This was published April 29, 2021. — Ed.

In a discussion about praying to the dead, a Roman Catholic FB friend was critical of a Protestant FB friend. They went back and forth while I scooped popcorn into my mouth and enjoyed the show. Full contact theology is way more entertaining than MMA fights that inevitably become grappling on the floor, and you don’t have to pay for cable. Real theological debate is more lively, like the old Big Time Wrestling that my cousins and I used to watch on Saturday mornings.

Continue reading…

This article was published in the Easter 2016 issue of Gottesdienst.

Unsurprisingly, my previous column (“The Results Are In”, Christmas 2025) has generated some pushback. My broadside against Christ Greenfield has found its mark; in particular, my demonstration that their “contemporary” style of worship is indeed incompatible with genuine Lutheran substance. Their defense doubles down on their conception of the “priesthood of all believers” and their corresponding insistence that “ministry” is something for all Christians to do.

A recent “Lead Time” podcast was aptly named “Priesthood of All Believers: The Debate that Still Shapes the LCMS.”[1]. “Lead Time” is produced by Unite Leadership Collective, an organization headed by Christ Greenfield’s pastor, Rev. Tim Ahlman, and Mr. Jack Kalleberg, who is listed as the “Executive Director” at Christ Greenfield.

In this episode they interview Rev. Dr. Robert Scudieri, who for half a century has been a leading voice for the “missional” wing of the Missouri Synod, in collaboration with other like-minded synodical leaders, including Leroy Biesenthal, who in the 1970s was promoting “Dialog Evangelism,” the Missouri Synod’s version of the [in]famous “Kennedy Evangelism” program that swept across the fundamentalist American Evangelical regions as a result of his blockbuster book “Evangelism Explosion.”[2] In the ensuing years, emphasis on evangelism took hold of the Synod in spades, under the leadership of President Ralph Bohlmann and Dr. Ed Westcott, the Mission Executive for the LCMS Board for Missions. Professor Eugene Bunkowski was also deeply involved, and he and Scudieri began the Lutheran Society for Missiology in 1992. Anyone familiar with the strife that engulfed the Fort Wayne seminary in the 90s will recognize these names, aware that this “missional” faction of the Synod, as it happens, was also intent on removing the “confessional” emphasis there, which was under the leadership of Dr. Robert Preus. Bohlmann removed Preus from the presidency of the seminary, immediately following the notorious Wichita Convention in 1989, at which the Synod essentially amended the Augsburg Confession to allow laymen to preach and administer the Sacrament. Bohlmann’s victory proved Pyrrhic because he was himself ousted, and Preus reinstated, at the next convention (Pittsburgh 1992). But the “missional” forces reemerged when Gerald Kieschnick was elected Synodical President in 2001, and the “evangelism” push continued to drive synodical politics until he was defeated in 2010 by Matthew Harrison, who is currently in office. Under Harrison’s leadership, the Synod in 2016 (the Milwaukee Convention) reversed the Synod’s blot on the Augsburg Confession by resolving that all "Licensed Lay Deacons" must transition into either the ordained ministry or cease their performance of pastoral duties.[3] At the Synod’s most recent convention (2023, also in Milwaukee), this was reaffirmed as the delegates resolved to reaffirm AC XIV, which unequivocally states that no one should publicly teach in the Church or administer the Sacraments without a “rightful call” (rite vocatus).[4]

So the “confessional” vs. “missional” battle has raged on for decades. True confessional Lutheranism has always been serious about missions, but equally serious about how missionary activity is watered down when false notions about the ministry are bandied about. Hence, “missional” needs to be in quotes because technically it’s a bit of a misnomer; the irony is that when their errors gain headway, the Gospel in its purity is diminished and true missions end up suffering.

Lately the confessional side has been making great headway. In recent years, the St. Louis seminary has undergone significant changes toward the elimination of “missional” excesses, beginning with Harrison’s appointment of Dr. Daniel Preus as interim president in 2020. In the following year, Dr. Jon Vieker joined the faculty and became dean of the chapel, leading toward some sorely-needed reforms of the chapel, and in the same year Dr. Thomas Egger became seminary president. These changes have undoubtedly been frustrating to the “missional” side, whose influence has been greatly diminished there.

Small wonder, then, that this new Unite Leadership Collective has popped up in recent years and began to clamor for alternate routes to ordination, now that both of the Synod’s seminaries have managed to steer away from  the “missional” emphases that are odious to true confessional Lutheranism. The “missional” wing had to find another outlet for its efforts, and we have to play whack-a-mole with it.

In this episode of “Lead Time,” their rebuttal of my claims now includes a bold insistence on the removal of the fractious comma at Ephesians 4:12. I had argued for its inclusion in “The Results Are In”:

The KJV had it right:

And he gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers; for the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ: till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ.

But if the comma after “saints” is removed, which became common beginning with the publication of the Revised Standard Version in 1952, then it is the saints who are doing the ministry rather than the apostles, prophets, evangelists, and pastors and teachers. And beginning with this little change, “ministry” began to be seen less as a reference to the preaching office, and more as a reference to one or another kind of service or program or group within the church.[5]

The “Lead Time” interview with Dr. Scudieri responds to this. First, he suggests that the early church, being less formalized in the pre-Constantinian years, was more geared toward mission and evangelism (more “missional,” that is), but when the church became more institutional, this “took the initiative away from local Christians and from the Church at the local level.” His discussion soon leads to the battle between Walther and Grabau at the time the Synod was founded and Walther’s insistence on congregational supremacy. And here he brings up the contested passage in Ephesians 4 and the controversy over the comma. At this point Mr. Kalleberg brings up my article: “Somebody decided to do a critique of Christ Greenfield and wrote a whole newsletter article about it.” Here he asks Pastor Ahlman, “What's the name of that publication, Tim?” And Ahlman responds, “Gottesdienst.” Then Kalleberg continues, “A guy watched our livestream, and he also scanned our website. And, you know, he could have just called us and asked us questions if there was anything unclear about it.” (I didn’t need to do that, incidentally, because nothing was unclear to me.) “In his article, he mentioned the comma and he was very passionate and adamant that the comma belonged in there because he wanted to stand by the belief that it's not the lay people that are doing ministry; it's the people who are specially called that do it.”

At this point Scudieri admits that the comma is in the KJV, but that in the RSV it was taken out, and after that the great majority of English translations left the comma out, and Scudieri takes this as a kind of proof that the comma shouldn’t be there. John N. Collins traces this painstakingly in his important little manuscript, Are All Christians Ministers? (Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press, 1992), showing that this change came about in the 1971 version of the RSV,[6] and he references Hans-Ruedi Weber, director of Bible studies for the World Council of Churches, who referred to this as a “Copernican change.” The research of Collins leads to the inescapable conclusion that “the idea of a general ministry of all Christians is a thoroughly modern view and that, although it admirably suits the spirit of our democratic age, it is ultimately only as sound as the interpretation of Ephesians 4:11–13 on which it mainly rests.” [7]

What of that passage, then? In particular, what of the comma? The original Greek, of course, admits no punctuation marks at all, leaving it to interpreters to decide where they belong when translated. So, for centuries the prevailing view was to insert a comma after “saints,” in which case it is the apostles etc. who are the ones doing the ministry, but when the RSV removed the comma, it became the saints who do it, being so equipped by the apostles etc.

For all the debating about the comma, surprisingly little has been said about the word καταρτισμον, which the KJV has translated “perfecting” while RSV has opted for “equip[ping].” Ancient, original use of the term tends strongly to favor “perfecting,” as in perfecting a thing for its final destination or use,[8] and, more significantly, St. Paul’s use of the term always has the import of completion, of making perfect and complete.[9] Never does Paul have the concept of equipping for service in mind when he uses this term. Hence the idea newly minted by the removal of the comma, that the apostles etc. were given an order to equip the saints to do something, namely in this case, to minister, is simply incongruent with Paul’s use of καταρτιζω/καταρτισμον anywhere else in his epistles. Not only, therefore, is equipping the saints for ministry a thoroughly novel idea historically speaking, it is also foreign to Paul’s use of the term.

Rather, the KJV translators (as usual) understood the import of the passage correctly, interpreting it as giving the purpose for which Christ gave some as apostles, and some as prophets, and some as evangelists, and some pastors and teachers; and that purpose is toward the perfecting, that is, the completion, of the saints. The substance of the work of the ministry of the apostles etc. is, in other words, “the edifying of the body of Christ, till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ” (vv. 12–13). Nothing in this entire context refers to the activities of the saints, but rather the destination of the saints. The excision of the comma has the effect of putting into this passage a concept that is simply not in view. While, to be sure, the life of sanctification is commonly a concern of Paul’s, and he speaks of it often, that subject is not here.

What is here, rather, is the purpose for which the Office of the Ministry was established, and here it’s worth saying that the pastoral office is not some “elite” group, or “some hierarchical group of guys,” as they routinely and falsely charge us with thinking; rather, it exists for the edifying of the Body of Christ. The reason confessional Lutherans insist that it’s the pastors who do the ministering is that if this is not maintained, it’s not the pastors who are harmed but the saints to whom they minister.

Those saints are, of course, elsewhere exhorted to serve one another in love, and here the Second Table of the Commandments comes to mind, but the Body of Christ has many parts, and it isn’t helpful to confuse those parts (see 1 Cor 12:1–20). But confusion has most certainly resulted from the unfortunate removal of that fractious comma. Let us, rather, insist: the comma must stay.

[1] Feb. 24, 2026, youtube.com/watch?v=YQMMBNcrWnQ.

[2] Tyndale, 1970.

[3] Resolution 13-02A (2016).

[4] Resolution 6-02 (2023).

[5] Gottesdienst, Christmas 2025:4, 8.

[6] Collins, 18f.

[7] Collins, 22–24, emphasis mine.

[8] James Moulton and George Milligan, The Vocabulary of the Greek Testament (1930), s.v. καταρτιζω.

[9] See Rom 9:22, 1 Cor 1:10, 2 Cor 13:11, 2 Cor 13:9, Gal 6:1, 1 Thess 3:10.

 [PE1]Did you mean to use a URL that goes to a particular point in the video? Because that’s what it does - it goes to 17 min in, but it’s not talking about Gottesdienst. I changed the URL to be the video directly, starting at the beginning.

 [BE2]Good, that’s better

 [PE3]This may be smoother than “the idea of the things the saints do”

 [BE4]Yes, that’s much better

Since last week was Holy Week, and a veery busy time, it’s worth repeating that a Can’t Miss Gottesdienst Conference is coming up EARLY IN MAY.

At Redeemer in Fort Wayne, Monday - Wednesday, May 4 - 6, 2026, we’re going to hear from keynote speaker Dr. William Weinrich, who is well known among us, having been a professor specializing in Early Church history for decades at Concordia Theological Seminary in Fort Wayne.

Read all about it, and REGISTER here.

“Beginning at Moses and all the prophets, he expounded unto them in all the scriptures the things concerning himself.”

On this Easter Monday, as we hear the account of the road to Emmaus in Luke 24, in which Our Lord lays out for his apostles the “things concerning himself” in the Old Testament, some of the antiphons at Lauds seem especially striking. The five psalm antiphons at Lauds, on a normal weekday, are typically an excerpted line or two from the psalm or Old Testament canticle in question. So, for example, on a typical Monday throughout the year, the psalms and antiphons at Lauds would look like this:

Psalm 51 - Miserere mei, Deus
An. Have mercy upon me,* O God.

Psalm 5 - Verba mea
An. Consider* my meditation, O Lord.

Psalm 63/67 – Deus Deus meus
An. Early will I seek Thee,* O God.

The Song of Isaiah (Isaiah 12:1–6) - Confitebor tibi
An. Thine anger is turned away,* O Lord, and thou comfortedst me.

Psalms 148–150 – Laudate Dominum
An. Praise God* in the heights.

In every case above, the ferial antiphons are drawn more or less directly from the text itself, with the Benedictus antiphon also typically following this pattern. (Monday Benedictus antiphon: Blessed* be the God of Israel.)

On feasts and in various seasons, however, antiphons particular to the occasion are appointed. The Lauds antiphons for Easter and its octave (with the usual festal psalms) can be found below.

Psalm 93 – Dominus regnavit
An. For the angel of the Lord descended from heaven,* and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat upon it, alleluia, alleluia.

Psalm 100 – Jubilate Deo
An. And, behold, there was a great earthquake:* for the angel of the Lord descended from heaven, alleluia.

Psalm 63/67 – Deus Deus meus
An. His countenance was like lightning,* and his raiment white as snow, alleluia.

Benedicite omnia opera
An. And for fear of him the keepers did shake,* and became as dead men, alleluia.

Psalms 148–150 – Laudate Dominum
An. And the angel answered and said unto the women,* Fear not ye: for I know that ye seek Jesus, alleluia.

As you look through the antiphons above, you see that they are, more or less, the account of the resurrection from Matthew 28, as heard at the Vigil of Easter, traced out line by line. But it isn’t just that — if you look closely, you begin to see the genius of the ancient order of the Daily Office.

In the first Psalm (Dominus regnavit), the imagery is that of God as king, robed in majesty, seated on his throne, whose voice is more powerful than the roaring waves of the sea. The antiphon from St. Matthew’s Gospel helps us to see with fresh eyes the angel seated on the stone of the tomb, who demonstrates that, in the resurrection of Christ, even God’s angels are “enthroned” over the power of death, similar to the language of the beloved Easter chorale, “Jesus Christ, My Sure Defense,” which places death underneath the feet of the Christian:

Laugh to scorn the gloomy grave
And at death no longer tremble;
He, the Lord, who came to save
Will at last His own assemble.
They will go their Lord to meet,
Treading death beneath their feet.

But the fourth antiphon is the one that caught my attention in particular. The Benedicite is sung on every Sunday and feast, and its origin is in the book of Daniel, as the song of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego (Ananias, Azarias, and Misael) when they are thrown into the midst of the fiery furnace after they refusal to bow down and worship the idol of Nebuchadnezzar. The furnace was so hot that “the flame of the fire slew those men that took up Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego.” The antiphon for the Benedicite in the Easter octave draws the parallel between those Babylonian guards who sought to carry out Nebuchadnezzar’s orders and kill the righteous three young men, and the guards who guarded the tomb of the perfect Son of God, who “became as dead men.” The image is the same in both instances: the life of the righteous is preserved, while those who seek to kill him “fall into their own nets.” Quite beautifully, this is commemorated throughout the year by the usual Sunday antiphon for the Benedicite: “I see three men walking in the midst of the fire, and the form of the fourth is like the Son of God.” Thus the promise of the resurrection is carried through the Sunday office the remainder of the year, and we are reminded that the one who walked through the fire with the three young men is the same one who walks through the fire with us, and the one who has burst the bonds of death and triumphed over the grave will finally see his enemies cast down and unable to rise.

“Beginning at Moses and all the prophets, he expounded unto them in all the scriptures the things concerning himself.”

[Note: This is Today’s Devotion based on the Treasury of Daily Prayer lectionary — Ed.]

Heb 9:1-28

In the name of + Jesus.  Amen.

Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

The author of Hebrews explains the “regulations for worship” in the “first covenant.” He makes reference to the tabernacle that God commanded the Israelites to build (Ex 26-31). It was a place of beauty, with the Most Holy Place being where the Presence of God dwelt. It was a place unlike anything else on earth: precious metals, beautiful fabric, the “bread of the Presence,” vested priests, and incense.

Many Christians consider this worship (and its “regulations”) a thing of the past, something we have outgrown. Our worship is now free to be anything, even a stage with performers imitating the best entertainment that the world has to offer. Many consider the idea of a Most Holy Place where God’s Presence dwells, a place of beauty and reverence, to be a thing of the past. But Scripture teaches us otherwise. For these details of the tabernacle were “copies of the heavenly things,” that is, “copies of the true things, but into heaven itself,” in which “Christ has entered.” For this true sanctuary where Christ entered was not “made with hands,” but was built by God Himself.

What has changed between the covenants is that Jesus is our High Priest and our Victim. He completed the token sacrifices that used to be offered “repeatedly,” that is, the earthly preview of “the blood of goats and calves.” He has offered “His own blood” as the fulfillment. And as the High Priest, He entered “once for all into the holy places,” entering on our behalf, “securing an eternal redemption” for us.

So our sanctuaries ought to continue to copy the “heavenly things,” which is to say, our worship should remind everyone of the sanctuary of the tabernacle and temple. The “earthly place of holiness” should still be beautiful, otherworldly, and reverent, pointing us to what the eternal worship in heaven looks like. For worship is not about our entertainment, but rather our confession of Christ our High Priest and Lamb, our “once for all” sacrifice offered for “the purification of the flesh,” the “sacrifice of Himself.” The “bread of the Presence” has been fulfilled by the body of Christ. The blood of beasts has been fulfilled by the “cup” which is “the new covenant in [Christ’s] blood” (1 Cor 11:25). The sacrifice is not repeated, but the “sacrament” – that is, the “mystery” – is distributed, eaten, and drunk by Christians “in remembrance of” our Great High Priest, “as often” (1 Cor 11:25) as we “do this” (1 Cor 11:24-25).

Christian worship of the New Covenant fulfills the Israelite worship of the Old Covenant. For our worship is not limited to temples in Jerusalem or on Mount Gerizim, but rather we worship “in spirit and in truth” (John 4:21-24) all over the world in copies of the heavenly temple, places where the Good News is proclaimed, where the true Bread of the Presence is distributed, and where the true blood of the Lamb is shared from the cup.

Our worship in earthly copies will continue until our Lord returns. For “Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin but to save those who are eagerly waiting for Him.” And this mystery of faith, this heavenly worship that we are privileged to join in earthly copies, this Presence of our High Priest and Lamb, this cry of “Worthy!” that we offer to the only one who can break the seals (Rev 5:1-14) is far greater than any emotionally-manipulative performance or stage show made by hands.

Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Amen.

In the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Alleluia! Christ is risen! [R: He is risen indeed! Alleluia!]

Tell us, O Mary Magdalene, out of whom were driven seven demons, what did you see? You saw the tomb of Christ, who is living, you saw the glory of his resurrection; you saw bright angels attesting; you saw the shroud and napkin resting there. You heard them say that Christ, your hope, is arisen, that he will go before you into Galilee.

And then you saw Christ himself! You supposed he was the gardener, which was a logical supposition, for it was in a garden that you saw him, and you did not yet know that he had risen. So, therefore, the gardener may well know where his body was; he may even be the one who has taken it, now that the stone had been removed. A logical supposition, for when you first heard the angelic tidings, you could not yet believe it could be. For you went out quickly, and fled from the sepulcher; you trembled and were amazed. You were afraid, and you said nothing to anyone.

But then, after that, you returned, you came back to the place, you lingered, you wished, you hoped; yes, your lingering in the garden tells us that it may have been then that you began daring to hope, to wonder, to believe anew. But still you could not let yourself, and so when he whom you thought to be the gardener asked why you were weeping, you replied, Sir, if you have borne him hence, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.

And then he spoke your name: Mary. And at once you knew, and believed, and your heart thrilled, and exulted: The voice of my beloved! My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up! Mary! And you fell to the ground, and held his feet, until he said to you, Touch me not, for I have not yet ascended to my Father.

So you learned, as we must learn, that it is now, today, after the forty days in which he appeared to his disciples, after his ascension, after Pentecost, after years of annual celebrations of Easter, this year, today, at our celebration of the Resurrection of our Lord, we may at last touch him, in the Blessed Sacrament. For he said to you, not yet; not until I have ascended. So now that he has ascended, your touching and ours is wondrously permitted.

Tell us, O John, who had once leaned upon Jesus’ breast, you, to whom at the cross he had given his mother, you, who knew yourself to be one whom Jesus loved, what did you see? You also saw the tomb where Christ had lain. You outran Peter to the sepulcher, and so arrived first but waited in deference to your elder, who was first among the Apostles, so Peter saw first: the linen clothes lying, and the napkin, that was about his head, not lying with the linen clothes, but wrapped together in a place by itself. You saw that everything was in order. Perhaps it was then that you, like Mary Magdalene, dared to begin hoping, for everything was in order. For when you went in, and you saw that, you began to believe. You finally let yourself begin to believe what he had been saying to you all along, that he must rise from the dead.

But still you must have doubted, for him you did not see, and then, at evening, you were with all the twelve in the upper room, and you shut the doors for fear of the Jews. See, you were still afraid; your heart, wanting to believe, was still held back from believing, still could not quite bring itself to that point; but then Jesus came and stood in the midst, and said, Peace be unto you. And when he had so said, he showed you his hands and his side.

So you inspected, you looked, you handled, you believed; at last, you believed, and then you were glad, when you saw the Lord. And then said Jesus to you again, Peace be unto you: as my Father hath sent me, even so send I you. And so you, John, became Apostle and Evangelist, and wrote these things, these very words, that we might believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God; and that believing we might have life through his name. For we were not there, but you were there; we did not see, but you saw; our hearts were not first held back and then freed, but yours was; and because you were there, and saw, and believed, and have testified, we therefore have your testimony, that on this glad Easter Day our hearts may leap with joy, and we may share in your gladness.

Tell us, O disciples who walked in gloom and sorrow on the Emmaus road, whose hope had died, who said to the Stranger who began to walk with you, We were hoping that it had been Jesus who died which should have redeemed Israel. You said you were hoping; you were no longer hoping. Your hope had died. But then he talked with you by the way, and what happened? Your heart began to burn within you, while he opened to you the scriptures. Your heart burned, as you began to suspect, like the others—could it be? Could it possibly be?—that he who walked with you on the way was himself the Way on which you walked.

 And so as you drew nigh unto the village, whither you went: and he made as though he would have gone further, you constrained him, hearts burning, saying, Abide with us: for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent. And he went in to tarry with you. And your heart burned all the more, for as he opened the Scriptures to you, he was also leading you back to himself, who is your Hope, your Joy, your Life, your Rock, your Strength, your Beloved, risen from dead. And it came to pass, as he sat at meat with you, he took bread, and blessed it, and broke, and gave to you. And it was then that your eyes were opened, and you knew him; and he vanished out of your sight. We were not there, but you were there; and we did not join that blessed Emmaus meal with you that day, but—alleluia!—we join you this day, this happy Easter Day, we join you today, for we know him in the Supper, just as you did.

 Tell us, O all ye witnesses of the resurrection, how you had lost all hope, but then he came to you and revived you, and you began to believe the unbelievable; you started to hope the unimaginable; you dared to trust the impossible, that Christ who was dead had—could it be?—actually risen from the dead, as he had said he would. For our hearts burn within us this day. And we begin, and dare, and, hoping against hope, are learning to believe what the Scripture saith, that eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.

Tell us today, so that we, too, may know that the burning of our hearts—the confidence, the hope and rediscovery that the Lord is risen indeed—is none other but the flame of the Holy Ghost kindled in us by the glad tidings that you bring of the resurrection of our Lord; that we may join the chorus that with exuberant hearts has through the ages cried out to one another ever since the very days you yourselves have said it: Alleluia! Christ is risen! [R: He is risen indeed! Alleluia!]

This sermon was preached at St Paul’s Lutheran Church in Kewnaee, Illinois, on Easter Sunday, April 1, 2018

St. Matthew 27:57-66:

Now when evening had come, there came a rich man from Arimathea, named Joseph, who himself had also become a disciple of Jesus. This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then Pilate commanded the body to be given to him. When Joseph had taken the body, he wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, and laid it in his new tomb which he had hewn out of the rock; and he rolled a large stone against the door of the tomb, and departed. And Mary Magdalene was there, and the other Mary, sitting opposite the tomb.

On the next day, which followed the Day of Preparation, the chief priests and Pharisees gathered together to Pilate, saying, “Sir, we remember, while He was still alive, how that deceiver said, After three days I will rise.’ Therefore command that the tomb be made secure until the third day, lest His disciples come by night and steal Him away, and say to the people, ‘He has risen from the dead.’ So the last deception will be worse than the first.”

Pilate said to them, “You have a guard; go your way, make it as secure as you know how.” So they went and made the tomb secure, sealing the stone and setting the guard.

Meditation: Here faith triumphs over all evil and darkness. For Jesus is now crucified, dead, and buried, and a stone blocks the tomb. But in spite of all this dread for the eyes to see, there was Mary Magdalene, and the other Mary, sitting over against the tomb. How faithful were these women! For they, in spite of all the grief that this experience and sight gave them, remained faithful to their Lord and His word (for He had told them to be watchful). So there they sit; yea, there sits faith, keeping watch in the hour of darkness. So does faith triumph over darkness and the grave. On whose behalf, then, do these women sit and keep watch? On behalf of all the faithful ones, the very Bride of Christ. No darkness can daunt them, no grief nor sorrow can dissuade them, for in spite of their weeping they remained faithful, now, to their dead Lord, somehow knowing still that He is the Resurrection and the Life. Holy Saturday marks the triumph of faith, expecting Easter.

• from Every Day Will I Bless Thee: Meditations for the Daily Office (Sussex, WI: Concordia Catechetical Academy, 1992).

Sometimes we get a glimpse, and it’s marvelous. But in order to catch this glimpse, we must see with the eyes of faith. We must see as the Greeks were bidden to see, for their asking of Philip, Sir, we would see Jesus (St. John 12:21). Philip referred this request to Andrew, who in turn asked the Lord Himself, who replied, The hour is come, that the Son of man should be glorified.

Behold how this request was transmitted: it was handed on through Philip and Andrew, the very same disciples Jesus had tested at the feeding of the five thousand. Then, Jesus had asked Philip, Whence shall we buy bread, that these may eat? And Philip, exasperated, had no clue, nor did Andrew, who, though a lad had presented him with five loaves and two fish, could only manage to say, What are they among so many? (St. John 6:5-9) And this same Andrew was the very one who had first followed Jesus’ invitation, Come and see, and, having done so, exclaimed to his brother Simon, We have found the Messiah. And likewise Philip had announced to Nathanial, We have found him, of whom Moses in the law, and the prophets, did write, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph (St. John 1:39-45). So these two disciples are recognized by the Evangelist as disciples who should have known when tested, but who failed. And now, through the relay of the request from the Greeks to Jesus, they are learning just how to see him. Now they are learning how to live by faith. Now they are about to find out how to see Jesus: The hour is come, that the Son of man should be glorified. For he who is himself the holy corn of wheat must fall into the ground and die, that he might bring forth much fruit.

To see him glorified is not to see him in splendor but in his Passion. His glory is his cross, and accordingly, his day of agony we call Good Friday.

So on Good Friday let us consider the bidding of Pilate (of all people!): Behold the man. Look upon him in his affliction and see there how he is winning back the Paradise lost by the first man. And again, consider what Pilate (of all people!) wrote about him: JESUS OF NAZARETH THE KING OF THE JEWS. For he would not alter this when asked, but replied, What I have written I have written. And in the greatest of ironies, Pilate, himself unaware of what he was saying and writing, was right. Not only so, but here was Jesus at this very moment procuring his kingdom, by his own humiliation.

Would you see Jesus? Then behold the man, precisely where he is designated the King of the Jews. Behold him there with faith, and there you will have your glimpse of his glory. For by his stripes we are healed.

Gottesdienst will be hosting its annual May conference at Redeemer in Fort Wayne, Monday - Wednesday, May 4 - 6, 2026. This year’s conference features as its keynote speaker Dr. William Weinrich. Dr Weinrich is well known among us, having been a professor specializing in Early Church history for decades at Concordia Theological Seminary in Fort Wayne. He has been working on the third and final volume of his magnum opus on the Gospel of John in the Concordia Commentary series.

The theme for this year’s conference is Interpreting the Scriptures. In addition to Dr. Weinrich’s presentation, Dr. Karl Fabrizius will provide a section on the interpretation of the Ten Commandments and the Plagues in Egypt, Rev. David Petersen will present on how reading poetry helps us interpret Scripture, and Dr. Burnell Eckardt will have a section on interpreting the Kingdom of David. Also featured will be artist John Hrehov, who will speak on interpreting art (which also helps our faculty to interpret Scripture), and musician Jonathan Busarow, who will provide us with some voice training for worship.

Register with the early bird discount by April 15 for only $45 and save $30 (Students and retirees discount rate: $25; contact us separately for details). April 16-May 4 registrations are $75. The schedule is given below. The conference includes two dinners and Gemütlichkeits and one lunch. The Gemütlchkeits are sponsored by LCEF. LCEF offers a number of financial products, but their current rates for rostered church worker mortgages are very competitive. They are also offering great rates on fixed rate investments and liquid accounts. If you’re in the market, look here https://lcef.org/get-started/start-investing/.

Redeemer Lutheran Church is located at 202 W Rudisill, Ft. Wayne, IN 46807.

Monday, 4 May 2026
1:30 p.m. Divine Service
2:30 p.m. Conference welcome
2:45 p.m. Session 1 – Dr. William Weinrich - interpreting the Gospel of John
3:45 p.m. Break
4:00 pm Questions for Dr. Weinrich
4:30 p.m. Vespers
5:00-8:00 p.m. Gemütlichkeit and and supper provided

Tuesday, 5 May 2026
8:30 a.m. Matins
9:00 a.m. Coffee and Donuts (undercroft)
9:15 a.m. Session 2 – Dr. Weinrich, continued
10:15 a.m. Break
11:00 a.m. Session 3 – Dr. Weinrich, continued, with discussion
12:15 p.m. Lunch provided
1:15 p.m. Session 4 – Dr. Karl Fabrizius - Interpreting the Commandments and the Plagues
2:15 p.m. Session 5 – Rev. David Petersen - poetry and interpreting Scripture
3:15 p.m. Session 6 - John Hrehov - How to read art
4:30 p.m. Vespers
5:00-8:00 p.m. Gemütlichkeit and Supper provided 

Wednesday, 6 May 2026
8:30 a.m. Divine Service
9:00 a.m. Coffee and Donuts
9:15 a.m. Session 7 - Jonathan Busarow - voice training for worship
10:15 a.m. Session 8 - Dr. Burnell Eckardt - interpreting the Kingdom of David
10:45 a.m. Panel Discussion on Biblical Interpretation
11:30 a.m. Lunch on your own

There have been some recent positive developments for the advocates of anti-Christian Nationalism.

Finland

Finland’s departure from Christian Nationalism has been a rather complex and slow march. It is technically still a Christian Nation with both national Lutheran and Orthodox churches with special legal privileges. But its Christian Nationalism is essentially in name only, having been steadily diminished in the 20th century, and continuing to the present.

The 1919 Constitution and the 1923 Freedom of Religion Act moved Finland in a direction away from Christian Nationalism. The Lutheran Church of Finland began to “ordain” women in the 1980s. While in 1950, Finland was 95.7% Lutheran (with 2.7% claiming no religious affiliation), the number calling themselves Lutheran dropped to 62.2% (with 34.9% unaffiliated in 2024). As the church diminished, so did the Christian culture. And as is often said, “politics is downstream from culture.”

Abortion was legalized in some cases in 1950, and was liberalized in subsequent legal changes in 1970, 1979, and 2023. Finland adopted homosexual “marriage” in 2017.

Only two years later, in 2019, a Lutheran pastor’s wife, medical doctor, and member of Parliament, Päivi Räsänen, along with the Rev. (and later Bishop) Juhana Pohjola, were charged with a hate crime for their roles in writing and distributing this 2004 booklet (Räsänen as author, Pohjola as publisher). After seven years of interrogation (which included being questioned for hours in a police station with a Bible on the table), tedious legal arguments, a unanimous acquittal, and a unanimous victory on appeal - the Supreme Court of the once Christian Nation of Finland recently convicted Dr. Räsänen and Bishop Pohjola of “hate crimes” in the criminal code under the rubric of “crimes against humanity” for insulting homosexuals. Here is the latest on the case.

This is a landmark in Finland’s leaving behind their old Christian Nationalism to embrace the diversity of Post-Christian Nationalism. We have members of LCMS churches, including pastors, who criticize the LCMS for not being hospitable enough to what they euphemistically call the “LGBTQ community,” in some cases even referring to men’s “husbands,” calling for “pronoun hospitality,” and expressing a desire that we accept gay “married” couples as communicants.

This latest retreat from national Christianity in Finland - which is a relative latecomer among the Nordic nations in the move to post-Christian Nationalism - is a resounding victory for those who oppose Christian Nationalism everywhere.

Iceland

The tiny Nordic island nation of Iceland is also a nominal Christian nation. The state’s “Lutheran” church (which “ordained” its first woman in 1974, and its first woman “bishop” in 2012) still receives state funds, and as of 2025, retained - at least nominally - 57% of the population (down from 90% in 1998). Iceland legalized abortion in 1935, and subsequently liberalized its abortion laws in 1975 and 2019. Same sex “marriage” was legalized in Iceland in 2010.

Opponents of Christian Nationalism will be gratified to see the diminution of Christianity and the rise of pluralism and diversity - even in this relatively isolated nation - paying huge dividends. A Roman Catholic priest who serves in Reykjavik, the Rev. Jakob Rolland, was threatened with arrest for advocating “conversion.” He was not arrested, but he was the subject of a debate in parliament. This is the kind of thing that would have been unthinkable when Iceland was a truly functional Christian nation.

Sweden

Sweden has been a leader in the move away from Christian Nationalism. Sweden became Roman Catholic in the 11th century, which became a Lutheran state church in the 16th century. After decades of liberalization and a decisive move away from Christian Nationalism, Sweden’s state church was disestablished in 2000. The first woman was “ordained” in 1960. The first woman “bishop” was “consecrated” in 1997. The first lesbian “bishop” was “consecrated” in 2009, and served for a decade. In 2015, she famously ordered the removal of crosses in a Christian chapel so as to accommodate Muslims.

Sweden legalized same sex “marriage” in 2009. Abortion was first legalized in 1938, and then liberalized in 1946, 1963, 1975 (when abortion on demand was legalized), and 1996.

Swedish anti-Christian Nationalism received a boost in 2022, when the Samson family had two of their daughters taken from them for being “religious extremists.” The cause of post-Christian Nationalism was further bolstered last month, when the EU - citing a legal technicality - refused to intervene in the Samsons’ ongoing legal crisis.

The charge of extremism stems from their three-times a week church attendance - cited by the government as the reason for not giving the children back to the parents, in spite of their finding that there was no abuse in the home. Of course, such families would have been permitted to attend church services three times a week in the old Christian Nationalist regime. In today’s post-Christian Nationalist Sweden, this is no longer the case.

Canada

Closer to home for Americans in our neighbor to the north.

Up until confederation in the 1860s, the Anglican Church was essentially the state church of English Canada, while the Roman Catholic Church held privileged status in Quebec. By 1893, the Anglican Church was completely separated from the government. By the 1960s, it had lost most of its cultural relevance.

Canada legalized abortion in 1988, and legalized same sex “marriage” in 2005. But where Canada has really been a pioneer in post-Christian Nationalism has been in its euthanasia laws. The euphemistically called MAID (Medical Assistance In Dying) was legalized in 2016, was expanded to non-terminal illnesses in 2021, and is scheduled to be expanded to the mentally ill in 2027. This has been a significant victory for those who oppose Christian Nationalism, and MAID has become a routine part of Canada’s “healthcare” system.

In fact, in 2024, twice as many people were euthanized than were dogs in shelters (16,499 vs. 7,644). As a bonus, 96% of those euthanized (the humans, not the dogs) were white - in a country where only 70% of the population is burdened by whiteness. “It is unclear what caused this disparity.” But it certainly helps “our greatest strength” from a mathematical point of view. Being “put to sleep” now constitutes 4.7% of deaths in Canada - something that would have been unthinkable when Canada was still a Christian nation.

Canada has also made rapid advances in its post-Christian Nationalism with regard to religious practices being protected under the law. Bill C-9 - which removed a religious exception in its so-called “hate crime” laws, has passed the House of Commons and is now headed to the Senate.

Which Way, America?

As the old Christian Nationalism breaks down, as formerly Christian nations are becoming more and more secular, we are seeing a post-Christian Nationalism rising all over the world, usually anchored in a diverse and secular worldview that moves away from the old Western idea of the imago Dei as formerly taken for granted in Christendom, a revisiting of laws that reflected this Christian worldview.

Those who oppose Christian Nationalism have a lot of reason for celebration, though it does seem that a lot of younger and more conservatively-minded people here in America are not yet onboard with the new paradigm. One watchdog group is alarmed to report that some 30% of Americans either support Christian Nationalism, or are sympathetic to it.

It will be interesting to see how this trend develops given the looming generational demographic changes that are already well underway.

The following letter was written by the Rev. Sahar Sadlovsky of the Israeli Evangelical Lutheran Church, a newly formed Hebrew-speaking church based in Tel Aviv, regarding the celebration of Passover seders by Christians.

Today the feast of Passover (פסח) is celebrated in almost every Jewish home in Israel. According to Shmuel Rosner in his book Israeli Judaism: A Cultural Revolution, about 60% of Israelis read the entire Haggadah at the Passover Seder. This means that most people in Israel, from secular or atheist to ultra-Orthodox, take part in the Seder in one way or another. For this reason, the question of the Passover Seder, and of the other feasts that shape the rhythm of life in Israel, cannot be ignored by us as Israeli Jewish Christians.

First, from a theological point of view, we confess as Lutherans that the Exodus Passover pointed to and has found its fulfilment in Israel’s Messiah, Jesus Christ. What was once given as a shadow has now given way to reality. On the night in which He was betrayed, our Lord instituted the blessed Sacrament of His Body and Blood. In this Supper, He gives us the benefits of the new Exodus: forgiveness of sins, life, and salvation, as often as we eat and drink.

Second, we recognise a broader development among many Evangelical churches. Under the influence of Zwinglian piety, they have often lost their connection to the Church’s liturgical life that grew out of the temple and the synagogue. At the same time, many of them show a strong interest in rabbinic Jewish practices such as the current Passover Seder. This reflects a desire to recover a richer liturgical life. It also reveals a thirst for ritual that certain forms of Protestant piety have diminished.

Yet a clear distinction must be made between a pedagogical setting and an act of worship. It can be helpful to learn about the Passover and to understand how it is perceived by a community that does not confess Jesus as the Messiah. But to adopt the Passover Seder as a Christian act of worship goes beyond instruction and leads into theological confusion, and in some cases even syncretism.

When Christians celebrate a Passover Seder, they make a statement, whether they intend to or not. Within the Church, the Lord’s Supper alone stands at the centre as the divinely mandated celebration of redemption. Even Jewish Christians, who have a particular historical and cultural connection to the Passover, must recognise that the Lord’s Supper is its true fulfilment.

The old Passover recalls God’s deliverance of Israel from Egypt and Pharaoh. The Lord’s Supper gives us Christ Himself, who delivers us death and the devil. What the Passover could only foreshadow, the Messiah now gives in full.

To replace the Lord’s Supper, especially on Maundy Thursday, with a Passover Seder as an act of worship is therefore an error. Such a practice constitutes a religious regression from fulfilment back to shadow, detracts from the centrality of Christ, and obscures the means of grace given in the New Covenant. Christians must not allow the shadow to obscure the substance.

At the same time, particular care is needed for Christians of Israeli-Jewish background, as additional pastoral and cultural considerations arise. We therefore state the following:

1.      We recognise that there a distinction between an act of worship per se, and a cultural family event that includes religious references but that is not an act of worship in the same way as a service at the synagogue would be. 

2.      We therefore encourage our members who have grown up with the Passover tradition to join their families on Passover Eve. In doing so, they may express cultural and national solidarity and participate with understanding in light of their faith in the Messiah. As the Lord grants opportunity, they may also bear loving witness to their families concerning the true Passover Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.

3.      As a Church, we do not celebrate the Passover Seder as a liturgical or worship event. In our religious activities, we live within the reality of fulfilment. We therefore uphold the Lord’s Supper as the highest and definitive expression of God’s redemption, the new Exodus, the fulfilment toward which the Passover pointed.

As an Israeli Lutheran Church, we pray for our people and join the heartfelt prayer of another Jewish Lutheran, Paul the Apostle:

“My heart’s desire and prayer to God for Israel is that they may be saved” (Romans 10:1).

—Rev. Fr. Sahar Sadlovsky     

The Israeli Evangelical Lutheran Church

If this performance looks familiar, it is the same big choir orchestral arrangement with the light show that was famously done by Heart in at the Kennedy Center in tribute to Led Zeppelin in 2012. Here it is:

There are not many women gifted with the vocal prowess of Nancy Wilson, but the unnamed lady singer in the church service version above certainly pulled it off with aplomb!

Many of us enjoy Led Zeppelin. Many of us appreciate the power and melody of this particular rock anthem, including this specific arrangement and performance - even though the words are gibberish. A lot of us grew up listening to classic rock and heavy metal. But what does any of this have to do with Jesus? Of course, nothing. It’s just entertainment. And entertainment has its place. Just not in church. This is the church growth movement on steroids: the severance of even the pretense of the Word of God. It is the substitution of an emotional rush in lieu of the objective reality of Christ’s Presence in the Word and in the Sacrament. And if your congregation is trying this kind of bait-and-switch to “do church differently” to be “attractional” to draw people in where they can hear the Gospel by means of entertainment, well, this “Church by the Glades” is your competition.

How does your “praise band” stack up to this? How is your light show? Orchestral arrangement? Choir? How do LCMS “CoWo” services, songwriters’ initiatives, and district hymnal projects compare to this? This is the gold standard of “modern worship.” How many Plants and Pages do the LCMS advocates of this kind of thing have to keep up with the Glades?

And coming up at the Glades this Easter…

In their teaser, something (or Someone) seems to be missing. Who might that be?

If you encourage people to go to where they will be entertained, where they will get a rock concert - why should they stay with you and not go to an even “better” example like the Glades? When the last chord ends, when the stage lights are turned off, when the performers have cased up their instruments and gone home, when the emotional high is over, what’s left? What do entertainment-based churches have to offer at the end of the day, at the end of our life, at the end of the world? “It really makes me wonder.”

Those who live by entertainment will perish by entertainment.

This short popped up in my feed, and I think it is illustrative of why we are so divided in the LCMS. It’s part of a longer Unite Leadership Collective podcast (below) that demonstrates that our problem is one of language. We use the same words, but we are not using the words in the same way. And I think the best construction is that it is a problem of linguistic ignorance. For if it’s not ignorance, then it is subversion and malice. I’m going to stick with the former unless there is real evidence of the latter.

To see how this is a linguistic issue, I want to refer to a different podcast (below) called The Red Letter Disciple.

This second video deals with the controversy of how we should be forming pastors in the LCMS. There is a lot of debate about whether our priority should be on our residential seminary MDiv programs, or whether we should give greater leeway to alternative routes to the ministry: whether expanding the SMP program, offering a non-residential MDiv (perhaps in conjunction with non-LCMS Lutherans), or even some kind of congregation-based “raising up leaders locally” (whatever that means).

In the Red Letter Disciple podcast, the Rev. Zach Zehnder interviews the Rev. Frank Hart, an SMP pastor. Pastor Hart is of the opinion that not only is SMP as good as residential formation, but it is actually better.

Everybody thinks the way they did it is the way it ought to be done. And by the way, at the end of this conversation, I'll bet you that's the impression that I give. The SMP program, that's the way it ought to be. That's the best way. It's the right way. Everyone should do it that way. It's better. I will say that I do believe that.

Of course, he is entitled to his opinion, but it’s going to be a hard sell. SMP’s academic requirement for ordination is 16 courses. It is between 40% and 50% of the course work for the MDiv. The Biblical languages are removed from the SMP curriculum, which means the exegetical courses that have Greek and Hebrew as prerequisites can also not be taken, or they must be modified for those students that lack the languages. There is also the issue of non-classroom formation that happens at other times and places that SMP students get but a taste of twice a year during intensives. Why are SMP advocates so quick to dismiss this as being meaningless?

Pastor Hart downplays the languages, arguing that neither our confessions nor Walther say anything about biblical languages. It’s a curious argument, since the Reformation was, in part, powered by the ad fontes movement to recover the biblical languages, as a lot of doctrinal gems found their renaissance in the recovery of Greek and Hebrew - which were emphasized, alongside with the ubiquitous use of Latin in the academic setting - by the reformers. In fact, until 1921, men training for the ministry in the LCMS only had the German and Latin Book of Concord. Walther wrote mainly in German, and much of what he wrote remains untranslated. Pastor Hart argues that languages may be okay for some pastors, but for most, it’s just a waste of time. I would argue that one doesn’t know what one doesn’t know. He goes so far as to call pastors formed by residential training “ivory tower pastors.” Here he is in his own words:

I would just remind us of our confessions and and the teachings of Walther, like Greek and Hebrew and MDiv, they don't mention those things at least in my understanding, a man who does Word and Sacrament ministry, they call him a pastor. And so, is it good to learn Greek and Hebrew? Yeah, I'm I'm sure it is. I'm sure that would be great. Does every local congregation need a guy who can parse the verbs and translate Job? I'm not sure that every local congregation needs that. I think that some do, and I think that I don't want to lose our ability to read languages. Of course not. But that's kind of a secondary issue.

The best construction for his argument is not that “ignorance is strength” (with a nod to George Orwell), but rather that the investment of time and effort to learn Greek and Hebrew is greater than the benefit that flows from it. It is a matter of “opportunity cost.” He seems to believe that the kingdom is best served by most men studying in English only, and getting out into the field quicker - especially in his vocation as a church planter.

On a side note, I checked out his argument that his congregation (NewChurch) is liturgical, even if they don’t follow LSB to the letter, that they use both modern “praise” songs and traditional hymns. You can go check it out for yourself. I did. I found the service to be basically 50% soft-rock concert, with the rest being essentially a non-denominational service: ex corde prayers, no confession and absolution, no Kyrie, no Gloria (maybe it’s because of Lent?), no collect, no creed, no Nunc Dimittis. There was one Bible reading. And since there was no Eucharist, there was also no Preface, Proper Preface, Sanctus, or Verba. They did do the Lord’s Prayer without any butchery (Deo gratias!), and they did one hymn: the Common Doxology. The pastor did the Aaronic Benediction with a little bit of improv. So I’m kind of skeptical of what is being claimed about this being a liturgical congregation.

We do have some free videos they can watch if they are interested in having actual liturgical worship.

But my main reason for pointing this out is that language matters. There is always a loss in translation. Words have a range of meaning, and it is important to know the context in which they are used. And the original languages provide much of that context. And again, you don’t know what you don’t know.

Back to this “priesthood of all believers” topic. Contrary to the assertions of Neo-Evangelicals - and Lutherans who imitate, read, and worship like they do - this is not a major teaching of Lutheranism. 1 Pet 2:9 only appears in the Book of Concord one time, in Tractate 69, which is not making the argument that “everyone is a minister,” but rather that the “church… certainly has the right to elect and ordain ministers.” 1 Pet 2:9 is not used to blur the line between the clergy and the laity, but to demonstrate that we retain the ordained ministry among us (unlike the Anabaptists and others). The vocation of pastor exists for the sake of ministry (service) to the laity.

Contrary to Jack Kalleberg’s assertion, Luther’s teaching on this topic was not a “revolution.” Both the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox communions also teach the priesthood of the baptized, and always have. The Catechism of the Catholic Church speaks of the “common priesthood of all the faithful” (Ch 3 Part 1535). And the East speaks of the “universal priesthood of believers.” There are simply different priesthoods. In the Old Testament, we see not only the Levitical priests, but we see Moses’s father-in-law in priestly service. We also see Melchizedek, priest of Salem, who is not of the Levitical priesthood. But the linguistic element that is overlooked by the participants of the Unite Leadership Collective podcast is that Peter is not establishing a new “priesthood of all believers” in the New Testament. For the Old Testament church also had the priesthood of all believers. Peter was quoting Ex 19:6 in 1 Pet 2:9. And this requires delving into the Biblical languages.

In the ESV, 1 Pet 2:9 reads:

But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood (Greek NT: βασίλειον ἱεράτευμα), a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.

In the ESV, Ex 19:6a reads:

and you shall be to me a kingdom of priests (Greek LXX: βασίλειον ἱεράτευμα) and a holy nation.

Notice that Peter is quoting, as the apostles often do, the Greek Old Testament (LXX).

“Royal priesthood” and “kingdom of priests” are two ways to translate βασίλειον ἱεράτευμα. So the narrative that the Old Testament Levitical priesthood yielded to the New Testament universal priesthood ignores the universal priesthood that already existed among the “holy nation” of the Hebrews, the Old Testament church.

Jesus Himself makes the distinction between those disciples who are called to be apostles (sent) and those who are not sent to preach and “make disciples” (Matt 28:19). This becomes apparent in the Greek verb “to send” (ἀποστέλλω - apostello). Dr. Ahlman is engaging in a straw man argument when he argues that some Lutherans oppose the laity telling friends or coworkers about Jesus. Maybe he should rename his program the Tim Strawman Podcast. Nobody denies that the woman at the well and the demoniacs told people about Jesus. Nobody is arguing that the laity ought not teach their kids the faith. This is all nonsense. Nobody argues that pastors are some kind of “elite class.”

But our Augsburg Confession addresses the distinction between those who are sent out to preach (pastors) and those who are not, by referring to an “office.” In our English translation of Article 5, this office is called the “Ministry of teaching the Gospel and administering the Sacraments” (AC 5:1 Triglot). This is a rather straightforward rendering of the Latin “ministerium docendi evangelii.” And, of course, we might be tempted to lump schoolteachers and pastors together, since rostered Lutheran schoolteachers are also “teaching the gospel” - and they are “ministers of religion - rostered” per our parlance. But a look at the original German throws a monkey-wrench into the “Everyone a Minister” canard. For it speaks of the “Predigamt.” This is a compound word that translates as “preaching office.” And unlike the passively-voiced Latin, the German explicitly ascribes the establishment of this “office” to “God” (Gott). The Anabaptists, by contrast, do not confess an Office of the Holy Ministry, that is, a Preaching Office of Word and Sacrament. And in fact, we condemn (“damnant” - Latin) them (werden verdammt - German) for their false doctrine. But without knowing the original languages, it’s easy just to argue that there really is no divinely created office, falling back on the god of the American Interim, equality, and the many contexts and lexical usages of the English word “ministry.”

We see this distinction between the pastoral office and the laity in Article 14 as well, as our English translation says:

Of Ecclesiastical Order they teach that no one should publicly teach in the Church or administer the Sacraments unless he be regularly called. (AC 14:1 Triglot).

The McCain Edition says “without a rightly ordered call.”

Of course, this is also a source of linguistic confusion, since we issue “calls” not only to pastors, but also teachers, DCEs, deaconesses, and a host of other lay offices. Moreover, we use the terms “minister” and “ministry” to both pastors and laity alike. And here again, it says “teach.” Once again, the original languages clarify the ambiguity.

The German uses the term “ordenlichen Beruf” (“orderly call”). But the Latin gives us a little more insight by using a term from canon law: “rite vocatus.” If a man was “rite vocatus,” he was properly placed into the pastoral (priestly) ministry, being validly ordained. The word “rite” is the adjectival form of “ritus” (which is where we get the English words “rite” and “ritual.” The word “vocatus” means “called” - and is obviously where we get the English word “vocation.” So “rite vocatus” means “called ritely” or “called according to the rite.” It is no accident that this canon law term was used. For again, we did not abolish ordination as the radical reformers did.

However, relying on our English translation has led to confusion. By way of a personal example, my first call was to be a campus pastor of a Lutheran high school. The principal was a rostered layman. He wanted more liturgical “diversity” in our chapel services, and reduced me to preaching and conducting worship once or twice a month in my own call. He would often preach and conduct services himself (sometimes with a large SpongeBob doll and other goofy props), or would have a lay teacher do it (one would curiously don a black suit and white tie when he was “impastoring”), or would bring in a DCE with a boombox playing bowdlerized Eminem lyrics with the f-words changed to something Jesusy. Yes, it really was that kind of a you-know-what show. At any rate, being that the principal was a rostered church worker who had taken vows to norm his teaching by the Bible and the Book of Concord, I asked him about Article 14. He wasn’t familiar with it. I showed it to him. He said, “I have a call just like you.” And when I explained that our calls were different, he asked me “Where is that in the Bible?” as if I were obliged to defend the Lutheran confessions against him and his implication that our Augsburg Confession is not biblical.

All of this mischief was spawned because of the “Everyone a Minister” spirit of the age, and a lack of any knowledge of the German and Latin contexts of the Book of Concord. And this man had a Master’s Degree from a Concordia. How is it possible? It was not that long ago when high school kids learned Latin. I had parishioners who went to public high school here in the Deep South in the 1930s, and four years of Latin was required. Now we have people with theological Master’s and even Doctorates that can’t even hack their way through the German and Latin of the Book of Concord - not even with the Triglot’s English to help them through. There is no excuse for this. And I’m not exempting myself. I taught Latin to middle school kids, but I am nowhere near where I should be as a pastor with two Master’s degrees - much to my shame.

Maybe this linguistic ignorance about calls and ministry is why one of the hosts of the Unite Leadership Collective podcast, Mr. Jack Kalleberg, a layman, preaches at the “contemporary” services of his congregation. The responsibility really falls on his pastor, who should know better. And this does not reflect well upon his seminary professors. Why does this happen under his pastoral oversight? It is his vocation to preach. Why doesn’t he do it himself? He is in the Predigamt.

And now, we are getting pushback for requiring that pastors read Greek and Hebrew.

Linguistic ignorance has also led to other problems. For example, we in the English-speaking LCMS often call lay assistants “elders.” But our modern translations of Scripture use the word “elder” to translate “πρεσβύτερος” - presbuteros (or presbyter). This explains why my congregation, decades ago, had the Board of Elders lay hands on a pastor at his installation. But hey, “everyone a minister,” right? Equipping the saints? A pastor who served his vicarage here locally was even subjected to having the lady presidentress of his congregation “lay hands on him” at his vicarage installation. Sometimes the LCMS is the ecclesiological version of the movie Idiocracy.

There is also a general ignorance about how the English word “priest” is derived from the word “πρεσβύτερος” - presbuteros. Sometimes those who create a special Lutheran doctrine of the “priesthood of all believers” explicate a narrative that the Roman Church calls their ministers “priests,” but we Lutherans don’t. We call the laity “the royal priesthood.” However, this not only betrays a linguistic ignorance, it also shows a lack of familiarity with the Book of Concord. The term “priest” is the most common term for the pastor in the Lutheran Confessions. This is why Article 23 is called “Marriage of Priests” or “Sacerdotal Marriage,” and paragraph 2 speaks of “our priests” - (Priester bei uns (German), Sacerdotes apud nos (Latin)). By recognizing the priestly role of the pastor, we are not denying the universal priesthood of the laity (just as Rome and the East do not, nor did the Hebrews of the Old Testament). In fact we are being biblical, as St. Paul refers to his own “priestly service” (Greek: ἱερουργοῦντα). Moreover, if our “missional” friends were truly “missional,” they would recognize that Lutherans all over the world refer to their pastors as priests: Finland, Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Iceland, Latvia, Lithuania, Estonia, Ukraine, and Russia - as well as in African counties evangelized by Nordic missionaries.

There is also a lot of bamboozlement regarding the words “minister” and “ministry.” For there are both broad and narrow uses of these words. The Bible and the Book of Concord both speak of the pastoral ministry, as well as a broader use of the word “minister” to mean the rendering of service. This is why when our ESV translation speaks of the women “ministering” to Jesus, this doesn’t mean they put on collars, albs, and stoles, and preached sermons and administered sacraments. While our popular culture talks about music ministers and basketball ministry, we have to be contextually clear. I’m afraid the “Everyone a Minister” faction benefits by muddying these waters.

There is another example of linguistic confusion in this Unite Leadership Collective interview with the Rev. Dr. Robert Scudieri. In the video, he defends the Atlantic District’s female deacon program - which is different than the synod’s deaconesses. These female deacons (so-called) wear albs and stoles and participate in the liturgy. This has been going on for decades. Dr. Scudieri defends this practice based on linguistic ignorance. He asserts that St. Phoebe was a “deacon”:

There is no term deaconess in the Bible. Phoebe is called a deacon. In our church in New Jersey, we had deacons and some of them were women and it was a biblical approach to missions.

At this point, both Dr. Ahlman and Mr. Kalleberg awkwardly try to bail out Dr. Scudieri. Kalleberg correctly points out the linguistic range of the Greek word διάκονος (diakonos) - translated as “servant” by the ESV regarding Phoebe, and Ahlman tries to explain the grammatical peculiarity of the Greek word to give Scudieri a bit of a fig leaf.

The truth of the matter is that the word translated as “deacon” can be rendered into English in several ways according to context. And, it is also the case that the Greek word diakonos is a “common gender” noun, meaning it is grammatically masculine or feminine depending on the antecedent, even though it is grammatically inflected like a masculine noun. When you combine the range of meaning of diakonos with its common gender, this is not an argument for, as Dr, Scudieri asserts, vesting women in albs and stoles and having them serve in clerical roles in the parochial Divine Service. This kind of linguistic gender issue is not all that unusual, as even first year Latin students are familiar with first declension masculine words that inflect as if they were feminine, words like “nauta” (sailor), “poeta” (poet), and “agricola” (farmer). Even though they are first declension words that inflect like feminine words, these words are all masculine in gender, and take the appropriate pronouns.

We have an analogous situation in English, as we have sadly replaced the older gendered politically-incorrect words “waiter” and “waitress” with a gender neutral “server.” And interestingly, this is one of the meanings of diakonos: a man or woman who waits tables. We do the same thing with the biblical term “steward” (οἰκονόμος - oikonomos), since we no longer speak of stewards and stewardesses in favor of the more dehumanizing “flight attendant.” Interestingly, οἰκονόμος is also a common gender word that can be either masculine or feminine, though it inflects following a masculine paradigm.

Language is important.

While it is understandable that advocates of the SMP program have a vested interest in downplaying the need for the study of biblical languages, words matter. Grammar matters. Verbal precision matters. Original languages matter. And I would argue that instead of removing Greek and Hebrew from our pastoral formation, we should keep them, and bolster them. And we should also add Latin and German as well: at least to be able to read basic confessional texts, even if alongside of the English translation.

It is a blessing that the restoration of classical education in the LCMS is now a quarter century old, and it is exploding! Many of my students - and others who are studying in classical Lutheran schools (including homeschools) and colleges - are achieving fluency in biblical and classical languages. Many of them are now entering the teaching profession and the preaching office. They will not be bamboozled, and neither will their children and their students!

Linguistic ignorance has caused enough mischief in our synod. And if the ignorance is widespread enough, we will open ourselves up to willful subversion with no real defense against it.

Praemonitus, praemunitus.

Banality: An Enemy of the Gospel

For at least a generation, the LCMS has largely reduced sermon evaluation to an exercise in distinguishing Law and Gospel. Whether in confirmation class, in advice about how to listen to a sermon, or even in some seminary homiletics classes, the questions asked, such as “How did the sermon convict you of your sins?”, “Who is running the verbs?”, or even “Was there any false doctrine?” were attempts to help both hearers and preachers make that distinction properly. This is not a bad exercise in and of itself, but the sermon should do more than distinguish between Law and Gospel.

Always, and in every theological task, Law and Gospel must be properly distinguished, but sermons should also explicate Holy Scripture, teach doctrine, and give spiritual counsel. Sermons that lack these elements may not contain any false doctrine. They may even include accurate biblical statements of Law and Gospel. But if that is all they contain, then they risk becoming little more than platitudes and clichés, and the result is banality. Banality is unfit for the Gospel of Jesus Christ and His Church. This essay will address that banality in two ways: first, by considering it from the perspective of beauty— specifically, that banality is order without surprise—and second, by proposing a new diagnostic tool for sermon evaluation.

Sing unto Us a New Song: Order and Surprise

In Beauty: What It Is and Why It Matters Roman Catholic theologian John-Mark L. Miravalle defines the experience of beauty as “delight in perceiving something’s goodness” (2019, 20). Later he explains that beauty requires two things: order and surprise. Order is recognized by intelligence; surprise is grasped by the senses and creates joy. Surprise, he admits, is a difficult notion to capture, but he settles on this definition: “Surprise is the mind’s attentive response to what it does not find obvious” (22). The book is well worth reading.

Miravalle wants to prove what was once obvious: not only that beauty is objective, but that we are morally required to pursue and promote it (5). He argues more from philosophy than from Scriptures, yet nearly every word is compelling. With respect to the need for beauty—both order and surprise—in preaching, consider the following assertion: “We should make our presentations of the truth beautiful. If beauty consists in what is orderly and surprising, it should be a source of lamentation to everyone that so many homilies, lectures, and public speaking presentations are neither orderly nor surprising” (46).

It is no surprise when Miravelle observes that, for the most part, both philosophy and theology have devoted far more attention to the “notion of order in beauty than the notion of surprise” (32). His book tries to make up for that imbalance. Every chapter offers multiple insights and applications both personal and professional, but his comments on banality deserve to be taken to heart by all who preach the Gospel.

Before we go further, it is necessary to note that for Miravelle, surprise doesn’t simply mean new information that the hearer did not expect—though it may be that. More often, the surprise is a juxtaposition that helps the hearers consider something they already knew in a new light or in a more accurate way. The discovery of a pattern in Holy Scripture or a type can be surprising in this way. All Christians expect Christ to rise from the dead on Easter, but some may be surprised to recognize Jonah’s delivery to Nineveh or Joseph’s being found in Egypt as types of that resurrection. Most commonly, however, the surprise comes from a glimpse of the immensity and awe inherent in the Gospel itself. It is like a man who has seen photographs of a waterfall and visits it as a tourist, only to find himself overwhelmed in awe and delight when he finally stands before its sheer scale. Or it is like a Lutheran preacher who has told himself that Wittenberg is only brick and wood and dirt yet finds himself moved to tears when he stands in the very place where the Reformation was sparked.

As already stated, Miravelle argues that beauty is a moral requirement. We must notice and respond appropriately to the goodness and truth around us. Surprise is the required delight or transfixion that is required. Surprise itself is also useful. It “keeps us from getting used to the order and to the form or essence that the order expresses” (33). It makes the old song ever new, not because it never existed before or is some new form, but because it still has more to say to us. Even though a man has been to the waterfall and felt awe, unless he is a tour guide and spends all day there, every day, it will continue to fill him with awe, and even the tour guide will, from time to time, see the waterfall in a new light or from a slightly different position and be filled anew with awe.

Order and beauty are co-dependent and intersecting in the reality of beauty. If they are separated, we fall into danger. In the first place, we can become addicted or obsessed with newness and originality. We can also simply shock instead of surprise. All of that is disorder, which typically comes from impatience. This happens in sermons on both sides of the pulpit. The preacher who desires praise from men can seek it in inappropriate ways, such as by eliciting laughter or by never engaging in difficult topics. So also, hearers are tempted to neglect their work of careful listening and declare a sermon boring that is simply orderly. In both cases the underlying vice is intemperance.

It can go wrong the other way also. We can elevate order over surprise as a safety device and fool ourselves into thinking that “stale, hackneyed, and dull” (52) sermons have done their work because there was no false doctrine in them and they properly distinguished between Law and Gospel. Banality is the result of clichés— clichés which at one point may have served a purpose and confessed truth and goodness but by overuse have lost their punch. They no longer confess but rather hide reality, destroy delight, and prop up the status quo. That is not to say they can never be used. They can, provided the speaker is genuinely trying to communicate something real and not simply reaching for something easy to say or refusing the hard work of actual expressiveness and proclamation. The danger of platitudes and clichés is that they seem to work when they do not. Miravelle points out the Lord’s terrible warning in Matthew 12:36: “I tell you, on the day of judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak” (ESV, 55). The ESV is better here than KJV or NKJV. The Greek word αργος is not mere idleness but lack of attention or indifference. Preachers are called to use words with precision and fitness.

The problem is that banality is quick and easy. Beauty takes time and effort. Miravelle chastises us, saying, “To deny people order and surprise—to act as though they should be content with orthodoxy and exhortation—that’s dehumanizing” (92). Cultivating an appreciation for beauty, especially in the written and spoken word, is a necessary effort for preachers. We should strive in our preaching to make our words match reality. Our sermons should reflect the beauty of God’s creation and His revealed Word and, by eliciting wonder, delight, and awe in the Christians who hear them, make the world a more beautiful place.

A Diagnostic Tool for Sermon Evaluation

Having considered the role of beauty, surprise, and expressiveness in preaching, we now turn to the diagnostic tool promised at the outset. This tool is chiefly concerned with order—not as a rigid checklist for foolproof preaching, but as a way for both preachers and hearers to reflect on how a sermon functions and what it is meant to deliver. It does not assume that the Gospel or pure doctrine can be taken for granted; these must always be pursued, examined, and exercised. Nonetheless, the tool presupposes their presence as foundational.

1. Does the sermon explain a section of Holy Scripture?

Most of the time we expect this to be a primary goal of preaching: to teach Scripture. Sometimes this teaching might be the bulk of a sermon, but it could at times be quite brief. Whatever percentage of the sermon it is, it should never be missing. Sermons are never just doctrinal lectures or moral advice. They do make assertions, but those assertions should be clearly and obviously driven by a scriptural text.

2. What doctrines, besides the Gospel, does the sermon teach?

Every sermon should preach the Gospel in the narrow sense. Walther’s statement that the Gospel should predominate is rightly applied to all of our ministry, including preaching. Perhaps there could be a rare sermon that contains no doctrinal explanations or assertions beyond the Gospel itself, but normally we expect more. This is not to say that every sermon must be deeply doctrinal. Some will not be. Some will be more deeply exegetical. Nonetheless every sermon should contain doctrine and almost every sermon should contain more doctrinal content than the Gospel alone.

3. What applications are made to the lives of the hearers?

Every sermon should contain spiritual counsel and practical guidance. Sermons should not be moralistic, but they should be moral. They should suggest real ways for the hearers to resist sin, cultivate virtue, and exercise faith, and they should encourage and fortify them as they do so. Again, some sermons will be lighter on this than others. In one sense, the words “repent” and “believe” or “trust” are spiritual counsel, and a few sermons may have no more than that. But most of the time, we rightly expect the sermon to give us at least one or two concrete examples of how to think about the world we live in, how to avoid sin, and how to serve our neighbors. Sermons should frequently address our vocations and the ethical situations Christians face.

Conclusion

If you are a preacher and want to improve your craft, read Miravalle’s book. If you are a Christian and want to cultivate a piety that sees God’s goodness even in this allen world and responds to it appropriately, read the book. If you are a preacher asking whether your sermons are hitting the mark, consider this diagnostic tool—and if it helps, test yourself against it. If you are a hearer who has come to expect sermons to be boring and inapplicable, repent; and if your preacher needs some help, consider how you might use the tool to find things to praise in his sermons and to offer some gentle suggestions.

Springtime is upon us; buds are about to grow; robins appear; the next full moon will determine the coming of Easter the following Sunday; and correspondingly, and happily, we are glad to announce that the barn is empty; the stallion has bolted; the time has come; that is, Gottesdienst (Easter 2026) is on its way to eager subscribers the world around.

And if you want this stallion to arrive at your door, subscribe now if you’re not already on our list.

St. Patrick’s is a beautiful historic Roman Catholic church in New Orleans. They still have a communion rail and the Latin liturgy. And when Mass is celebrated according to the Tridentine Rite, the freestanding altar is actually removed from the sanctuary. The thirteenth pastor of the congregation, Fr. Garrett O’Brien, recently gave me a tour of the church. His predecessor, Fr. James I. Mullon, the second pastor of St. Patrick’s, was nothing short of legendary, and is remembered fondly to this very day. He served from 1833 or 1834 until his death in 1866.

Fr. Mullon was known for his staunch defense of the church against the encroachments of government. In fact, the bells that ring out daily from the church’s belfry on Camp Street do so to this day because Fr. Mullon said, “No!”

When the city was under federal occupation, beginning in 1862, it was under the administration of a political general in the Union Army who had been removed from his command and sent to serve as occupation administrator of New Orleans: Benjamin “Beast” Butler. His administration was a train-wreck. Butler was nominally a Christian, but jumped from church to church. He had a penchant for closing churches and arresting pastors who would not pray according to the liturgical dictates of the occupation government.

His governance of New Orleans was so universally hated, that even during the occupation, chamber pots were manufactured bearing his loathsome image inside. Replicas are still sold to this day in New Orleans (and I own two of them). But as dictatorial as Butler was, he had a healthy fear of the church in New Orleans, and especially of Fr. Mullon. Butler tested him, but Mullon would not do as he was told. Butler would inevitably back off, expressing admiration in private for the cantankerous old pastor.

Butler, in a typically dictatorial and punitive overstep of his authority, ordered Fr. Mullon to surrender the bells of St. Patrick’s to him to be melted down and used to supply ammunition to the Union Army. Of course, this was a humiliation ritual. At great personal risk, Fr. Mullon said “No,” daring Gen. Butler to come and take them himself. Butler did not force the issue. In response, he said that Fr. Mullon was the bravest man that he had ever met.

One of Fr. Mullon’s more cheeky and legendary responses was in response to Butler’s charge that he was refusing funerals to Union soldiers. Mullon’s retort was witty and biting, “General Butler, that is not true. I would gladly bury the whole Union Army.” Butler was fired as military governor of New Orleans in December 1862, after only eight months. Fr. Mullon died in 1866, while the city was still under federal occupation. He is buried somewhere in the church. Fr. O’Brien sheepishly admitted that no-one knows exactly where Fr. Mullon’s body is. My suspicion is that the location was kept a secret for fear of his being dug up by the occupation forces.

It is a good and healthy thing for shepherds to be willing to say “No!” when their calling requires. We are not to “fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul,” but rather we are to “fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell.” The nine pastors of Magdeburg who defiantly refused to implement the Interim in 1550, and who were subjected to a cruel siege - were cut of the same cloth. Our pastors and congregations who stood up to government overreach during Covid were as well. It is also a good and healthy thing for those in government to have a degree of fear of the church.

There are times indeed when we must, like Fr. Mullon, say “No!”

Here is an article that I wrote about Fr. Mullon and my visit to St. Patrick’s.