This was published May 25, 2019 — Ed.

One of the things that I like about the Gottesdienst Crowd is that we are not advocates for the liturgy because of personal taste or effete sensibilities, or an intellectual devotion to historical marginalia. Pastors and laypeople involved in the life of the church understand that as the blood of Christ is the lifeblood of the Church, Sunday morning Divine Services are the vessels that carry the blood of the Lamb to us.

Hence our name Gottesdienst.

Continue reading…

The following originated as an unreasonably long Twitter/X thread, but is better suited to paragraph form.

Last week, word broke that Schlitz, “The Beer That Made Milwaukee Famous,” has been discontinued after more than 175 years. Many of you may never even have heard of Schlitz, which is exactly why you should know their story.

Schlitz is iconic. Or, rather, was iconic. It was a beloved beer that, at its height, passed Budweiser in popularity. But the brand collapsed in the span of a couple of decades because of short-sighted management decisions, many of which are not so different from the questions that bedevil the LCMS pastoral formation conversation.

Schlitz found its origins in 1848 as the proprietary beer at a Milwaukee tavern brewery. By 1902, it was the largest brewery (by volume) in the US, and was responsible in 1912 for introducing the now-standard brown beer bottle in order to protect their beer from the deleterious effects of light exposure. They were at the forefront of American brewing, and quickly growing. They weathered Prohibition, and in 1934 Schlitz became the top selling beer in the world — and held that distinction for decades. They were only decisively surpassed by Anheuser Busch after a 1953 brewery workers strike in Milwaukee, but remained highly competitive with Anheuser Busch for another 20 years.

So…what happened?

Greed reared its ugly head, and Schlitz decided to increase their profit margins by changing their ingredients. But they didn’t do it all at once, they tried to ease into it little by little, assuming that their customers wouldn’t notice the slow and gradual changes. First a small amount of cheaper corn syrup started to replace some of the more expensive malted barley, and hop pellets started to replace fresh hops. Not all of it, not all at once, but a slow and undetectable increase in the proportions of the cheaper ingredients by a little bit, and then a little more. And then a little more. And more.

The owners were right, in the beginning. No one noticed the changes, and their profit-to-sales ratio soared. All seemed to be going just as planned. But over time, as the easier and cheaper ingredients and processes were introduced more and more, people did notice. While the changes over a few months might have escaped notice, the changes over several years were unmistakeable. This wasn’t the same beer that had once been number one in the US.

In an effort to get more product out the door more quickly, Schlitz also tried shorter, faster fermentation times, which proved to be a disaster. Chemical additives were required to remove the haze of proteins that would typically settle out naturally during a longer brew time, and one such additive had an undesirable side effect — a protein precipitate that looked like snot. Schlitz’s response was to say that it wasn’t a matter for concern, and that it was perfectly safe to drink. Needless to say, nobody cared, and Schlitz slipped from second place to third, and just kept dropping.

In 1981, the same brewery that once produced the top-selling beer in the United States had to be sold because it was much too large for the current rate of production, which had dropped dramatically in response to the crash in Schlitz’s popularity. You can still see the old brewery complex today — it’s an office park, with the arch and the cream brick buildings bearing the name “Schlitz.”

And did I mention that it was beautiful? The former tasting room boasts plaster ceilings, dark wood panelling, , chandeliers made of antlers (long before it was cool), and magnificent carvings imported from Europe, including a centuries-old carved oak door that was (to the best of this author’s recollection) brought over from a German hunting lodge. The walls were covered with photos of celebrities and dignitaries who had visited, like Lucille Ball and President Harry S. Truman. This is the world of Schlitz as it once was. It was finally sold to Stroh in 1982, but Schlitz’s enormous debt subsequently caused Stroh to collapse, and Pabst bought Stroh (and what remained of Schlitz) in 1999.

In 2008, forty years after Schlitz first started tinkering with their formulation, Pabst launched a recreation of the original formula with the marketing slogan “our classic 1960’s formula is back.” And it was pretty good. Definitely better than anything AB/InBev was offering. As a result, Schlitz had a mild resurgence in popularity — especially in its home of Milwaukee — but nothing compared to its former ubiquity.

And now, this month, the last batch is being made.

So….what does this have to do with LCMS pastoral formation?

The temptation for the LCMS is not so different from the strategy that the Schlitz leadership took in the 1970s. We want to get more clergy trained and sent out into parishes more quickly. And the answer being proposed is a reformulation of its own. Cut the languages here, reduce the overall instruction hours there, and speed up or eliminate altogether the time spent on a seminary campus, the time in which ideas and gifts and abilities and relationships ferment and develop and grow.

Yes, more graduates can go out the door more quickly, and it seems like a great solution in the short term, but what are the long term effects? Will people notice in the first few years if another 10% or 20% of clergy are trained online or largely at a distance? Probably not.

But will the changes be unmistakable over the decade or decades to follow? Without a doubt. What do you think happens to a church that formerly had 90%+ of its graduates trained in the Biblical languages (however imperfectly), but then the number slips to 80%, then 70%, 60%, 50%?

Well, some places are already at that mark. 50% of clergy with no residential seminary education and no languages means that circuit text studies become impossible. It isn't just one person who needs a little extra help, which has always been the case, it's half or more of the room that never even learned the Greek alphabet, and can’t begin to decipher the text on the page. But it isn't just about the niceties of meetings studies and iron sharpening iron, though you can quickly see how much of that becomes impossible. The pastors who are tasked with teaching Holy Scripture are entirely at the mercy of commentaries and commentators, of translations and translators. They are no longer able to take up the text of Holy Scripture in its original languages and read, and it must instead be interpreted for them by someone else.

And it isn't just about the Biblical languages, though that's a primary presenting symptom. The overall effect is to create a more shallowly rooted body of clergy that are all the more easily "carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the trickery of men, in the cunning craftiness of deceitful plotting."

But, some will say, you can actually have much better learning outcomes online than in person. It all depends on the quality of the instructor. The test results can prove it.

But is that all seminary education is? Downloading data like a computer so that you can regurgitate it at will when assessed? Or is it also intended to form a solid foundation that will not give way easily, to form a habitus of prayer and devotion, to create and strengthen bonds of social and spiritual cohesion that hold clergy together? Any seminary graduate will tell you that education and formation don’t end at the classroom door, but continue out through the rest of the day and week as students argue and discuss and go back and forth. Iron sharpening iron, and all that. But online seminary education can’t really do any of those things very well.

The ugly truth, though, is that for some in the LCMS, that isn't a bug, but a feature. Seminary graduates without deeply rooted experience in exegesis, without deep training in systematics, confessions, historical, and pastoral theology more broadly are easier to push around, to manipulate, and will kowtow all the more readily to their superiors, whether district presidents, senior pastors, or whoever. They will more easily go along with the absurdities that are foisted on them, because a core part of distance education is that while seminary classes are taken online with the occasional intensive, the students are, in reality, primarily shaped by one or two other pastors who supervise them on a day to day basis. Which, I ask you, has more impact in this model — the faraway professors that you rarely interact with in person, or the senior pastor and other clergy who are there day after day after day for years? The answer is obvious.

The appeal of the SMP program for some seems to be the relative ease with which congregations or districts and their senior pastors or district presidents can shape clergy in their own image and likeness, without being bothered by impediments thrown in their way by a deeply rooted theological education that will not be so easily swayed.

“Open communion? That’s the way we’ve always done it here, you can just ignore what those seminary professors have to say, they don’t understand our context. It’s nice in theory, but we live in the real world.”

“Unionism and joint worship with other denominations? No problem, don’t worry about it. Our context is really different and the rules don’t really make sense for us.”

What's more, the move to increased emphasis on distance seminary education means that individual clergy are more isolated — it means that you no longer have a thick, dense network of mutual support. You are trained at a distance, have limited interaction with your peers, and simply cannot gain the lifelong brothers that are only formed by living and studying side by side for years. Which, again, means that you are all the more easily manipulated and pushed around. It means that you don't have all of those fellow seminary colleagues to call on in times of trouble, to ask for advice, or to tell you that you're being an idiot. Instead, you are — as is increasingly the case across in our time — alone.

Is an isolated and atomized body of clergy a group that holds together when the adversary is walking around like a roaring lion? Does such a pastoral education system produce clergy with deep roots, or are they left to be “reeds shaken by the wind”?

While the reformulation of pastoral may seem like a good idea in the moment, a quick solution for a pressing problem, the consequences will be — not to put too fine a point on it — dire. What seems like an expedient solution today is sowing the seeds of destruction for tomorrow.

If you, like me, are a millennial, you're becoming increasingly aware of what previous generations have sown that we now have to reap. Why in the world would we knowingly do the same for the generations that will follow after us?

Don't let the "Schlitz Mistake" become the "LCMS Mistake." Read the whole sad Schlitz saga here.

Lo, the apostles’ holy train
Join Thy sacred name to hallow;
Prophets swell the glad refrain,
And the white-robed martyrs follow,
And from morning to set of sun
Through the Church the song goes on
— LSB 940:3

As a postscript to my earlier piece about liturgical deracination, I have some reflections on the Te Deum Laudamus.

This magnificent hymn of the church, with Luther rightfully considered creedal, is part of our Lutheran and our catholic Christian identity. Perhaps as a kind of silver lining to the less-than-ideal practice of intentionally scheduling certain Sundays to deny all of the faithful the opportunity to take Holy Communion, many Lutherans in the TLH era became familiar with the Office of Matins, and with the ancient hymn often attributed to Bishop St. Ambrose of Milan (339-397), the Te Deum Laudamus, sung in English and set to a form of Anglican chant (LSB 223).

Because of the antiquity and popularity of this hymn, originally sung in Latin in Gregorian chant, it has been translated into many languages and paraphrased and set into different musical settings (e.g. LSB 939, 940, and 941). Luther’s German Te Deum - which was also translated into English, but didn’t make the LSB cut - is a beautiful antiphonal chant.

And given that the early Lutherans retained Matins and Vespers from the monastic orders for use in church and home, the Te Deum is part of our Lutheran identity. Sadly, it is yet another casualty of the CoWo deracination, one more severance from the roots of our history.

For once again, this hymn connects us to Ambrose and Augustine, to centuries of Christians who sang God’s praise having learned, and passed on, this hymn one link at a time throughout the centuries. Or as one of the Te Deum paraphrases puts it: “Through the Church the Song Goes On” (LSB 940:3).

One example of this song going on that is part of our Christian heritage involves the attempted deracination of the church during the French Revolution.

At the tail end of the reign of terror, shortly before the terror’s architect Maximilien Robespierre would meet his own end on Madame Guillotine on July 28, 1794, there were two groups of martyrs who went to the guillotine singing the Te Deum.

The Martyrs of Orange

Between July 9 and 26, 1794, 32 nuns were beheaded in a Roman theater in Orange France:

During the troubles of the French Revolution, 29 Sisters, expelled from their convents, found refuge in a house at Bollène. During their eighteen months there, they shared their life of prayer and total poverty. Arrested in April 1794 because they refused to swear the oath required by the city officials, an oath their conscience condemned, they were jailed on May 2 at Orange, in the Rectory’s prison, near the Cathedral, where 13 other Sisters were already imprisoned.

They organized themselves in a single community and consecrated the essential part of their time to prayer. Condemned to die by the Popular Commission, then commanding in the actual Chapel of Saint-Louis, they were transferred to the ancient Theater, where they awaited to climb the guillotine erected in Saint Martin’s Court. They all went up to the scaffold joyfully, singing and praying for their persecutors, who admired their courage : “These bougresses are all dying with laughter!” Ten other jailed Sisters were saved by the fall of Robespierre on July 28, and liberated in 1795.

The bodies of the Martyrs were thrown in mass graves in the field of Lapolane (at Gabet), 4 kilometers from the town, on the edge of the Aygues River, and a Chapel was built there in 1832.

One of the hymns sung by the sisters on the way to the scaffold was their beloved Te Deum Laudamus - which specifically mentions the “noble army of martyrs.”

Martyrs of Compiègne

Almost at the same time, on July 17, 1794, another group of nuns was being executed in Paris. They were also courageous, and went to their deaths not only laughing (to the awe of their executioners), but also singing hymns, including the Te Deum. While awaiting execution, they also sang Veni Creator Spiritus (LSB 499), as well as the offices of Vespers (LSB 229) and Compline (LSB 253).

As the sixteen sisters mounted the scaffold one after another, they chanted Psalm 116 (which is also in our LSB hymnal), each one singing until the blade dropped, and the next picked up where the previous sister left off.

Obviously, these sisters are not from our Lutheran tradition, and nobody is denying the differences that we have with Rome that inhibits communion with them. But that said, these women were martyrs because of their confession of our Lord Jesus Christ. They were strengthened by knowing these ancient Psalms and canticles that rooted them into the church’s ongoing story: “through the church the song goes on.” How impoverished are those in our synod who have gotten rid of the hymnal and its treasures. One can only wonder what they would sing were martyrdom be foisted upon us in our day.

Do We Follow In Their Train?

Another hymn in our hymnal that non-liturgical and non-hymnal congregations have cut themselves off from is "The Son of God Goes Forth to War” (LSB 661) from the “Church Militant” section. I suspect that even many of our liturgical churches don’t sing this inspiring hymn that connects us to the martyrs. For the same theme is in there: our collective memory and praise of “the noble army of martyrs” as we sing in the Te Deum. Movie aficionados may recognize the hymn (though sung to a different tune) from the 1975 Sean Connery film (based on the Rudyard Kipling novella) “The Man Who Would Be King.” This text, written by Anglican Bishop Reginald Heber (1783-1826) - the favorite hymn of General George S. Patton, sung at his funeral - certainly seems inspired by the Te Deum Laudamus as well. We do well to sing this hymn and remember the cost of discipleship, including the Christian heroines who sang the Te Deum as they made their way to the scaffold at the bloody end of the Reign of Terror. May we never forget our history through the decoupling of the train and self-deracination. And where we have been severed from our past, let us seek to restore that which was taken from us.

A glorious band, the chosen few,
On whom the Spirit came,
Twelve valiant saints — their hope they knew
And mocked the cross and flame.
They met the tyrant’s brandished steel,
The lion’s gory mane;
They bowed their necks their death to feel —
Who follows in their train?

A noble army, men and boys,
The matron and the maid,
Around the Savior’s throne rejoice,
In robes of light arrayed.
They climbed the steep ascent of heav’n
Through peril, toil, and pain.
O God, to us may grace be giv’n
To follow in their train. (LSB 661:3-4)

Evidently some people are squeamish about the idea that the Office of the Ministry carries authority with it. Ascension Day seems a good time to set things straight on that score.

Dr. Jeffrey Kloha, formerly a professor at the St. Louis seminary, is now part of the Institute of Lutheran Theology and its creation of an online-only M.Div. program known as the Center for Missional and Pastoral Leadership (CMPL), whose aims, as I have indicated previously, are in rather sharp contrast to the residential seminary training for which the LCMS has historically been known.

It turns out, not surprisingly, that Dr. Kloha has also demonstrated a flawed understanding of the authority of the Office of the Ministry, in an article he recently posted, entitled, “Ministry,” “Congregation,” and “Authority” (including all those quotation marks). The opening words present this flawed understanding, so you needn’t read the whole thing to find it (though if you want to, here it is). The flaw may be seen right here:

My church body, the Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod, is in its three-year cycle of convention, elections, and various overtures from across the church body. The overtures are now published, so I will be commenting on items from my background and interest in New Testament and its interpretation. The LCMS confesses the “plenary verbal inspiration” of the Scriptures and declares that the Scriptures are the “only source and norm of faith and life.” So it is worth exploring what this actually looks like, in practice, in the overtures presented to the convention.

This is a piece that a [sic] wrote, apparently, in 2012 and posted on a then-functioning blog site of the institution where I was teaching at the time. I refer to a specific article in an official publication of my church body (for a popular audience), but that article is no longer online, I don’t remember the author, and it doesn’t really matter. What I’m trying to get at in this piece is the false pitting of “office of the ministry” against—and especially over—the congregation. There is also a helpful reminder that “authority” is a word reserved (in the NT anyway) for Jesus Christ. I think any reasonable reading of the New Testament would cause a follower of Jesus to flee from having any kind of “authority.” (emphasis mine).

As it happens, the article in question is in fact still available online (scroll to page 7). “The Lord’s Office” was written by Rev. Seth Clemmer and it appears in the November 2012 issue of Lutheran Witness (LW). And it really does matter, because Dr. Kloha’s claim that it falsely pits “office of the ministry” against the congregation simply isn’t true. The LW article is a short piece, and it’s a well-written explanation of the kind of authority the ministry has and exercises. I find nothing false in the article, and in fact there’s no indication of the office being exercised against or over the congregation, but only for the congregation’s benefit.

Dr. Kloha has attacked a straw man, and he’s done so by referring to an article that supposedly promotes an oppressive kind of authority over people (it doesn’t), and then himself claiming, falsely, that followers of Jesus ought to flee from having any kind of “authority.” 

What an odd thing to say. Although there are certainly some kinds of authority from which followers of Jesus ought to flee, it would be wrong for them to flee from any kind of authority. Indeed Dr. Kloha’s own prior sentence refers to the authority of Jesus Christ! While Christ’s authority is not a dictatorial or lording-it-over kind of authority, it is most certainly authority, of another kind. What kind? Jesus himself defines it over against the wrong kind of authority, when he says, “Ye know that the princes of the Gentiles exercise dominion over them, and they that are great exercise authority upon them. But it shall not be so among you: but whosoever will be great among you, let him be your minister;  And whosoever will be chief among you, let him be your servant: Even as the Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many” (Matt. 20:25-28). But Jesus also commands certain things: “[Teach] them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you” (Matt. 28:20). And so it was that the Apostles went forth teaching with this authority, insisting upon the teachings they received from him. Not only are the preachers sent forth with authority, but with the knowledge that he who sent them did so immediately upon declaring, “All power has been given to me in heaven and in earth” (Matt. 28:18). That word power (Greek ἐξουσία) is also commonly translated authority. What Jesus is saying in his final discourse—which happened to be on Ascension Day; in fact this saying seems to be St. Matthew’s only reference to the Ascension—is this: since all authority in heaven and on earth, therefore I am authoritatively sending you to preach the Gospel: “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen” (Matt. 28:20). Lest anyone think these preachers have no authority, Jesus says that he is with them when they exercise their office of baptizing and teaching, meaning this: not only authority, but all authority in heaven and on earth is attached to the preaching of the Gospel.

That is exactly the authority the Office of the Ministry exercises, and whose holders are responsible for exercising in their teaching; they aren’t exercising earthly authority here; they aren’t ordering people around; the authority of Christ is embedded in the Gospel they preach, which is precisely why we are to hold this preaching sacred and gladly hear and learn it. This is also explained in the LW article Dr. Kloha finds odious: “Therefore, the pastor is the Lord’s servant to His Church, speaking His words of forgiveness and delivering His gifts, all under the authority of Jesus.” Indeed the key feature of this authority is spelled out succinctly in the Small Catechism: “What is the Office of the Keys? The Office of the Keys is that special authority which Christ has given to His church on earth to forgive the sins of repentant sinners, but to withhold forgiveness from the unrepentant as long as they do not repent.” And this authority is carried out by the ministers: “when the called ministers of Christ deal with us by His divine command, in particular when they exclude openly unrepentant sinners from the Christian congregation and absolve those who repent of their sins and want to do better, this is just as valid and certain, even in heaven, as if Christ our dear Lord dealt with us Himself.” That’s a pretty clear exercise of authority, and it brings me back to Dr. Kloha’s claim that “any reasonable reading of the New Testament would cause a follower of Jesus to flee from having any kind of ‘authority.’” Well, here’s a reasonable reading of the New Testament, upon which the claim of the catechism is based:  “St. John the Evangelist writes in chapter twenty: The Lord Jesus breathed on His disciples and said, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive anyone his sins, they are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven.’ (John 20:22–23)”

But Dr. Kloha says an emphasis on this reading is due to “picking” John 20 over Matthew 18:

Pick your passage? John 20 or Matt 16 or Matt 18? Sasse points out this is the starting point of the problem. If you only take Matt 18, you have church but no pastors; only Matt 16 or John 20 you have pastors but no church. Unfortunately, this is one of the shortcomings of the November, 2012 Lutheran Witness article. The only bestowal of the Office of the Keys cited is from John 20. Granted, the piece is short, not exhaustive, and aimed at a popular audience. Nevertheless, there is a danger (which the article flirts with) in removing from the church (the baptized) the gift of forgiveness given to all the baptized to share. 

In addition to its leveling of another unfair slight against the LW article, there appears to be some obfuscation here, since the Matthew 18 passage (“Tell it to the church” as the last tribunal of jurisdiction) is not opposed to John 20, as he seems to suggest. Rather, the Matthew 18 passage needs to be interpreted in light of John 20, which is to say, the people in the congregation cannot be seen as authorities over the ministers. Besides, if that were so, the ministers would be their hirelings, a relationship against which Jesus warns (John 10:12-13).

Perhaps what Dr. Kloha believes, falsely, is that every Christian is a minister, as is claimed by those who want to remove the comma from Ephesians 4:12 (against which removal I have previously argued). When he says that “the gift of forgiveness [is] given to all the baptized to share,” he shows his hand. The gift of forgiveness is for all the baptized to receive, and in which to rejoice, but in saying it’s for all the baptized to share—something they must do, as opposed to something  they should believe—he deemphasizes the gift itself, and it is he, not the LW author, that “flirts with” removing from the church (the baptized) the gift of forgiveness. To be sure, the baptized are taught to pray for forgiveness as they also forgive one another, but there’s a difference between the word of absolution spoken by the pastor and the forgiveness a Christian offers his neighbor. The pastor authoritatively announces forgiveness for sins against God, while Christians learn to forgive one another, as they should, for sins against themselves. When authority is removed from the Office of the Ministry, so is the authoritative guarantee of God’s forgiveness, which we are to regard “as valid and certain as if Christ our dear Lord dealt with us Himself” (Small Catechism, Office of the Keys). Instead of having pastors who preach the Gospel of forgiveness for Christ’s sake, the churches get pastors whose emphasis shifts from the comfort of the Gospel to equipping the people for them to do “ministry” (again, there’s the result of the mischievous removal of that comma!).

Rightly does the Lutheran Church forbid a layman, when of necessity conducting a service in the absence of a pastor, from pronouncing the absolution. It must be a pastor who says, “Upon this your confession, I as a called and ordained servant of the word announce unto you the grace of God, and in the stead and by the command of my Lord Jesus Christ I forgive you all your sins in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” That’s authority in spades.

This was published May 22, 2012 — Ed.

Someone recently observed that I am significantly interested in adiaphora.  It's true.  Thinking about adiaphora has occupied much of my time and attention for the past decade or more, and that continues to be so; not only from a theoretical perspective, but with very practical consideration.

Continue reading…

The time comes when ever pastor must travel. It might be for business, like a conference or convention. Perhaps, though, it is for fun, and you get away for a few days of vacation. My family and I were recently traveling for a bit of both, and unfortunately, that travel was going to cause us to be gone over a Sunday. Thankfully, my own pulpit was covered, but the question became, “While we’re on the road on Sunday, where were we going to stop for the Divine Service?” And it wasn’t an option. My older son had just been confirmed the week before. Even if I had thought of skipping or getting by with hotel Matins, he assuredly wasn’t going to let me. He is still freshly zealous for the vow he had made, thanks be to God!

But that was the issue. We were traveling through the South, South Carolina to be exact. Not only are Lutherans few and far between in our parts, it was one of those dreaded “second Sundays,” and you know what that means! If it’s not 1st, 3rd, or 5th, no Sacrament for you! On top of that, we have a reputation down here of not having very historic, liturgical congregations in large numbers. So I began the search for a place that would celebrate the Sacrament of the Altar as our Confessions say we should while also not scandalizing my boys (and my wife on Mother’s Day!).

That’s when I found it. As we were eating breakfast on Friday of that week, it was right there in the locator. (And yes, I’m aware of the other locators for liturgical congregations, but not everyone who should be on them is actually on them.) Holy Trinity Lutheran Church in Columbia, South Carolina, popped up. My first thought was, “It cannot be. Could there exist a faithful, historic LCMS congregation within a stone’s throw from the Gamecock campus?” Sure enough, it exists, and more people need to know about it, especially if your children are looking at attending college besides Luther Classical College or one of our Concordias (Nebraska for the win).

Last Sunday, we stopped at Holy Trinity Lutheran Church in Columbia. It is a small congregation, but it is not a dying congregation. The amount of young families is what caught my eye right away. We were greeted right away by a young father of four. When we made our way into the nave, there before our eyes was an amazing stone crucifix that hangs to the right side of the altar. What a sight to see!

Then the Divine Service began, and even though Holy Trinity is a smaller congregation, there stood by the Presider a Deacon and Subdeacon who were well prepared and reverent. A Kantor stood in the balcony and led the Introit, Gradual, and Sequence. The Sacrament was celebrated reverently and in order. I was also shocked to not see an individual cup in sight. Everyone communed from the Pastor’s hand.

Now, of course, this is not the way all of us do things, and that’s OK. Despite all of the headaches that often come with travel, I’m glad we stopped where we did. If you’re ever traveling through that area, be sure to stop in at Holy Trinity. If you live nearby (and even if you have to drive a ways) it’s well worth it.

“Remember, therefore, that it is no joke to take sides against the devil and not only to drive him away from the little child, but to burden the child with such a mighty and lifelong enemy.”
— Martin Luther

A writer on Substack, whom I believe to be a Reformed Christian, expressed amazement that “ancient baptismal liturgies” included a renunciation of the devil and the recitation of the Apostles’ Creed. He very much liked the idea of renouncing Satan at baptism, and expressed dismay that this was not being done in his own church.

While the Holy Sacrament doesn’t require anything other than a celebrant, a candidate, water, and the Words of Institution, baptisms in Lutheran churches typically and ordinarily include, and have always included, the renunciation of the devil and the reciting (or confession) of the creed by the candidate. In fact, I cannot remember ever personally conducting a baptism without these liturgical words and acts. My own baptism (as an adult) included them. And in fact, following the alternative rite as found on page 14 of the Pastoral Care Companion (based on Luther’s 1526 rite), I always include the exorcism.

But what about non-liturgical Lutherans?

To be sure, they conduct proper, valid baptisms. Some LCMS megachurches put their baptisms on YouTube. But as one might expect, there is no renunciation of the devil, nor confession of the Apostles’ Creed - let alone the exorcism.

In fact, a recent example of an LCMS non-liturgical congregation’s baptismal service was widely circulated online because of some of those baptisms actually being “rebaptisms,” with one of them involving a man identifying as a woman (and there were other issues as well). The rites were confusing, with some of their baptisms being done by pouring, while others were done by immersion in a kiddie pool. The “transgender” individual appeared to have been (re-)baptized by a lady layman - though that does not seem to have actually been the case. When liturgical orders are abolished, quite often, disorder and confusion fill the vacuum. And the big question is “Qui bono?”

But it is also troublesome that this congregation, like some other LCMS congregations, also did away with the renunciation of the devil. One can only ask “Why?” I mean, who would want to abolish such a thing, besides Satan and his demons, that is?

In these dark days where evil runs rampant, why would any of our churches seek to cut out the renunciation of Satan, or the opportunity for a candidate to confess his faith? Why would they forego the giving of the sign of the cross to the candidate, and the opportunity to lay hands on the head of the candidate and pray the Lord’s Prayer? And what could be the rationale to ditch Luther’s “flood prayer,” which our churches have prayed together at Holy Baptism for more than five centuries now? What do they gain in return?

Obviously, these ceremonies are not essential to a baptism, but what is the rationale for their abolition? Does anyone other than the devil benefit?

And similarly, it’s my understanding that some of those who worked on the LSB project wanted to include the exorcism (as found on page 16 of the Pastoral Care Companion) in the standard baptismal liturgy that appears in our hymnal (LSB 268), but were opposed by some, and and the exorcism was removed. Once again, Qui bono?

I have to admit, I find it a bit creepy that we had men making liturgical decisions for our church body who opposed the inclusion of an exorcism. Again, the only beneficiaries of this omission are demonic.

Well, at least these rites are still available - and still commonly used by our pastors and congregations - by those who still believe that the church (including baptismal candidates) still ought to renounce the devil, all his works, and all his ways.

You can learn more about the traditional Lutheran ceremonies of the Sacrament of Holy Baptism from this helpful article by LCMS pastor, the Rev. Dr. Mark Birkholz: “Luther’s Baptismal Rites.”

By Chris Streeper

The 1999 Kevin Smith film Dogma introduced the world to the “Buddy Christ.” In the film, late comedian George Carlin portrayed Roman Catholic Cardinal Ignatius Glick. In a spoof of modern evangelism efforts, Glick introduced “Catholicism WOW!”, a campaign designed to modernize the “passé, archaic institution of the Church.” His character stating, that in modern times, people found the Bible to be “obtuse and even hokey.” During a speech to local reporters, Cardinal Glick stated the Catholic church would be ditching the Crucifix in favor of the Buddy Christ, proclaiming that, Jesus didn’t come to earth to “give us the willies,” but that He “came to help us out… He was a booster!” All this takes place within the first few minutes of the film. It goes downhill from there.

A little over a decade prior, LCMS Pastor David Luecke published a book titled Evangelical Style and Lutheran Substance: Facing America’s Mission Challenge. The thesis of Luecke’s book was that the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod could integrate and adapt some of the elements of “Evangelical Style” while maintaining it’s Lutheran “Substance” (or identity). Broken down into three sections, Luecke proposed many of the methodologies presented by the Church Growth Movement. In the first chapter of his book, he discussed how Old Churches could move forward by adopting new “styles.” In the second chapter, Luecke examined and assessed different styles of Evangelism, and offered a few “touchpoints for Lutheran adaptations.” In the final chapter, Lueke postulated that churches would grow in the future would need to focus on a more “camp style of audience contact,” and integrate more expressions of personal faith and develop more leadership through the identifying of their personal spiritual gifts. Ultimately, Luecke suggested that church growth is directly tied to a church’s style, which itself is a matter of adiaphora.

He says this on pages 21-22,

Congregations or church bodies have as their substance the part of their identity which has to remain unchanged. Style can be identified as how a church expresses that substance. Style can and does change over the years, just as languages and cultures do. Adopting new styles of church expression amounts to adapting to changes in culture.

Style can be recognized primarily in the way church people communicate what they believe and do and in the ways churches organize to sustain themselves and to carry out their work. Wide diversity in such matters is evident among American Protestants today. Evangelicals in particular have developed styles that differ from those usually seen in historic mainline churches today.

For most churches the line between style and substance remains unclearly drawn. For some Lutherans there may be a question of whether liturgical worship belongs to their substance. They would resist treating it as style, as implied earlier. But in fact, Lutheran worship practice has considerable variance and has had that over the centuries. For Lutherans, substance revolves around beliefs, which are readily identified in the Confessions that define Lutheranism. The Confessions recognize considerable latitude in matters of practice and thereby in style. The conceptual term for what is at issue here is “adiaphora.”

Today it seems, nearly everything in our Synod can be called an issue of adiaphora. Worship music? Adiaphora. Liturgy? Adiaphora. Vestments? Adiaphora. Lutheran identity? Adiaphora. Confessions? Adiaphora. Pastoral formation? Adiaphora. You get my point… But a better understanding of exactly what adiaphora is and isn’t, and how it is understood by our confessional documents, can put some of these disagreements to bed.

What then is adiaphora? The term adiaphora is derived from the Greek word ἀδιάφορον (pl. ἀδιάφορα) which refers to “indifferent things.” Specifically, things which are neither commanded by, nor forbidden by Scripture. Strictly speaking, it is grey area. Theologically speaking, adiaphora are generally related to practice or beliefs which are not essential to faith. In the context of Confessional Lutheranism, adiaphora are a protection against establishing requirements which might add something to Christ’s completed work of salvation. This is where Lutherans find the basis for having a bit of freedom, or leeway, in our rites and ceremonies.

But what exactly do our Confessions have to say about issues of adiaphora? Many things in fact, but since the style of worship is the core of what this brief essay is about, I’ll stick to what they say about the substance and style of Lutheran worship specifically. Let’s examine the following article:

AC. Art. VII – The Church: [1] Our churches teach that one holy Church is to remain forever. The Church is the congregation of saints [Psalm 149:1] in which the Gospel is purely taught and the Sacraments are correctly administered. [2] For the true unity of the Church it is enough to agree about the doctrine of the Gospel and the administration of the Sacraments. [3] It is not necessary that human traditions, that is, rites or ceremonies instituted by men, should be the same everywhere. [4] As Paul says, “One Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all” (Ephesians 4:5–6).

A few things are important here. First, Art. VII defines what Lutherans consider to be “the Church.” Specifically, we consider this to be the body of Christ gathered around the Word (meaning the preaching of the Law & Gospel) and the Sacraments. Next, we move to the topic of unity. It is enough to agree about doctrine and the administration of the Sacraments. Finally in line [3] the Augsburg Confession addresses the issue of adiaphora for the first time saying, it is not necessary, that the Church’s rites and ceremonies look the same everywhere.

Beginning on line [30] the Apologia addresses adiaphora a bit more in depth.

Ap. Art VII and VIII (IV) – The Church: [31] … We are speaking of true, spiritual unity. Without faith in the heart, or righteousness of heart before God, such unity cannot exist. Similarity of human ceremonies, whether universal or particular, is not necessary. The righteousness of faith is not a righteousness bound to certain traditions. The righteousness of the Law was bound to the Mosaic ceremonies. But righteousness of the heart is a matter that enlivens the heart. Human traditions, whether they are universal or particular, contribute nothing to this new life. Neither are traditions effects of the Holy Spirit, as are self-control, patience, the fear of God, love for one’s neighbor, and the works of love.

[33] We believe that the true unity of the Church is not injured by dissimilar ceremonies instituted by humans, just as the dissimilar length of day and night does not injure the unity of the Church. However, it is pleasing to us that, for the sake of peace, universal ceremonies are kept. We also willingly keep the order of the Mass in the churches, the Lord’s Day, and other more famous festival days. With a very grateful mind we include the beneficial and ancient ordinances, especially since they contain a discipline. This discipline is beneficial for educating and training the people and those who are ignorant ‹the young people›. [34] We are not discussing now whether it is helpful to keep them because of peace or bodily profit. We speak of something else.

What is this something else? We keep certain rites and ceremonies, and willingly keep the order of the Mass, and other beneficial and ancient ordinances for a few reasons. As noted in the Apology, because they contain a spiritual discipline for believers to practice their faith. Secondly, for good order and theological education. Not because they merit salvation in any way and not to bind consciences in any way, but because these things are beneficial for the Christian. The Apology continues to discuss this further in depth throughout the rest of the Article.

This line of thinking is further developed in Art. XV:

AC. Art. XV – Church Ceremonies: [1] Our churches teach that ceremonies ought to be observed that may be observed without sin. Also, ceremonies and other practices that are profitable for tranquility and good order in the Church (in particular, holy days, festivals, and the like) ought to be observed. [2] Yet, the people are taught that consciences are not to be burdened as though observing such things was necessary for salvation [Colossians 2:16–17]. [3] They are also taught that human traditions instituted to make atonement with God, to merit grace, and to make satisfaction for sins are opposed to the Gospel and the doctrine of faith. [4] So vows and traditions concerning meats and days, and so forth, instituted to merit grace and to make satisfaction for sins, are useless and contrary to the Gospel.

Here our Confession states quite clearly that ceremonies and other practices which are “profitable for tranquility and good order” out to be observed and may be observed without sin. Furthermore, the reader is reminded that following these ceremonies is in no way necessary for salvation. To say it another way, the order and form of worship is a matter of unity and good order. Or to say it another way, all our churches should look very similar to each other. If this matter wasn’t made clear enough, it is addressed within the Apology as well.

Ap. Art XV (VIII) – Human Traditions in the Church: [3]… We do not merit the forgiveness of sins or grace by celebrating human traditions. [13] Why do we need a long discussion? No tradition was set up by the Holy Fathers for the purpose of meriting the forgiveness of sins, or righteousness. Rather, they were instituted for the sake of good order in the Church and for the sake of peace. [21] The Fathers celebrated human rites for the body’s benefit. For example, by such rites the people would know what time they should gather so that, for the sake of example, all things might be done in order and properly in the churches [1 Corinthians 14:40] and that the common people might receive a sort of training. Distinctions of times and the variety of rites help in reminding the common people. The Fathers maintained the rites for these reasons. We also conclude it is proper for these reasons to keep traditions ‹good customs›.

[38] We cheerfully maintain the old traditions made in the Church for the sake of usefulness and peace. We interpret them in a more moderate way and reject the opinion that holds they justify… [44]… we earnestly keep Church discipline, godly ceremonies, and good Church customs. [45] We teach this about the putting to death of the flesh and discipline of the body. Just as the Confession states, a true and not a false putting to death [mortification] happens through the cross and troubles, by which God exercises us. In them we must obey God’s will, as Paul says, “Present your bodies as a living sacrifice” (Romans 12:1). They are the spiritual exercises of fear and faith. [46] In addition to this putting to death, which happens through the cross, there is also a necessary, voluntary exercise. Christ says, “But watch yourselves lest your hearts be weighed down with dissipation” (Luke 21:34). And Paul says, “I discipline my body and keep it under control” (1 Corinthians 9:27), and so on. [47] These exercises are to be accepted not because they are services that justify, but because they are assumed to control the flesh, should overindulgence overpower us, and make us secure and unconcerned. This results in people indulging and obeying the tendencies of the flesh.

What does this mean? The order of worship, the forms and ceremonies… these things guide the faithful in a practice of holy and dignified worship of God. We discipline ourselves by bringing our flesh in tune with the rhythm of the Church, not the melody of the world, which would result in “indulging and obeying the tendencies of the flesh.” Again, the authors of our Confessions are not saying that the form of worship is a matter of salvation, but a matter of good order. They go on to say in line [51] that Christian freedom (adiaphora) should have some constraints so that the true doctrine of the Gospel doesn’t get lost. Furthermore, they state that nothing in customary rites should be changed without a reasonable cause. To nurture unity within the Church, old customs that can be kept without sin or great inconvenience should be kept.

So far, everything that the authors of our Confession have mentioned about the way the Lutheran church practices worship has to do with education and unity. In Article XXIV, they specifically address what the Mass (aka, the Divine Service) should look like in Lutheran Churches.

AC. Art. XXIV – The Mass: [1] Our churches are falsely accused of abolishing the Mass. The Mass is held among us and celebrated with the highest reverence. [2] Nearly all the usual ceremonies are also preserved…

Most of the rest of the article has to do with the Roman abuses of the Mass. Interestingly though, in line [34] the specific purpose of the Mass is mentioned as being for the giving of the Sacrament. For this reason, it is stated, that we have Communion every holy day! (How many of you have Communion every week?) In line [40] the Confession states that our Mass follows the example of the Church, and is derived from Scripture and the writings of the Church Fathers. And, once again, it states that we keep the public ceremonies, which are for the most part, very similar to those in the Roman church. Per usual, we get a bit more context and detail in the Apology.

Ap. Art. XXIV – the Mass: [1]… we do not abolish the Mass, but religiously keep and defend it. Masses are celebrated among us every Lord’s Day and on the other festivals. The Sacrament is offered to those who wish to use it, after they have been examined and absolved. And the usual public ceremonies are observed, the series of lessons, of prayers, vestments, and other such things.

I truly wonder how many Lutherans know that vestments are specifically mentioned in our Confessions. As we continue to read the Apology, we learn the intent of the ceremonies used in the Church. [3]… ceremonies should be celebrated to teach people Scripture, that those admonished by the Word may conceive faith and godly fear, and may also pray. After another lengthy discourse about the Roman abuses of the Mass, the Apology addresses the liturgy of the Mass, which is the “public ministry” of the Church. The articles closing statement is as follows: [99] We have briefly said these things about the Mass for the following reasons. First, we hope that all good people everywhere understand that we keep the dignity of the Mass and show its true use with the greatest zeal.

Thus far in our Confessions it has been continually stated that the rites, form, ceremonies and orders of worship within the Lutheran church do not look extremely different from that of our Roman brethren. It is also maintained throughout our Confession that we retain these things, not because they merit any type of salvation, but because they are useful for education of the people, and for the good order of the Church. This will be expounded upon in the final article.

AC. Art. XXVIII – Church Authority: [51] It is necessary that the doctrine of Christian freedom be preserved in the churches. In other words, the bondage of the Law is not necessary in order to be justified, as it is written in the Epistle to the Galatians, “do not submit again to a yoke of slavery” (5:1). [52] It is necessary for the chief article of the Gospel to be preserved, namely that we obtain grace freely by faith in Christ, and not by certain observances or acts of worship devised by people. [53] What, then, are we to think of the Sunday rites, and similar things, in God’s house? We answer that it is lawful for bishops, or pastors, to make ordinances so that things will be done orderly in the Church, but not to teach that we merit grace or make satisfaction for sins. Consciences are not bound to regard them as necessary services and to think that it is a sin to break them without offense to others… [55] It is proper that the churches keep such ordinances for the sake of love and tranquility, to avoid giving offense to another, so that all things be done in the churches in order, and without confusion (1 Corinthians 14:40; comp. Philippians 2:14). [56] It is proper to keep such ordinances just so long as consciences are not burdened to think that they are necessary to salvation.

So, what are we to think about Sunday worship? The Confessional answer to this question; “It is lawful for bishops, or pastors, to make ordinances to that things will be done orderly in the Church. No one in our Synod insists that a liturgical form of worship should merit the satisfaction of sins, and no one ever should. (Similarly, liturgical worship should not be made into an idol of our fellowship.) But under the ecclesiastical authority of the Church, the elected leadership of the Synod does in fact have the right to establish and maintain such ordinances “for the sake of love and tranquility” so that things are “done in the churches in order, and without confusion.” Again, maintaining order in the Church is the purpose of structured worship, never to give the appearance that God somehow approves the liturgy as righteousness, and never to burden the conscience. This is specifically mentioned in the Apology.

Ap. Art. XXVIII (XIV) – Church Authority: [15] In the Confession we also have discussed to what extent they may legitimately enact traditions, not as necessary services, but only for the sake of order in the Church and for peace. These traditions should not entrap consciences, as though to require necessary services. [16] The use of such ordinances should be left free, so long as offenses are avoided and they are not determined to be necessary services. In the same way the apostles themselves ordained many things that have been changed with time. Neither did they hand them down in such a way that they never could be changed. They did not depart from their own writings, in which they greatly labored should the Church be burdened with the opinion that human rites are necessary services. [17] This is the simple way of interpreting traditions: they are services that are not necessary. Yet, for the sake of avoiding offense, we should observe them in the proper place. [18] Many learned and great people in the Church have understood it this way.

Lutheran worship lives in the tension outlined here in the Apology. As mentioned throughout our Confessions, the Lutheran style of worship should resemble something akin to the Roman Mass, replete with vestments, liturgy, etc. It may be imposed for good order and for the benefit of theological education, but this style of worship cannot be made to bind the conscience or merit the forgiveness of sins. And while this style of worship may not be considered as necessary, it may be considered as beneficial, and because of this, the elements of worship should not be discarded without good reason. It is incorrect to read it in any other manner, and it is disingenuous to infer it states otherwise.

Having thoroughly explored the Confession and Apology, I now must return to Luecke’s assertion that the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod could integrate and adapt some of the elements of “Evangelical Style” while maintaining its Lutheran “Substance.” To put it bluntly, the claim is patently false and borderline absurd, because it dismisses exactly who we are... Confessional Lutherans. We bind ourselves to Scripture and Confession. It is our “substance.” That is our identity as a Synod. It makes us who we are and sets us apart from other church bodies. And part of that Confession is that we define our “style,” which is liturgical in nature. It has been this way since day one and always has been. This may not be the case for other church bodies, but for those of us who are serious about our Scripture and Confession, we cannot rightly separate our “substance” from our “style” because the two are intrinsically linked.

Like it or not, traditional liturgical worship is part of our DNA because we grew out of the ancient Christian church. For us, the form and style of worship cannot rightfully be considered a matter of adiaphora because it is not an issue which is bound to salvation and it does not merit the forgiveness of sin. For us, the form and style of worship is used for the benefit of maintain good order within the church, promoting theological education, and ensuring a clear proclamation of the Gospel. It sets us apart from the secular world and distinguishes us from other church bodies. Worship is not a matter of adiaphora, but a matter of confession. A confession which all member congregations of our Synod agree to uphold, and a confession which all pastors within our Synod vow to vigorously defend at their ordination.

But I digress. What do I know? I’m just an SMP guy. Seriously though, let’s drop these divisions between “Missionals” and “Confessionals” and get back to who we really are; a united Synod who walks together with a clear confession of faith and practice. Children of God. Saved by grace through faith.

Rev. Streeper serves as SMP vicar at St. Paul Lutheran Church in Valley City, Ohio.

by Sorin Horia Trifa, St. Mary Confessional Lutheran Church, Brașov, Romania

The year 1616 marks a tense moment in the history of Western Christianity. Johann Georg of Brandenburg, having converted from Lutheranism to Calvinism, sought to radically transform the liturgical worship of the Lutheran Churches within his territories. Yet precisely these interventions provide us, paradoxically, with a clear window into what the Lutheran Church truly was before these Calvinist influences mutilated it both theologically and liturgically. These were not merely aesthetic adjustments, changes in taste, or passing cultural adaptations. Rather, they constituted a systematic, coherent, and profoundly theological attempt to uproot a faith by altering the forms of its public expression. For, as both the Lutherans and their opponents understood very well, the Liturgy is never neutral, because it not only reflects faith, but also shapes it, transmits it, and strengthens it.

To understand the gravity of this moment, we must return to the sixteenth-century Lutheran Church, shaped by the Reformation of Martin Luther. Contrary to many modern perceptions, this Church was not an iconoclastic reaction or a radical break with historic Christian tradition. Martin Luther and the other Reformers did not seek to destroy the Liturgy, but to cleanse it of abuses and restore it to the service of the Gospel. For this reason, they retained the Liturgy, preserved the structure of the divine service, and kept the symbols, hymns, vestments, rituals, and ceremonies, precisely because they understood that God works through concrete and visible means.

In the early Lutheran Church, faith was not reduced to an inward conviction or to mere intellectual, theological assent. For the Lutherans of the Sixteenth Century, faith was a lived and incarnate reality, expressed through the entire liturgical life of the Church. The Altar held a central place in the Church, not as a mere decorative object, but as the place of the real and saving encounter of the sinner with Christ. The crucifix was not a mere image, but a visual proclamation of the Gospel, speaking of Christ crucified for sinners. Candles were not aesthetic accessories, but testimonies to the light of God present in the midst of his people. Liturgical vestments were not a display of luxury, but marked the reality of sacred ministry and the continuity of the Church throughout the ages.

Moreover, the entire structure of the Liturgy was permeated by the pure theology of the Scripture. The Words of Institution of Lord’s Supper were sung, not merely spoken, because they were understood not simply as information or a quotation from Scripture, but as a true divine action. The faithful knelt when receiving the Lord’s Supper, not as an empty gesture, but as an acknowledgment of the real presence of Christ for their salvation. The people made the sign of the cross and bowed their heads when the name of Christ was spoken, and private confession and absolution were practiced before receiving the Lord’s Supper. All of this reveals a Lutheran Church deeply conscious of the holiness of the act of worship and of the reality of God’s work in her midst.

This unity between doctrine and liturgical practice is essential for understanding what was later lost and how the Lutheran Church deteriorated. For the early Lutherans, there was no separation between “what we believe” and “how we worship.” The Church’s Liturgy was theology in action. Every gesture, every word, every visible element of the Liturgy conveyed and reinforced a purely Lutheran theological understanding of God, grace, and salvation. Therefore, any alteration of the Liturgy inevitably had devastating theological consequences for the Church.

It was precisely these consequences that were produced by the liturgical reforms imposed by Johann Georg. The removal of icons, the destruction of the altar, the elimination of crucifixes, the abandonment of liturgical vestments in favor of the academic gown, the prohibition of kneeling, the suppression of the sign of the cross, the abandonment of sung prayers, and the rejection of private confession—all these were not neutral changes, but represented a profound restructuring of the way faith was lived and understood.

The theological influence of John Calvin is evident in these transformations. Unlike Lutheranism, which preserved a theology of the incarnation and of the means of grace, Calvinism displayed a far stronger suspicion toward visible and material elements. Images were seen as potential idolatry, gestures of reverence as dangerous, and the Sacraments were reinterpreted in a symbolic key. The emphasis shifted from the real presence of Christ to a merely spiritual significance, from mystery to explanation, from participation in a God who comes to us to contemplation of a God who remains in heaven.

This shift did not produce an innocent simplification, but rather created a gradual deformation of Lutheran identity. What had once been a sacramental and liturgical Church began to be perceived and shaped as a Church centered almost exclusively on preaching. The altar became merely a functional table, Lord’s Supper became a memorial act, and the Liturgy became a framework for the communication of theological ideas. In this process, many of the elements that had expressed and reinforced Lutheran theology were either removed or emptied of their content.

This tendency reached a climax in the Prussian Union of 1817, initiated by Frederick William III of Prussia. In the name of Protestant unity, the real differences between Lutheranism and Calvinism were minimized or ignored. But this unity was not a balanced one. In practice, it favored liturgical and theological uniformity in the Calvinist direction, in which the distinctive elements of Lutheranism were gradually blurred.

The result was what may rightly be called, without exaggeration, a caricaturing of the Lutheran Church. Not in the sense that it was completely destroyed, but in the sense that it was radically distorted. A caricature retains certain features of the original, but deforms them to the point that the essence becomes difficult to recognize. In the same way, Lutheranism under the influence of these tendencies retained certain outward forms, but lost the internal coherence between faith and worship.

The Lord’s Supper, which in Lutheranism had been the center of ecclesial life and the place of the real and saving presence of Christ, often became a rarely celebrated act because it was regarded as purely symbolic. Gestures of reverence disappeared, and bodily participation was replaced by a predominantly intellectual engagement. The liturgical space was simplified to the point of emptiness, and the beauty of the Liturgy was rejected. In place of a theology of the incarnation, in which God works through concrete things, there gradually emerged a more abstract theology in which visible signs were reduced to secondary roles.

And yet, precisely this history of loss helps us understand more clearly what once was. The fact that these elements had to be removed by Calvinist influence shows how central they were in the Sixteenth-Century Lutheran Church. One does not eliminate what is marginal; one eliminates what is essential. Thus, by way of contrast, we can clearly see that the early Lutheran Church was a Church in which faith was profoundly bound to the Liturgy, in which theology was not merely preached, but also lived, seen, and experienced.

This reality remains an important lesson. The Christian faith does not exist in a vacuum. It is always embodied in practices, forms, and concrete modes of worship. When these forms are radically altered, faith itself is affected. Therefore, what happened in 1616 and in the centuries that followed cannot be reduced to a mere historical dispute. It is a clear illustration of the profound bond between doctrine and Liturgy.

The Lutheran Church before Calvinist influences thus remains a living testimony to a faith that was not afraid of beauty, symbol, reverence, or mystery. It was a Church in which the Gospel was not only spoken, but also shown; not only heard, but also lived. And this unity between faith and Liturgy is perhaps one of the most valuable legacies of early Lutheranism, a legacy that deserves not only to be studied, but also rediscovered.

Looking at this history as a whole, it becomes evident that the transformations through which the Lutheran Church passed were not simple neutral stages of development, but moments in which her identity was at stake. From the early interventions of Johann Georg of Brandenburg, influenced by the theology of John Calvin, to the uniformity promoted through the Prussian Union of 1817 under Frederick William III of Prussia, and later through the waves of Pietism and liberal theology, the Lutheran Church was subjected to constant pressures to dilute, simplify, or redefine her essence.

At every one of these stages, what was affected was not merely the form of the Liturgy, but the very coherence between faith and its expression. The Sacraments were reinterpreted, the Liturgy was simplified to the point of losing its theological density, and the sacred dimension was often replaced either by Pietistic inwardness, by theological rationalism, or by adaptations dictated by modern cultural sensitivities. In this process, the Lutheran Church was often presented in a form that no longer faithfully reflected what she had been in the age of the Lutheran Reformation, a form that in many cases may be described as a deformation or caricature of her original identity.

In this context, what we today call the Confessional Lutheran Church does not represent an innovation or a nostalgic, idealized reaction, but a conscious attempt to recover authentic Lutheran identity. It is the expression of that part of Lutheranism which resolved to return to the sources—to Holy Scripture, to the Lutheran Confessions, and to the liturgical practice that coherently expressed this theology. This is not a selective or romantic return, but a critical and theological one, directed toward fidelity to the Lutheran Reformation of the Sixteenth Century.

This return takes shape not on an abstract level, but in the concrete life of the Church, where faith is lived and transmitted. First of all, it involves the rediscovery of the sacramental character of ecclesial life, that is, a renewed understanding that God does not work merely through theological ideas or emotions, but through ordained, visible, and accessible means. The water of Holy Baptism, the bread and wine of the Lord’s Supper, and the Word preached and heard are not mere pedagogical symbols, but instruments through which God truly acts, granting the forgiveness of sins, life, and salvation. The life of the community is no longer organized around human activities or preferences, but around these points at which God Himself meets His people.

In this light, the reaffirmation of the real presence of Christ in Lord’s Supper becomes unavoidable. This is not a secondary theological nuance, but a reality that determines the Church’s entire attitude toward the Liturgy. If Christ is truly present, then Lord’s Supper cannot be treated as a mere commemorative or symbolic act. It becomes a moment of encounter, reception, and participation in what God gives. From this conviction flow forms of reverence, the seriousness of preparation, and the centrality of this sacrament in the life of the community.

At the same time, this return involves the recovery of the Liturgy as the sphere of divine action, not merely of human expression. The Liturgy is no longer viewed as a platform for creativity, personal expression, or cultural adaptation, but as the setting in which God works through Word and Sacrament. The order of service, the texts, the chants, and the gestures are not arbitrary, but bear theological meaning. They shape faith, nourish it, and transmit it from generation to generation. Thus the emphasis does not fall on originality, but on fidelity; not on innovation, but on continuity.

This perspective naturally leads to the restoration of the bond between doctrine and practice. What the Church confesses does not remain merely at the level of declaration, but is reflected in the way she worships, prays, and lives. There is no longer a rupture between formulated theology and liturgical experience. If doctrine affirms that God works through concrete means, then the Liturgy will highlight all these means. If the confession speaks of the holiness of God, then this will be visible in the reverence and order of worship. Faith is not merely explained, but shaped and strengthened through practice.

Finally, this return involves the rejection of those tendencies that reduce faith to inwardness, symbolism, or mere cultural adaptation. Inwardness places the emphasis exclusively on subjective experience, making the objective reality of God’s work secondary and unimportant. Symbolism empties the Sacraments of their real content, turning them into signs without efficacy. Cultural adaptation, when it becomes the dominant criterion, subordinates the message and life of the Church to changing social tastes and sensibilities. In the face of these tendencies, the return to a classical understanding of the faith reaffirms that truth is not determined by experience, usefulness, or acceptability, but by God’s revelation and by the way in which that revelation has been transmitted and preserved in the Church.

Thus, all these dimensions are not separate elements, but together form a coherent vision: a churchly life in which God is the One who initiates, acts, and gives salvation, and the community responds through faith, reverence, and fidelity.

At the same time, this movement of recovery looks not only to the distant past of the Lutheran Reformation, but also to what the Lutheran Church was before she was affected by the more recent influences of liberal theology and postmodern progressivism. These currents, though different in form from Calvinist or Pietistic tendencies, have had a similar effect. They have weakened the authority of Scripture, relativized doctrine, and reshaped the Liturgy according to criteria external to the faith, whether rational, emotional, or cultural.

Thus, the Confessional Lutheran Church defines herself not by sterile opposition, but by fidelity: fidelity to the Gospel, to the means of grace, and to the way in which these realities were understood and lived during the classical period of Lutheranism. She does not seek to invent a new form of Lutheranism, but precisely to remain anchored in that form in which faith, Liturgy, and ecclesial life were united in a coherent witness.

In the end, this return is not merely a matter of confessional identity, but of truth. If it is true that God works through concrete means, if it is true that the Lord Jesus Christ is truly present in the Sacraments, if it is true that faith is formed and transmitted through the Liturgy, then the recovery of these realities is not optional. It is necessary.

By her very existence, the Confessional Lutheran Church declares that what once was must not be abandoned, but rediscovered; that what was once deformed can now be restored; and that fidelity to the authentic heritage of the Lutheran Reformation is not a backward glance, but a way of remaining anchored in the truth in a world of constant change.

The original Romanian version of this article by Fr Trifa can be found here. You can email him here.

This was published May 29, 2009. —Ed.

Dcn. Muehlenbruch left a comment on the post "Ceremonies Revisited" that is so astute, that I think it bears a closer look and perhaps further discussion.

Here is his comment:

I wish respond to your remark that "a newly ordained seminary graduate could sign himself with the cross from day one" by relating what happened to me even before I became a seminary graduate.

Continue reading…

Back in the last millennium, I had a friend named Jim. He was in his fifties and was the grandson of Sicilian immigrants. He raved about his mother’s homemade bread. The recipe came from her mother and her grandmother in Italy. For that is how family recipes used to continue their existence: one link in the chain at a time, from mother to daughter. Jim lamented that now that his mother was gone, so was the recipe. Jim had a sister who was a career gal, and not interested in things like old recipes. So that was the end of it. The recipe was not preserved. All Jim had was his memories. His children won’t even have that.

This is an example of “tradition,” what St. Paul calls “paradosis” (1 Cor 11:2), which he changes to a verbal form (paradidomi) when he speaks of passing along the Words of Institution of the Lord’s Supper as they were “handed over” to him (1 Cor 11:23ff). While tradition has been abused by equating it with the Word of God, both by Pharisees and later by Christians, there is also godly tradition - including the Gospel itself (e.g. 2 Thess 2:15).

Since pastors ordain other pastors, there is a chain of ordinations stretching back to the days of the apostles - even if we don’t have written records. We were all taught the Gospel, whether by parents, teachers, pastors, or friends, and that too is a chain that goes back to Jesus and the original disciples. And even though none of us has it mapped out on ancestry.com, and though there are significant gaps in our genealogical records, we can all confidently claim literal biological descent from Adam and Eve, as well as from Noah, and from every patriarch in between. We are the products of many such unbroken chains.

Jim’s mother received what was handed over from her mother, as did her mother. In all likelihood, this chain extended back through the centuries, maybe even to the days of the Roman Empire. I say “extended” (past tense) because all it took was for one generation to break the chain, and that’s the end of it.

Maybe’s Jim’s children or grandchildren have since managed to get granny’s old papers before her things were tossed in a dumpster or sold at an estate sale. Maybe one of the kids or grandkids found the old bread recipe and rekindled that traditio. Or maybe not. Maybe Jim’s descendants are content to get by with the industrial stuff that comes in a plastic bag with boilerplate corporate branding, preservatives, and a “best used by” date on a plastic twist tie. Or maybe they went to YouTube and found a generic Italian or Sicilian recipe that might approximate Jim’s mother’s bread. But either way, the loss of the tradition is tragic - not only for people like Jim, but also for unborn generations who have been cut off - even if they don’t know it. All it takes is one unfaithful generation to lose it all.

Our modern and postmodern age is one characterized by progressivism - which is the worldview that believes that humanity is evolving and improving, that the present is better than the past, that the new is better than the old. The “me generation” grew into adulthood (and now old age) with this very kind of optimistic worldview that celebrated youth (when they were young) and old age - their old age - (when they became old). Anything from the past, from before one’s own time, is immediately suspect. Better to forget all of that and blaze a new path. Let those bad old ways die. For it’s far better to have young women flying fighter jets and managing corporations than baking bread like their insignificant little Sicilian grandmothers. “Well-behaved women seldom make history” as the bumper stickers used to confess.

The term for this severance from tradition is “deracination.” It comes from the French (racine) for “root” - which in turn comes from the Latin (radix). It is related to the word “radical” (not to mention “radish”). “De-racination” means to de-root, to pull out by the roots.

For hundreds, or maybe even for thousands, of years, Jim’s mother’s recipe - combined with small, conservative changes here and there (lessons learned in the practical carrying out of the recipe by collective wisdom over the course of generations) - remained intact. But then, a radical new set of values deracinated Jim’s family, Jim’s nationality, and Jim’s country, severing them from their roots. It was about the same time as the radical “youth movement” of the 1960s that the Roman Catholic Church had a radical doctrinal and liturgical movement of its own: Vatican II. And some of these deracinated forms of worship spread to us Lutherans in a kind of counterfeit tradition. And this radical revision to liturgy and worship led to further deracination and a new “tradition” called “contemporary worship.”

This kind of deracinated worship was largely ‘traditioned’ to us from neo-Evangelical megachurches: confessions that deny baptismal regeneration, deny the Real Presence in the Eucharist, deny Holy Absolution, and misconstrue the work of the Holy Spirit as an expression of our own reason and strength.

What could possibly go wrong?

Emotional pop ditties replaced chant, polyphony, chorales, and modern hymnody, hands waving in the air replacing the sign of the cross, with the reverent consecration of the elements treated like something embarrassing that has to be emotionally ginned up. In time, in some places, altar, font, and pulpit themselves were uprooted, removed, and replaced by a stage.

The show must go on!

Liturgical deracination destroys our ancient collective memory, destroys our sense of identity and belonging, and destroys our unity with one another as the church. It destroys our continuity and connection to our roots. It is, at its root, a destructive methodology. And this destructionism is seen by its adherents as a positive good, like tearing down an old building in order to replace it by something new is seen by many as an improvement - even if a beautiful, ancient cathedral is being replaced by a ticky-tacky strip mall or soulless, brutal government building.

Progress is progress.

Why have Gregorian Chant when we can have Hip Hop? Its purveyors do not even see the unintended consequences: the tragic loss of connection, or the opportunity cost of this deracination.

Confessional Lutherans around the world have a shared identity. The basis of this identity is, of course, the Gospel, which is traditioned to us in Word and Sacrament, especially at our baptism. We confess God’s Word, and that confession is articulated in the Book of Concord. This is our faith. And that faith, the catholic faith of twenty centuries, and our own so-called Lutheran tradition within that faith, as practiced in the last 500 years by the churches of the Augsburg Confession, has given us a shared vocabulary, music, customs, liturgy and ceremony, and other things that make us feel at home, and in community with one another.

That is what we mean by our Lutheran identity.

In a naked attempt to make any and all forms of worship equal, some try to minimize and denude Lutheran identity to only the Bible and the Confessions - as if we Lutherans have no other touchstones, nothing else that we have in common with one another all over the world, no shared history and heritage, other than our doctrine expressed cerebrally in the abstract (and not concretely in the flesh). This is an attempt to deflect the reality that we Lutherans do have an identity, and we will push back against this intentional deracination and replacement. The fact that Lutheran identity cannot be reduced to the Bible and the Book of Concord is easily proven. The word “Lutheran” is a big part - even a constitutive part - of our Lutheran identity. But it is a word that is found in neither the Bible nor the Book of Concord. It is rather a part of our history and heritage, an identifying marker of who we are as named by friend and foe alike. And in spite of its exclusion from Scripture and Confessions, it is who we are. Minimalists will have a hard time explaining why the word “Lutheran” is not a part of Lutheran identity. This violates the law of identity itself. They also have some explaining as to why Article 24 seems to have been removed from their minimalist definition of Lutheran identity as Bible and Confessions. There are many other writings that are part of our identity as well: the Heidelberg Disputations, Bondage of the Will, the first Lutheran hymnal of 1524 (the Achtliederbuch), the Magdeburg Confession, and even more modern writings like Pieper’s Dogmatics and the works of our own theologians and artists. Our subsequent succession of five centuries of hymnals - both liturgy and hymns - are also part of our identity. They are our history. They are part and parcel of who we are. For a further critique on the proposed reductio of Lutheran Identity, see “Lutheran Identity, the PSD, and an Attempted Steal.”

Again, our identity includes our hymnody: both pre- and post-Reformation. The very best of our hymns have been distilled and retained, while the chaff has blown away. Or maybe another way to think of it is panning for gold. We keep the nuggets, but toss back that which is not gold. Hence in our current LCMS hymnal, LSB, we have golden hymns by Clement of Alexandria, Ambrose, Gregory, John of Damascus, Bernard of Clairvaux, Bernard of Cluny, Abelard, Aquinas, and Hus. We have hymns composed in Latin whose authors are unknown to us. We have Reformation era hymns that are well-known all over the world, having been translated into every language. You can attend a function of the ILC (International Lutheran Council) and you will find these hymns sung even when worshipers from different continents are gathered together: Luther, Gerhardt, Bach, Heermann, Nicolai, Crueger, Kingo, Olearius, etc. And more modern hymnists are part of our tradition as well, writers like Vajda and Franzmann. We have also appropriated many other hymns from outside of our tradition, such as Christmas carols of Latin, English, and German origin. These hymns are treasures to be held in trust, not garbage to be thrown away. They bind us to one another and root us to our past.

Our Lutheran chorales, in particular, many of which were written in a time of confession and/or persecution or other suffering, are especially valuable. In the unpredictable times of human crisis and tragedy, during times of temptation and Anfechtung, these time-tested hymns - especially those of Paul Gerhardt - are comforting confessions and articulations of the mercy of God. They are explicitly cruciform and Lutheran in doctrine and confession. They are rich devotions that can be read or sung, and they are saturated with the the Word of God and the Gospel. Nothing in Christendom even comes close. These are our treasures!

It was not all that long ago that every single LCMS church used the same hymnal. But now, in our deracinated church, we have entire congregations of people who have never even seen a hymnal, have never heard a hymn by Paul Gerhardt, have never sung “A Mighty Fortress is our God” or “Lord, Keep Us Steadfast in Your Word.” They have been robbed by deracination, having the gold nuggets replaced by plastic Mardi Gras beads. Weak “songs” replaced the theologically rich hymns of our Law and Gospel, Christocentric, cruciform heritage, replaced by weak-sauce entertainment. Timeless beauty has yielded to ephemeral mediocrity. Pastors who deracinate their congregations are in a real sense breaking the seventh commandment, stealing their parishioners’ birthright out from under them, taking away comfort that is rightly theirs in time of need. And they don’t even know that the bandits have broken in and robbed them.

Men, how can you do that to your own people? How do you even live with yourselves?

A few years ago, I met a young man who was visiting Fort Wayne interested in studying for the Holy Ministry. He said that he had never before seen a liturgical service. His pastor should be arrested for theft. How could you do this to someone? How could you rob a person of his birthright? And if he had never been to a liturgical service, there is no way he was raised on the corpus of hymns that Lutherans all around the world know and love, from which they draw strength and comfort, bolstering their faith by the confession of the pure Word of God, rooted in five centuries of usage. How can deracinated Lutherans worship together as circuits or districts, at retreats and synodical functions? How can our chaplains come together for training if we had no common services or hymns?

The bad news is that, at least in the LCMS, we do have large, rich, powerful congregations that have practiced liturgical deracination for quite some time now. Our leaders let us down for decades, allowing the rot to spread - if not encouraging it. And now in our own day, the masters of deracination, our podcaster-oligarchs, are lobbying the convention to disenfranchise itself by giving the large, deracinated congregations more votes, proposing the taking away of votes from normal-sized churches. May it not be so! Let’s hope that the delegates don’t take the bait. Don’t be bullied by the self-important who make promises of numerical “success” that only the Holy Spirit can deliver.

But the good news is that even with their deracination, this is, unlike Jim’s mother’s bread, not something that is lost forever.

The liturgy can be restored. Hymns can be re-learned. Worship can be re-oriented toward the cross and refocused in the loci of altar, font, and pulpit. And generationally, there is ample reason for hope. A lot of the cheerleaders for deracination are from the “me-generation,” and they are riding off into the sunset. Younger people across Christendom want “re-racination.” Once moribund Roman Catholic orders are once again recruiting nuns and sisters - and they again are wearing the habit. Young priests are wearing the cassock and reconnecting to that which Vatican II severed. The Latin Masses are the services that are the most youthful and well-attended. We are seeing young neo-Evangelicals, even in the non-denominational world, reconnecting with ancient liturgical practices and traditional hymnody. Some are staying in their churches and moving them along in a more traditional direction, while others are leaving in search of greener liturgical and sacramental pastures.

We Lutherans are already well-positioned as this generational shift continues.

We already have a vibrant liturgical tradition and lively hymnody. We are indeed seeing young pastors wearing cassocks, and vesting more intentionally for the Divine Services of the church - in which deracinated ceremonies are being restored. Young men in particular are flocking to the liturgy and to our catholic-Lutheran identity. Though it isn’t a tidal wave, we are seeing some young women (and some older women as well) reconnecting with the traditional and biblical piety of head-covering. Younger people in particular have seen the effects of deracination - both in church and in society - and they are longing to reconnect. They want to restore the family, restore tradition, restore the Christian life, restore societal sanity, and restore Christendom. They want to rebuild the broken walls, like Nehemiah. The classical education movement is in the vanguard of this reconnection to our Lutheran identity and its treasures.

Maybe the radical youth-culture hegemony of deracination is over, now that the “don’t trust anyone over thirty” crowd is pushing eighty. Maybe the new rubric will be “don’t trust anyone under three hundred.” At any rate, as one of the me-generation’s greatest voices said, “The times, they are a changin’.”

Let us encourage this ongoing liturgical re-racination!

To all who have registered for our annual Gottesdienst conference at Redeemer in Fort Wayne, which will be held Monday - Wednesday of next week, here’s a special extra. We will be expecting to hear from Dr. David Scaer at the Monday dinner/Gemutlichkeit period, as he has been invited to speak for a bit to the attendees and has graciously agreed to do so. It’s still not too late to register, by the way. See you there!

The enemies of confessional Lutheranism in our midst are going full throttle at seeking to train pastors to their liking, at their preferred online institutions, and there will no doubt be some heavy debates on the question of residential seminary training at this summer’s LCMS convention. The reasons they like to give have to do with the need for pastors and the financial burdens imposed upon seminarians, but we know the real reason: they don’t agree with confessional Lutheran theology. Our chief blogger Larry Beane has documented the myriad of problems with their approach, and it bears repeating that their rejection of Biblical inerrancy, their acceptance of lady “pastors,” and their affinity for the excesses of various ELCA sacrilegious tendencies are something with which LCMS members should want nothing to do.

I just received word from our friend Tom Halvorson that he and his assistant have produced and posted legible versions of some reports in the convention workbook (the print had been too small to read easily without magnification), including Report R13.3 (2026), Report on Unapproved Programs Preparing for the Office of the Holy Ministry. This report shows unequivocally that it is utterly unacceptable to permit the alternate routes to seminary education being proposed.

The report identifies the people promoting these alternatives:

Since at least 2020, the Rev. Dr. Tim Ahlman, along with his congregation Christ Lutheran Greenfield and the ULC, an organization dedicated to “connecting the dots between theology, ministry, and leadership to empower you to spread the Gospel in explosive ways,” running what Ahlman on his podcasts, Lead Time and the Tim Ahlman Podcast, has repeatedly referred to as an “experiment.” This experiment consists of enrolling students from Christ Lutheran Greenfield and numerous other LCMS congregations in LHOS to receive a degree from Kairos University, a completely online program for theological study. Students may enroll in an M.A. in counseling or an M.Div.

In addition, in February 2025 at the pre-conference in Phoenix, Ariz., for Best Practices in Ministry, the Rev. Dr. Jeffrey Kloha announced a new initiative through the Institute of Lutheran Theology (ILT) to create an online-only M.Div. program known as the Center for Missional and Pastoral Leadership (CMPL). Earlier, less public, announcements of the launch of CMPL were made by Tim Ahlman and Jeff Kloha at the Large Church Network Conference in San Diego on Jan. 24–25, 2025, and on Facebook on Feb. 7, 2025, respectively. The program confers M.A., M.M., and M.Div. degrees.

The report goes on to document the fact that, in sharp contrast to the Synod’s seminaries, the faculty members for these online schools are not committed to the inerrancy of Scripture or a quia subscription to the Lutheran Confessions, and, to the contrary, the curriculum’s reading list “is utterly dominated by Steven Paulson, Gerhard Forde and James Nestingen, ELCA and former ELCA theologians. With their well-known problems in the areas of scriptural inerrancy, the atonement and the third use of the law, and their Barth-inflected proclamation theology, the preponderance of these authors in the secondary literature that makes up so much of the curriculum represents a significant divergence from confessional Lutheranism. According to one student, LCMS theologians and teaching are often used as a foil.”

It turns out that these people are garden variety liberals, such as infected the St. Louis seminary in the 1960s and early ‘70s.

The report is worth a careful read, especially by delegates preparing for the convention, and it ought to make us willing to be as bold about our confession as these people are about their subjugation of it, to the point of initiating effective means of cleansing our Synod from their menace.

This was published April 17, 2010 — Ed.

Driving through Indiana yesterday we saw this sign, a cheery invitation for visitors to Cornerstone Church: New Pastor! Fresh Approach!

Continue reading…

This approaching Sunday, May 3, is the great feast of the Finding of the Holy Cross. Sometimes also called the Invention of the Holy Cross, as a transliteration of the Latin title, Inventio Sanctae Crucis, this feast commemorates the discovery of the Holy Cross by St. Helena, the mother of Constantine, and is not to be confused with the Exaltation of the Holy Cross (September 14th), which commemorates the dedication of the original Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, as well as the recovery of the cross some centuries later.

Luther and Melanchthon on the Feasts of the Holy Cross

Both feasts of the Holy Cross faced no small opposition following the Reformation, with Dr. Luther saying in his 1523 Formula Missae (emphasis my own):

We think that all the feasts of the saints should be abrogated, or if anything in them deserves it, it should be brought into the Sunday sermon. We regard the feasts of Purification and Annunciation as feasts of Christ, even as Epiphany and Circumcision. Instead of the feasts of St. Stephen and of St. John the Evangelist, we are pleased to use the office of the Nativity. The feasts of the Holy Cross shall be anathema. Let others act according to their own conscience or in consideration of the weakness of some — whatever the Spirit may suggest. (AE 53:23)

“There you have it!” the iconoclastically-inclined reader crows, “the festivals of the cross are anathema and should by no means be celebrated, nor the feasts of the apostles or St. Stephen, or any others.” This would, of course, fly in the face of all of Lutheran history and the Lutheran Confessions.

But rather than building a house on the tiniest sliver of a phrase, let’s take a further look at Dr. Luther’s own words. In the 1527 Festpostille, Luther expands on his thoughts in his sermon on the Finding of the Holy Cross:

First, there is the practice of paying great reverence to the holy cross. This is the reason that it is gilded with silver and gold. This in itself I do not reproach. But I attack the abuse that results. For many simple people are seduced by this and go astray. They run here and there to the holy cross, up to Torgau, down to Dresden, and wherever else they go, to these crosses upon which Christ has never suffered…You dream in error that the cross in Torgau works this for you and the other one somewhere else cannot….

Therefore where this abuse and error occurs in the worship of images and the cross, the cross or picture should be removed and destroyed and even the Church building itself be demolished. I would not entirely do away with images and especially the figure of the crucified Christ. For we have in the Old Testament this figure of the bronze snake commanded in the wilderness by Moses, as you just heard in the Gospel. All who were bitten by the fiery snakes were cured when they looked up to the bronze snake. That is what we also must do to be healed in our sins. We must also look at the crucified Christ in such images and believe on Him. But when the Jews began to pray to the snake as a god, and no longer regarded it as just a symbol, the good Hezekiah went ahead and destroyed it.

Our bishops and prelates should do the same with these images if one of them is sought in that way. They should do away with those churches and everything in them. But what do they do now? They go and dedicate more churches and images and also perpetuate the idolatry. They place a heavy burden on the people. They do it to gain money, and unfortunately, souls for themselves. What can one say? They are wolves and remain wolves.

The other abuse: It might be that a few places have a little piece of the holy cross, but there are so many pieces everywhere that a great house could be made of them. And yet they are all considered as if they were from the cross of Christ. That is also, then, not a small dishonor committed against the holy cross. It would be better that it had never been found. It only gives occasion for great sins and idolatry. (trans. Joel R. Baseley in Luther’s Festival Sermons, Dearborn, MI: Mark V Publications, 2005)

Luther’s primary concern — really, his only concern — is the idolatry and abuse associated with relics. He does not object to paying reverence to the cross, to gilding it in silver and gold, but rather to placing one’s confidence in any created thing, even the wood of the cross itself. While voicing skepticism about the veracity of some of the relics of the cross, he doesn’t seem to doubt at all that the cross itself was, in fact, found by St. Helena — that seems quite obvious to him, even as he rues the abuses that have resulted. The human heart is, in the end, the true manufacturer of idols, and can turn even the gifts of God into idols, whether the bronze serpent or the wood of the cross.

Luther spends the remainder of this section speaking at length about how this feast ought to instruct us on bearing our own crosses, but I will, for the sake of brevity, provide only the conclusion and leave the rest for your perusal:

For just as our works do not save us, so also our cross or suffering does not save us. Christ alone is our salvation. He has established it with His death and cross. So you believe that you are saved and have eternal life. You must be brought to it through your death as through a door, so you also must, for that reason, patiently suffer the cross. By that your neighbor will also be incited to bear his cross patiently. In that way we rightly celebrate the discovery of the holy cross and this feast must comfort us in affliction. But now, the way we celebrate it, it would have been better that the cross had never been discovered or lifted up so that we parade around with it like children playing with sticks. God grant that we once more confess our offense and that He give us a right understanding of the matter. Christ Jesus our Savior help us in this. Amen.

Later on in the same postil, on the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross (September 14th), Luther speaks again at length about the use and abuse of the holy cross, though a brief excerpt will suffice:

Churches are endowed with the wood upon which Christ died and this cross is then displayed with other external decorations, with gold, silver, and jewels even to the point that it is dripping with them. Throughout Wittenberg, also, even the monastery is endowed with the crown of thorns and many fees and rents are woven into it, which is not the right use nor the right kind of veneration. Now if you would want to trample the holy cross that would not be good. That it be honored is fine. But that you would fall down in worship upon it, establish churches for it, set the soul’s salvation upon it and forget about the true cross which is more necessary, is wrong.

Dr. Luther says, as before, that the holy cross itself is worthy of honor, but the relics of the cross have become the center of a multitude of abuses.

In his postil, Philipp Melanchthon, quite characteristically, refrains from Luther’s thunderous condemnations, but voices a matter-of-fact belief that St. Helena did, in fact, find the Holy Cross, and spends most of his time speaking at length about the historical circumstances surrounding its finding and restoration:

Helena, the mother of Constantine, had the Cross of Christ sought for, and is said to have found it. Be it so; she is said to have found it in Jerusalem. I believe that it happened. It does not please me to mock all histories. There is a certain diligence, especially fitting for a woman. She was one of those women who came to anoint Christ. If I were a free man and able to travel, I would most of all wish to see those very places where the Son of God left his footprints, and where such great revelations of God were made. (Corpus Reformatorum, XXV:498ff.)

The two feasts of the Holy Cross would be continue to be rather sporadically featured in Lutheran postils for the next two hundred years, including that of Valerius Herberger, but we now turn our attention to the liturgical material.

The Mass and Office for the Finding of the Holy Cross in Early Lutheran Use

The 1589 Missale for the use of the Havelberg Cathedral, authored by Matthaeus Ludecus, includes a full mass for the Exaltation of the Holy Cross. Ludecus, the dean of the cathedral and editor of this volume, was sometimes prone to long prefaces for various masses, variously extolling the virtues of the feast or denouncing the abuses that have now been put to rest. Somewhat notably, in spite of the heated words of Dr. Luther regarding this feast, no lengthy preface is included prior to this feast, seemingly indicating no need for explanation. The only note at the beginning of the mass is this marginal reference: Socrates Scholasticus, lib. I, cap. 17, directing the reader to the following passage:

Helena, the emperor's mother (from whose name having made Drepanum, once a village, a city, the emperor called it Helenopolis), being divinely directed by dreams went to Jerusalem. Finding that which was once Jerusalem, desolate 'as a Preserve for autumnal fruits,' according to the prophet, she sought carefully the sepulchre of Christ, from which he arose after his burial; and after much difficulty, by God's help she discovered it. What the cause of the difficulty was I will explain in a few words. Those who embraced the Christian faith, after the period of his passion, greatly venerated this tomb; but those who hated Christianity, having covered the spot with a mound of earth, erected on it a temple to Venus, and set up her image there, not caring for the memory of the place. This succeeded for a long time; and it became known to the emperor's mother.

Accordingly she having caused the statue to be thrown down, the earth to be removed, and the ground entirely cleared, found three crosses in the sepulchre: one of these was that blessed cross on which Christ had hung, the other two were those on which the two thieves that were crucified with him had died. With these was also found the tablet of Pilate, on which he had inscribed in various characters, that the Christ who was crucified was king of the Jews. Since, however, it was doubtful which was the cross they were in search of, the emperor's mother was not a little distressed; but from this trouble the bishop of Jerusalem, Macarius, shortly relieved her. And he solved the doubt by faith, for he sought a sign from God and obtained it. The sign was this: a certain woman of the neighborhood, who had been long afflicted with disease, was now just at the point of death; the bishop therefore arranged it so that each of the crosses should be brought to the dying woman, believing that she would be healed on touching the precious cross. Nor was he disappointed in his expectation: for the two crosses having been applied which were not the Lord's, the woman still continued in a dying state; but when the third, which was the true cross, touched her, she was immediately healed, and recovered her former strength. In this manner then was the genuine cross discovered.

The emperor's mother erected over the place of the sepulchre a magnificent church, and named it New Jerusalem, having built it facing that old and deserted city. There she left a portion of the cross, enclosed in a silver case, as a memorial to those who might wish to see it: the other part she sent to the emperor, who being persuaded that the city would be perfectly secure where that relic should be preserved, privately enclosed it in his own statue, which stands on a large column of porphyry in the forum called Constantine's at Constantinople. I have written this from report indeed; but almost all the inhabitants of Constantinople affirm that it is true. Moreover the nails with which Christ's hands were fastened to the cross (for his mother having found these also in the sepulchre had sent them) Constantine took and had made into bridle-bits and a helmet, which he used in his military expeditions. The emperor supplied all materials for the construction of the churches, and wrote to Macarius the bishop to expedite these edifices.

When the emperor's mother had completed the New Jerusalem, she reared another church not at all inferior, over the cave at Bethlehem where Christ was born according to the flesh: nor did she stop here, but built a third on the mount of his Ascension. So devoutly was she affected in these matters, that she would pray in the company of women; and inviting the virgins enrolled in the register of the churches to a repast, serving them herself, she brought the dishes to table. She was also very munificent to the churches and to the poor; and having lived a life of piety, she died when about eighty years old. Her remains were conveyed to New Rome, the capital, and deposited in the imperial sepulchres.

Again, our fathers in the faith seemed not to have the slightest doubt about the historical veracity of the finding of the cross by St. Helena, but only protest against the later abuses that so readily spring up in the human heart.

The mass itself begins with the Introit Nos autem gloriari, as on Maundy Thursday, and the Epistle is from Galatians 5:10–12; 6:12–14. Following the Epistle is an Alleluia drawn from the Fortunatus hymn Pange lingua gloriosi [praelium certaminis], after which is added in a number of sources (and assumed in still more sources) Pascha nostrum, ubiquitous throughout Eastertide:

Sweet the wood and sweet the nails:
Sweet the burden that thou bearest;
Which alone was counted worthy
To bear the King and Lord of heaven.

Alleluia. ℣ Christ our Passover, is sacrificed for us.
Let us keep the feast with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth, alleluia.

After the Alleluia is sung Laudes crucis attolamus, the stunning sequence hymn by Adam of St. Victor. If the melody of the sequence seems vaguely familiar, that is because it shares a melody with Lauda Sion salvatorem, the sequence hymn for Corpus Christi, which gave rise to the melody for Gott sei gelobet und gebenedeiet, more familiar to us as the Eucharistic hymn “O Lord, We Praise Thee.” The sequence beautifully recounts the types and foreshadowings of the cross in the Old Testament, from Jacob’s ladder and the wood that sweetened the waters at Marah to the staff of Moses that struck the rock and the sign of the cross made by the blood of the lamb over the doorposts on the night of the Passover. A slight abridgement is provided in English translation below.

Be the Cross our theme and story,
We who in the Cross's glory
Shall exult for evermore.
By the Cross the warrior rises,
By the Cross the foe despises,
Till he gains the heavenly shore…

Ladder this, to sinners given,
Whereby Christ, the King of Heaven,
Drew to Him both friends and foes:
Who its nature hath expended
In its limits comprehended
All the world's four quarters knows.

No new Sacraments we mention;
We devise no fresh invention:
This religion was of old;
Wood made sweet the bitter current,
Wood called forth the rushing torrent
From the smitten rock that rolled.

No salvation for the mansion
Where the Cross in meet expansion
On the door-post stood not graved:
Where it stood, the midnight blast
Of the avenging Angel passed,
And the first-born child was saved.

Wood the widow's hands collected,
When salvation unexpected
Came, the Prophet's mystic boon:
Where the wood of faith is wanted,
There the Spirit's oil is scanted,
And the meal is wasted soon…

Types of old in Scripture hidden
Setting forth the Cross, are bidden,
In these days, to fuller light;
Kings are flying, foes are dying,
On the Cross of Christ relying
One a thousand puts to flight.

This its votaries still secureth,
Victory evermore assureth,
Weakness and diseases cureth,
Triumphs o'er the powers of hell:
Satan's captives liberateth,
Life in sinners renovateth,
All in glory reinstateth
Who by ancient Adam fell.

Tree, triumphal might possessing,
Earth's salvation, crown, and blessing,
Every other prætergressing
Both in bloom and bud and flower:
Medicine of the Christian spirit,
Save the just, give sinners merit,
Who dost might for deeds inherit
Overpassing human power.

The plainsong with English text can be found in Mr. Matthew Carver’s Lutheran Sequences. As is the case with many of the Victorine sequences, some portions of the text are in 887 887 meter, and can be set to the familiar melody Alles ist an Gottes segen (cf. TLH 282).

The Gospel is John 3:1–15, the same text appointed for Trinity Sunday, in which Our Lord speaks to Nicodemus of His crucifixion: “And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up: that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life.” Though Ludecus does not specify the Proper Preface that ought to be said, the nearly universal medieval use prescribed the Passiontide preface (“…who on the tree of the cross didst give salvation unto mankind, that whence death arose, thence life also might rise again…”), which would have been quite obvious to his original readers.

While Ludecus’ Missale of 1589 had no prefatory note, his Vesperale has a brief note referring the reader to the Tripartite History, book II, chapter 18, and to Ambrose’s funeral sermon for Emperor Theodosius, but taking care above all to note that the language used in the hymns and chants for the occasion referring to the cross is metonymy, and is truly understood as referring to the crucified. Interestingly enough, this mirrors a common medieval rubric on Good Friday at the veneration of the cross, seemingly derived from Honorius of Autun’s Gemma Animae, III.96: Et nullus sapiens crucem, sed Christum crucifixum adorat, crucem tamen venerando salutat. “And no one who is wise ‘adores’ the cross but Christ crucified; rather he hails the cross with veneration.” (PL 172:667) The piety of the Christian is not directed toward the cross itself, but toward the Crucified, and Ludecus would like to be certain that his readers understand that with clarity rather than falling into the errors denounced by Dr. Luther above.

The liturgical formulae provided for the occasion continue onward with the existing pre-Reformation texts, and so the antiphon for the psalms at first vespers is Helena desiderio: “Helena, full of longing, prayed with tears, saying: ‘Show Thou, O Lord, the wood on which our salvation was hung, alleluia.’ ”

Before we leave Ludecus behind, I cannot help but include an excerpt of the funeral oration by St. Ambrose for Theodosius that he referenced. It is truly beautiful.

How fortunate was Constantine to have a mother like this, who when her son was emperor sought for him the support of divine protection, that he might take his place in battles unharmed, and be without fear of danger! How great was the woman, seeing that she found something to bestow on the emperor, which was very much greater than anything she could receive from him! A mother anxious for a son to whom rule of the Roman world had fallen, she sped to Jerusalem, and thoroughly examined the scene of the Lord's passion.

They claim that she was originally the hostess of an inn, and as such known to the elder Constantius, who subsequently obtained imperial office. Good hostess, who so painstakingly searched for the manger of the Lord! Good hostess, who knew about that inn-keeper who cared for the wounds of he man set upon by robbers! Good hostess, who preferred to be esteemed as dung in order to win Christ! That is why Christ raised her from the dung to royalty, according to what is written, that He ‘raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the dung.’

So Helena came, she began to visit the holy places once more. The Holy Spirit inspired her to search for the wood of the Cross. She approached close to Golgotha, and said: 'Behold, the place of combat, but where is the victory? I am looking for the banner of salvation, but I cannot find it. Am I,' she said, 'to be with kings, while the cross of the Lord lies in the dust? Am I to have gold all round me, while the triumph of Christ lies among rubble? While this object remains hidden, so does the palm of eternal life! How can I consider myself redeemed, if redemption itself is not visible?

I see what you have done, Satan, to make sure that the sword which destroyed you was covered up. But Isaac dug out the wells, which had been covered up by foreigners, and did not permit the water to lie hidden. Therefore let the rubble be shifted so that life may be seen; let the sword be displayed by which the head of the true Goliath was cut off, let the earth be opened up so that salvation may shine forth. What did you achieve, Satan, by hiding the wood, other than to suffer a second defeat? Mary defeated you, when she gave birth to the conqueror, when without any impairment to her virginity she brought Him forth, who was crucified to conquer you, who died to subject you. You will be defeated again today, when a woman uncovers your snares. The holy one bore the Lord, I shall search for His cross. She gave proof of His birth, I shall give proof of His resurrection. She caused God to be seen among men; I shall raise the divine banner from the rubble to be a remedy for our sins.'

So she opens up the earth; she clears away the soil; she lays bare three forked gibbets tangled together, which rubble had covered up, and the Enemy had concealed. But the triumph of Christ could not be effaced. Doubtfully, she hesitates, woman-like she hesitates, but the Holy Spirit inspires a particular line of investigation, because of the fact that two thieves had been crucified with the Lord. So she picks out the middle piece of wood; but it was possible that the rubble had jumbled up the crosses and accidentally interchanged their positions. She goes back to the Gospel passage, she finds that on the middle gibbet there had been an inscription: ‘Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.’ From this, a true line of reasoning was deduced: the inscription revealed the cross of salvation. This is what Pilate answered to the Jews when they protested: ‘What I have written, I have written’ that is: 'I have not written these things to please you, but that future ages may know them, I have not written for you, but for posterity.' He was virtually saying, 'Let Helena have something to read, by which she can identify the cross of the Lord.'

So now, she found the inscription; she adored the king — most definitely not the wood, for this is Gentile error and the folly of the impious, but she adored Him, who hung on the tree, whose name was cited on the inscription, who like a scarab cried out so that His Father might forgive the sins of His persecutors. Eagerly the woman was in a hurry to touch the elixir of immortality, yet she was afraid to trample on the mystery of salvation. With joyful heart but hesitant footstep, she did not know what to do; she nevertheless made her way towards the resting place of truth. The wood shone, and grace sparkled, because just as previously Christ had visited a woman in the person of Mary, so now the Spirit visited a woman in the person of Helena. He taught her what being a woman she did not know, and led her on to a path that could not be known by any mortal. (translated by J.H.W.G. Liebeschuetz in Ambrose of Milan: Political Letters and Speeches, Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2005)

You can see even in the time of St. Ambrose of Milan that there is a special concern to direct Christian piety not to the cross, but to the Crucified, a theme which is echoed again and again in the Lutheran fathers, who stand firmly on the shoulders of the ancients in this regard.

The Feasts of the Cross in Recent History

Given all the preceding, the next chapter is, quite frankly, rather strange. The May 3rd feast of the Finding of the Holy Cross feast disappears from view, and we instead find the September 14th feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross appearing in the Missouri Synod in most editions of the Kirchen-Gesangbuch from 1880 onward with the name “Tag der Kreuzes-Erhöhung.” It is then absent in English language sources for nearly a century, missing from the Evangelical Lutheran-Hymn Book (1892 and 1918) and The Lutheran Hymnal (1941).

The Exaltation of the Holy Cross only resurfaces in The Church Year: Calendar and Lectionary (1973), the sixth volume in the Contemporary Worship series (a series of pamphlets with test materials from the Inter-Lutheran Commission on Worship), now with the name “Holy Cross Day.” A footnote in this volume notes that Holy Cross “is a popular title for Lutheran churches,” and that since it falls close to the beginning of the academic year, “it presents the opportunity for relating schools and colleges to the cross of Christ.” Nowhere is it noted that this is, in fact, a traditional feast day among at least some American Lutherans, and in a further sign of the disconnect of the ILCW from the liturgical heritage of the Lutheran Church, the footnote concludes by noting that “in the Roman calendar this day is called The Triumph of the Cross.” A cursory look at preceding Lutheran books would have quickly revealed that this naming tradition is also the one present in Lutheran use, if in a slightly differing translation. The appointed readings for the day also reveal a lack of familiarity with Lutheran precedent. While the texts appointed in KELG (and most of Western tradition) are Philippians 2:5–11 and John 12:31–36, The Church Year: Calendar and Lectionary instead assigns 1 Corinthians 1:18–24 and a different cutting of the Gospel (John 12:20–33), neither of which seems to be found in any Lutheran — or, in fact, any other sources at all prior to this date — which is made all the more bewildering by the clear borrowing of the Collect (a new composition by Massey H. Shepherd), Psalm and Old Testament reading (Psalm 98:1–4 and Isaiah 45:21–25, respectively) from the Episcopal Church’s 1970 Services for Trial Use (sometimes called the “Green Book”). Ignoring one’s own heritage and borrowing haphazardly from everywhere else is, alas, an all-too-familiar pattern in the LBW project and its predecessors, but this is just…odd.

The feast then officially enters the English-language hymnals of American Lutherans with the aforementioned propers largely in place in Lutheran Book of Worship (1978) and Lutheran Worship (1982), though LBW further waters down and neuters the Massey Shepherd collect, and LW replaces it altogether with “Merciful and everlasting God the Father…” (no. 29), also said in that volume on Wednesday of Holy Week. Thus we arrive at Lutheran Service Book (2006), which largely adopts the propers as found in LW, though it replaces the Isaiah 45 Prophecy with one from Numbers 21 — fittingly depicting the “lifting up” of the bronze serpent — and lengthens the Epistle by one (1) verse.

In some ways, the history of this feast over the last 150 years serves as a living, breathing, mangled testament to the influence of modernity. The feast disappears from view after the transition from the German liturgical tradition, and then is resurrected 100 years later….with almost completely different texts. The outward form is retained, but the substance is almost entirely changed. A set of texts is proposed seemingly out of thin air in 1973, adjusted in 1978, again in 1982, and is revised once again in 2006. But it’s hardly the exception, and really is the rule — you might be familiar with the Roman Catholic three-year lectionary that was invented in 1969, spawned a decade of chaotic and competing revisions finally consolidated in the Common Lectionary in 1983, only to be replaced with the Revised Common Lectionary in 1992, but which exists in LSB (2006) as a revision of the 1982 Lutheran Worship lectionary, which predates both the Common Lectionary and the Revised Common Lectionary. And all this under the guise of “Christian unity” and “ecumenism,” of course. Who could argue with that?

Well……

Or maybe we could step back from the chaos. Learn from and listen to our fathers in the faith. Root our traditions in the wisdom of the ages, sharing in the joy of Helena and the poetic beauty of Ambrose, paring back the abuses with Luther, reading the history of the nations and how it intersects with the story of salvation alongside Melanchthon, or singing and reading Holy Scripture with Adam of St. Victor while saying mass with Ludecus and C.F.W. Walther.

But we could also go with the tradition that thinks it’s really nice to have Holy Cross Day because it happens near the beginning of the academic year. Those two traditions definitely seem equally valid and profound.

Right?

Friend, colleague, and GC guy, Fr. Weedon has compiled a handy list of quotations from our Lutheran fathers concerning our liturgical heritage. Well worth printing off and sharing with a board of elders, etc.

Continue Reading…

In our polity in the LCMS, we have episkope but not episkopoi. In other words, we have ordained men charged with oversight (episkope) of pastors and congregations, but they are not bishops (episkopoi). They are “presidents.” It’s a bit of an unfortunate turn of phrase, as a president is one who presides over a parliamentary meeting. Our district and synod presidents do this, but they have other tasks as well in addition to chairing the triennial conventions.

They are not bishops (even if they are given the honorific of “bishop”), as bishops of Lutheran (and non-Lutheran) church bodies around the world are. Our presidents are elected by delegates at a convention. And they serve three-year terms and must be re-elected. This is not like the episcopal service of the apostles, the apostolic fathers, or historic bishops cited in our confessions, men like Leo, Gregory, John Chrysostom, Ambrose, or Augustine. Nor is it like the service of more recent Lutheran bishops, like the sainted Bo Giertz.

To a certain extent, we ask the impossible of them. In the words of C.S. Lewis: “In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand the function.” We remove the eposkopoi, but we demand episkope. For the former is an adiaphoron (at least when the term is used in the sense of polity and not in the sense of the pastoral office), but the latter is not. We tell a man to do the right thing, and then we make him stand for re-election at the hands of the very people he has to oversee and discipline.

Or to put it into terms a pastor might understand: Can you imagine if you did not have a call (as our presidents don’t), but instead had to be re-elected by the voters’ assembly every three years? How might your ministry be different? What if a husband or father were subjected to a triennial re-election campaign? It is a bit like comparing a professor who has tenure vs. one who does not. Certainly, the professor who has tenure can afford to be a little more bold than one who has to get good ratings from his students or he will lose his job by which he supports his family.

And, of course, our polity is experimental, innovative, and recent in the long history of the church. The jury is still out as to whether or not it can work. We have what we have partially because during the Reformation in Germany (over and against the Reformation in Sweden), there were no extant German bishops who would join with the Lutherans (co-called) - at least not at first. The other thing that happened was in 19th century America: the deposition of the Rev. Martin Stephan and the replacement of that old-world hierarchical polity with a new-world kind of hybrid hierarchical and democratic-republican model. We have replaced the ecumenical council with the convention, and we have redefined the word “synod” from its ancient, longstanding, and universal meaning of a gathering of bishops into a 501 (c) (3) corporate organization governed by a convention of roughly half pastors and half laymen of both sexes under the auspices of Robert’s Rules and the collective will of the parliamentary body by appeal to the majority, seeking the “vox Dei” not in God’s Word, butrather in the “vox populi.” And this is the process by which the Lutheran Church in Australia came to establish Satanic priestesses in what used to be Christian churches. In their case, the vox populi was the vox diaboli. The delegates were once again asked, “Did God actually say?” and the Eves and Adams in the voting assembly fell for it all over again.

Concerning how we govern ourselves, our confessions express not just a preference for episcopal polity, but that it is our “greatest wish”:

Concerning this subject we have frequently testified in this assembly that it is our greatest wish to maintain church-polity and the grades in the Church [old church-regulations and the government of bishops], even though they have been made by human authority [provided the bishops allow our doctrine and receive our priests]. For we know that church discipline was instituted by the Fathers, in the manner laid down in the ancient canons, with a good and useful intention.
— Apology 14:24 (emphasis added).

But that said, we were dealt two historical hands that have left us with what we have: the German Reformation and the American Innovation. And in general, we make it work - especially at the parish level, where for the most part, we are free to preach the Gospel and administer the Sacraments unmolested by our own hierarchy in parish and in district (with some exceptions - yes, many of us have “war stories”).

So being a district president has its own unique challenges - just as being a pastor does in our parademocratic form of congregational polity. It is what it is. But we do remunerate our district presidents well, provide them with full benefits, and none of them (to my knowledge) has a two-point district or are moonlighting at Home Depot. They are paid well, as they should be - given the level of responsibility that goes with episkope.

All that said, there is something I don’t understand regarding presidential episkope. And that thing I don’t understand is why some of them apparently need to have pastors jump through hoops before they will address public and unambiguous issues of oversight.

By way of example, district presidents, consider the hypothetical of a pastor in your district (let’s call him Smith) posting to social media - in multiple places and without ambiguity - that he doesn’t believe in the Trinity, or the Two Natures of Christ, or Baptismal Regeneration, or the Real Presence in the Eucharist - take your pick. I’m not talking about a whispered rumor, but an unambiguous public declaration in the words of my U.S. Senator from Louisiana, “As big as Dallas.”

Now if this happens, and you have oversight over this pastor - would you require some other pastor (let’s call him Jones) to first contact and confront Pastor Smith, initiate the bylaw launch sequence, and follow up with a face-to-face meeting and submit the notes to you - before you are permitted to take action? Would you really be powerless to call Smith yourself, to question him, or even to suspend him, unless and until some Pastor Jones out there stepped up to jump through the hoops? What if Jones is a husband and father and doesn’t make district scale and has to work a side hustle? What if he is already serving a dual parish? What if he can’t really afford the time to go on a paper chase, or if he lives a long way away and can’t afford to get on a plane or drive however far to seek out Smith for some kind of face-to-face meeting (which might not even happen)? Why can’t the district president just have the face-to-face meeting with Smith himself?

I know of the case of the Valparaiso professor who was removed from the LCMS roster, but only after a fellow pastor had to practically move heaven and earth to get the ball rolling. Why? And if the district president were harboring someone who was teaching heresy - not some kind of gray area - why was that district president himself not held accountable?

The best construction is that all of our presidents are are good men who really do practice oversight, but are inhibited and held captive by our polity.

If you really are powerless to remove a guy who holds and teaches unscriptural views without a Pastor Jones to cross the tees and dot the “ayes,” doesn’t this strike you as a problem? Shouldn’t fixing this be the top of the agenda for your COP meetings and for the synod Board of Directors? But, to be honest (and doesn’t the Eighth Commandment include “not telling lies”?), I’m having a hard time believing that your hands really are tied to such an extent. Because it seems to me that if a pastor were (in the words of a former governor of Louisiana) “caught in bed with a dead girl or a live boy” (yes, Louisiana is a politically colorful place), you wouldn’t need Pastor Jones to do something. Or worse yet, if one of your pastors declared bankruptcy. Rumor has it that this is the one unforgivable zero-tolerance sin for pastors. Everything else is negotiable.

So I’m skeptical that district presidents’ hands really are tied when it comes to disciplining pastors who believe, teach, and confess unbiblical doctrines. Maybe the best construction is that there are unseen political and financial considerations that get in the way and complicate matters.

Now, I don’t know of any current LCMS pastors who deny the Trinity. But there certainly have been some recently who have promoted women’s “ordination.” I’ve even seen resolutions put forth in convention workbooks to that effect. Why? Why should this be permitted? Why is this any different than denying the Trinity? This is biblical doctrine, not something that a convention has the right to vote on. I was once at a district convention in which a lady delegate argued that we could ordain women if we wanted to, but we just chose not to. The district president at the time, who was presiding over the meeting, did not correct her. I understand that he could not have done so as the chairman presiding over the convention, but he could have temporarily recused himself from the chair (as Robert’s Rules allows) and briefly confessed the biblical doctrine from the floor. He could have asked for a point of personal privilege to clarify our doctrine. He did not. Do we subject doctrine to the ayes and nays like they did in Australia, where they now have lady “pastors” by virtue of a certain number of votes? Is that our system of polity? And if it isn’t, why can such a resolution even be proposed to a convention with impunity? What if it had passed?

Can anyone explain to me how a resolution that, on its face, contradicts Scripture or the confessions is even permitted to be sent up the chain, published, discussed, debated, and voted on? Anyone? Class? Bueller?

So if a pastor were to openly promote women’s “ordination,” or advocate for homosexual “pride” parades, or speak in favor of transgender ideology - all of which are contrary to scripture - why are these pastors not being overseen and disciplined? If they persist in such false doctrine, why are they not removed? How can pastors speak of a man’s “husband” or call for same-sex couples to be allowed to commune because they don’t think they’re doing anything wrong? Why are they able to believe, teach, and confess unbiblical teachings with impunity? Are you waiting for Pastor Jones to fill out the right paperwork or something? I honestly don’t get it.

Maybe it is my own ignorance of the bylaws. But if our bylaws truly don’t allow district presidents to oversee, to exercise discipline, then not only are they not episkopoi, nor to they really exercise episkope either. And if that is the case, then I think that our district presidents should exercise a kind of de facto episkope by publicly condemning certain men and certain churches by name, and warning the faithful against them. St. Paul did this in his epistles - even mentioning false teachers by name. So do our Lutheran confessions. If you can’t remove a false teacher from the roster because of the burden of bureaucracy and bylaw complications, you can at least be the prophetic voice of the watchman on the wall. It does seem to be your job. Have I missed something?

But if you do and say nothing, you are giving tacit approval. And I cannot tell you how crushing this is to the morale of the pastors and laity who deal with the fallout of such things. These are not private sins between pastors. This is not a case of Pastor Smith selling a truck to Pastor Jones that had an unrevealed transmission problem. Such a case should not be settled in Caesar’s courts. That kind of dispute should be settled Christian to Christian, and if necessary, in a separate ecclesiastical forum: a dispute resolution process within the church. But public false doctrine is a different story. It seems to me to be the top reason why the office of district president exists.

In matters of publicly confessed doctrine, the dispute resolution process seems to be the wrong vehicle. For there can be no dispute resolution where there is no dispute. Are doctrines like the Trinity, the Two Natures, male-only ordination, opposite sex monogamy, and creation as male and female really a matter of dispute, up for grabs, and subject to the most votes in convention? In matters where there is ambiguity, where the facts are not clear, or in cases where an appeal is in order - then there should be due process and protection for the accused. That said, the onus should not be on Pastor Jones, who already has enough on his plate, and who is not charged with exercising episkope.

Those who teach contrary to God’s Word should be removed from the roster. That should not be a controversial statement. And if we can’t do that, our polity will be judged as a failure by generations yet to be born. For unless we can remove the cancer of false doctrine, we will simply become just one more counterfeit body like the ELCA and the NALC, from which true Christian pastors and congregations have to flee in order to remain faithful to the Word of God.

And before someone misconstrues my hard questions, I am really sincere when I say that our district presidents have a difficult task - especially within the parameters of our polity. And I know several of our district presidents personally, and know them to be honorable men. In fact, I’m really encouraged at how many of them I do know - either in person or by reputation - and I rejoice that they are there: including my own district president. But there is clearly something broken and dysfunctional that needs to be fixed - whether it is the polity, the bureaucracy, or the culture of oversight - within our synod.

I invite any of our district presidents to comment.

The above video is a current marketing strategy of the Roman Catholic Church called “Catholics Come Home.” It is well done - while, of course, being propagandistic (the word “propaganda,” interestingly, has its etymological origins in the Roman Catholic Church’s evangelism agency founded in 1622, “The Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith.”

And this is the point of my sharing it.

The theological and historical errors notwithstanding, this is a beautiful piece of propaganda, and it is valuable in that sense. For as the Rev. Bryan Stecker points out, the digital footprint of the Roman Catholic Church dwarfs anything that we are doing . They are massive and rich, and have access to resources that we don’t (in fact, I saw this ad on a restaurant TV that was showing the Winter Olympics). It cost them a fortune to air this. And that is the point. What you see in the above video is exactly what their marketing folks understand that people are looking for, and they are heavily invested in telling that story. This video has been released in many languages, as people all over the world are seeking out a kind of Christianity that is genuine, serious, beautiful, grounded in antiquity, historical, unified and universal, active in the world, and making a difference.

Being a marketing tool, they are putting their best foot forward. They don’t have anything to say about current events like sex scandals, rebellious German bishops promoting sexual perversion (along with James Martin, SJ in the US), Vatican bank scandals, hardball politics, the suppression of the Latin Mass, agitation for women’s ordination and open rebellion among some female orders, contradictions between councils and popes regarding doctrinal matters that should be consistent through the ages and not subject to change, etc. Nor is there anything about historical events like the scandals of the pornocracy, the Avignon Papacy, the corruption that led to the Reformation, or the vulgarity and scandal of various papal families and dynasties, like the Borgias. Nothing is shown from the Inquisition and the burning of heretics (and others) at the stake, or the persecution and slaughter of Lutherans and other Christians who sought reformation. There was no reenactment of the trial of Galileo or the exhumation of Pope Formosus, dressing his corpse and putting it on trial in the macabre Cadaver Synod (chopping off his fingers and tossing the body into the Tiber, where it washed up). And why would there be? This is, after all, a marketing campaign.

But notice how worship is portrayed in this video. Again, this is what they want you to see. This is their best foot forward. You see liturgy, reverence, and beauty. You see vestments and incense. You don’t see goofy Father Boomer wearing a football jersey. You don’t see the ubiquitous lady cantor in a muumuu attempting to lead the congregation by warbling “On Eagles’ Wings.” You don’t see the priest from South America or the Philippines dancing with parishioners (sometimes luridly), or the American bishop scolding people for kneeling to receive the Sacrament. You don’t see a pastor walking around giving a sermon. You don’t see screens and drums and guitars. You don’t see a stage with a preacher clad in chinos or polos or graphic tees. You see what people - especially young people - are thirsting for: authentic, beautiful, liturgical, sacramental dignity. They are putting their best foot forward: vested and walking in a dignified way in the chancel and at the altar.

No gimmicks. No CoWo. No stunts. No stages or sets. No skits, no kiddie pools, no praise band. Indeed, what you see in this Roman Catholic video is the kind of dignified worship focused on the cross of Christ that we Lutherans say that we practice in Article 24: the kind of worship that God tells us in His Word that He wants to see His people practice (Exodus 26-31).

The Roman Catholic Church knows what people are looking for. And we Lutherans have it. At least, some of us do. See the video below.

Lutherans, come home!