I’ve now seen several “modern worship” (meaning, “non-liturgical”) LCMS congregations offering a unique opportunity to remember one’s baptism: joining in with the immersion baptisms in a baptism-like ceremony. Sometimes this is done at a special outdoor venue with an impromptu pool set up, otherwise it is indoors on the congregation’s stage, employing a kiddie-pool or horse trough as a temporary full-immersion font.

Those who are being baptized are immersed three times “in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,” being dipped backward in the water while holding their noses, just like the ones we typically see in Baptist, Pentecostal, or non-denominational churches that deny that anything supernatural happens in baptism, but who paradoxically insist on immersion, or “it doesn’t count.”

But the ceremony of baptismal remembrance is slightly different than baptism by immersion - but only slightly. It involves not mentioning the Holy Trinity, but rather just the name of Jesus, and it involves one “dunk” instead of three. And this remembrance of baptism ceremony can be done again and again.

Is this part of our Lutheran identity? Well, no. This is not a traditional ceremony, nor is this ever mentioned in the Bible or the Book of Concord (to meet the artificial definition of “Lutheran identity” being offered by some in the Church Growth Movement as a way to try to justify the use of non-Lutheran worship forms in our Lutheran universities, schools, and congregations). In fact, to the casual observer, it looks like a re-baptism. Just recently, I saw a video of a supposed Baptist baptism that was identical to this ceremony: one dunk in the name of Jesus. Is this LCMS remebrance of baptism ceremony confusing? Does it confess the Holy Sacrament with clarity? Is there a reason why this has not been done in five centuries of our Lutheran tradition and confession?

What is explicitly part of our Lutheran identity as a remembrance of Holy Baptism, being mentioned multiple times in the Book of Concord - and carried over into our editions of the Small Catechism (that even these LCMS megachurches are hopefully using to catechize the youth and adult converts), and in the hymnals that they are probably not using: the sign of the holy cross. And this is indeed part of our Lutheran identity even according to the strained, fake, and astroTurfed definition of Lutheran identity as only that which is explicitly found in the Bible or the Book of Concord:

“In the morning, when you rise, you shall bless yourself with the holy cross and say: In the name of God the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.” — SC 7:1.

“In the evening, when you go to bed, you shall bless yourself with the holy cross and say: In the name of God the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen. — SC 7:4.

“Likewise the practise of children to cross themselves when anything monstrous or terrible is seen or heard, and to exclaim: “Lord, God, protect us!” “Help, dear Lord Jesus” etc. — LC 1:74.

Are these pastors following the suggestions of our Lutheran Confessions and our Lutheran identity to teach children (and adults) to remember their baptisms by means of the sign of the cross, to bless themselves with this sign at the mention of the name into which they are baptized and absolved? Or has this expression of Lutheran identity ended up on the cutting-room floor of “context”? So do they care about Lutheran identity and the confessions, or not? The answer seems as muddy as these non-re-baptisms.

The authentically Lutheran ceremony of remembrance one’s baptism requires no kiddie-pool or horse trough, and no running cameras and social media posting. It is explained in the rubrics of our hymnals, including LSB in various places: “The sign of the cross + may be made by all in remembrance of their Baptism.” The sign of the cross is found in our liturgy of Holy Baptism in LSB (268) and in the Pastoral Care Companion (6, 16). This ceremony from our Lutheran identity predates the Lutheran reformation by centuries. It can make use of water (such as dipping one’s fingers into the baptismal font), or not.

These newfangled LCMS immersion baptisms are valid baptisms, and we should praise God for them. But they are also typically performed apart from the exorcism (and who might be grateful for that?), the blessing with the sign of the holy cross, the flood prayer, the Lord’s Prayer, the renunciation of the devil, his works, his ways (and again, who might be grateful for that?), and the confession of the candidate of the Apostles’ Creed.

These immersive remembrances of baptism are not part of our Lutheran identity in anyone’s definition of the term. And if it sends a confusing message about Holy Baptism, if it mimics the ceremony used by those who deny our doctrine - it ceases being an adiaphoron (FC SD 10:4-7).

The sign of the cross is an adiaphoron, is part of our Lutheran identity, calls to mind not only our baptism, but also the atoning death of our Lord, and confesses the Most Holy Trinity. It can be done by anyone anywhere, in public or private, and does not require special equipment or social media.

The Cold War Binary

After World War II, America entered a standoff with the Soviet Union. And so, what emerged was a political binary between democratic America and the communist Soviet Union. Alongside this binary between America and the Soviet Union, a religious binary also developed: “Christian America” versus the “atheistic Soviet Union.”

As a result of this Cold War binary with the atheistic Soviet Union, America fortified itself as Christian. In 1956, approximately 96% of Americans identified as Protestant or Catholic—essentially Christian, as Gallup classified the population at the time. Church attendance reached its historic Gallup peak of 49% in both 1955 and 1958. In fact, the phrase “under God” was added to the Pledge of Allegiance in 1954, in part to reinforce this binary against the godless Soviet Union. The contrast was clear: America was understood as a nation under God, while the Soviet Union represented atheistic materialism.

Things Have Changed

Today, the Soviet Union no longer exists. And now, Russia can point to surveys showing that roughly 70% or more of its population identifies as Orthodox Christian, compared with America at 62% identifying as Christian. Indeed, one could make the provocative argument that, at least by certain outward measures of religious identity and public morality, Russia now appears more Christian than America—something that would have been almost unimaginable during the Cold War.

For example, Russia has constitutionally protected marriage as between a man and a woman, making same-sex marriage illegal. Furthermore, Russia has adopted policies that deliberately support the traditional nuclear family and encourage larger families. Families with a third or subsequent child may receive 450,000 rubles toward paying down an existing mortgage. And while Russia tragically allows abortion on request through twelve weeks, it is much more restricted after twelve weeks than in the United States. 

Thus, the old Christian America versus atheistic Soviet Union binary is no longer present. Russia can no longer simply function as the godless opposite against which America defines itself as Christian.

Atheism Is Not the Greatest Threat

America’s old religious threat is also no longer straightforward atheism because the old binary is gone. In fact, atheists constitute only about 5% of America’s population. And even if the old binary were still valid, one would expect that as American Christianity declined by roughly 30 percentage points from the 1950s to today, atheism would have picked up much of that loss. But it hasn’t, showing that it is no longer the great threat against Christianity. What, then, is the greatest threat to Christianity?

The New Religion

Moralistic Therapeutic Deism (MTD) is found to a significant degree among approximately 38% of Americans. That means it has made major inroads into Christianity itself. That is to say, even though 62% of Americans consider themselves Christians, many of those same Americans also hold beliefs associated with MTD. In fact, a large majority of those substantially influenced by MTD still identify themselves as Christian.

Now, we cannot simply subtract one percentage from another and determine with certainty how many Americans actually hold to historic Christianity. The surveys measure different things. But it is entirely possible that the percentage of Americans who actually hold to recognizably historic Christian doctrine is far lower than 62%—perhaps even below 25%—depending on how historic Christianity is defined and measured.

Thinking Biblically

In the Old Testament, two things happened repeatedly with the nation of Israel: apostasy and syncretism.  

As is seen in 2 Kings 21, there was outright apostasy—a rejection of the Lord God. And when the people of Israel rejected the Lord God, they did not flee to nothingness or atheism. No, they exchanged the Lord God for the gods of their pagan neighbors: Baal, Asherah, and so forth.

Apostasy is more of an “either/or” mentality: reject the Lord God and replace Him with Baal.

In other cases, such as in 2 Kings 17, the people of Israel did not reject the Lord God outright, but they also shared the gods of their pagan neighbors. They went the way of syncretism.

Syncretism is more of a “both/and” mentality: keep the Lord God and embrace Baal at the same time.

To the point: MTD tends to be much more syncretistic. That is, MTD borrows the language of Christianity. It speaks about God, prayer, heaven, love, being good, and sometimes even Jesus. It borrows much of Christianity's language and outward framework but then blends it with the spirit of the age. More specifically, in MTD, God becomes someone who mainly wants people to be nice, happy, and successful. Sin becomes little more than making mistakes or failing to be kind. Salvation becomes the assumption that good people go to heaven. Prayer becomes calling upon God when life becomes difficult. Jesus may still be mentioned, but His atoning death and resurrection are no longer central.

With MTD, Christianity becomes less about sinners being justified by grace through faith on account of Christ and more about being a decent person, feeling good about oneself, and receiving divine assistance when needed. Consequently, MTD does not usually say, “I reject God.” Instead, it says, “Of course I believe in God.” And that is precisely the problem. If one upholds the old Christian America versus atheistic Soviet Union binary, he may assume that the majority of America is still Christian and that things are essentially okay. However, the grave mistake is assuming that if a person uses the language of God, he is therefore a Christian.

Conclusion

The church today must know what Moralistic Therapeutic Deism is and recognize that the old Christianity-versus-atheism binary is no longer sufficient or applicable for understanding the religious landscape in America. The Christian Church can no longer assume that if a person says, “I believe in God,” he means that he believes in historic Christianity. He may be saying the exact same words while believing as a Moralistic Therapeutic Deist. This is why Christian doctrine matters now more than ever.

Atheism still exists. But one of the greatest challenges facing Christianity today is not necessarily a worldview that openly rejects God. It is a worldview that uses Christian language, retains the word “God,” and yet quietly replaces historic Christianity with something else. Alas, if the church fails to recognize MTD and continues to think only according to the old Christian-versus-atheist binary, it may deceive itself into believing that the times are much better than they really are.

The goal is no longer simply to get a person to believe in God over atheism, but to ask: Exactly who is this God you believe in? Furthermore, the danger is no longer merely that people will say, “There is no God.” The greater danger may be that they will say, “Of course I believe in God,” while this god they believe in requires no repentance, provides no atonement, justifies no sins, and denies the need and deity of Jesus Christ. That is not historic Christianity. It is something else entirely—something masquerading as Christianity and syncretizing itself with the Christian faith.  It is Moralistic Therapeutic Deism.

Unite Leadership Collective is an organization that seeks change within the LCMS. They are open about it. Through their communications - mainly their podcasts Lead Time and The Tim Ahlman Podcast - they have identified several areas where they believe the LCMS should - if not must - change.

They believe that we need to reform the way we train and form pastors. They believe that in addition to our residential seminary formation, we need to expand the SMP program, and also look to other alternatives, such as an online MDiv option. They also believe that we all need to be open to, and accept, “contemporary” and “modern” worship forms and music, and see it as just as authentically Lutheran as the traditional Divine Service and hymns. They also believe that we need to increase the role of the laity - including women - in the leadership of the church, based on the Priesthood of All Believers.

While the faces of ULC are the Rev. Dr. Tim Ahlman (pastor of Christ Greenfield Church) and Mr. Jack Kalleberg (Christ Greenfield’s executive director), ULC’s director is Mrs. Tania Hilton. She is also the editor of ULC’s newsletter “The LCMS Current.” She has an MDiv degree, is pursuing her Doctor of Ministry degree, and is a biblical counselor.

The podcasters Dr. Ahlman and Mr. Kalleberg interviewed Mrs. Hilton on a recent episode of their Lead Time podcast.

This was a helpful look into the ULC and their worldview in their own words. ULC’s director explains that her vision of the LCMS includes an MDiv option (not leading to ordination) for both men and women. It is a curious desire, especially given that she holds an MDiv herself. The MDiv is not an academic, but rather a vocational, degree. Our seminaries currently offer MA degrees that don’t lead to ordination for both men and women. Deaconess students receive such an MA. Anyone is welcome to pursue the MA. The MDiv is specifically designed to train pastors. It includes field education, two years of pastoral fieldwork, a one year vicarage that is a pastoral internship to prepare a man (or in some churches, women) for pastoral ministry. It also includes coursework in homiletics (preaching) and pastoral care. The MDiv not only covers the theology of worship, but also instruction in how to conduct the Lutheran liturgy. The MA program doesn’t involve these things unique to the pastoral office. Mrs. Hilton doesn’t explain why she believes an MDiv for men and women is needed in the church in addition to our MA program that we already have. Nor did she mention her own MDiv degree, why she chose the MDiv, nor that she recently earned her MDiv from Luther House of Study - whose CEO is a lady “pastor.”

She explains, in a recent article for the Luther House of Study, that ULC continues to partner with Luther House of Studies:

We do leadership development training for churches, mostly in a Lutheran context, and then we teach leadership development through Luther House of Study—we have a leadership development class and a missions class. We’re very passionate about pastoral formation. There are so many churches that need pastors, so we want to help create alternative pathways for equipping leaders. But at the heart of it, the ULC is equipping the priesthood of all believers. We believe that every congregation member, every lay leader, any Christian is the priesthood of all believers, and we want to fully equip them so that they can go out and do whatever God’s work is in their life, whether that’s in ministry or in their vocation. 

While Mrs. Hilton is clear that she does not favor women’s ordination, she went on to explain (in the above video) that the impetus for her own theological studies was being frustrated that a laywoman could not consecrate the Lord’s Supper or preach at a women’s retreat.

Let me give you a little bit of background on this. I went to a women’s retreat several years ago, about three years ago, and and we wanted to have communion, and they said no, we can’t have communion. We don’t have a pastor, can’t come, so we can’t do it. And I was like, that is such a shame that we can’t experience the grace that’s given for us every single day. We can’t experience this right now because there’s not a male pastor that’s able to come. And that was when I first started getting into wanting to to broaden my theology. And so I think that women should be equipped just like male pastors to be able to preach in women’s conferences, Bible studies for women, women’s prisons. There’s so many contexts where women should be equipped, fully equipped, and I think the Masters of Divinity program would be amazing for that. So I don’t understand why we don’t do that.

Dr. Ahlman, whom I believe is Mrs. Hilton’s pastor, replied:

The Lord’s Supper is very intimately connected to the office of holy ministry. The LCMS has a history of emergency situations, right? And then this is always a debate: is that retreat an emergency situation that one of our female leaders should be able to? Because maybe no one’s confusing that she’s the pastor there in that space. I think it’s preferable that a pastor is there. But baptism and the Lord’s supper, there have been these emergency cases, and we kind of go back and forth on that a little bit. Obviously, in the LCMS, you know there are very strong views, I would say to put women down, and I do not think that means be in the home, don’t work, don’t speak, or even vote in in the congregation. And I am not a fan of that at all, and I have biblical examples for where women, obviously, the first evangelist of the resurrection is Mary Magdalene, right? So there are numerous places where women can teach you. I see. I think if we were to, so, to round back, I agree with you. I think we should have some sort of a leadership theology degree for men and women, that leads toward being a deacon or a deaconess in the church.

Mr. Kalleberg added his thoughts:

Yeah, I agree. You know, in my particular case, I’m very interested in seeing the formation of the executive director role in the church. In the non-denom world, they call that an executive pastor, but it could, or it might or might not be, a person that needs to be ordained, because it’s very much a strategic administrative role. I don’t have to get up and preach to be able to do the job that I’m doing, and so thinking of it in terms of like an executive deacon is a really great way to do that. So, you know, what do you want for that type of role? I go back to Acts chapter six. They’re looking for people filled with wisdom and spirit. So to me, that means that there’s a strong theological training that goes with it, but also very much a strong administrative and practical leadership, strategic leadership part of that as well. So that’s a big vision that I have for our church. I’m, you know, I’m leaning into it personally, and you know the goal is to develop. You know, keep your eye on the horizon here because the future will be creating cohorts specifically for that hosted by the ULC. But that’s a big thing that I’m championing for. It seems like we retreated from deacons, maybe because deacons became something more than maybe if you just looked at what the biblical definition of it was, and it was really pastors, maybe that was the reason for doing that. But I do think that as a national church body, we need to address the need to embrace the role of deacon and deaconess, and do that in a way that says both men and women can play in this field, and doesn’t downplay the role of women. Now, in terms of women in general, this is very important.

Women are part of the entire priesthood of all believers, at least half of them, right? Right. And so, again, the role and the voice of women, in my opinion, is extremely important. Needs to be elevated, and I do believe that our national and local church bodies need to be equipping women to enter into quote unquote their priestly role, which, read Luther, is sharing the gospel with people and praying for them at a very minimal, right? This is the role of every single priest, and there’s no gender distinction on that, right? Just like there was no gender distinction on the deacon and the word for deacon in the Bible wasn’t a gendered word and it was applied to men and women, right? So yeah, I think we we need to be very careful about marginalizing the role of women, even as we honor the the male leadership in the role of the pastor. It’s very easy to kind of apply a type of we did recently a podcast about how certain things an adiaphora can lead to through humanistic thinking into forms of justification. Right, so are we justified because we have you know a male doing this role and a woman doing this role? You know, no, I think it’s good for good order of the church, but you have to be very careful about marginalizing people and and actually disrespecting their role as the priesthood of the church.

Mrs. Hilton replied:

Yeah, I was doing some light reading in Luther. Luther’s, some of his. I remember when I first started studying. One of the things that caught my eye was that Luther mentioned that the sacraments, even remission of guilt is not something that should be held for just the bishop and/or the pope. It should be something, and he does even go on to say anybody, every Christian whatsoever, should be able to do this, even a woman and a child. Like he made a point to specify that this isn’t his response to the papal bull, and then in his letter to the Christian nobilities, the Germans, he again he doubled down and said, Yes, even children and women could baptize. And so I think sometimes, and again, there is tremendous respect for the organization, the LCMS, because I know that there’s going to be comments to be like, You need to just leave, become ELCA, whatever. It’s like, okay, but I think sometimes we forget our Lutheran roots that Luther argued against authority often when he saw something that he didn’t think was right, and I don’t think it takes away from the call to be a pastor in a church, the the call that’s given from the congregation to the male pastor by equipping men and women to do other things within their context. I think sometimes we get so stuck in, well, this is a pastor’s job. That’s the the trap that we fall into, because if we think everything’s a pastor’s job, then you’re not raising up leaders to lead Bible studies, to do home visits and things like that. So I think sometimes maybe we need to go back to our origins and just remember what Luther fought for, and we should be trying to equip every single believer to be able to preach the gospel. When I say preach the gospel in their context, I’m not saying it on Sunday in front of the congregation. But if I have somebody that I’m meeting with that’s broken and that they’re suffering, shouldn’t I be giving them the forgiveness of sins and reminding them how much they’re loved by Christ and how much Christ is for them? I just, it is a disservice to not be able to give somebody who’s broken and suffering, or should I say, Well, hang on a second, let me let me see if the pastor is available to remind you of how much you’re loved by Christ? You know, it just seems silly when we say it out loud. So again, I don’t want this to be misconstrued. Male pastors is something that we honor very closely and dearly in our congregation, and it doesn’t take away from our pastors by equipping the priesthood of all believers to come alongside him and help where they can.

Later on, Pastor Ahlman added:

There are things which I believe the role of a woman in the church. If we can agree, female ordination is not where we’re going. That’s not even what we’re talking about. But what does her role in the life of the church look like? I would say that’s more of an adiaphora in a contextual conversation that needs to take place, so that the priesthood of all believers, like an offense, is offense going to be given? If so, we need to be sensitive to that. And this is where context is like very different too, because like a woman, say reading scripture in a Midwest small rural congregation probably is offensive. Do you know what’s offensive here at Christ Greenfield? If she doesn’t read Scripture, I mean, [if] they’re told they can’t.

I appreciate ULC’s candor and honesty. They are clear about the kind of changes they want to see in the LCMS, and why.

I would say that this post begins another (very) occasional series, but I would hate to raise the hopes of those readers who are eagerly awaiting the second installment of my last (very) occasional series. I will merely note that this may or may not become a (very) occasional series, but there is certainly enough material available for that to happen. Alternate titles could be “Bees in my [Metaphorical’ Bonnet” or “What Really Grinds My Gears.” I proffer these additional suggested titles to soothe the intellectual turmoil of those who may dislike my use of the term “urban legend” in this way, which I mean here to be “an often-repeated story or phrase that has no basis in historical reality, but whose constant repetition has given it a sense of authority in spite of its falsity.”

Now, to the matter at hand. If you are a reader of this blog, and thus also inhabit the broader sphere of the Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod or other Lutheran churches, you may well have heard some form of the following:

Did you know that when Philipp Nicolai wrote “How Lovely Shines the Morning Star” / “O Morning Star, How Fair and Bright” / “Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern,” he wrote it so that the lines of text form the shape of a chalice?

The appeal is obvious. It underscores the sacramental imagery of a hymn that is perhaps not always understood in a sacramental light. It purports to impart a secret knowledge of a familiar subject, thus allowing the hearer entrance into a superior intellectual realm that he did not previously inhabit. Most importantly, it gives him one more thing to kvetch about with the release of each subsequent hymnal that doesn’t lay out the stanza “the right/historic/original way.”

The trouble is, of course, that many sorts of texts can be arranged in the shape of a chalice, and this does not thereby signify a sacramental connection. Limericks, for example, almost universally form the shape of a chalice by reason of their metrical structure, and are not thereby explicating eucharistic theology. I will present only this structural example because

The limerick packs laughs anatomical
Into space that is quite economical.
But the good ones I’ve seen
So seldom are clean
And the clean ones so seldom are comical.

The necessary question is, then, this: Did Nicolai himself actually envision the stanzas of his hymn being arranged in such a way as to form the shape of a chalice? The answer, then, should be readily apparent in Nicolai’s own initial printing of the hymn.

I thus offer the following images of the decidedly not-chalice-shaped text from its first printing in Nicolai’s Frewden Spiegel deß ewigen Lebens (1599), with no further comment necessary, save only that I hope this urban legend is finally put to rest.

Fine, I have one more note. You should listen to this beautiful setting of Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern from Philadelphia-based and Grammy-nominated Lutheran composer Kile Smith.

[NOTE: I claim no credit for the above limerick, it is from an unknown author and was discovered on the interwebs.]

The Gospel for Trinity 13, which we (who follow the Historic Lectionary) just heard last Sunday, contains the Parable of the Good Samaritan, and it strikes me that this is a good opportunity to provide an example of what it means to plumb the depths of Scripture to find the pearls of Christ. This Gospel is well-known, but its depths are often missed. Here it is, from St Luke 10:

21 In that hour Jesus rejoiced in the Spirit and said, “I thank You, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that You have hidden these things from the wise and prudent and revealed them to babes. Even so, Father, for so it seemed good in Your sight. 22 All[g] things have been delivered to Me by My Father, and no one knows who the Son is except the Father, and who the Father is except the Son, and the one to whom the Son wills to reveal Him.”

23 Then He turned to His disciples and said privately, “Blessed are the eyes which see the things you see; 24 for I tell you that many prophets and kings have desired to see what you see, and have not seen it, and to hear what you hear, and have not heard it.”

The Parable of the Good Samaritan

25 And behold, a certain [h]lawyer stood up and tested Him, saying, “Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?”

26 He said to him, “What is written in the law? What is your reading of it?”

27 So he answered and said, “ ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind,’ and ‘your neighbor as yourself.’ ”

28 And He said to him, “You have answered rightly; do this and you will live.”

29 But he, wanting to justify himself, said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

30 Then Jesus answered and said: “A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among [i]thieves, who stripped him of his clothing, wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead. 31 Now by chance a certain priest came down that road. And when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. 32 Likewise a Levite, when he arrived at the place, came and looked, and passed by on the other side. 33 But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was. And when he saw him, he had compassion. 34 So he went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine; and he set him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. 35 On the next day, [j]when he departed, he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said to him, ‘Take care of him; and whatever more you spend, when I come again, I will repay you.’ 36 So which of these three do you think was neighbor to him who fell among the thieves?”

37 And he said, “He who showed mercy on him.”

Then Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

It’s easy to see that this Gospel tears down the preconceptions people (like the lawyer here) would have about their ability  to do something to inherit eternal life, which even on the face of the lawyer’s question should have been clearly something he would be unable to do, because inheritance is a gift, not a reward. This lawyer’s own question is fraught with a contradiction, and when Jesus asks him, “What is written in the law?” the lawyer’s inadequate perspective becomes clear. Jesus’ question is not merely about the law as command (as in law-and-Gospel), but about the Torah; that is, What is written in the Torah? Which makes His follow-up question all the more pertinent: “What is your reading of it?” For the Torah is full of laws and regulations, and if your reading of it only sees those things in it, then your reading of it will be inadequate for discovering the way eternal life is inherited. And, as expected, the lawyer responds with a fine summary of the Ten Commandments: Love God with all your heart and your neighbor as yourself. So here Jesus takes the opportunity to get the lawyer to see his inadequacy by saying to him, “You have answered rightly; do this and you will live.” Jesus knows this man’s heart, that he will hedge when pressed not only to know the law but to do it, and sure enough, he does hedge, for he wants to justify himself: “And who is my neighbor?” It’s an odd question for a lawyer to ask, for one would think that of all people, a lawyer—that is, an expert in the Torah—would know the answer to that question, for isn’t the law supposed to be his specialty? His question here is telling, for it exposes his inadequacy by the very asking of it.

And at this point Jesus takes him further toward having a new, better reading of the Torah. He tells him about the Good Samaritan.  On the surface, this parable simply goes into some detail about how we are to love our neighbors, for the impetus in everything the Good Samaritan does for the poor dying man is contained in the opening description of the traveler: “when he saw him, he had compassion.” To love your neighbor as yourself is to have compassion, which leads to various deeds for your neighbor’s benefit.

But here is where it gets interesting, for an astute lawyer ought to know that compassion happens to be a chief attribute of God, throughout the Scriptures, an attribute embedded in the depths of meaning in the Torah. In those depths the Gospel is buried, just as it is also buried in the parable here, waiting to be discovered.

Who is my neighbor? Very technically, and literally, my neighbor is the Good Samaritan. Jesus did not give the lawyer the option of choosing the dying man as his neighbor, which would have been consistent with a parable intended only to highlight the lawyer’s responsibility. Instead, He made him choose from among the three wayfarers, which in effect flips the perspective and forces his answer to be that the Good Samaritan is the “neighbor” that is actually the answer to the lawyer’s question. A surface reading of the parable doesn’t yield such and answer, for we, like the lawyer, tend to think of the question in terms of our own responsibility toward our neighbors. As it happens, “neighbor” is a two-way concept: first, the Good Samaritan is the dying man’s neighbor, and second, the dying man is the Good Samaritan’s neighbor. We, like the lawyer, tend to jump to the second part of the answer, and say, we are supposed to be like the Good Samaritan and consider the dying man to be our neighbor. Indeed, Jesus does say to the lawyer, “Go and do likewise.” But technically, and literally, it is the first part that answers the question, meaning that the Good Samaritan is my neighbor, and that makes me the dying man.

And so we arrive at the deeper meaning of this parable, and for that matter, of the Torah, which is the Gospel itself! The Good Samaritan exhibits the compassion of Christ Himself toward dying men. The heart of the parable, then, is not reached if you have come to the point of seeing yourself as having to be like the Good Samaritan, for then your reading of the law will still be as inadequate as the lawyer’s. You must, rather, see yourself as actually being like the poor dying man. You were traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho (which happens to be in the opposite direction Jesus was headed when He finally came to the end of His journey on Palm Sunday); you, like the lawyer with an inadequate persective, were going the wrong way; for Christ, who is the Way, was heading toward Jerusalem to redeem the world by His blood. It is toward Him and His work that you need to think and walk. But you, travelling the wrong way, fell among thieves: the devil, the world, and your own flesh, and they robbed you of your ability to save yourself, and thus left you as good as dead. And the priest and the Levite pass you by on the other side, just as the laws and regulations God has placed on you cannot help you (as the hymn puts it, “the law no peace can ever give, no comfort and no blessing”). But then comes Christ, your blessed Good Samaritan, presumably journeying from Samaria toward Jerusalem, which evokes the image of Christ’s triumphal entry on Palm Sunday; but where does He come? He comes where the dying man was; He comes to where you were, by His holy incarnation, and has compassion. And His compassion is evident in His bandaging of your wounds with oil and wine, emblems of Baptism and the Sacrament of the Altar. And He places you (vicariously!) on His own beast, and so carries you to the inn which is the Church, and instructs the innkeeper, who is the pastor, to take care of you, giving the pastor two denarii, one for each Sacrament, for He must continue on His way to Jerusalem, there to make atonement for all sin, and He promises that He will return (“when I return, I will repay you”). Your neighbor is manifestly the Good Samaritan, for which you owe Him your undying thanks, and a willingness, now that you know this, to go and do likewise, that is, begin a life of compassion toward your other neighbors.  That is the deep meaning, the precious Gospel nugget buried in the parable and indeed, embedded in the Torah.

What is your reading of the Torah? It indeed contains the regulations God has placed on you, and more importantly it contains Christ and His compassion toward a sinful dying world unable to do anything to inherit eternal life. Embedded in the prescribed sacrifices is Christ; embedded in the longsuffering of God toward His wayward people is Christ; embedded even in the Ten Commandments is Christ, for they are a perfect description of His lovingkindess toward His neighbors, ultimately all of mankind.

The final answer to the lawyer’s question is this: Eternal life is inherited only by the Gifts bestowed upon the dying by the compassionate Good Samaritan that is Christ our Lord, who is your Neighbor. It is the task of the Preacher to find the nuggets of the Gospel embedded in the Word of God, and lay them before the hearers, so that they, too, might inherit eternal life.

This was published April 9, 2014. Interestingly, this "Impact Church” is dead. The link is dead. The local franchise is dead. — Ed.

This postcard just arrived from Impact Church. On the back it says:

"At Impact Church, we don't want to add religious duty to your 'list' of stuff that occupies your time. In fact, we dislike religion as much as you do."

Continue reading…

Attention: Men wanted for hazardous journey and hard work. Low wages, bitter cold, long hours of loneliness and frustration. Safe return doubtful. Honor and recognition in heaven in the event of success, and, maybe, a stronghold of faith in the Midwest for future generations.

There are a number of pastoral vacancies in conservative LCMS congregations with schools in rural areas or small towns of the Midwest with positive demographics that are well within a half day’s drive to major airports, giant hospital systems, universities, etc, but these congregations are struggling to find pastors. I am told that pastors under 40 aren’t interested (Note #1). I have heard that often the school is a problem because they want to homeschool their children or they want a classical school. Other times the pastors don’t want to be more than 8 hours from their in-laws or they want higher liturgical practices and other amenities.

Not everyone is equal to every task, but the Ministry always requires sacrifice. If a pastor under 40 can bear it these congregations have great potential. The opportunity here is like an offer to homestead. It is going to be hard. The land has to be cleared. Your children will not enjoy the most ideal education. Your wife will sometimes be lonely. At times, it will be tedious and frustrating to catechize the elders and teachers, to go to winkle, and to lead. It will take years of work.

The land is “free,” but it is not prime real estate at the moment. Nor are there any guarantees of earthly success. Some homesteaders get killed by Indians or succumb to scarlet fever or get recalled back to the East coast for family needs (Note #2). The Holy Spirit works when and where He pleases. But if a man will go to these congregations and stay for 20+ years working steadily, God could use him to turn the tide in that place. God could use him to create something like St. Paul’s in Hamel, Illinois, Immanuel in Tuscola, Illinois, or Redeemer in Fort Wayne, something like a fortress for faith for future generations. We know this much: God won’t do it apart from means or apart from the Ministry that He has instituted. Who will go?

Our forefathers, along with their families, were willing to suffer great hardships in the foreign lands to bring the Gospel to nations that had never heard it. I know, however, of nowhere left where the Gospel hasn’t been preached. We have sister churches everywhere. Our foreign mission work is almost exclusively theological education and support for the indigenous pastors and church. That is great and we need to do it, but there is also real evangelism and building work to be done here. We need to do it. It is not optional. It is critical – but it also holds great promise.

I am not speaking abstractly. I know of real life, conservation congregations in the Midwest with schools that need some pastor and his family willing to work and suffer for them, to build and plant and pray. These congregations and schools want to be taught and led. They are hymnal using, dyed-in-the-wool Missouri synod churches. They are eager and ready for rebirth and renewal. It won’t be easy, but it is possible. Will you sacrifice for them? Are you willing to do the work? Would you find joy in moving a school to daily worship and deeper catechesis and introducing subjects such as rhetoric and Latin even if it wasn’t a full-blown “classical” school or didn’t all happen in the first year? Would you love to introduce a congregation to the depths of Lutheran Chorales and higher ceremonies even if they never stopped loving “Amazing Grace” and “How Great Thou Art”? If you are ready for real work, real sacrifice, in service of the Gospel and hear the call, shoot me an e-mail (prdhpetersen@gmail.com). I will put you in touch with the district presidents that are working on these lists and even if nothing comes of it you will earn my respect and gratitude.

Footnote: The advertisement is a plan on the mythical advertisement by Ernest Shakelton for his Antarctic mission on the Endurance: https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/ernest-shackletons-famous-job-ad-men-wanted-for-hazardous-journey-is-probably-a-myth-5552379/

The notes below were added after the original post. Sorry for the oonfusion.

Note 1: I know personally of congregations in this situations in the Midwest. No doubt, they exist other places as well. This is not an English District thing as far as I know and I would be surprised if it was. I happen to know, however, that it is a reality in Indiana, Illinois, Iowa thing. I think it is also in Wisconsin, Minnesota, and Ohio. I was told that many younger pastors of our bent, that is Gottesdienst-types, are not interested in this calls. So this post was directed at them. No doubt, older pastors could do this work also.

Note 2: This East Coast remark was meant to be part of the extended metaphor of homesteading. I was thinking of a homesteader from Boston who heads to Kansas for whom it doesn’t work out. I didn’t mean to say that the LCMS should lead the East Coast for the MidWest. I do think, however, that we need to pour real mission resources into the US - East, West, North, and South!

The above video by a Canadian Roman Catholic organist cuts to the heart of why “contemporary worship” is incongruent with Lutheran worship. Of course, he’s not defending Lutheran worship (although he does love “A Mighty Fortress”), but rather the kind of music that is fitting for the Mass (which, of course, we Lutherans have not abolished) within the context of sacramental worship. I think a lot his historical explanation hits home, and you could almost just substitute the word “Lutheran” every time he says “Catholic.”

This section where he talks about how the Roman Catholic Church imported “Protestant” (meaning “Neo-Evangelical”) style contemporary and praise music is applicable to us as well. And he presents it in a way that is respectful of the Protestant tradition. I think his analysis is spot on. I have added emphasis in a few places. This is a transcript from about 16:09 - 19:10, though, once again, I think the entire video is worth a listen.

Why does modern Catholic music often feel so lacking when you compare it directly to the contemporary traditions of Protestant denominations? Analysts argue that Protestant churches successfully execute praise and worship music because it organically fits their specific non-sacramental traditions. It's totally authentic to their worship style. But when Catholics attempt to force these exact same pop and rock styles into the highly structured sacramental Mass, well, it often feels embarrassing, disjointed, and just tepid. It's literally like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. The aesthetic simply clashes with the ancient ritual of the Mass.

Experts like author Thomas Day point out another huge issue. This reliance on modern styles in Catholic parishes often devolves into this heavily amplified solo performance by a cantor up front. Instead of encouraging the congregation to actually sing, the overwhelming amplification treats everyone in the pews like a passive audience. Ironically, this totally contradicts the very goal of active participation that the Vatican 2 reforms were supposedly trying to achieve in the first place.

Now, I need to be particularly careful with this point because if you've watched this channel for any length of time, you know I have enormous admiration for great Protestant hymnody. Some of the finest hymns ever written came out of Protestant traditions. “A Mighty Fortress,” “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling,” “Praise to the Lord,” “Holy, Holy, Holy,” extraordinary music. So the argument here cannot simply be Catholics borrowed from Protestants, therefore Catholic music became bad. That would be nonsense. What happened was much more specific.

Catholic parishes increasingly absorbed elements of contemporary evangelical praise culture, amplification, solo leadership, popular song structures, and emotionally immediate music. And sometimes those things fit awkwardly inside the Catholic liturgy. Why? Well, because Catholic worship has a different theological structure. The Mass is not primarily a praise concert. The music is supposed to inhabit the liturgical action rather than constantly become the event itself. And this is where I think we need to make another important distinction.

There's tremendous difference between congregational singing and an audience singing along with a performer. Those can look identical from the back of the church. They're not necessarily the same thing. If everything depends upon the amplified singer at the microphone, have we really restored congregational singing? Or have we simply moved the performance from the choir loft to the sanctuary?

That's an uncomfortable question. And it applies to organists, too. If I play every hymn like the finale of the Saint-Saëns organ symphony, and nobody can hear themselves singing, I'm not helping either. My verdict, the problem isn't Protestant music. The problem is importing a musical model without asking whether it serves the Catholic liturgy.

The prestigious University of Cambridge is reeling because of a scandal-turned-tragedy involving a fraudulent professor and his subsequent suicide. He clearly had mental health issues, and was routinely lying about his past accomplishments (ridiculously so), and plagiarized much of his academic work. In spite of these issues, he was put forward as a professor and lauded for being a “groundbreaker” when he wasn’t qualified. Like Icarus, he came crashing down. This sad case will be studied for years to come. How could such a thing happen? Why weren’t there whistleblowers willing to prevent this tragedy from happening in the first place? How were the whistleblowers who did come forward treated?

Part of the problem is, of course, that much of academia has lost its way. It is no longer concerned with the pursuit of truth and rewarding people based on merit, but rather has fallen prey to identity politics. And those who do blow the whistle are the ones who get the brunt rather than the liars, cheats, frauds - and their enablers. Ironically, in “protecting the brand,” the anti-whistleblower culture of the academy allowed this scandal to not only tarnish “the brand,” but it cost a troubled man his life.

Attacking the whistleblower is certainly nothing new. Micaiah is an example who ratted out false prophets and angered King Ahab (1 Kings 22:13-28). Jeremiah was a prophetic whistleblower who was always in trouble with the Powers That Be. And in the Gospels, we can see where John the Baptist was “rewarded” for blowing the whistle against corruption in the royal family (Matt 14:3-12). Of course, our Lord Himself received far more than stiches for blowing the whistle.

Of course, we Lutherans are named after perhaps the most well-known whistleblower in Christendom. While people had complained about corruption in the church for centuries, the church’s thuggery and intimidation made whistleblowing a deadly endeavor. The pre-Reformation era was filled with whistleblower-martyrs, as well as those would-be whistleblowers who backed off rather than be burned at the stake. Enjoying protection from his prince and a providential contemporaneity with the Gutenberg Press gave Luther protection as a whistleblower. The three Lutherans put to death by King Henry VIII did not enjoy the whistleblower protection that Luther did.

Back then, as now, snitches get stitches.

Luther was excommunicated, and the threat of that punishment was often enough to make a man utter “Revoco.” But not Luther. He was a little bit crazy, but he was our crazy. If I had met him in the 16th century, I’m not sure I would have liked him personally. But in the rearview mirror, he was funny and bombastic and brilliant and brave. The whistle needed to be blown, and he did not let up until his dying breath.

When excommunication is used as a political tool against whistleblowers, it needs to be disavowed, as it was when the University of Wittenberg and churches all over Germany simply refused to recognize Luther’s.

Yesterday, I threwback an article about The Rev. Herman Otten. He was the greatest Lutheran whistleblower of the twentieth century. After years of stealthy, gradual incursion, liberal hermeneutics worked its way into Concordia Seminary - St. Louis. Otten, as a student, sniffed it out, and blew the whistle. Meanwhile, Otten was denied certification by the seminary as a payback. But because of his whistleblowing, within a few years, the conspiracy was exposed, the cabal fired, and the synod was rid of a large number of liberal theologians - who went on to become their own denomination, which was one of the three founding church bodies that merged to create the apostate ELCA.

As I said earlier, CSL should erect statues to J.A.O. Preus and Herman Otten. They saved the seminary, and perhaps even the synod. Like Luther, Otten was brash, made a lot of enemies, and was not afraid to sharpen his pen. Liberals hated him because he blew the whistle on them. Conservatives hated him because he wouldn’t play ball with them. Like I said, I had my own spats with him. But at the end of the day, Pastor Otten was a needed whistleblower. CSL should grant him posthumous certification, and synod should recognize him as a confessor and honor him for his role in upholding our Biblical doctrine at a crucial time.

But even if none of these things happen, Pastor Otten has received his commendation from the Lord that he continues to serve in eternity.

Note: On a recent podcast, one of the hosts didn’t seem to know “very well” who the Rev. Herman Otten was, so their guest, the former LCMS president Jerry Kieschnick replied:

“Herman was a pastor. He's deceased now. He was a pastor who graduated from Concordia Seminary St. Louis, but was not certified by the faculty. So, he took it upon himself basically to do everything he could to bring down that seminary. He found everything he he could lay his hands on that indicated a slide toward the left and he published it. He published it every week.”

Of course, President Kieschnick glossed over the entire sordid Seminex debacle, never mentioning that it was Herman Otten and Kurt Marquart who sounded the alarm over the radical liberalism that infected the seminary like gangrene. Like him or not, Pastor Otten heroically saved Concondia Seminary - St. Louis. The liberals walked out and went on to become the so-called Association of Evangelical Lutheran Churches, a founding part of the ELCA. Pastor Otten was right about all of it, and he suffered for his fidelity. The reason President Kieschnick raised the issue of Herman Otten was to blame him for Kieschnick’s reputation as a liberal. Well, maybe his vilification of Otten and his simultaneous radio silence on the liberal rot that infected the seminary that Otten - while still a seminarian - opposed and helped dismantle, might have something to do with that reputation. That and a few other things, like suggesting that the LCMS should have “prophetesses,” whatever that means.

In case you want to know just how fetid this Seminex crowd was, here is an insightful documentary that is sympathetic to their cause:

At any rate, here is a throwback that was published October 22, 2024, following Pastor Otten’s death. — Ed.

That We May Follow Their Faith and Good Works

This article, written by the Rev. Dr. Korey Maas (a four-time guest on The Gottesdienst Crowd) published by the Acton Institute, is a helpful reflection on the Seminex walkout. For far from being a long-over LCMS historical tempest in a teapot from the distant past, we are still dealing with the fallout: the same fungal liberalism that crops up periodically like mushrooms in humid places. Like unto even the faithful kings of the Old Testament, our tolerance of the high places and the Asherim continue to plague us.

Older folks who bear the scars of divided churches and families often don’t want to talk about it. Younger folks often just consider it to be irrelevant ancient history. But considering that all history is an ongoing chain of cause and effect, and considering what history has taught us - we ignore it at our peril.

Continue reading…

I’m being hyperbolic and a bit anachronistic in saying that Sesame Street ruined Christian worship. But only a bit. For Sesame Street started in 1969. And this was five years after the Vatican II novus ordo Mass was implemented in English. So Sesame Street was not the cause of liturgical change, but rather a concurrent change reflected in the zeitgeist, and it continued to transform a lot of things that touch upon education. For as we confess in the Augsburg Confession (24:3), ceremonies are catechetical (lerne/doceant). Vatican II changed the way Roman Catholics - and later, Lutherans - worshiped. And Sesame Street changed education.

Both sought accessibility over and against what was increasingly seen as stodgy and stifling. Songs and skits and puppets made their way into school lessons - and later on, into Christian worship as well. Ritual and tradition gave way to spontaneity and iconoclasm. Formality was relaxed. Nuns traded their wimples for blue jeans and played guitar. Rote recitation was replaced by games.

I was in kindergarten when Sesame Street started. I literally remember my teacher joyfully telling us about it, and sending a note home with our parents. My folks dutifully put the show on that evening. My grade school education was a period of transition, with some teachers still following the old traditional paradigm, and others adopting the novus ordo of Bert and Ernie pedagogy.

Interestingly, my freshman year of high school - at a Jesuit Roman Catholic boys’ school - was the first year that Latin had been discontinued. My Jesuit teachers: priests, who for the most part, ditched the collar, were enthusiastic about the recent Vatican II reforms. Masses in the chapel in the early eighties featured acoustic guitars and then-modern praise songs by the St. Louis Jesuits, with a little Bob Dylan thrown in.

When I started attending the Lutheran church at age 17, our 1941 TLH hymnals still had the names of the Sundays of the church year - and the names of the ordinaries of the Mass - in Latin. We were still singing chorales and hymns with the organ. Sesame Street had not yet made it to my congregation. The St. Louis Jesuits were not part of our Divine Service (though within a few years, we did start with the wretched Chicago Folk Service). At some point, we did start using both the Worship Supplement (published 1969) and LBW - the 1978 ELCA “green weenie” Hymnal - in my congregation. And that did Vatican II things up quite a bit.

When I started seminary at age 36, we still had both TLH and LW (1982) in the pews of Kramer Chapel at CTSFW. We also had Hymnal Supplement ‘98. I was there right after Dr. Reuning’s tenure as dean of the chapel, and right at the beginning of Dr. Just’s term. But it isn’t the ritual in the chapel that I’m reflecting on here, but rather a ceremony in the classroom.

The Rev. Dr. David Scaer, while entertaining as a professor, was not a Sesame Street-style instructor. He wrote on a chalkboard. He did not use PowerPoint slides. He did not show videos. He would expect you to read your assignments and come prepared to discuss them (with your Pieper’s Dogmatics and Greek New Testament) - using his own phrenetic, Brooklyn-style Socratic dialogue to make you think on your feet. Some guys - used to being spoon-fed Sesame Street style, and perhaps never having lived in New York - were ill at ease with Dr. Scaer’s antics. Some openly complained that his methods were of no use.

They could not have been more wrong.

We had a classroom ritual that did not seem to have a purpose at the time. At the beginning of class, as soon as Dr. Scaer would walk through the door, the class stood up and began to join him in a recitation of the Nicene Creed, in Latin. At first, we all read it off of a sheet of paper. But within a few weeks, nobody needed it any more. “Credo in unum Deum…” we would all intone in unison as Dr. Scaer bellowed it out New York style while getting himself situated at the front of the class.

Of course, there are considerations of esprit de corps and morale in such rituals. Schools know this. Sports teams know this. Companies in Japan know this. The military knows this. There was also the sense of connecting us to the church of the past. The Creed was written in Greek in Nicaea in 325, and added on to in Constantinople in 381. The Greek of the East was quickly translated to the Latin of the West, and with the exception of the addition of the word “filioque” (“and the Son”) being added later (making its way to Rome in the 11th century), these very same words that we recited had been spoken and chanted and recited and studied in monasteries and classrooms for centuries. It gave us a bond of connection to the “una, sancta, catholica et apostolica Ecclesia” of the past - our fathers’ church of Sts. Ambrose and Augustine, of Anselm and Aquinas, of Luther and Melanchthon, of Walther and Pieper.

But there was also a pedagogical reason that I think few of us seminarians understood at the time. I figured it out pretty quickly as we continued to study in Dr. Scaer’s classes and others. For these Latin phrases formed the basis of our theological understanding and expression - especially regarding our christological vocabulary. After all, it was Dr. Scaer’s axiom that “All Theology is Christology.” In the same way that constitutional lawyers and judges speak in shorthand of clauses: the Supremacy Clause, the Establishment Clause, the Free Exercise Clause, the Necessary and Proper clause, the Due Process clause, etc., and the same way that they speak concerning case law: Marbury, Miranda, Brown, Roe, Obergefell, etc.. The study of theology has its own ways of speaking. And Latin is still the dominant shorthand in theology.

So we continue to speak of the filioque (of course), the Una Sancta, the consubstantialem Patri, the incarnatus est, the homo factus est, the passus et sepultus est, etc. These phrases had became burned into our psyches, so that when we ran across these untranslated terms - in systematics and historical theology classes and texts - we didn’t have to look them up, learn what they meant, or memorize them. Creedal Latin became for us, a living language. And it made other terms more accessible with a little thought, and easier to memorize: things like the English words Patripassionism, carnal, and dominical, and such concepts as the procession of the Spirit, not to mention the Reformation “solas.” For these are all based on Latin words found in the Creed.

I think a lot of guys just assumed Dr. Scaer was just being quirky and eccentric. He has a classroom schtick to be sure. But he is a wise professor. There is a method to his madness. He knows exactly what he is doing. And I’m grateful for it. It was old-school rote. No cartoons or puppets or singalongs with guitars. But it was fun in its own way: meaningful, useful, and ever-relevant. We never knew exactly what to expect at any moment. He made us truly think. This kind of teaching is antithetical to the dumbed-down programmatic intersection of Vatican II and Sesame Street.

And now we find ourselves more than fifty years after Big Bird and lay readers made their debut, and what we have all found is that the experiment was a failure (if the goal was to teach) or a success (if the goal was to stultify). We are biblically and verbally more illiterate than ever. Theologians are less inclined to use the old terms - or to be able to understand them when they encounter them in old books. Some folks in our congregations want “fun church” (as the daughter of one of my former members put it): a Sesame Street experience where there is no rote learning, no boring repetition, and no work expended to read or learn the Scriptures. Some expect worship to be singalongs, puppets, and funny stories. Certainly no reflection on things like justification, atonement, or the sacramental union - even without the terms themselves necessarily being used from the pulpit. Better to just tell bland stories and encourage people to “be like Jesus” - meaning “be nice.”

Or as a board member at my first call to a Lutheran high school put it: “These kids don’t need to know all that Book of Concord stuff,” (meaning the Small Catechism, the only “Book of Concord stuff” that I was teaching them), because “they just need to know that Jesus loves them.” While I led the students in chapel using Matins and hymns from the TLH hymnals that were in the pews, the principal insisted on leading chapel himself with a life-sized Sponge Bob plush toy and other gimmickries.

And here we are today, as some of those kids who first watched Big Bird on TV are now grizzled pastors in Hawaiian shirts presiding over churches with massive TV screens on the wall, cutting steak on the altar during the consecration, and trying desperately not to read the Words of Jesus by rote. We now have adult Lutherans who have never worshiped liturgically in their lives. Some have never even heard of the Nicene Creed. Instead, there are singalongs and skits, and men and women speaking to congregations as if they were a kindergarten classroom.

But I am happy to report that the old ways are roaring back to life. Classical education has revived (note the word “vivicantem” in the Creed). My old Jesuit high school has long since restored Latin to the curriculum. Many of my Wittenberg Academy high school students are now teachers serving in classical LCMS schools. I’m delighted that some of them are teaching Latin (and they know it far better than I do)! They make school fun, not by dumbing it down and catering to that which fries the attention span and dulls the imagination, but rather by restoring the joy of learning - truly learning - by getting to the root of what words mean, and being able to read and understand and articulate them across contexts. I’m grateful to the CCLE, having started with a handful of people a quarter century ago, bucking the trends against all odds, to today being leaders in LCMS pedagogy for children (and adults!) of all ages.

I'm also grateful to all of my professors at CTSFW, especially to Dr. Scaer. He knew exactly what he was doing with that ceremony. For as we believe, teach, and confess: “Nam ad hoc unum opus est ceremoniis, ut doceant imperitos.”

Postscript: Thank you to the seminarian who shared this quote with me from Neil Postman’s classic 1985 social analysis, Amusing Ourselves to Death, (pages 142-143):

Parents embraced “Sesame Street” for several reasons, among them that it assuaged their guilt over the fact that they could not or would not restrict their children’s access to television. “Sesame Street” appeared to justify allowing a four- or five-year-old to sit transfixed in front of a television screen for unnatural periods of time. Parents were eager to hope that television could teach their children something other than which breakfast cereal has the most crackle. At the same time, “Sesame Street” relieved them of the responsibility of teaching their pre-school children how to read—no small matter in a culture where children are apt to be considered a nuisance. They could also plainly see that in spite of its faults, “Sesame Street” was entirely consonant with the prevailing spirit of America. Its use of cute puppets, celebrities, catchy tunes, and rapid-fire editing was certain to give pleasure to the children and would therefore serve as adequate preparation for their entry into a fun-loving culture.

As for educators, they generally approved of “Sesame Street,” too. Contrary to common opinion, they are apt to find new methods congenial, especially if they are told that education can be accomplished more efficiently by means of the new techniques. (That is why such ideas as “teacher-proof” textbooks, standardized tests, and, now, micro-computers have been welcomed into the classroom.) “Sesame Street” appeared to be an imaginative aid in solving the growing problem of teaching Americans how to read, while, at the same time, encouraging children to love school.

We now know that “Sesame Street” encourages children to love school only if school is like “Sesame Street.” Which is to say, we now know that “Sesame Street” undermines what the traditional idea of schooling represents. Whereas a classroom is a place of social interaction, the space in front of a television set is a private preserve. Whereas in a classroom, one may ask a teacher questions, one can ask nothing of a television screen. Whereas school is centered on the development of language, television demands attention to images. Whereas attending school is a legal requirement, watching television is an act of choice. Whereas in school, one fails to attend to the teacher at the risk of punishment, no penalties exist for failing to attend to the television screen. Whereas to behave oneself in school means to observe rules of public decorum, television watching requires no such observances, has no concept of public decorum. Whereas in a classroom, fun is never more than a means to an end, on television it is the end in itself.

In October 2024, I posted about a new speed record for the consecration of the elements of Holy Communion in a piece called “Twenty-Three Seconds Flat.” I wish I could remember who it was that pulled off this remarkable feat (4.7 words per second). It was an LCMS megachurch, but it was at their “traditional” service.

But what I saw today blew the old record out of the water: 19 seconds (5.6 words per second). This was also at an LCMS megachurch, but one that uses exclusively the CoWo format. Not slowed down aerodynamically by alb and stole, this pastor shattered the old record by a full four seconds!

Four seconds, ladies and gentlemen!

The twenty-second barrier has been broken. This is like the four-minute mile. I suspect that this record will be like Beamon’s long jump - whose record stood for almost 23 years. This is like Secretariat winning by 31 lengths. This is like Wilt Chamberlain’s 100-point game, still an NBA record since 1962.

This performance may be approaching the limits of human ability. Of course, when we have AI consecration, all bets are off. But until that time, this guy is the undisputed champion. I have never seen anything like it.

But then again, records are made to be broken. As techniques continue to improve, as equipment becomes more sophisticated, as men of great ability enter the arena, who knows what could happen? So if anyone sees a better consecration than 19 seconds, please pass it along. That would make history!

Our Lutheran identity is filled with hymns and hymnists, with confessors and with confessions, with their stories, with their struggles, and with their timeless, faithful, hope-filled, Christ-centered, and beautiful works of art that abide with us to this day, and will remain with us, Deo volente, for generations yet to come!

Soli Deo gloria!

I have found that the Martin Luther Day by Day devotional book from CPH is a good resource to introduce lay people to very brief sections of Luther’s writings. Every now and then I will use it for morning devotions with our teachers here at St. Paul’s. The writing for August 19 is taken from Luther’s Works 21:123-24 on The Sermon on the Mount. It is a good reminder for pastors who are serious about the Office of which they are a part (especially those who have been elected to offices of oversight). And while we want to speak the truth in love (Ephesians 4:15), that love does not mean that we don’t “have teeth in our mouth.” This correction not only applies to our own people but also to pastors who are in error and are potentially leading their own people into false doctrine by way of bad practice.

“It is necessary carefully to distinguish the teaching that pertains universally to each individual person from the teaching that pertains to persons in an office, whether it be spiritual or secular, whose task it is to punish and resist evil. Therefore, even though personally they may be gentle, yet administering justice and meting out punishment is their official work; and it has to go on. It would be wrong if their pity moved them to neglect this; for that would be tantamount to helping, strengthening, and encouraging the evil. It is as if I were to say to our enemies…who are persecuting the Gospel and trampling its poor adherents underfoot: ‘Gentlemen, may the dear God reward you! You are pious people and holy fathers’; or as if I were to keep quiet, pay them homage, and kiss their feet. No, dear brother, this is what I ought to say: ‘I am a preacher. I have to have teeth in my mouth. I have to bite and salt and tell them the truth. And if they refuse to hear, then in the name of God I have to excommunicate them, lock them out of heaven, consign them to the fire of hell, and turn them over to the devil.”

This was published December 17, 2023 — Ed.

Whenever we Lutherans (so-called) enter a discussion on social media, we can count on people avoiding whatever issue we want to discuss, and instead pivoting to salacious accusations against Martin Luther.

I had a recent debate online that is a case in point.

In response to my contribution to the discussion, a Roman Catholic traditionalist dismissed me as a “heretic” and included a “quote” from Martin Luther - authoritatively presented by means of a meme, complete with a portrait of Luther, no less (who can argue with that?) - in which Luther is attributed with the following quote: “I am absolutely convinced that the handicapped are merely demonically possessed pieces of meat without souls which should be drowned.” Of course, the use of the word “handicapped” in the quote looks “sus,” as the kids say - not to mention the lack of any citation whatsoever, not even from a secondary source.

When pressed, my interlocutor admitted that he just googled it, and could not find any evidence that Luther ever actually said it. But he assured me that Luther was a bad guy, and he included a link to a screed against Luther called something like “the dark side of Martin Luther” or some such.

Continue reading…

The temptation is to start with a complicated explanation of doctrine, or give a history lesson. Some people love to talk about such things, and we can work that in with people who do. But we can at least start with something more simple. It’s a temptation to focus on what we aren’t instead of what we are, to define our faith in terms of negatives instead of positives - and to launch into polemics against everybody else. I was thinking about how to explain Lutheranism in a way that won’t simply alienate everyone. I wrote the following little piece on my Substack, and shared it on social media, mainly for local people on my feed. I hope it will serve as a 30,000 foot flyover of who we are, and do so in a way where all Christians can find a touchstone of commonality with us, and maybe be intrigued enough to “Come and see!”

I’m sharing this just in case some of you have had similar thoughts.

Lutherans as Evangelical Catholics

"Come and see!"

Aug 14, 2026

I live and serve in Gretna, Louisiana: a delightful small city with lots of Christians. Our city is mostly Roman Catholic, with a number of Evangelical churches as well. Salem Lutheran Church, along with St. Joseph’s Catholic Church, has traditionally been a pillar of our historically German city. But we are the only Lutheran church in town, and a lot of our neighbors don’t really know much about us. And being involved in our community, I get asked about it a lot.

Maybe the easiest way to sum us up is that we are Evangelical and Catholic. We are “Evangelical Catholics.” So we share a lot with all of our Christian neighbors.

Evangelical

With our Evangelical brothers and sisters we share several things:

• The Bible - We hold the Bible to be God’s inspired Word, and it is our highest authority. We teach the Bible to both young and old, and Bible class is an important part of our life together.

• The Gospel - Central to our faith and life is the Gospel: the good news that Jesus died on the cross to redeem us from sin, death, and the devil. That’s why our churches were called “Evangelical” 500 years ago.

• Preaching - Because of the importance of the cross and the Scriptures, preaching is central to us and to our worship. Our sermons are grounded in the Bible, and our preachers are expected to study the Scriptures in the original languages.

• Music - We are sometimes called “the singing church,” with a long history of hymns that are sung by all Christians. We have an organ and hymnals. Our services themselves are sung by the pastor and the people.

Catholic

With our Catholic brothers and sisters we share several things:

• Liturgy - Our Sunday Divine Service is the Mass. As celebrant, I wear traditional priestly vestments. In our parish, we chant, genuflect, make the sign of the cross, ring bells, and on festive occasions, burn incense. Our Masses reflect the old Catholic form: we kneel at the communion rail, often communing on the tongue, with a traditional “east-facing” altar. We believe in reverence and dignity in worship.

• Sacraments - We teach that Holy Baptism regenerates and saves. We confess that Christ is truly present in the Holy Eucharist. We believe in priestly Confession and Absolution. We believe in the divine Presence, that God uses physical means to manifest His true presence with us.

• Church History - We see ourselves in Catholic continuity with the apostles, with the early church, and with the medieval church. We confess the ecumenical creeds. We often quote the church fathers and hold the saints in high regard as models of the Christian life. We celebrate traditional feast days and the traditional calendar, including Lent, Eastertide, and Advent. Our readings follow the ancient one year lectionary. Our parish prays the daily monastic prayer office called Matins during the week and on Sunday morning.

Evangelical Catholic

Salem Lutheran Church is both Evangelical and Catholic. Our biblical, Christian worldview makes us conservative on issues of life and marriage and the role of authority. We are a member congregation of the Lutheran Church - Missouri Synod. We are patriotic. We support our community. We believe in being good neighbors. Our parish is a friendly and familial community. We eat a lot of meals together, laugh together, work together, and take care of each other. Our children are active in both learning the Bible and in participating fully in our services.

The best way to see what we are about is to, in the words of our Lord, “Come and see!” (John 1:39). Salem Lutheran Church is at 418 4th Street (on the corner of Amelia Street), in Gretna.

• We pray Matins Monday through Friday at 10:00 am.

• Sunday Matins is at 8:30 am. Sunday Bible Class is at 9:00 am. Sunday Divine Service (Mass) is at 10:00 am.

• We also have a Wednesday evening Divine Service (Mass) at 7:30 pm.

For more information, call or text me, the Rev. Larry Beane, at 504-256-3440.

This creative consecration involving a filet mignon on the altar, and additions to the Words of Institution, was posted on YouTube by an LCMS congregation. Since it has been taken down, I am removing the dead-linked video and the reference to the name of the congregation. I have no oversight over this pastor and congregation, and whatever the DP does or doesn’t do is above my paygrade.

But it is within my paygrade to encourage LCMS pastors and congregations not to monkey with the consecration.

Preachers are to proclaim the Gospel in their own words - and to do so with fidelity to the text. Pastors often say ex corde prayers. But not even the most outlandish CoWo congregation practices ex corde readings of Scripture. They have enough respect for God’s Word not to monkey with it, add to it, subtract from it, or insert stories or analogies or explanations based on the food they like to eat or some such. I have never seen a CoWo congregation in which the pastor or the lay lector doesn’t just read the readings right out of the book. There is no sense that doing so is boring or placing limits upon the Holy Spirit.

But when it comes to the Words of Institution, CoWo celebrants sometimes do monkey with the words. They change this or that, or try to make it sound spontaneous. Why they do this with the Sacrament but not the Word is beyond me. It suggests that they hold the Word with more reverence than the Sacrament. And this is truly bizarre, given the origin of the Words of Institution: they are a conflation of the words and actions of Christ from the four Biblical texts in which the consecratory narrative is found.

I’m not writing for the sake of the pastor of this church. I have learned that there is a reason for the line in the movie The Matrix : “We have a rule. We never free a mind once it’s reached a certain age. It’s dangerous. The mind has trouble letting go.” Rather, I’m writing to pastors and laity who already have the blick and who are more able to consider why just sticking with the words in the book is best.

The Verba as found in LSB pages 162, 179, 197, 209, and 217 are the same. Whether you speak them or chant them, you’re saying the same thing without mentioning knives and forks. The rubrics in LSB - though admittedly minimalistic - are the same: two signs of the cross to indicate which bread and which wine are being consecrated. There is no reason to reinvent the wheel with the consecration any more than there is reason to reinvent the wheel when the pastor (hopefully the pastor) reads the appointed Gospel for the day.

In fact, our confessions speak to this (FC Ep 7:7-9):

[7] 2. We believe, teach, and confess that the words of Christ’s testament are not to be understood in any other way than the way they read, according to the letter. So the bread does not signify Christ’s absent body and the wine His absent blood. But, because of the sacramental union, ‹the bread and wine› are truly Christ’s body and blood.

[8] 3. Now, about the consecration, we believe, teach, and confess that no work of man or recitation of the minister produces this presence of Christ’s body and blood in the Holy Supper. Instead, this presence is to be credited only and alone to the almighty power of our Lord Jesus Christ.

[9] 4. At the same time we also believe, teach, and confess unanimously that in the use of the Holy Supper the words of Christ’s institution should in no way be left out. Instead, they should be publicly recited, as it is written in 1 Corinthians 10:16, “The cup of blessing that we bless” and so forth. This blessing occurs through the reciting of Christ’s words. [Emphasis added]

The last part reads in the original (German): “durch das Sprechen der Worte Christi geschiet” and (Latin): “fit per recitationem verborum Christi.” This means to speak the Verba out loud, to recite, not to put it into one’s own words.

This is not the place for creativity. The black is to be read (or sung). The red is to be done. There is a reason why none of our hymnals have ever said: “Here the celebrant just makes up his own consecration.” Pastors, when you use the pronoun “My” in the consecration, you are not the antecedent: Jesus is. These are the words of Jesus. These are not your words. So read them straight and don’t monkey with them. Whatever you do will not be an improvement over Holy Scripture.

There is also a good reason why there isn’t a rubric in the hymnal telling the celebrant to put a dead animal on the altar. Think about those optics. It should go without saying that Christian altars are eucharistic, they are not intended for animal sacrifice, or even the hint of such a thing. And when Jesus speaks of the cup, there is good reason to actually put wine in it rather than just using it as a pretty prop. And when the priest’s host is used, there is a good reason for the celebrant to consume it, and not leave it broken on the altar and just walk away from it. There is also a good reason that for as long as we have been having eucharists, the celebrant had the elements on the table to consecrate, and then distribute from there - rather than having elements scattered willy-nilly all over the place. How can anybody be sure that his individually-held elements were consecrated at all? And if we simply assume for the sake of argument that they were, what happens to them after? The pastor cannot steward the mysteries in such a case. Could someone pocket the consecrated elements and save them for later? And what of the reliquiae? What happens to the blood of Christ remaining in these disparate cups? Hopefully, they were collected somehow and treated reverently, and not just shoved into pockets or dumped in the garbage.

We have been consecrating bread and wine according to the words and example of Jesus for nearly two millennia now. We don’t have to reinvent the wheel.

And I’m quite certain that this is the only pastor in the history of Christendom that has ever used a steak as a prop during the consecration, or inserted the words “fork” or “knife” in the Words of Institution. There is a good reason that our confessions are adamant that we Lutherans are not liturgical innovators, that we have retained the Mass, that we believe in decorum and reverence and dignity in our worship, as opposed to spectacles.

Since the video was taken down - and I’m more interested in using this as a cautionary tale rather than to call attention to this congregation and pastor (again, the DP will either do something about it, or he won’t. Not my district, not my circus) - what follows below is a transcript of how this consecration went. Let it be a warning against the temptation to correct or improve on what Jesus, the apostles, the Holy Spirit, and generations of pastors have bequeathed to us. If it ain’t broke…

And I’m disappointed that nobody picked up on the COW reference. All gallows humor aside, some commentators were whining about the re-creation of the Commission on Worship. The fact that there are so many liturgical monkeyshines - even regarding the Holy Sacrament itself - should convince everyone that we need the return of the COW.

The Eucharistic Prayer

The Improper Preface

The altar shall be set with an empty chalice, a paten, a priest’s host, a small host, a shot glass of wine, a filet mignon on a plate, a fork, and a knife. The celebrant says:

Probably my favorite thing to eat is filet mignon. I just love a great steak.

The celebrant picks up the steak. And waving it around, he says:

Nothing does it for me quite like it. It’s awesome.

The celebrant places the steak back on the altar and says:

But you know what I’ve noticed is that when I have eaten all day long a bunch of junk food and just kind of nourished myself in all the bad things, when something really good is presented, I find myself not all that hungry. I just kind of pick. I don’t really think I need this because I’m so full already of all the stuff I shouldn’t have eaten. But when it is served, and because I love it so much, I always want to eat it, no matter when or what. And so what I do is go to the table and I take a knife and a fork,

Here the celebrant takes up the knife and the fork, and says:

and I cut myself a piece, usually not raw.

Here the celebrant slices into the steak with the utensils. He continues:

It will be cooked. I have myself a bite.

The Uncomfortable Words

The celebrant brings the steak towards his mouth with the fork, but stops short of eating it. He places the knife and fork back on the altar, and motions to the steak with his hands and says:

This is much what communion is like. When you came in here this morning, you received this little chalice, and on one side was a little piece of bread, and the other is wine. And as a church, we take communion together as a family, all at the same time.

The celebrant picks up the fork, and continues:

And why I use this analogy is because what God gives us in this meal is something that satisfies and fulfills and offers spiritual nourishment unlike we’ve ever had. And God also gives us the means,

The celebrant picks up the knife, and continues:

the vehicles, if you will, to take this gift

The celebrant taps the knife and fork on the steak, and says:

and to feast in communion.

The celebrant removes the paten from the chalice, and says:

God takes a different means:

The celebrant removes the priest’s host from the paten, and says:

a piece of bread, a cup of wine.

The celebrant touches the empty chalice.

They’re the means by which we receive the feast. They are the knife and fork, if you will, that God uses to bring us the fullness of Himself in body and blood.

So this bread and this wine is not special at all. It’s just bread and wine. What makes it unique is it’s connected to the Lord, to the promise of God’s Word, that this is His body and blood. And so, what this knife and fork of bread and wine become is the vehicles, the means by which He feeds us the sustaining grace that is ours through Christ.

Now let me warn you: if all week long you’ve been tasting and filling yourself on a bunch of junk food, you’re not going to see the need for this meal. You’ll be like the Pharisee and think of all the good things you do. You’re not all that hungry for something you really need. But Jesus knows you and says you’ve been eating a lot of junk food this week. You put a lot of the promises of the world in you, thinking you were satisfied.

But there’s a meal that not only satisfies, but it gives grace and fills. You become more deeply spiritual through this means.

The Words of Our Lord - Kinda Sorta

On that night when communion was first celebrated, Jesus celebrated it with the disciples. On that table would have been a number of different chalices, cups. Each one had a very unique meaning, and they would read parts of Scripture and talk about that particular cup, and this one.

And there was this cup in the middle, and no one ever touched it because it was the cup of promise that whoever would take from this cup one day would be the promised Messiah, and that’s how He would identify Himself was through drinking from this cup. And so that night, everyone is going through the ritual of the Passover, and the Bible then says, “Our Lord Jesus Christ on that night, He took bread, and when He broke it,

The celebrant breaks the priest’s host in two, holding out his arms, and continues:

He gave it to the disciples, and He said, ‘Take and eat. This is My body given for you. Do this to remember Me.’” So pick up your fork, the bread, and receive the body of Christ.

Here the celebrant communes on the wafer, and not on the pieces of the priest’s host, and continues:

And then Jesus reaches for that cup, the cup of redemption, which would identify Him as the promised Messiah,

The celebrant holds up the empty chalice and continues:

and He says: “Drink of it, all of you. For this cup is the New Covenant in My blood, poured out for you, for the forgiveness of all your sins.

The celebrant replaces the empty chalice on the altar, and continues:

As often as you drink this, remember Me.” So pick up the knife. This is the blood of Jesus given for you.

The celebrant communes from the small shot glass.

The Merciful Ending

The celebrant invites the congregation to pray, saying:

“Let’s pray. Father we pray that through this meal we become satisfied. We feel comforted and assured that Your grace is always sufficient, that no matter what, Lord, that You will be enough. No matter the junk food we’ve eaten all week, no matter how far we’ve run, no matter how much we’ve hid, Lord, You’ll find us at this table, and You feed us and you fulfill us and wrap Your arms of grace around us and remind us that we are Your dearly loved children. So Father we thank you again for feeding us at Your table. We pray this in the name of Christ. Amen.

Here the celebrant departs, leaving on the altar the empty chalice, the two consecrated halves of the priest host, the small cup with the reliquiae, the steak, and the fork and knife.

How many times have you heard this sentence: “We should not argue over adiaphora”? However, that’s exactly what we should be arguing over. For if we’re arguing over things that are not adiaphora, we have bigger problems. For example, arguing over the Trinity, or the Two Natures of Christ, the literal resurrection, the atonement - these are dogmas, not things that are “neither required nor prohibited by Scripture.”

So yes, let’s argue about adiaphora. For that is how iron sharpens iron. That is how men discuss things. And since the male-only pastorate is not an adiaphoron, it is also not an adiaphoron that our pastors should be masculine. We don’t facilitate conversations about our feelings over a Cosmo and a box of chocolates. We discuss, debate, and argue. And since the specific range of adiaphora is literally infinite - it stands to reason that some adiaphora are better than others. It also stands to reason that some adiaphora are really bad ideas.

As Pastor Karl Hess has argued, Equality is the god of the American interim. And as Dr. Gene Edward Veith entitled one of his books, we live in postmodern times. And as for the church’s worship, we are pressured, in the name of Adiaphora (which could almost be a god of the Stoics), to accept anything and everything in worship as adiaphora. And by adiaphora, they mean “anything goes.” Nothing is out of bounds, because there are no boundaries. For saying that one worship practice is superior to another is to offend the postmodern god of the American Interim. And we simply can’t have that!

I have heard a lot of this sentiment lately: “Worship style doesn’t matter.” But adiaphora doesn’t translate to “doesn’t matter.” Scripture doesn’t specify whether the Words of Institution are to be chanted or spoken. Nor does scripture say that they cannot be belched. Since belching the Words of Institution is a practice that is neither commanded nor prohibited by Scripture, and since everyone’s “context” is different, who am I to say that chanting the verba is any better, or any worse, than belching them? Who knows? A completely burped service might attract a whole new demographic to the body of Christ. And just maybe there is a wad of foundation grant money just lying around somewhere waiting to be snorted up like a line of coke through a Benjamin in a bad 1970s cop film for such an entrepreneurial endeavor. Catch the vision: An Exciting New Way To Do Church.

Before someone takes the idea and runs with it, I’ve already worked out the copyright with the aquilae legis over at CPH. So don’t. This is obviously an argumentum ad absurdum.

A lot of the guys who say we should not argue over adiaphora attend a conference called “Best Practices.” Unless they are looking at different doctrine to consider, this implies that some adiaphora are indeed better than others, not all adiaphora are created equal, or with a nod to George Orwell, “Some adiaphora are more equal than other adiaphora.”

And to throw a wrench into the whole works, the darling passage from the Book of Concord that the anti-liturgical faction of the LCMS likes to point to, FC SD 10, actually does put an asterisk on the definition of adiaphoron: “When there are useless, foolish displays [Latin: inutiles nugas et puerilia spectacula, German: unnütze, närrische Spektakel [Schauspiele]] that are not profitable for good order, Christian discipline, or evangelical practice in the Church, these also are not genuine adiaphora, or matters of indifference” (FC SD 10:7).

Therefore, even though belching the Words of Institution isn’t in the Bible, it is an example of the kind of Scheißspiel that fails the adiaphora test. So what about handing out slices of pizza by a peripatetic preacher playing standup comedian during a sermon in a seminary chapel? Such practices are an argument that the mournful chanting of the Kyrie should not be considered an adiaphoron.

But since the Bible doesn’t ever mention pizza, this must be an adiaphoron, right? If this doesn’t constitute a närrische Spektakel [Schauspiele] or a puerilia spectacula, I’m not sure what would qualify. Moreover, I argue that profaning sacred spaces is never an adiaphoron. Desecration is really not a component of Christian liberty, in my opinion. Could you imagine someone pulling such a stunt in the sanctuarium of the tabernacle or temple? How about at the altar of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher? Well, if not, then why would someone do that in the proximity to the rest of the holy altars where the Lord’s body and blood are consecrated (if you believe that sort of thing, as my wife is wont to say)? Why shouldn’t the pastor practice his putting on the carpet of the sanctuarium, as I saw once right next to an LCMS altar (Lord, have mercy!). The old saying, “Nothing is sacred” comes to mind. How can someone not be scandalized to see sacred space desecrated? How can someone not fear God’s wrath for treating the holy (sanctus) like the common (profanus)?

How sad that Christians are put to shame by Muslims and Buddhists, who would never do the things in their houses of worship that some Christians (including some Lutherans) do. Why? Well, though they are misguided, they actually believe their religion. Their serious belief is confessed by their serious actions. Their serious actions reflect and confess their serious belief. Although they are wrong, they worship the way they confess. Their orandi reflects their credendi. We can’t fault them for their consistency. Imagine what it must look like for them to see a Christian preacher at a Christian worship service dressed in a cow costume with dangling udders (at least that one was not LCMS, not this time, not today, Satan. Deo gratias!).

So let’s argue about adiaphora. For if we stifle those discussions, we will eventually be arguing about things that are not adiaphora. For our orandi will shape our credendi, whether we like it or not.

Thank you to the Rev. Dr. Matthew Richard for yesterday’s piece on adiaphora. Here is a link to past Gottesblog posts regarding adiaphora.

By Peter Scaer

Note: An LCMS podcaster recently claimed that the communion practice in his large church was the same as that of the synod convention. However, the synod convention Divine Service did not open the altar to those who were not in communion with the LCMS. Indeed, the establishment of communion (altar and pulpit fellowship) between the LCMS and other church bodies is always a cause of great joy in synod conventions, complete with the singing of the Doxology. But what does full communion between church bodies mean, if anyone is welcome to commune at our altars anyway, so long as they are baptized, believe Jesus is present, and are sorry for their sins? This makes no sense at all. What follows is a social media post by the Rev. Dr. Peter Scaer, published with permission. — Ed.

The convention did not practice close/open communion, or anything like it. Admittedly, in a large church, it’s hard to keep track of everyone. But the idea is simple enough. Communion is open for all who are members in good standing of an LCMS congregation, or in a body with which we are in fellowship. This is not all that difficult to understand, but those who teach differently make matters more difficult, and perhaps unwittingly sow division.

It is not enough to have a short address, asking whether people believe in the real body and blood, and whether they confess Jesus as Savior, whether they are sorry for their sins, and so forth. If a person believes as we do, he should be invited into catechesis, into preparation for membership. To that teaching, all are invited. But asking a few questions beforehand doesn’t cut it. The heart that is set on the true body and blood cannot then approach an altar where it is treated as a symbol. The confession speaks of Christ as conceived by the Holy Spirit cannot also receive communion with a church that is ok with abortion and gay ‘marriage.’

Communion is not dating, but is akin to a marriage. And so our confirmands pledge to keep the faith even unto death. For the one who makes such a pledge, it would be unthinkable to join in communion where the truth is denied. Closed communion may be a barrier, but so also is it an opportunity. Does it matter that a Presbyterian might come to our altar, as if there is no difference? Should he not denounce the idea that Christ died for some, but not for all? Is it ok for a Roman Catholic to come to our altar (perhaps much less likely)? Should he not denounce the practice of masses for the dead, as if Christ's atoning work were not enough? If the bread is for God’s children, then should not those who receive it also confess the truth of God’s work in Baptism, that it is He who makes us His children, He who gives us new life and forgiveness?

And so on, and so on, and so on. This is not hard stuff. But when leaders of the church do not understand, they make it all very difficult for pastors who wish to be faithful. When those who should know press for something else, they put doubt and suspicion into the minds of the people, who are led to turn against pastors who are simply tending the flock as our Lord has instructed. I suppose, I was naïve in thinking that the practice of close communion (defined by asking a set of questions before the service — that sort of thing) was not so great a deal. But then I hear story after story of people who are led to anger at a faithful pastor, simply because he is striving to be faithful. And when the doctrine of closed communion is undermined by those who are prominent, great and unnecessary confusion ensues. The flock is left confused, and the faithful pastor is suddenly the bad guy, branded a meanie, simply for doing what's right.

A common mistake in Christian discussions about adiaphora is to assume that “neither commanded nor forbidden” means “anything goes.”

Let me explain: the word adiaphora comes from the Greek and means “indifferent.” In other words, adiaphora often refers to ceremonies and ecclesiastical practices that are neither commanded nor forbidden in God’s Word but have been introduced into the church.

So, where is the problem?

The problem comes when something that is called “indifferent” is treated as though it is free from the discernment of Christian doctrine. For example, a church practice may not be commanded or forbidden in the Bible, but make no mistake, it does not exist in a theological vacuum. Adiaphora is not like yellow police tape, saying to doctrine, “DO NOT CROSS!”

Mark this: Once doctrinal discernment is pushed out of an adiaphora conversation, something else will take its place: personal preference, nostalgia, private agendas, pragmatism, or contemporary cultural assumptions (to name a few). Then, without the wisdom of good doctrine, power steps in to enforce a preference, agenda, nostalgia, or a pragmatic and cultural assumption. Tragically, the question is no longer, “What best serves the Gospel?” Instead, the questions become: “Who has the most influence?” “Who complains the loudest?” or “Who is most determined to get his way?” and “Who has the votes?” In this way, preference supplies the content, and power supplies the enforcement.

But just because something is neither commanded nor forbidden in Scripture does not mean it is beyond doctrinal discernment or Christian wisdom. Adiaphora is not simply up for grabs to the highest bidder, the majority vote, or the loudest voice. You see, the church has historically had ways of evaluating and governing adiaphora according to at least four questions:

1. Does the adiaphoron promote and support the Gospel, or does it distract from it? Is the adiaphoron Evangelical (Gospel-centered) in its nature, or is it something else? 

2. Does the adiaphoron respect the historic Christian church and the practices received across the millennia? Does it give a tip of the hat to the ancient fathers of the church and, in particular, the Nicene Faith they confessed? 

3. Is it appropriate to the context, and does it serve the actual needs of the church for clarity, good order, and the edification of the congregation?

4. Are those involved handling the matter collegially—with kindness, grace, and a willingness to seek peace?

In summary, adiaphora does not give place to an antinomian spirit; it is not ruled by preference and power. Rather, adiaphora is governed by the Gospel, informed by sound doctrine, exercised with collegiality, respectful of our historic practice, and directed toward the edification of Christ’s Church. Adiaphora is not the end of a theological conversation (a trump card) but the beginning of a doctrinally rich and wise discussion.