Testament. Mathetes. The Greek word for, of all things, “disciple.” Could it be that Matthias is standing in for all the mathetes who will “become with us a witness to his resurrection” (v. 22)? Could it be that Matthias’s story is the story of all the sibling disciples who are yet to come in the Acts of the Apostles?

Could it be that the reason we never hear of Matthias again is because his story is our story, the story of the unfinished business yet to be done in the upper rooms where all the baptized gather even today?

Seems to me Paul would have something to say to that effect in just a short while (1 Cor 15:3–11). No less than the original disciples, we too, through the encounter with the word of the gospel, have accompanied Jesus from baptism to resurrection (vv. 21–22). We too pray for his indwelling presence. We too await the coming of his Spirit. We are Matthias, and his story is ours.

Introduction

Perhaps the most critical issue for the early church was the matter of Jews and non-Jews/Gentiles. First and foremost: Did non-Jews have full access to the salvation of God in Jesus Christ? Second and more practically important: If non-Jews are full heirs of the promise to Abraham in Christ, how then should the Jew and the non-Jew relate to one another and live together? The book of Acts is focused upon these questions, as is St. Paul’s letter to the Galatians. The second question is the focus of the Jerusalem Council in Acts 15. The prior, more fundamental question is addressed in chapter 10 of Acts.

The center of Peter’s discourse concerns Jesus. It is worth noting that 10:37 seems to have historical importance as a fundamental plot outline of Mark’s Gospel (in reverse): “throughout Judea, beginning in Galilee, after the baptism that John preached.” 10:38–39 then give the content of Mark’s Gospel: Jesus’s mighty deeds first, then Jesus being put to death.

In ancient historiography, speeches were critical. They gave insight into the speaker’s character, and they set the scene for and interpreted key events. The current pericope is a key speech in Acts, at a key moment in the history of the church. It is repeated almost verbatim in Acts 11, showing how important this incident was.

Finally the use of the word “wood,” ξῦλον, for the cross is used twice in Acts by Peter (5:30 and here) and seems to be an early formulation. Noteworthy is Peter’s own use in 1 Peter 2:24, which argues for the “historicity” of this speech.

Grammatical Notes

10:36: The first several words are difficult in terms of syntax. It is best to read the ὅν as the third word and to regard the entire verse as an introductory accusative of respect, e.g.: “As far as the word which he sent to the sons of Israel, announcing as good news peace through Jesus Christ is concerned—He is Lord of all . . . (10:37) you know the thing/matter that has happened . . .”

10:37: The noun ῥῆμα relates well to the Hebrew rbd, which means word or deed/thing. Thus, here it is best rendered “thing” or “matter,” most likely to be understood as something spoken about.

10:39: The pronoun ὦν (fifth word) is an example of “assimilation of the relative” pronoun. It should be the accusative plural ἅ, as the object of ἐποίησεν, “he did.” But, in classical fashion, it assimilates to the case of its antecedent, which is genitive. (This happens in classical authors [only] when the relative should be accusative and when its antecedent is either genitive or dative.)  The aorist participle κρεμάσαντες is also of interest. It is nominative, but it follows the main verb (ἀνεῖλαν). In such cases, it often conveys means, “by . . .” That works well here.

10:41–2: Two perfect passive participles occur in these verses: προκεχειροτονημένοις and ὡρισμένος . . . As perfect passives do generally, they convey the state of the noun they modify, i.e., “picked out ahead of time” and “marked out.” Note the use of the perfect passive participle in English in such a translation.

10:42: The noun κριτής is a predicate nominative. Jesus was the one marked out to be judge.

10:47: The most difficult syntax in the pericope, several understandings are possible. Probably best is to take the τοῦ μὴ βαπτισθῆναι τούτους clause as the object of the infinitive κωλῦσαι (i.e., what is prevented), with the μὴ in this clause as a “sympathetic negative” reflecting the negative connotation of “prevent.” Thus, it would be rendered, “Someone is not able to prevent these people from being baptized . . . can he?” With this understanding, the ὕδωρ at the beginning is an(other) accusative of respect, i.e., “as far as water is concerned . . .” (Note that the water is an issue after the Spirit has been poured out in 10:44.)  The other possibility is to understand κωλῦσαι to mean “withhold” (see LXX Gen. 23:6), and the infinitive clause to give “with respect to what” the withholding occurs. This would be rendered, “Someone is not able to withhold water as far as them being baptized is concerned . . . is he?” The only problem here is the negative in the infinitive clause; this does not appear in the Genesis parallel. Finally, it should be noticed that this is a good example of a question beginning with μή or a compound thereof to suggest a negative reply.

Exegetical Notes

10:34: God not being a respecter of persons is the theme of this entire pericope.

10:35: Note the placement of the phrase “in every nation”—right up in front in emphatic position. This dare not be minimized. The rest of verse 35 can be troublesome, because it sounds like works-righteousness. It really builds off of 10:22, where Cornelius is seen as a just man, a God-fearer (probably meaning one who observes Jewish ways but is not circumcised), and 10:31, where he is seen as one who prays to God. The approach here is similar to that of James 2; Peter is describing a faith that is not alone. This represents a practical understanding of faith and of the Christian life (for those who understand my vocabulary, it is a “Newtonian” passage). That this is not the full understanding of the faith is seen in 10:39, where Peter’s speech culminates in the declaration that all of the prophets witness that “everyone who believes in him gets forgiveness of sins through his name.” It’s finally about faith and forgiveness of sins, but 10:35 reminds us that “cheap grace” is never an option.

10:36: Announcing peace is another critical idea in this speech. This is peace between God and man (Rom 5:1) and peace between man and man (Eph 2:14). It is the latter that is highlighted in this pericope but based upon the former. The phrase “He/this one is Lord of all” seems alien here, but it is the basic confession of the early Christians, viz., “Jesus is Lord.”

10:38: Note the retention of the spiritual dimension, with the mention of the devil as an important part of the “problem” Jesus confronted.

10:39: The emphasis on witnesses is no small thing. Paul does this in 1 Corinthians 15 when he lists those to whom Jesus appeared as the resurrected one (1 Cor 15:5–8). Note that they are not only witnesses to the resurrected Lord, they witnessed his public ministry. This was a requirement for the replacement for Judas (Acts 1:21–22), and Paul is aware of this difference (see Acts 13:31 where he does not place himself among the “witnesses”). This difference between him and the apostles who had followed the earthly Jesus was probably at the base of his dispute with those who questioned his ministry (see 2 Cor 11:5; 12:11).

10:41: The emphasis on eating and drinking with Jesus, no doubt, emphasizes that he arose bodily, and that he was not an apparition or spirit after the crucifixion. The sheer physicality of the resurrected Lord is an important theme in the post-resurrection scene of Luke 24 and John 21.

10:41: Peter’s emphasis on Jesus’s second coming is congruent with Paul’s emphasis on the same in his speech on the Areopagus in Athens (Acts 17:31).

10:43: The emphasis on the prophets bearing witness forges a strong OT connection, especially for Jewish hearers. Paul is no different in saying that Jesus died and rose again according to the Scripture in his mini-creed in 1 Corinthians 15:3–4. It is worth emphasizing again that the forgiveness of sins through faith is a key theme in this speech as its denouement.

10:44: The Holy Spirit falls on the hearers as a result of the speech and before any baptism, which causes problems (see v. 47). Cornelius’s reception of the Spirit is one of four outpourings in the book of Acts. The four are: Acts 2; Pentecost in Jerusalem; Acts 8 in Samaria; Acts 10 (here) Cornelius; and Acts 19, the disciples of John the Baptist. These four are accompanied by signs, such as speaking in tongues. Why? They correspond roughly to the four divisions of the spread of the gospel in Acts 1:8, where Jesus says that his followers will be witnesses in Jerusalem, in Judea, in Samaria, and to the end of the earth. Acts 2 covers Jerusalem, Acts 8 Samaria, Acts 10 the end of the earth with the representative of the Roman Empire that ruled the inhabited world, and Acts 19, Judea, the area in which John the Baptist did his preaching and ministry. At each step across a new boundary, the Spirit makes his presence known, to assure those that see and hear that it is the Lord’s doing and the Lord’s will. (see 10:45 [also 8:14–17]). By the way, this pericope does not prove that baptism with the Holy Spirit is a step beyond Christian baptism with water. On the contrary, Peter’s reaction that nothing should prevent a baptism with water for Cornelius and his house shows that reception of the Spirit and baptism with water are intimately connected and should not be separated. To see another testimony to the link between the reception of the Spirit and baptism with water, see Acts 9:17–18 (read the parallelism carefully).

10:45: Note the reaction of the onlookers and, again, the key point that the Gentiles are co-heirs with the Jews and not second-class citizens.

10:46: Of what the speaking in tongues comprised is not clear. It might well have been human languages because the Jewish on-lookers knew what the Gentiles were saying, they were known to be magnifying God.

10:47: This verse is key—no one can withhold baptism with water, even if the Spirit has been received. The Spirit and baptism go together. (See again Acts 9:17–18.)

10:48: Note that Peter stays with a Gentile. Earlier he had said that Jews do not have dealings with Gentiles (10:28). What a change!

Sermon Theme

“God shows no partiality”/“In every nation . . .”

Introduction: People like to be with their own kind. Thus, a church growth principle is homogeneous people groups: churches grow best when congregants are very similar. But the early church did not see it that way because God does not see it that way. And Peter experienced that cross-cultural desire of God within this text.

Main Points from the Text:

It is natural to think that some people are worse off than others and further from God. This was Peter’s natural way of thinking as a Jew, a member of God’s special people. (Indeed, he did not easily outgrow this attitude [see the problem with Paul in Galatians 2].

But all people need to be right with God. At its heart, this is the need for the forgiveness of sins.

All people receive forgiveness of sins through faith in Christ.

All people also receive the Holy Spirit, who is never separated from baptism.

Thus, all are one as possessors of the one Spirit.

Application Points:

We are no different than Peter or the rest of the early church; we have great difficulty with the concepts of “One in the Sight of God” and “One Together in Christ.”

This is why we need reminders such as this text. Equality and unity are not Biblical concepts that are easy to embrace. That should not surprise us; our fallen human nature resists anything that does not exalt ourselves.

This is why forgiveness of sins in Christ’s name is so important. It is key to our standing before God; it is also key to dealing with our lack of understanding of and acceptance of our standing before God and of each other.

We are strengthened in this task by the common Spirit, who fills and guides us all.

In “People, Land, and Community,” Wendell Berry writes about what it is like when a farmer finds a new farm he wants to buy. “No matter what one’s agricultural experience may have been, one’s connection to a newly bought farm will begin in love that is more or less ignorant. One loves the place because present appearances recommend it, and because they suggest possibilities irresistibly imaginable. One’s head, like a lover’s, grows full of visions. . .

When one buys the farm and moves there to live, something different begins. Thoughts begin to be translated into acts. Truth begins to intrude with its matter-of-fact. One’s work may be defined in part by one’s visions, but it is defined in part too by problems, which the work leads to and reveals. And daily life, work, and problems gradually alter the visions. It invariably turns out, I think, that one’s first vision of one’s place was to some extent an imposition on it. But if one’s sight is clear and if one stays on and works well, one’s love gradually responds to the place as it really is, and one’s visions gradually image possibilities that are really in it. Vision, possibility, work, and life—all have been changed by mutual correction. Correct discipline, given enough time, gradually removes one’s self from one’s line of sight. One works to better purpose and makes fewer mistakes, because at last one sees where one is. Two human possibilities of the highest order thus come within reach: what one wants can become the same as what one has, and one’s knowledge can cause respect for what one knows (in The Art of the Commonplace, ed. by Norman Wirzba [Shoemaker & Hoard, 2002], pp. 186–87).

This is a “parable,” I think, and so about more than farmers and new farms. Yesterday, May 1, 2012, was about vicars and interns and deaconesses and pastors, and the new places where they will serve. When you opened your envelope and, perhaps, met people from your new place, you saw “visions” of “possibilities irresistibly imaginable”—someone might even have pictures.

After you move there and get settled in, “daily life, work, and problems [will] gradually alter the visions.” But if your sight is clear and if you stay on and work well, your love will gradually respond to the place as it really is. . .

Psalm 1 insists that the man who is like a tree planted by streams of water “prospers” in all that he does (Ps. 1:3). Does “prosper” necessarily mean “succeed”? I don’t think success is excluded, but I wonder whether “prosper” has also to do with how the “blessed man” grows interiorly—more firmly confident in God, in whose way he is rooted.

Stay on, work well, love the place where God is planting you, prosper, in Jesus’ service.

There are so many things to comment on with such a story that it’s hard to know where to start.

For starters, it’s important to listen carefully to what this woman says about the God she used to believe in, the God she was taught to worship and serve. Raised a Southern Baptist, ”she sometimes felt she was serving a taskmaster of a God, whose standards she never quite met.” That’s sad, and you can’t just blame the Baptists. My guess is that there are a lot of people sitting in all kinds of churches on Sundays who think about God the same way. This isn’t only a question of what preachers are telling them–it’s about what the people are hearing. And what they are hearing isn’t Good News. She had questions, and she wasn’t getting satisfactory answers to her questions. But unanswered questions don’t accumulate into atheism; in the end, her loss of faith sounds more like a conversion: ”New member, just been born — that’s what it feels like.”

Of course, the story is intensely personal and focused on the individual, and is uncritically accepting of her experience and her decisions. There’s no room in this “report” for any serious consideration of this woman’s impact on other people. Members of her church don’t merit much attention, except that they weren’t supportive of her in her time of crisis. By implication, they seem to get lumped together with the “haters” (her word), which apparently includes pretty much all Christians. We are led to feel sorry that this woman has now lost her job; we are not encouraged to consider that she has also broken serious promises and betrayed the trust of a whole community.

As a regular NPR listener, I’ve learned to expect this kind of thing. But a whole series about people who turn away from faith? Seriously? I try to imagine the next series, one on former atheists or agnostics who are now joyful and grateful believers, and somehow I don’t think that one will be on All Things Considered any time soon.

There is a popular cultural bias at work here. It may not be as simple as a bias against religious faith (and against evangelical Christianity in particular). That kind of bias exists, of course, but it’s not as strident or as popular in America as some would like us to believe. I’m convinced that a certain kind of Christian secretly longs for the drama of real persecution, since that casts them in the heroic role of courageous confessors and martyrs. But the fact of the matter is that most Americans think it’s just fine for you to go to church and practice your faith if you want to.

No, the real popular cultural bias is more subtle than outright opposition to faith. What the NPR stories tap into (and at the same time foster) is the idea that stories of losing faith are the most plausible stories, the most honest stories. Of course, lots of people are raised in church, taught to believe, and many even experience religious life for themselves. But real life, and experience, and intelligence, all eat away at those foundations and eventually a person comes to see life differently. That kind of story subtly portrays religious faith not as something bad, but as something belonging to childhood and inexperience. In that kind of story, the loss of faith is part of becoming a real adult, part of coming to grips with the real world as it is.

By contrast, stories that work the other way have become less plausible, less realistic, less “honest” in many people’s minds. When was the last time you saw a movie about a person who grew up happy and clueless, devoted to pleasure or money or sex or whatever, and who then gradually became convinced that there was a deeper meaning to life, a meaning wrapped up in the ancient story of the Creator who is reclaiming and renewing his creation? After all, isn’t it realistic that the naive, commonsense materialism of our childhood should be outgrown and transcended and replaced by the richness and depth and color of God?

In the movie Amistad, John Quincy Adams (played by Anthony Hopkins) tells the abolitionist Theodore Joadson (Morgan Freeman), “In the courtroom, whoever tells the best story wins.” That is the world we are living in. NPR (and lots and lots of others) are busy telling their stories as well as they can. Today at Concordia Seminary another class of men are being called to tell other stories, better stories, the stories of God. May the Best Story win.

(And who knew that atheists had conventions?!)

Preach you the Word and plant it home

To men who like or like it not,

The Word that shall endure and stand

When flow’rs and men shall be forgot.

Two things Franzmann nails in particular: First, the chief work of those called is the Word. As the now-old hymnal put it in the absolution: “As a called and ordained servant of the Word. . .” Second, it is the Lord’s Word, not ours. Therefore, it does his work, for his purposes, both to kill and to make alive; he will watch and tend his planted Word.

“Never shall the words ‘OF COURSE’ be used.” That was how he confronted the danger of familiarity with the text.

Without a text, you feel like Adam without your fig leaves.

There is a tendency for preachers to feel that a joyful preaching is shallow. It must be existentially grim. Don’t keep such a cold stove that the cats won’t come to eat. It must have doxology. When you stop having doxology, you’re not preaching.

What keeps a man from being a pulpit orator is being a pastor.

When the church no longer cries, “Come!” when the church no longer looks to the end, then means become ends; that is, they become idols from which we can no longer turn to serve the living God. That this fine thing with the ominous name, the church’s “image”; the church that has forgotten her coming Lord will worship her own “image” instead of her Lord.

Or let us move in closer to home, to our theology. What happens to exegesis, when exegesis no longer says, “Maranatha!”? Exegesis can become an autonomous Wissenschaft, a cerebral Vanity Fair complete with merry-go-rounds of exegetical fads, with cunningly constructed mazes of conjectures and hypotheses, with contending calliopes that fill the air and intoxicate the senses, but do not say, “He cometh, He cometh to judge the earth,” and do not shout, “Lift up your hearts!”

When liturgics forget that all worship is waiting for the Lord, then we begin to worship our worship and to adore our adorations; then we begin to genuflect before encrusted chasubles and play the harlot under every green tree with esthetically selected traditions.

But where the Spirit is, there is liberty. He sets us free, free from idols, free to serve the living God. He gives us a high hope that sets us free from ourselves, from grim introspection and fruitless preoccupation with our own religious psychology. He sets us free, not least, for praise. … Let us sing a little and live — and serve — a lot. Amen. (pp. 75-76)

So on this dies vocationis, we celebrate that the Lord of the Church is sending into his harvest fields his Word, to call to hope, and life, for That Day is coming. Maranatha.