Logia
a jour nal of luther a n theology
P   P C
Epiphany/january 1994
volume IIi, number 1
ei[ ti" lalei',
wJ" lovgia Qeou'
logia is a journal of Lutheran theology. As such it publishes articles
on exegetical, historical, systematic, and liturgical theology that promote
the orthodox theology of the Evangelical Lutheran Church. We cling to
God’s divinely instituted marks of the church: the gospel, preached purely in all its articles, and the sacraments, administered according to
Christ’s institution. This name expresses what this journal wants to be. In
Greek, LOGIA functions either as an adjective meaning “eloquent,”
“learned,” or “cultured,” or as a plural noun meaning “divine revelations,” “words,” or “messages.” The word is found in  Peter :, Acts
: and Romans :. Its compound forms include oJmologiva (confession), ajpologiva (defense), and ajnv alogiva (right relationship). Each of
these concepts and all of them together express the purpose and method
of this journal. LOGIA is committed to providing an independent theological forum normed by the prophetic and apostolic Scriptures and the
Lutheran Confessions. At the heart of our journal we want our readers to
find a love for the sacred Scriptures as the very Word of God, not merely
as rule and norm, but especially as Spirit, truth, and life which reveals
Him who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life—Jesus Christ our Lord.
Therefore, we confess the church, without apology and without rancor,
only with a sincere and fervent love for the precious Bride of Christ, the
holy Christian church, “the mother that begets and bears every Christian
through the Word of God,” as Martin Luther says in the Large Catechism (LC II, ). We are animated by the conviction that the Evangelical Church of the Augsburg Confession represents the true expression of
the church which we confess as one, holy, catholic, and apostolic.
THE COVER ART is a photograph of the antemesale from Trorslunde
Church. Photograph supplied by National Museum, Copenhagen.
EDITORS
Michael J. Albrecht, Copy Editor—Pastor, St. James Lutheran Church,
West St. Paul, MN
Joel A. Brondos, Logia Forum and Correspondence Editor—Pastor,
St. John Lutheran Church, Vincennes, IN
Charles Cortright, Editorial Associate—Pastor, Our Savior’s Lutheran
Church, East Brunswick, NJ
Scott Murray, Editorial Associate—Pastor, Salem Lutheran Church,
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John Pless, Book Review Editor—Pastor, University Lutheran Chapel,
Minneapolis, MN
Tom Rank, Editorial Associate—Pastor, Scarville Lutheran Church,
Scarville, IA
Erling Teigen, Editorial Coordinator—Professor, Bethany Lutheran
College, Mankato, MN
Jon D. Vieker, Editorial Associate—Pastor, St. Mark’s Lutheran
Church, West Bloomfield, MI
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CONTRIBUTING EDITORS
Ulrich Asendorf—Pastor, Hannover, Germany
Burnell F. Eckardt, Jr.—Pastor, St. John Lutheran Church, Berlin, WI
Charles Evanson—Pastor, Redeemer Lutheran Church, Fort Wayne, IN
Ronald Feuerhahn—Professor, Concordia Seminary, St. Louis, MO
Lowell Green—Professor, State University of New York at Buffalo, NY
Paul Grime—Pastor, St. Paul’s Lutheran Church, West Allis, WI
David A. Gustafson—Pastor, Peace Lutheran Church, Poplar, WI
Tom G.A. Hardt—Pastor, St. Martin’s Lutheran Church, Stockholm, Sweden
Matthew Harrison—Pastor, St. Peter’s Lutheran Church, Westgate, IA
Steven Hein—Professor, Concordia University, River Forest, IL
Horace Hummel—Professor, Concordia Seminary, St. Louis, MO
Arthur Just—Professor, Concordia Theological Seminary, Fort Wayne, IN
John Kleinig—Professor, Luther Seminary, North Adelaide,
South Australia, Australia
Arnold J. Koelpin—Professor, Dr. Martin Luther College, New Ulm, MN
Lars Koen—Uppsala University, Uppsala, Sweden
Gerald Krispin—Professor, Concordia College, Edmonton, Alberta,
Canada
Peter K. Lange—Pastor, St. Paul’s Lutheran Church, Concordia, MO
Cameron MacKenzie—Professor, Concordia Theological Seminary, Fort
Wayne, IN
Gottfried Martens—Pastor, St. Mary’s Lutheran Church, Berlin, Germany
Kurt Marquart—Professor, Concordia Theological Seminary, Fort Wayne, IN
Norman E. Nagel—Professor, Concordia Seminary, St. Louis, MO
Martin Noland—Pastor, Christ Lutheran Church, Oak Park, IL
Wilhelm Petersen—President, Bethany Seminary, Mankato, MN
Hans-Lutz Poetsch—Pastor Emeritus, Lutheran Hour, Berlin, Germany
Robert D. Preus—Concordia Theological Seminary, Fort Wayne, IN
Clarence Priebbenow—Pastor, Trinity Lutheran Church, Oakey,
Queensland, Australia
Richard Resch—Kantor, St. Paul’s Lutheran Church, Fort Wayne, IN
David P. Scaer—Professor, Concordia Theological Seminary,
Fort Wayne, IN
Robert Schaibley—Pastor, Zion Lutheran Church, Fort Wayne, IN
Bruce Schuchard—Pastor, St. James Lutheran Church, Victor, IA
Ken Schurb—Professor, Concordia College, Ann Arbor, MI
Harold Senkbeil—Pastor, Elm Grove Lutheran Church, Elm Grove, WI
Carl P.E. Springer—Professor, Illinois State University, Normal, IL
John Stephenson—Professor, Concordia Seminary, St. Catharines,
Ontario, Canada
Walter Sundberg—Professor, Luther Northwestern Theological
Seminary, St. Paul, MN
David Jay Webber—Pastor, Trinity Lutheran Church, Brewster, MA
William Weinrich—Professor, Concordia Theological Seminary,
Fort Wayne, IN
George F. Wollenburg—President, Montana District LCMS, Billings, MT
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logia
a journal of lutheran theology
Epiphany/January 1994
volume III, number 1

....................................................................................................................................................................................

The Outer Limits of a Lutheran Piety
By Steven A. Hein .............................................................................................................................................................................................................
Conditional Forgiveness and the Translation of  John :
By John M. Moe...............................................................................................................................................................................................................
Preaching to Preachers: Isaiah :–
By Donald Moldstad .......................................................................................................................................................................................................
 Corinthians : — “Discerning the Body” and Its Implications for Closed Communion
By Ernie V. Lassman ......................................................................................................................................................................................................
Using the Third Use: Formula of Concord VI and the Preacher’s Task
By Jonathan G. Lange .....................................................................................................................................................................................................
The Law and the Gospel in Lutheran Theology
By David P. Scaer ............................................................................................................................................................................................................
Angels Unaware
By Paul R. Harris .............................................................................................................................................................................................................
A Call for Manuscripts...................................................................................................................................................................................................
Only Playing Church? The Lay Minister and The Lord’s Supper
By Douglas Fusselman ...................................................................................................................................................................................................
 ...................................................................................................................................................................
David Scaer: A Reply to Leonard Klein
 .................................................................................................................................................................................................................
REVIEW ESSAY : Translating the Bible: An Evaluation of the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV).
Pastoral Care and the Means of Grace. By Ralph Underwood
A Common Calling: The Witness of Our Reformation Churches in North America Today. Ed. by Keith F. Nickle and Timothy F. Lull
One Ministry Many Roles: Deacons and Deaconesses through the Centuries. By Jeannine E. Olson
Messianic Exegesis: Christological Interpretation of the Old Testament in Early Christianity. By Donald Juel
BRIEFLY NOTED
 ................................................................................................................................................................................................
Pastor, Couldn’t We . . . ? • Demand and Delight • Too Much to Read? • The Common Priesthood
Fearful Proof • Uppsala Colloquy +  • The Once and Future Church
Profiles in Ministry • ynod X and Synod Y • Gladly in the Midst • Resourcing the Resource
Confessional Stewardship • A House Dividing? Reflections on GCC ’
Doctrine and Practice • Shared Voices / Different Vision
CORRESPONDENCE
j
Tou"; anj qrwp
v ou" AND enj anqrwphsanv ta IN THE NICENE CREED
■ I should like to add some comments
on the article “Creedal Catholicity”
(LOGIA, Forum, Eastertide/April 
p. ). In Australia the churches have also
studied the problem of the ejnanqrwphsavnta and reckoned with the suggestions of the international committees.
While the Anglicans, Catholics and Uniting Church have chosen to use “became
fully human,” the Lutherans preferred
“became a human being.” Admittedly,
this does not overcome Weinrich’s
objection that the masculinity of Christ is
being overlooked, but it does go further
in establishing the historical reality of the
human nature of Christ.
However, there is a more subtle
reason for the “human being,” and this
seems to have been missed by both
Prange and Weinrich. It is the significance of the tou;" ajnqrwvpou" at the
beginning of the sentence. Here the
WELS Commission has followed the
recommendation of the international
committees, and simply omitted the
tou;" ajnqrwvpou": “for us men and for
our salvation.” However, if the Greek is
set out in strophe form (I use Bishop
Goodwin’s version), it is noticeable that
we have here a significant rhetorical
construction:
To;n di∆ hJma'ı tou;" ajnqrwvpou"
kai; dia; th;n hJmetevran swthrivan,
katelqovnta ejk tw'n oujranw'n
kai; sarkwqevnta,
ejk Pneuvmato" aJgivou kai; Mariva" th'"
Parqevnou,
kai; ejnanqrwphsavnta:
The Nicene fathers are balancing
the tou;" ajnqrwvpou" with the ejnanqrwphsavnta. In other words, if we follow
the recommendation of the international committees, we have a sort of
incomplete chiasmus: a … , … a instead
of a …b, b…a. The writers are making
the weighty point that for us “human
beings” he became “a human being,”
and they draw our attention to the fact
by a trope. Greek theology has always
kept Romans : and following in
sight, and the Orthodox have continually reminded us of the words of Gregory of Nazianzus: to; aprovslhpton
ajqeravpeuton. Unfortuantely, the new
translation glides over the significant
rhetoric of the original.
As Professor Hartwig pointed out,
there is good reason for abiding by a
“common” text. For this reason, the
Lutheran Church of Australia has used
“for us and for our salvation,” but it has
added a footnote: “for us human
beings.” In this way, if only in a footnote, the balance has been kept with
“became a human being.”
To press the case for the tou;"
ajnqrwvpou" might seem like special
pleading. However, two points should be
kept in mind. First, scholars have argued
that the earliest drafts of the Nicene
Creed contained only the kai; sarkwqevnta which would have been sufficient to
establish the humanity of Christ if this
had been the only concern of the confessors. The ejnanqrwphsavnta was added in
order to say something more, and it can
only be properly understood if it is kept
in tandem with the tou;" ajnqrwvpou".
Secondly, there is the evidence of
the Definition of Chalcedon. In line ,

(following the numbering of Ortez de
Urbina), we have the only quotation of
the Nicene Creed: To;n aujto;n di∆ hJma'"
kai; dia; th;n hJmetevran swthrivan. Here
the tou;" ajnqrwvpou" is omitted because
there is no rhetorical correspondence
with a following ejnanqrwphsavnta.
P. Koehne
 Koroit St.
Warrnambool, Australia 8
RESPONSE TO DAVID SCAER
■ It’s always fun to watch David Scaer
shooting from the hip, especially when he
hits a target, but I am having difficulty
identifying this Klein that he is aiming for
more or less in “The Integrity of the Christological Character of the Office of the
Ministry” [LOGIA, Vol. , No. ].
He says, for instance, that “all references to God including Father and Son are
metaphorical.” Well, yes, insofar as they
are. To the degree that the ordinary English meaning of father is sexual begetter of
children (like Scaer or Klein) and son is
the male offspring of such a father, there is
a difference between the use of Father for
God and our use of father for some males.
To admit to the metaphorical character of
this language is not the same as to grant
the arguments of Gnostic deconstructionists, who, in any event, can hardly be held
off with a claim that all God language is
simply univocal. Of course the first two
persons of the Trinity are Father and Son,
but not in the same manner as Roy and
Leonard Klein or Leonard and Nicholas
Klein. This is easy and it’s not heretical.

Then we learn that Klein derives
the office of the ministry from baptism!
This would surprise and please many of
his opponents in the ELCA who find
him—with some reason—a rank
Romanist. But Klein has never believed
this. What could he have said to make
Scaer think so?
It was probably that Klein said that
the baptism of women is not without
bearing on the question of women’s
ordination. Klein expressed at Fort
Wayne some concern that when some
Missourians appeal to the ministry’s
character as representative of Christ in
arguing against the ordination of
women—a point that is not without
some merit—they argue it with a ferocity approaching misogyny, a ferocity that
seems to overlook that, in virtue of their
baptism, women already represent
Christ. Klein would never accept the
naíve use of “neither male nor female” as
a sufficient argument for women’s ordination. By the same token he will not
grant that the maleness of Christ and the

maleness of the clergy until very recent
times in some places is a sufficient argument against ordaining women. The
muddling of a metaphor that leads Scaer
and some others simplistically to say
“woman at the altar; woman on the
throne” is as invalid as the liberal muddling of metaphor to relativize God’s
revelation of himself as Father and Son.
The irony of Scaer’s misunderstanding of Klein is that it overlooks Klein’s
pleasure that Missouri—even if only to
keep women out of the ministry—is
finally being forced to re-evaluate its traditional functionalism. Klein in fact
agrees with Scaer that the minister represents Christ. While holding that the
church may in evangelical freedom call
women to that ministry, he believes that
the issue is not beyond debate and that
the question of representation is a legitimate part of that debate. Klein simply
thinks that the question is far more intricate than Scaer allows. And he does not
at all think some of the things Scaer
attributes to him.
The Rev. Leonard R. Klein
Christ Lutheran Church
York, PA
LOGIA CORRESPONDENCE AND
COLLOQUIUM FRATRUM
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The Outer Limits of a Lutheran Piety
STEVEN A. HEIN
j
of community by which temporal life is ordered. Moreover, a
reasonable application of the law provides a modicum of temporal security for peaceful relations among the social orders of
the world. This civic use of law boils down to a reasonable
application of the Golden Rule: life will go well for me, if I
treat others as I would have them treat me. Such behavior,
however, does not make the believer extraordinary or unusual. Civic righteousness neither makes the believer pious, nor
does it focus on the essential nature of the expression of
Christian piety. Common to believer and unbeliever alike, it is
rooted in self-interest. Civic righteousness is not intrinsically
the stuff of godliness; it is the stuff of practical wisdom.
Spiritually speaking however, the law presents a peril. It
pronounces all mankind sinners and threatens all sinners with
the sentence of death. Through the law, God produces selfhonesty and contrition. But for the believer, the law is only
God’s preliminary word, his provisional judgment, not his
final judgment. God’s judgment of grace is his final verdict that
sets us free. “The law was given through Moses; grace and truth
came through Jesus Christ” (Jn :). This is the word of truth
about our identity that proclaims us saints—holy, righteous,
pious ones; this is the truth that embodies all our godliness and
sets us free.
It is the righteousness of Christ bestowed by God’s gracious word that declares the Christian good and holy in God’s
sight. In Christian baptism, God has declared the Christian
pious. True piety or holiness is essentially a hidden possession
of the Christian, not a demonstrable attribute, nor a bundle of
some uniquely pious activities. On the demonstrable side of
things, the Christian is and remains an impious sinner in character, in word, and deed. And about this seeming nonsense,
Luther rhetorically asked,
“Lutherans are remarkably unremarkable.”
    M N’  
Lutherans in America in a recent essay entitled “The
Lutheran Difference.” From the standpoint of making
any particular impression on American culture, or being able to
describe something unique about a “Lutheran ethos or piety,”
Mark Noll observes that from the angle of social scientists, one
fails to find anything that manifests itself as particularly distinctive. Lutheran religious life in America has seemed rather unobtrusive. “Beyond their instructive experience as immigrants,”
Noll opines, “it is hard to isolate identifiably Lutheran contributions to the larger history of Christianity in America.” When
it comes to the subject of piety and its impact on society in general, Lutherans seem to be extraordinarily ordinary.
While this evaluation may cause consternation and alarm
within some circles of those who wish to identify with the
name Lutheran, I do not believe that protests should be
launched too loudly from those whose confession embraces the
substance of Luther’s Theology of the Cross. From this perspective, there are good reasons to embrace the conclusion that
the good pious Christian called to live by the cross of Christ is,
and remains in this life, a bit of a phantom, a sociological
uncertainty. Indeed, it is the intention of this essay to sketch a
portrait of true Christian piety as one which usually renders
the individual believer indistinguishable from the average citizens of this world. Godliness involves a call to faith and faithfulness with a distinctive worldly accent.
The life of the individual believer gives expression to who
and what Christians are by the assessment of God’s judgment
of law and gospel. As such, the Christian is, as Luther paradoxically maintained, “righteous and beloved by God, and yet
. . . a sinner at the same time.” Let’s examine this more
closely. As the Christian lives in the flesh, he stands under the
judgment of law as a sinner. The law presents all sinners in
this life a security and a peril. Outwardly, the law presents this
fallen world with the security of social orders—the structures
T
Who will reconcile these utterly conflicting statements,
that the sin in us is not sin, that he who is damnable
will not be damned, that he who is rejected will not be
rejected, that he who is worthy of wrath and eternal
death will not receive these punishments? Only the
mediator between God and man, Jesus Christ.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
STEVEN A. HEIN teaches religion at Concordia University, River Forest,
Illinois, and is a contributing editor of LOGIA.
The law judges what we are in this fallen creation, the
gospel who we are in Christ. And how does God require us to

      
swallow such “nonsense” and be obedient to it? Through faith!
For this reason, the essential expression of the Christian’s piety
is subjective in character; it is faith in the heart, and hence it is
hidden. The expression of true piety and godliness in the Theology of the Cross is the obedience of faith and the expression of
faithfulness. The outer limits of Christian piety, what the Christian is and what the Christian does, are tied to the call of God.
This call causes the individual Christian to live a “provisional”
life in this old fallen creation that can, indeed, merit the estimation of being “extraordinarily ordinary.” To appreciate this, and
survey briefly the alternatives to this stance, we must explore
the concept of Christian vocation. In the history of theology,
the concept of true Christian piety and godliness has been tied
to an understanding of God’s call to faith and faithfulness.
CHRISTIAN PIETY WITHIN THE VOCATIO OF GOD
Luther often used a special term to designate the Christian
life of faithfulness, “vocation.” The word vocation comes from
the Latin term, vocatio. A vocatio is a call or calling to a given
way of life. It grants an individual a particular standing and
position in relation to others within a community. Moreover,
it defines how one meaningfully participates in and contributes
to the life of the community. In other words, our vocation tells
us who we are within life’s social structures and what kind of
duties we have for the welfare of the community; it demands
that we live lives of faith and faithfulness. We must trust our
vocation to live securely as members of society, and our faith is
expressed, in part, by faithfully being about the tasks that come
with our particular station.
Christian life is lived as a calling, a vocation that flows
from God’s call and love for us in Christ. Through the gospel,
he has called us to be sons and daughters in his family. This call
is first and foremost a summons to a life of faith, a call to trust
in God and who and what we are by his grace: forgiven and
adopted children of his love. Christians have received their
vocational call from God in baptism. Baptism bestows on each
of us God’s gracious claim to be his child. His call brings full
and secure membership in his kingdom. The task that God has
given to us is to act out our faith in his calling. This is the
means of expressing our faithfulness to him and his family.
True piety expresses or acts out our trust in who we are by
God’s call. Vocatio forms pietas. Major questions about Christian vocation must be addressed. How and where in the world
should we live and serve our God as his children? What are our
tasks? What should be our relationship with the citizens and
social structures of the world? What do our attachments and
commitments to our family, our work, and our civic involvement have to do with living out the call of God? The church
through the ages has grappled with these questions and provided quite a spectrum of responses.
St. Augustine, the great thinker of the ancient church, set
forth his vision of God’s call in his monumental work, The City
of God. Augustine conceived of the church as a pilgrim people,
citizens of another age who are journeying through life in this
world to their real home, “the City of God.” The call to faith is
a call to faithful living as we travel on our way to the eternal
kingdom that God will usher in at the close of the age. Augus-

tine saw citizenship as an exclusive status. Therefore since
believers are citizens of God’s eternal kingdom, they inhabit
the social structures of this world as foreigners, sojourners on
their way to their real home. During the journey, God schools
and outfits his people for the coming age. This was Augustine’s
vision of what Jesus meant in his call for his disciples to be in
the world, but not of the world. We live in the world, but as
foreigners—citizens of the kingdom that is not identified with
any temporal community. Our days on earth are focused on
God’s gracious power, transforming us in holiness, making us
fit for life in the kingdom.
This vision of Christian vocation created for Augustine a
kind of ambivalence toward the social communities of this
world. Christians are to live peaceably within them, but
because they are fallen and will pass away with the dawning of
the kingdom, we must see the call of God and the higher tasks
of faithfulness as transcending our involvement in them. True
godliness involves for the faithful Christian a higher life which
we pursue over and above the obligations and commitments
that arise from our sojourning in the world’s communities.
The responsibilities of old world living are not of the same stuff
as the works within a calling to divine citizenship. The Christian pilgrim may have to be involved with the former, but true
pietas, true godliness flowing from faith, issues a higher order
of duties that flow from divine citizenship. For Augustine, one
is either a citizen of this world, or the City of God—but not
both. His portrait of the pious expressions of faith involved an
extraordinary set of tasks, largely entailing self-discipline and
spiritual devotion which stood over and beyond the everyday
duties that spring from our sojourning in the social orders of
this world. Here within the ordinary of life is the extraordinary,
and this is the true stuff of Christian piety.
. . . our vocation tells us who we are
within life’s social structures.
If this is really what true Christian piety is all about, why
not simply separate from the entanglements of this world and
pursue godliness full time? In the second and third centuries,
some radical Christian thinkers had just such a plan in mind.
They placed an extreme emphasis on the negative side of the
call of God to be “not of the world.” Influenced by Greek Stoic
philosophy, their conception of the call of Christ was a call to
live in seclusion, divorced from all human community. Guided
by this vision, they equated the call of God with a life of isolation and self-denial. Many believers went out into the desert
and lived solitary lives in caves. For them, true Christian piety
was tied up with an ascetic life of self-denial. They maintained
a meager physical existence with just enough food and water to
keep themselves alive. They were “hermits for Christ” who
devoted themselves to reading the Scriptures, prayer and meditation while waiting for God to usher in the fullness of the

kingdom. For them, the Christian life was certainly extraordinary and remarkable.
During the Middle Ages a variation of the hermit movement became the standard form for what was termed “the
higher calling” of God. Rather than caves with one hermit per
cave, Christians pursued the higher call of God by cloistering
themselves in groups inside monasteries. As holy fraternities,
monks and nuns dedicated themselves to a pious life of devotion to God, separated from all commitments and attachments
to the social orders of this world. Again, the highest order of
true godliness was depicted as a life of self-denial and seclusion. Poverty, celibacy and strict obedience to monastic order
were seen as virtuous sacrifice, the epitome of faithfulness.
Unencumbered by secular concerns, the believer could become
absorbed in a higher regimen of worship, prayer and meditation. Monasticism flourished in Western Christianity for more
than a thousand years as the exemplary form of Christian vocation and piety. It was a kind of synthesis of Augustine’s vision
of Christian citizenship and the hermit movement. Christians
had a choice. They could be ordinary or extraordinary. They
could live a life of mediocre piety, sojourning in the old world
communities, trying to do pious things on top of the time-consuming tasks of earthly maintenance. Or they could pursue the
more godly life—the higher calling—and do the pious things
of divine citizenship “full time” within monasticism.
GOD’S CALL TO DUAL CITIZENSHIP
While a young monk, Luther searched the Scriptures and
rediscovered the centrality of the incarnation and the cross in
the call of God. As he developed his “Theology of the Cross” he
recognized that God’s saving work and call involve a kind of
“salvific worldliness” in his method. God chooses to enlist
worldly elements and structures of his fallen creation as instruments or means to accomplish his saving purposes. Think for a
moment of the whole cycle of events in the extended Joseph narrative from Genesis. The words “and the Lord was with Joseph”
(Gn :) signal for the reader that “in, with and under” all of
the worldly and tragic events that happened to Joseph and his
brothers, God was at work to graciously bless the family of Israel.
Joseph knew with all of his senses that his brothers and others
were at work for evil purposes, but by faith he recognized God’s
saving activity at work for good (Gn :–, :).
So also, in a more central way, with the Incarnation and
the cross. God takes up and hides himself in ordinary human
flesh. He then enlists earthly family life, the carpentry trade,
and the political and religious movements of the day in the service of his saving work. He works out but hides his righteousness and pardon for us in the grisly act of capital punishment
by crucifixion—a tragic political event. By sight, we apprehend
his chosen worldly instruments and events, but by faith we see
the glory of God revealed in his Son and our righteousness
acquired. To understand God at work in the world is to hold
on to both what we see and what is given to faith. Neither
dimension is to be denied or omitted from the church’s faith
and confession. In the incarnation and the cross God reveals
the ultimate expression of salvific worldliness where the extraordinary work of God is tied to and hidden in the ordinary

events of the fallen world. As Luther observed, “Man hides his
own things in order to conceal them; God hides his own things
to reveal them.”
We would like to suggest that salvific worldliness is also
how we should understand the contours of Christian vocation
and true Christian piety from within the Theology of the Cross.
We have become a new creation in Christ and a temple of the
Holy Spirit, but God has called us to a life of faith and faithfulness in the flesh and blood of the old creation. This means that
Christian vocation calls us to be simultaneously members of the
communities of this fallen world and citizens of the kingdom of
God. Jesus carried out his call from the Father within the old
creation communities of earthly family, work and the social
structures of general society. So also must we who now live in
Christ. Christian life and vocation involves a dual citizenship;
an extraordinary membership in the kingdom of God and an
ordinary membership in the old creation communities and
structures of everyday life. The Christian’s citizenship involves
an extraordinary one within the ordinary one.
Luther recognized that God’s saving
work and call involves a kind of
“salvific worldliness.”
It is important to see that on one level, faithfulness in
Christian vocation involves being about the ordinary living out
of our commitments and projects that arise from our membership and specific station in our families, workplace and general
society. God’s call to a life of faith and faithfulness always
touches us within our space—where we live already. It does
not demand that we go off and live in caves or separated communities. And on this level, the outward character of Christian
life is not radically different from the average citizen of this
world. In this sense, it is decidedly ordinary. But in, with and
under this life, God is calling the believer to a life of faith and
faithfulness as citizens of his kingdom. The higher calling of
the Christian is not a summons to some parallel state, separated from our participation in our existing communities, but
rather it is embedded within them. True Christian piety is the
extraordinary life of faith and faithfulness in Christ. But it is
the obedience of extraordinary faith expressed in the ordinary
life. The pious expressions of subjective faith are tied to the
common and often mundane tasks that flow from our old
world citizenship. Here, our Lord calls us to express our faith
in him and his righteousness by loving service within our
earthly communities and the responsibilities that arise from
our places within them. Our roles and commitments within
these communities are the schooling by which our Lord teaches us how to live out our faith as his children.
When faith serves even the least among us in the most
mundane of ways, we serve Christ and glorify our heavenly
Father. This latter dimension is hidden from the world, perceived only through the eyes of faith. When the Christian shop-
      
keeper sweeps the sidewalk outside the store, the householder
does the laundry, the parent helps his child with homework or
the Christian salesman offers quality service graciously out of
trust in Christ and love for those served, faithfulness to the call
of God is rendered. Here is the essence of pious Christian living.
Indeed, it is a glorious, wonderful faithfulness that glorifies God
and for which the heavenly hosts are praising God. Faithfulness
flows from a heart of faith and love as we are about the full
range of duties and tasks that arise from our ordinary commitments in life. Christian living from faith to faithfulness in the
world, as with Christ and his saving work, are both extraordinary while hidden, and ordinary as revealed.
We are indeed, as Augustine recognized, a pilgrim people
on our way to our ultimate home in the coming age. We await
the coming of our King and the fullness of our calling as citizens
of a new age, to dawn when he returns. Life here within our old
creation communities is temporary and provisional. Our vision
of our final calling is shadowy and vague. It is not yet clear what
we shall become. For now, our Lord directs our attention and
energies to the tasks he has called us to be about here, as we
hope in the life to come. On the whole they are not very spectacular or compelling in the eyes of the world. Perhaps we could
describe them in the words of Mark Noll: They are by and large
“remarkably unremarkable.” Let us explore them more closely.
THE TASKS OF FAITHFULNESS
As Luther worked out from the Scriptures his Theology of
the Cross and its application to Christian vocation, he realized
that the call of Christ to the cross was a call to freedom. The
gospel abolishes slavish obedience to the Law and excludes the
commandments of church authorities that have no clear basis
in God’s Word. Two major essays written in  express the
essence of Luther’s thinking about the character of Christian
vocation under the cross: “The Freedom of the Christian” and
the treatise “On Good Works.”
In “The Freedom of the Christian,” Luther captured St.
Paul’s central point in his letter to the Galatians that the gospel
of Christ is the end of the law. Living in Christ’s righteousness
imparts a polarity of freedoms: There is a “freedom from” and a
“freedom to” for the children of God in the gospel. We have
freedom from any and all slavish forms of obedience and from
the curse of the law. And we have freedom to live a life of faith
and walk in the power of the Spirit. For Luther this meant that
obedience to the law was replaced for the Christian with the
obedience of faith. He wrote:
Is not such a soul most obedient to God in all things
by this faith? What commandment is there that such
obedience has not completely fulfilled? What more
complete fulfillment is there than obedience in all
things? This obedience, however, is not rendered by
works, but by faith alone.
Faith grants to the Christian a freedom from slavish selflove, and freedom to love others, secure in God’s love. The
bondage of ordering all our projects to achieve self-justification
has come to an end. The call of the gospel is not a summons to

deny or denigrate self-love, nor does it forbid us our own commitments and projects in life. Rather, the righteousness of Christ
is the fulfillment of self-love in God’s love. Self-love may take a
backseat and rest in the freedom and security of being “OK.” Sin
distorted our loves by placing the self at the center and forefront
of life’s priorities. But now, secure in the verdict of the cross, the
claim of Christ calls forth a reordering of our loves that sin has
perverted, back to an expression of God’s original intention. The
faith through which we are justified is expressed—it is acted out
in life—through our loves as God originally ordered them.
Faithfulness in Christian vocation is faith’s activity in love. As a
new creation in Christ, the freedom of the Christian is hearing
God now address us with the following question: “What would
you like to do, now that you don’t have to do anything?’’
. . . the righteousness of Christ is the
fulfillment of self-love in God’s love.
Luther’s second writing, his treatise “On Good Works,” is
largely an extended exposition on each of the Ten Commandments. It was a forerunner to the first chief part of his catechisms which he wrote eight years later. Luther recognized that
the commandments of God are a comprehensive summary of
the law—the law which always unmasks our sinfulness and
reveals God’s judgment. Yet Luther also recognized that these
commandments also express all that the Christian needs to
know from God about good and God-pleasing works.
He realized that the commandments sketch out both the
context of where Christian vocation is to be lived, and the
order of our loves as God would have faith in Christ express
them. Good works are not some extraordinary deeds that we
take time out from ordinary life to perform. Nor are they
expressions about some intrinsic value of a life of self-denial.
Rather, the commandments describe the natural outworking of
faith in the everyday affairs of daily living in our families, work
and community. Indeed, the commandments presuppose living life in these social orders of the old creation.
The first table of the commandments presupposes that all
human living flows from a personal involvement of the holy
God in our lives. He created us; he graciously preserves us; and
daily he provides for all our needs. The Fourth Commandment
takes for granted that we live in the context of family and a
general society of others ordered by the structures of government. The Fifth Commandment presumes interaction with
others that can affect bodily welfare. The Sixth Commandment
takes for granted sexual contact and the community of husband and wife in marriage. The Seventh, Ninth and Tenth
Commandments presume private possessions, and some kind
of appropriate exchange of goods and services. The Eighth
Commandment reflects the reality that we touch and interact
with one another through communication. The commandments reflect the interpersonal character of how we live, work
and carry on our ordinary projects of life.


The greatest insight of Luther in his treatise, however, was
his recognition of the primacy and all-embracing thrust of the
First Commandment. First, this means that we must approach
all of our tasks and commitments in life from the perspective
of “fear, love and trust in God.” Indeed, we are to orient our
whole being within such a relation to God. Secondly, Luther
recognized that the First Commandment is embedded in all
the others. All doing that includes the concerns raised in the
remainder of the commandments Luther understood as a
“doing of faith.” He called this a theological sense of doing
rather than a moral sense of doing. To this point he wrote:
In theology, therefore, “doing” necessarily requires
faith itself as a precondition. . . . Therefore “doing”
is always understood in theology as doing with faith,
so that doing with faith is another sphere and a new
realm, so to speak, one that is different from moral
doing. When we theologians speak about “doing”
therefore, it is necessary that we speak about doing
with faith, because in theology we have no right reason and good will except faith.
Faith in Christ is first expressed in fear and love of God. Then
our love of God becomes channeled into loving service toward
others. Our justification through faith in Christ is thus
expressed in life through loving service to our neighbor.
. . . the commandments describe the
natural outworking of faith in the
everyday affairs of daily living in our
families, work and community.
Luther recognized that “our neighbor” is determined by
where we are placed in life. We are limited and dependent creatures who have been called by the gospel to live within the communities in the context of our vocation. This context we could
call our “circle of nearness,” which particularizes and limits our
call to serve. Here we encounter real flesh-and-blood people
with names and faces. We have not been called to love some
abstract humanity, but this does not mean that love is limited to
simply “my station and its duties.” Our circle of nearness also
includes the stranger whom we encounter in our path as we tend
to our station and its duties. This is what the “certain Samaritan”
in the parable understood that apparently the priest and the
Levite did not. Jesus implied the same thing when he told us that
inasmuch as we serve the least of his brothers, we serve him.
Each of the interpersonal spheres reflected in the second
table of the commandments becomes a context where God calls
us to act out our trust in Christ and love of God. Our tasks of
loving service will vary according to our relationships and commitments within the communities we inhabit. The character of
loving service will be different toward our spouse than toward
the student in the classroom or the check-out person at the
local supermarket. The commandments do not define love nor
do they present an exhaustive list of its duties. Rather they set
parameters within which our duties can be found, and beyond
which our projects and our loves may not go. Given the boundaries of the “shalls” and the “shall nots,” the Scriptures simply
assume that we know what love is and that where it exists in all
its joy and spontaneity, it will find its own way. God leaves the
matter up to our own creative determination as we encounter
the peculiarities of the people, situations and places in our life.
Freedom reigns here, and the possibilities are endless. What
God wants us to do is to live out our faith and our loves creatively. Can this involve our own interests, projects and goals?
Surely it can. As Luther observed about the Christian’s calling,
that which the Scriptures do not forbid is permitted. Here we
have reached the outer limits of a Christian piety. It is tied to
the possibilities of loving service that expresses the obedience of
faith. The cross is the Christian’s sentence to a life of freedom.
The verdict of God in the cross has set us free to choose and
pursue our own activities and goals, so long as they do not conflict with his call. Our journey of faith through this life involves
the “gentle art of getting used to our justification.”
THE PIETY OF THE CHURCH
In our discussion of Christian vocation up to this point,
we have focused our attention on God’s call of faith as it is
lived and expressed by the individual believer within the social
communities where God has placed him to live. We have
explored the life of faith as a life of service and reordered love.
Now we want to turn our attention to the corporate dimension
of God’s call that relates to our vocation to be a fellowship of
faith—to be a called-out community of God’s people—what
we more commonly refer to as Christ’s church. We may think
of our individual vocations within the old creation structures
of life as callings to be the “church scattered.” Here Christian
piety flows from the obedience of subjective faith in projects of
loving service. Individual Christian piety is usually extraordinarily ordinary. We now want to briefly consider the piety of
the church corporate and for that we must investigate the contours of vocation for the “church gathered.” This is what
Werner Elert has called “we” piety.
The church gathered is called to be the family of God that
lives by faith under the grace and the headship of Christ. This
is what the church is called to be, and it is its primary vocation.
Flowing from this primary call is a call to duty. Unlike individual Christian piety, however, the church’s piety is expressed in
objective tasks that need not flow from the subjective faith of
the individual Christian to be valid. While the piety of the individual Christian is largely subjective in nature and thus hidden
in the ordinary tasks and duties that arise from membership in
old world communities, Christian piety considered corporately
is objective and made up of specific commands of Christ that
are open to the observation and measure of all. This is “we”
piety—where Christian piety is ordinarily extraordinary. Here
is where Christians exhibit and display their righteousness and
holiness; here it is made manifest to all. In manifesting its
righteousness and holiness, the church shows off its Head and
distributes his gift of holiness. This is Gottesdienst, the holy
      
Bride of Christ expressing her faith objectively in proclamation
of the gospel as Christ taught it to his apostles, and in administration of his sacraments as he instructed. In addition, the
church is called to admonish and discipline its impenitent
members and restore them through his grace when they
repent. Through the performance of these tasks as means, Jesus
and his righteousness are made manifest in the world and
bestowed on sinners. Moreover, by these means as marks, the
church is located and its piety unmistakenly observed. The
church gathered has no phantom existence in the world.
Indeed, unlike the individual Christian, it is identified through
its piety, the righteousness and holiness of Christ as manifested
in the gospel and sacraments.
Through the church’s piety, its Head continues his min-
Pietism creeps into the church’s thinking . . . when the works of God are
tied to a “higher calling.”
istry of building up and extending the Kingdom of God. To
carry out this vocation of the church, Christ calls pastors today,
as he called the apostles before, to carry out the church’s corporate call in the ministry of word and sacrament. When we
consider the church scattered, we see individual Christians
who receive their vocation from God in their baptism, a call to
live in the grace of Christ by faith as a member of God’s family
primarily and to express that faith in a life of service in the
duties and commitments of the old world communities. When
we consider the church gathered, we see her receive her call
from Christ before he ascended into heaven, and she is called
to express her faith in the public proclamation of the gospel
and the administration of the sacraments.
Individual members of God’s family relate to the call of
the church gathered in two ways. First, we are called in the
Third Commandment not to despise fellowship in the Word
nor absent ourselves from it. Rather, we are called to partake
regularly of God’s Word as it is proclaimed, and the sacraments as they are administered. This is of crucial importance,
for through the means of grace Christ nurtures our faith and
equips and empowers it for daily works of service. Second, the
church scattered is to witness to Christ and mutually admonish
and console one another within our circle of nearness as part
of our works of service. When Jesus was with his disciples in
the upper room, he schooled the church scattered about the
life of loving service. It even includes the ordinary dirty business of life, like washing feet. But when he came to “this is my
body . . . do this in remembrance of me” he called the church
gathered to a part of its vocation.
The primary piety of the church scattered is sacrificial in
nature, and the primary piety of the church gathered is sacramental. The sacrificial life of the church scattered flows from
the grace-bestowing sacramental life of the church gathered.

Corporate piety is always logically prior to individual piety. As
opportunity and need arise, however, we witness to Christ in
our individual callings. And as need and opportunity arise, the
church gathered offers sacrificial service. At Paul’s request, the
churches in Greece took up a collection to aid the faminestricken church in Jerusalem. The church gathered has similar
projects today. The church is hidden within the old world
structures of society and even in the structures of church government; but it is revealed to faith in terms of its presence by
its word and sacrament service. Individual Christian piety is
extraordinarily ordinary because its godliness is largely hidden.
Corporate church piety, however, is ordinarily extraordinary—
and its godliness, which is the righteousness of Christ, is made
manifest in word and sacrament. If you want to see Christian
piety on bold display, Lutherans in the Theology of the Cross
say, “Here it is!” On this count, church historian Mark Noll
had some remarkably favorable things to say about the contributions American Lutheranism can make to the American
Christian scene. He wrote:
The Protestant tendency in America has been to
preserve the importance of preaching, Bible-reading,
the sacraments (or ordinances), and Christian fellowship, but to interpret these as occasions for human acts
of appropriation. That God saves in baptism, that God
gives himself in the Supper, that God announces his
Word through the sermon, that God is the best interpreter of his written Word—these Lutheran convictions
are all but lost in the face of American confidence in
human capacity.
Finally what Lutherans can offer Americans is the
voice of Luther, a voice of unusual importance in Christian history . . . because in it we hear uncommon resonances with the voice of God. . . . For whatever reason, in the effable wisdom of God, the speech of Martin
Luther rang clear where others merely mumbled.
THE PERILS OF PIETISM
If we go beyond these outer limits of a piety that lives in
the Theology of the Cross as Luther enunciated it with such
clarity and power, we will inevitably lapse into a false piety
born from the many theologies of glory that are strewn about
in church history. Here piety usually lapses into pietism, legalism and pharisaism. Pietism creeps into the church’s thinking
when it begins to develop a negative attitude about participation in the worldly interests and concerns of this life; when the
works of God are tied to a “higher calling” in this life that
ought to separate us from the affairs of secular life in family,
neighborhood and state. When the piety of the Christian is
measured by a certain outward code of demonstrably holy
acts—even if they are drawn from the Bible—we have
launched into a theology of glory. Historically, pietism was
Lutheran orthodoxy stood on its head. Orthodox Christianity
(as articulated in confessional Lutheranism) embraces the
objective presentation of Christ and his gifts as they are mediated by the Spirit-breathed external word and sacraments.
Flowing from these gifts of righteousness and holiness, a sub-


jective personal piety is expressed in faith that is active in works
of loving service. Pietism argued for a subjective mediation of
Christ and the Spirit within the heart of the Christian, while
the expressions of Christian piety are to be objectively delineated and divorced from the tasks of worldly concern.
“Nave piety” replaces the obedience of
faith flowing from the righteousness of
Christ with obedience to the law.
Luther depicted a piety of outward works devised by the
religious opinions of men as “churchyard piety.” Monasticism
was the contemporary expression of churchyard piety that
Luther condemned as a false and empty piety that burdened
consciences and took Christians away from the real tasks in the
world that God would have them be about. This was cloistered
monasticism. Today we must beware of church body or congregational churchyard piety: modern ecclesiastical monasticism that seeks to inundate its church membership with a veritable plethora of programs, activities and organizational events
that lack the context of a true Christian vocation of sacrificial
service in the old world communities of life. “Piety” becomes
program involvement and participation in everything from
“quilting for Christ” to “living prayer chains for endangered
animals.” In some churches, if one does not schedule life and
the use of gifts according to the week’s “Calendar of Christian
Events,” something is seen as terribly wrong. One has not been
assimilated into the regimen of real Christian living. Some congregations are even calling a special pastor in charge of assimilating members into all of these super-spiritual events: the Pastor or Director of Assimilation. The thinly veiled message
seems to be “Blessed are the involved and assimilated, for they
shall inherit the kingdom of God.” Activism in works that do
not flow from one’s vocational call is present in every age as a
temptation to leave ordinary duties of Christian piety for the
extraordinary. This is churchyard piety.
Luther had a warning about one more variety of false piety,
what he called “nave piety.” Nave piety replaces the obedience of
faith flowing from the righteousness of Christ with obedience to
the law. Today some within Lutheran circles are seeking to
replace the obedience of faith with a faith defined by obedience.
This, we are told, is the real goal of the gospel. The gospel has
the central objective to turn us all into obedient people under
God’s legal system. Life with God is said not to terminate evan-
gelically on the gospel—it is not the Good News of death to life.
Rather, the gospel merely provides the ticket of admission to a
legal life of obedience to the precepts of law. Gospel is to law as
means are to end. The lordship of Christ is not the dominion of
grace, but the rule of Christ as lawgiver. This is the Reformed
notion of the gospel in the service of the law—the idea that God
has saved us for obedience.
Away with these things. We must follow Luther from the
churchyard, from the nave, into the sanctuary where life with
God, the truly godly and pious life, begins and ends with the
righteousness of Christ which is the obedience of faith. When it
goes to work in the world it may seem rather ordinary, yes even
dead, when not looked upon through the eyes of faith. But here
in the old world tasks of everyday life is the outer limits for the
expression of the righteousness of faith. The inner limits however, are found in the sanctuary. When we gather together in
the sanctuary, when we parade our “we” piety through the
manifestation of Christ in word and sacrament, there is the
extraordinary righteousness of us all—our true piety that has
set us free. And that, Mark Noll and all Christians can recognize and confess with Luther, is and will always remain extraordinary and—remarkable!
LOGIA
NOTES
. Mark Noll, “The Lutheran Difference,” First Things
(February ) p. .
. Noll, p. .
. AE :
. Werner Elert, The Christian Ethos, trans. by Carl J.
Schindler (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, ) p. .
. AE :–.
. A sermon of Luther’s delivered on Feb. , , WA
..–, as cited in Alister E. McGrath, Luther’s Theology of
the Cross (Cambridge, Mass.: Basil Blackwell, ) p. .
. AE :.
. Gerhard O. Forde, Justification by Faith: A Matter of
Death and Life (Ramsey, N.J.: Sigler Press, ) pp. –.
. AE :–.
. This is Gerhard Forde’s striking depiction of the sanctification of the Christian in his presentation of “The Lutheran
View” of sanctification in Christian Spirituality: Five Views of
Sanctification, edited by Donald L. Alexander (Downers Grove,
Ill.: InterVarsity Press, ) pp. –.
. Elert, pp. –.
. Noll, p. .
. This is the central thesis of Bickel/Nordlie’s The Goal of
the Gospel: God’s Purpose in Saving You (St. Louis: Concordia
Publishing House, ) p.  ff.
Conditional Forgiveness
and the Translation of  John :
JOHN M. MOE
j
 F    , “I W C
Our Sins: Conditional Forgiveness and  John :,” has
sounded a much-needed corrective to the common misunderstanding of  John :. “But if we confess our sins, God,
who is faithful and just, will forgive our sins and cleanse us
from all unrighteousness” is the translation used in the public
worship of many Lutheran Churches. He is, I believe,
absolutely correct when he says “To most people, these words
mean: . . . (B) confessing our sins results in God forgiving us
our sins just as he promised and because he is fair.” He is also
correct in pointing out that this is not a classical “if X then Y”
conditional sentence in which condition Y exists as the result
of condition X. I believe, however, that the Rev. Fenton has
missed a very strong argument in favor of the point he is making when he says that the fault for this misunderstanding is
“not because of a faulty translation.”
The Greek has eja;n oJmologw'men ta;" aJmartiva" hJmw'n,
pistov" ejstin kai; divkaio" i{na ajfh/' hJmi'n ta;" aJmartiva" kai;
kaqarivsh/ hJma'" ajpo; pavsh" ajdikiva". “If we confess our sins,
faithful he is and righteous to forgive to us the sins and to
cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” There are a number of
ways in which the rendering of this verse by the Lutheran Book
of Worship (LBW) and Lutheran Worship (LW) is unfaithful to
the Greek text, all of which contribute to the false notion that
the forgiveness and cleansing of which John writes is the result
of our confession.
Both hymnals have “If we say we have no sin, we deceive
ourselves, and the truth is not in us. But if we confess our sins,
God, who is faithful and just, will forgive our sins and cleanse
us from all unrighteousness.”
The conjunction “but” has been added (“But if we confess,” etc.) where the Greek has no conjunction at all. This
forces a logical connection between verse eight and verse nine
that is not there in the Greek. If saying that we have no sin is
understood to result in deceiving ourselves in verse eight, the
added “but” to begin verse nine insures that the forgiveness
and cleansing will be seen as the result of our confession.
But the major fault with the translation of verse nine lies
not with the added “but” but with the distortion of the
Greek grammar in the hymnals’ version. If we assume this to
be a conditional sentence, we must divide it into the protasis,
eja;n oJmologw'men ta;" aJmartiva" hJmw'n, and the apodosis,
pistov" ejstin kai; divkaio" i{na ajfh/' hJmi'n ta;" aJmartiva" kai;
kaqJarivsh/ hJma'" ajpo; pavsh” ajdikiva". The apodosis, it will be
noted, is an independent clause. It can stand as a sentence
by itself with subject (“He,” understood), finite verb (“is”),
and a i{na clause (“to forgive our sins and cleanse us from all
unrighteousness”). The force of the i{na clause is disputed,
but the dispute is whether the i{na clause should be seen as a
purpose or as a result clause. That dispute is not pertinent
to our discussion here however, for either way, our forgiveness and cleansing are the purpose or the result of God’s
faithfulness and righteousness and not the purpose or result
of our confession.
The translation we are dealing with renders the infinitives, which are the purpose or the result of God’s faithfulness and righteousness, with future indicatives “will forgive . . .” and “cleanse,” and the all-important attributes of
God in a parenthetical phrase, “who is faithful and just.” The
result allows, and even invites, an erroneous, conditional
understanding of what John has to say about forgiveness
here.
Every grade-school grammar student knows that a parenthetical phrase can be overlooked without distorting the
meaning of the sentence in which it lies. It merely adds
information—pertinent, helpful information perhaps—but
not information which is essential to the meaning of the sentence. “But if we confess our sins, God, who is faithful and
just, will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness” makes logical sense without the parenthetical
phrase: “But if we confess our sins, God will forgive our sins
and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” This is the classic
formulation of the conditional sentence and clearly sounds
like the forgiveness and cleansing are the result of our confession. But we have seen from the Greek that what John says
is that our forgiveness and cleansing are the result or the
purpose of God’s faithfulness and righteousness, not the
result of our confession. The translation clearly supports a
distorted notion that is not in the Greek.
J
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JOHN MOE is pastor of St. John’s Lutheran Church, Rosemount,
Minnesota.


The translation, “But if we confess our sins, God, who is
faithful and just, will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all
unrighteousness,” has a logical opposite which is “But if we
don’t confess our sins, God, who is faithful and just, will not
forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”
That logical deduction, invited and supported by the translation, is a dangerous error which the Greek shows to be
impossible and bordering on the blasphemous. A faithful
rendering of the Greek grammar, given the same logical
treatment, would be: “If we don’t confess our sins, he isn’t
faithful and righteous to forgive to us the sins and to cleanse
us from all unrighteousness.” Clearly this is not a conditional
sentence in which the condition described in the apodosis
depends on the “if” of the protasis.
Rev. Fenton is, I think, correct in his belief (if I understand him correctly) that we English-speaking Americans
seem to expect a conditional sentence of the “if X then Y”
variety whenever we are confronted with the word “if.”
There are examples in English, however, of the type of sentence he refers to as “what Dr. James Voelz calls a ‘present
general condition.’” That is to say there are others besides
 John :. Two quick examples might be Luke :, Kuvrie,

eja;n qevlh/" duvnasaiv mh kaqarivvsai (“Lord, if you wish, you
are able to cleanse me”) and Luke :, Eja;n uJmi'n ei[pw ouj
mh; pisteuvshte. (“If I tell you, you will not believe”).
Also, eja;n is not always best rendered “if.” A bit further on
in this same letter John writes eja;n fanerwqh/' o{moioi aujtw/'
ejsovmeqa ( Jn :). I know of no translation which renders this
“If he appears we will be like him.” “When” seems to be the
correct choice in this instance. I would suggest that “when”
might be a better choice for the rendering of eja;n in  John : as
well. And although it may not read as smoothly in English, I
would also suggest that the infinitive verb forms of the Greek
be retained in the apodosis to avoid distorting John’s meaning
(that our forgiveness and cleansing are the purpose or result of
God’s faithfulness and righteousness, not the result of our confession). I would attempt to render John’s Greek into English
with something like the following:
eja;n oJmologw'men ta;" aJmartiva" hJmw'n, pistov" ejstin
kai; divkaio" i{na ajfh/' hJmi'n ta;" aJmartiva" kai;
kaqarivsh/ hJma'" ajpo; pavsh" ajdikiva". When we confess our sins, faithful he is and righteous to forgive our
sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.
LOGIA
NOTES
tovpon uJmi'n, pavlin e[rcomai kai; paralhvmyomai uJma'" pro;"
. Rev. John Fenton, “If We Confess Our Sins: Conditional
ejmautovn, i{na o{pou eijmi; ejgw; kai; uJmei'" h\te, and  Cor : mhv
Forgiveness and  John :,” LOGIA Vol., No.  (Epiphany/January
pw”
eja;n e[lqJwsin su;n ejmoi; Makedovne" kai; eu{rwsin uJma’"
) p. .
aj
p
araskeuav
stou" kataiscunqJw'men hJmei'", i{na mh; levgw
. Lutheran Worship, pp. , ; Lutheran Book of Worship,
uJ
m
ei'
"
,
ej
n
th/
'
uJpostavsei tauvth/. Note that in the Matthew and
pp. , , .
John
passages,
which parallel the grammar of  John :, the
. Fenton.
apodosis
is
an
independent
clause, and the i{na clause is depen. Fenton.
dent
on
the
action
of
the
verb
preceding it and not on the verb
. This translation matches no English Bible translation I have
controlled
by
ej
a
n
;
(i.e.,
at
Mt
: the word is established
been able to find. Of the many which I have checked, it is closest to
because
of
taking
one
or
two
with
you, not because the brother
the RSV which has, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just,
did
not
hear,
etc.).
and will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”
. The dispute is not over this verse only, but the more
“But” has been added in the hymnal and “he is faithful and just, and
general
question of whether i{na is ever used to express result or
will . . .” has been changed to “God, who is faithful and just,
if
it
must
always be understood as expressing purpose. Robertwill. . . .” Could it be that a desire to clarify the “he” of the RSV for
son
disagrees
with Burton saying, “He considers Rev. :,
liturgical usage has led to the hymnals’ regrettable weakening of the
poiei'
shmei'
a
megavla, i{na kai; pu'r poih/' ejk tou' oujranou'
translation? The main point of John’s sentence, expressed with the
katabaiv
n
ein,
as
the most probable instance of i{na denoting
finite verb (i.e. “he is faithful and righteous”), has become not much
actual
result.
But
there are others just as plain, if not clearer.
more than an aside (“God, who [by the way] is faithful and just”).
Thus

John
:
pistov
" ejstin kai; divkaio", i{na ajfh/' hJmi'n ta;"
. A search of every New Testament occurrence of ejan; reveals
aJ
m
artiv
a
"”
(A.T.
Robertson,
A Grammar of the Greek New Testhree other sentences with a verbal clause controlled by ejan; and a
tament
in
the
Light
of
Historical
Research (Nashville: Broadman
i{na clause in the apodosis: Mt : ejan; de; mh; ajkouvsh/, paravlabe
Press,
)
p.
).
meta; sou' e[ti e{na h] duvo, i[na ejpi; stovmato" duvo martuvrwn h] tri. Fenton.
w'n staqh/' pa'n rJh'ma, Jn : kai; eja;n poreuqJw' kai; ejtoimavsw
Preaching to Preachers: Isaiah :‒
DONALD MOLDSTAD
j
In the year that king Uzziah died I saw also the Lord
sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, and his train
filled the temple. Above it stood the seraphims: each
one had six wings; with twain he covered his face, and
with twain he covered his feet, and with twain he did
fly. And one cried unto another, and said, “Holy, holy,
holy, is the Lord of hosts: the whole earth is full of his
glory.” And the posts of the door moved at the voice of
him that cried, and the house was filled with smoke.
Then said I, “Woe is me! for I am undone; because I
am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a
people of unclean lips: for mine eyes have seen the
King, the Lord of hosts.” Then flew one of the seraphim
unto me, having a live coal in his hand, which he had
taken with the tongs from off the altar: And he laid it
upon my mouth, and said, “Lo, this hath touched thy
lips; and thine iniquity is taken away, and thy sin
purged.” Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying,
“Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” Then
said I, “Here am I; send me.”
orchestrated by Christ. When sensing the great disparity
between himself and the glorious Son of God, he falls to the
feet of his Lord, and cries, “Get away from me Lord, for I am a
sinful man.” The brightness of God’s glory, the display of his
holiness, exposes all the more man’s wickedness and mortality.
Isaiah writes that the angels sing, “Holy, holy, holy”—the
Hebrew word v/dq; is used, which means “set apart,” emphasizing the distinction between the holy God and sinful mortal
man. The comparison is unbearable for the prophet.
We make comparisons all the time in our world. When we
compare ourselves to others, we can begin to imagine ourselves
better than we ought. That is especially true for those of us in
the teaching and preaching ministry. We receive the gratitude
of other believers, and at times their praises too, since we are
dedicated to the work of the Lord full time. But Satan can use
even this blessing of being entrusted with the mysteries of God
and turn it into a temptation of self-inflation.
Furthermore, there is a need, due to our calling, for an
increased outward righteousness in our daily lives. It is expected, demanded of us. It is part of what we are before the world.
Because of all this there is no more fertile garden for the seeds
of pride and self-righteousness than in the office of the public
ministry today. It is significant that in the parable of the publican and the Pharisee in the Temple, Christ used the role of the
Pharisee—the moral, spiritual leader of his day—to represent
self-righteousness. In teaching it today he might choose to use
a confessional Lutheran pastor. And if that thought troubles
us, it shows the truth of it all the more.
We condemn the liberal and Reformed who question the
clear teachings of the Word of God, looking at them in derision, thinking, “God, I thank thee, I’m not as other men are.”
Yet, in our own thoughts and in the inner chambers of our
hearts, we are just as full of doubt. The greatest temptation for
those called to the gospel ministry is pride.
And on the other side is another danger: those who are the
closest to operating the knives of God’s law are most apt to get
cut. We deal with that law all the time in preaching, teaching
and counseling. It carves and cuts. So when the called minister
of God falls into sin, or looks back on past failings, it can drive
the preacher to despair. We are reminded all the more of the
great difference between what our members or students imagine us to be and what we see in our own hearts.
          
thousands of slides, paintings, drawings and sculpture.
Yet I cannot recall seeing a painting of the commissioning of Isaiah (Is :–). That may be due in part to the challenge of portraying the glory of God. It is very difficult to portray this glory adequately. Even the more familiar paintings of
the transfiguration of Christ are feeble attempts to display this
splendor.
Man is unable to face the glory of the almighty Lord.
Moses hid his face from the burning bush. At the transfiguration we are told that the disciples fell face down, terrified. Here
in our text, Isaiah is struck with intense guilt before God. His
reaction is nothing but sheer despair. The first words from his
mouth demonstrate this: “Woe to me I am ruined!” His words
remind us of Peter upon experiencing the great catch of fishes
A
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DONALD MOLDSTAD is pastor of King of Grace Lutheran Church,
Golden Valley, Minnesota. This confessional address was preached to
a circuit pastoral conference of the Evangelical Lutheran Synod.


The bright glory of God exposes the filth and sinfulness of
the prophet. The holy glory of God in his law exposes our filth
and sinfulness. He has entrusted us with shining the intense
spotlight of his law on the wickedness of the world. But we ourselves must also stand in front of that spotlight, closer than anyone else, and it burns.
So, how does God deal with this man, crushed in his presence? Does he overlook his guilt? Does he say, “Oh, you’re not so
bad”? Does he declare, “It is no big deal”? Does he find ways to
transfer the guilt to Isaiah’s upbringing? No, he lets the confession
stand. It is accurate.
But, he directs his angel to the the altar where the atonement
sacrifice has taken place. He commands his angel to make a direct
application to the crushed sinner. With the coal he touches the
lips of this sinful man: “See, this has touched your lips, your guilt
is taken away and your sin atoned for.”
What a fantastic thing this must have been for Isaiah, to be
personally addressed—to have the gospel put to him quickly and
personally! Note the immediacy of God’s action. He does not
waste time with the crushed sinner. In the Garden of Eden, he
responds instantly with the promise of the coming Christ to
Adam and Eve. The prophet Nathan immediately absolves David
when he has made his confession. In dealing with Peter, Christ
wastes no time in restoring him.
God chooses to deal with your guilt today. Though it is not
through a hot coal, it is just as personal, immediate and direct.
Through the clear proclamation of his word your Lord wants your
ear to be touched directly by his grace. Listen as he says to you:
“The blood of Jesus Christ, God’s Son, cleanses us from all sin.”
And especially note that he includes the word “all.” That is for
you. It is gone from before him. Let him touch your ear again:
“There is now, therefore, no condemnation for those who are in
Christ Jesus.”
He also wants to touch your lips today with his grace. Rather
than using a coal taken from the symbolic sacrifice of atonement,
he chooses to use the very flesh and blood of the atonement sacrifice to touch your mouth. As your Lord declares, “This is my body
. . . this is my blood, given and shed for you for the remission of
sin.” It doesn’t get any more personal. He wanted Isaiah to be
confident of his mercy. He wants you to be just as confident.
If you have ever been in a house built for a handicapped
person it is apparent right away. Counters are low, railings are
in for assistance; there are ramps instead of steps. It is obvious
whom it was designed around. If you stop and think about
Christianity, it is obvious whom it has been designed around,
too. God has built the house of his kingdom of grace around
the sinner, since “Christ Jesus came into this world to save sinners.” It shows in what he has built into this house: the preach-

ing of repentance and the forgiveness of sins, baptism for the
remission of sins, the Lord’s Supper, and the Office of the Keys.
God has chosen to use sinful men like us to accomplish
this. In order to impress upon the sinners of this world the fact
that the Lord’s desire is to have even the most vile of sinners
washed in his mercy, he has selected and called the most vile of
men to do his bidding.
Isaiah, touched by the coal, now responds to the call,
“Here am I, send me.” David, in Psalm —after expounding
on the enormity of God’s grace—declares, “Then I will teach
transgressors your ways.” St. Paul says of himself, “Even
though I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent
man, I was shown mercy.”
. . . there is no more fertile garden
for the seeds of pride and self-righteousness than in the office of the public
ministry today.
Are there times when you are especially aware of the burden of your position? Does it overwhelm you to think that of
all people you are leading others in their spiritual lives when
yours is such a mess? Good! You are precisely whom the Lord
wishes to have represent him to other sinners. He has no other
plan. And he has made sure to record in Scripture the sinfulness of most of his major mouthpieces in order to teach us this.
One of my favorite sections of Scripture is where Paul in
Romans  describes the struggle that he faces and experiences
on a daily basis; it shows his great need for the cross.
In my high-school dormitory, the cooks would eat at the
end of the supper hour. It always amazed me that they could
stand and serve food, watching it go by them, and have to wait
to eat themselves. That is not God’s plan when it comes to dispensing his grace. Those who dish it out are to eat first. Don’t
let the food go by you to others. Be filled with it, stuff yourselves with his grace, and then you are able and fit to serve his
people.
Because of Christ, your great High Priest, we have no reason to be afraid of standing before the glorious God. As the
author of Hebrews writes, “Let us then approach the throne of
grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find
grace to help us in our time of need.”
Standing in that grace today, say with the prophet Isaiah,
“Here am I; send me, send me.” Amen.
LOGIA
 Corinthians : — “Discerning the Body”
And Its Implications for Closed Communion
ERNIE V. LASSMAN
j
an indifferent attitude toward the historic difference between
the Lutheran and Reformed understandings of the Lord’s Supper and resulted in the practice of open communion, defined as
all Christians being welcome at the sacrament. Little or no concern for the necessity to believe in the real presence as taught in
The Book of Concord was evident in these cases.
I believe that my personal experiences are simply a microcosm of a larger problem in the church involving the teachings
of the real presence, open versus closed communion, fellowship
and its practices and even Lutheran identity itself. This problem is becoming more evident as the Evangelical Lutheran
Church in America moves toward altar fellowship with
Reformed churches as articulated in the document “A Common Calling.” Forum Letter observes, “The document treats the
dogmatic differences between the two traditions in the critical
areas of christology and sacramentology as nuances of theology
and differing emphases. . . . It is our opinion that
Lutheranism has traditionally regarded its differences with the
Reformed tradition as rather more fundamental. . . .” In
Lutherans in Ecumenical Dialogue—Reappraisal the observation
is made, “After having carefully examined the materials produced by three series of dialogues with the Reformed, questions
arise concerning the absence of in-depth theological treatment
of all the issues which have traditionally separated Lutheran and
Reformed churches.” There is, then, a perception among many
Lutherans that the Lutheran Church in North America is experiencing a crisis of identity not unlike the one experienced in
the nineteenth century. Dr. Samuel S. Schmucker advocated
what was known in his day as “American Lutheranism” which
threatened the distinctive characteristics of Lutheranism with
the result that Lutheranism was hardly distinguishable from
other Christians of the Reformed tradition.
I introduce our study of  Corinthians : in this manner
in order to illustrate some of the basic issues at stake. Let us
now turn our attention to the text itself.
“For anyone who eats and drinks without recognizing the body of the Lord eats and drinks judgment on
himself” (NIV).
INTRODUCTION
  M L,  L
Church has consistently understood  Corinthians :
as referring to the real presence of the body of Jesus
Christ in his supper. Luther makes this abundantly clear in
such writings as Against the Heavenly Prophets and Confession
Concerning Christ’s Supper. The “second Martin,” Martin
Chemnitz, also made this clear in his writings. And this
understanding of  Corinthians : is the teaching of The
Book of Concord.
Such an understanding of  Corinthians : has implications for the teaching of close(d) communion. A communicant
who partakes of the Lord’s body without “discerning” or “recognizing” its presence with the bread eats judgment to himself.
Thus, one of the reasons for closed communion is pastoral
concern to prevent such unworthy eating ( Cor :). The
Lutheran Church has consistently associated unworthy eating
with “not discerning the body.”
However, some have understood “not discerning the
body” as referring to the church and not to the real presence:
“In the center stand not the elements or substance of bread and
wine but the action of the fellowship as the body of Christ in
the knowledge that it is dependent upon his blessing and subject to his Lordship. To be guilty of the body and blood of the
Lord (v.) signifies an act of one brother against another.”
Such an interpretation of “discerning the body” weakens the
rationale for closed communion and takes less seriously the
possibility of Christians communing at Lutheran altars not for
blessing but for judgment.
During the course of my fifteen-year ministry I have come
into contact with Lutheran pastors who have understood “discerning the body” as a reference not to the real presence but to
the church. Regrettably, this understanding was associated with
B
THE CONTEXT
Clearly Paul is talking about two closely related problems
in  Corinthians :–. There were divisions in the congregation: “In the first place, I hear that when you come together as
a church, there are divisions among you, and to some extent I
believe it” (v. ); “Don’t you have homes to eat and drink in?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ERNIE V. LASSMAN is pastor of Messiah Lutheran Church, Seattle,
Washington.


Or do you despise the church of God and humiliate those who
have nothing? What shall I say to you? Shall I praise you for this?
Certainly not!” (v. ); “So then, my brothers, when you come
together to eat, wait for each other” (v. ).
On the other hand, there were at least some who did not
understand the Lord’s Supper and its purpose or, while knowing
the purpose, abused the Supper. This is brought out by several
verses: “No doubt there have to be differences [heresies] among
you to show which of you have God’s approval. When you come
together, it is not the Lord’s Supper you eat, for as you eat, each of
you goes ahead without waiting for anybody else. One remains
hungry, another gets drunk” ( Cor :– ).
Because they were coming together to simply satisfy their
hunger and thirst, Paul repeats the Words of Institution and the
purpose of the Supper. He reminds them that the Supper is a
means of grace giving the benefits of Christ’s suffering and
death on the cross, forgiveness. This is communicated in verses
–: “And when he had given thanks, he broke it and said,
‘This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.’
In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, ‘This cup
is the new covenant in my blood ; do this, whenever you drink it,
in remembrance of me.’ For whenever you eat this bread and
drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.”
The Corinthians’ bad treatment of their poorer members
was the result of a misuse of the Supper itself. In other words,
had the Corinthians recognized the Supper as a means of grace,
and taken seriously the real presence of the body and blood of
Jesus Christ, they would never have treated their fellow members in such a shameful manner. They could satisfy their
hunger and thirst at home (v. ). Such activities have no place
in the Lord’s Supper; it has other purposes. Were the Corinthians to start using the Supper for its intended purpose and
receive it with reverence by remembering and believing in the
real presence of Christ’s body and blood, they would, as a
result, stop shaming those who were less fortunate. Such disunity and favoritism would never have shown itself had the
Corinthians had the right understanding of the Supper and
treated the Supper accordingly.
' A
THE MEANING OF SWM
According to the lexicons sw'ma has four basic meanings:
) The body of a man or animal. ) The bodies of plants and
heavenly bodies. ) The Christian community. ) The body of
Jesus Christ in the Lord’s Supper.
When we examine the use of sw'ma in  Corinthians we find
the following uses: ) The human body: :; :, , , –; :;
:; :. ) Plants, heavenly bodies, spiritual bodies: :, , ,
, . ) The church: :; :–, –, . ) The Lord’s Supper: :; :, .
The frequent use of sw'ma as “church” in chapter  should
not determine the use of sw'ma in chapter  because the immediate context (vv. –) has more influence on the meaning of
sw'ma than the more remote context. Chapter  is dealing with
a new subject as indicated by periv in verse  (the NIV translation “now”). Paul uses this format frequently in  Corinthians
to introduce new subjects: :, ; :; :; :, . In addition,
the subject matter of chapter  is not the church per se, but

spiritual gifts. The subject of church as the body of Christ and
the illustration of the human body is a subtheme made necessary to discuss the subject of spiritual gifts. In chapter , the
Lord’s Supper is not referred to as the basis of unity in the
church, but the unity comes from having the same Spirit (:),
the same Lord (:), and the same God (:).
In contrast, chapter  has more bearing on the use of sw'ma in chapter  than does chapter  because of the subject
matter. Chapters  and  are clearly related to each other in
the discussion of the Lord’s Supper. As chapter  speaks about
the Lord’s Supper in relation to idol worship and the meals
associated with the worship of idols, chapter  speaks about the
relation of the Lord’s Supper to the worshiping congregation.
The word sw'ma is used five times (including the disputed
time in v. ) in chapters  and . If we do not count verse ,
three of the four references refer not to the church, but to the
Lord’s Supper (:—church; :; :, —the Lord’s Supper). This means that in the immediate context of verse  the
only body that is referred to is the body of Christ in the Lord’s
Supper (vv. , ). The immediate context then favors sw'ma
as referring to the Lord’s Supper, not the church.
The Corinthians’ bad treatment of
their poorer members was the result
of a misuse of the Supper itself.
Had Paul written “not discerning the body and the blood”
exegetes would not have thought his words strange at all,
because the context of the verses immediately preceding
verse  speaks of the Words of Institution, and about being
guilty of the body and blood of Jesus, and so the need for selfexamination (v. ). Had Paul written “not discerning the
body and the blood,” no one would say, “Isn’t it strange that
Paul would talk about the real presence at this point in his letter?” Such a reference clearly fits the immediate context. What
has been perplexing and has caused confusion for some is why
Paul only mentions the body and not the blood of Christ. Here
are some considerations:
. Paul is using synecdoche, a figure of speech where a part
is put for the whole, e.g., “The ranch is run by fifty hands,” or
as in Acts : where “soul” is used for the whole person. In
The Expositor’s Greek Testament, G.G. Findlay calls it an aposiopesis—the leaving of a thought incomplete.
. In chapter  Paul uses “to eat” to include drinking as
well as eating: “When you come together, it is not the Lord’s
Supper you eat, for as you eat, each of you goes ahead without
waiting for anybody else. One remains hungry, another gets
drunk. . . . So then, my brothers, when you come together to
eat, wait for each other” (vv. , , ).
. This usage of “to eat,” including the drinking, is seen in
Matthew :: “On the first day of the Feast of Unleavened
Bread, the disciples came to Jesus and asked, ‘Where do you
want us to make preparations for you to eat the Passover?’”
  :‒“  ”
In chapter  Paul never uses sw'ma in reference to the church
(not counting the disputed use in v. ). But ejkklhsiva occurs
three times: “If anyone wants to be contentious about this, we have
no other practice—nor do the churches of God”(v. 16); “In the first
place, I hear that when you come together as a church, there are
divisions among you, and to some extent I believe it” (v. ); and
“Don’t you have homes to eat and drink in? Or do you despise the
church of God and humiliate those who have nothing? What shall I
say to you? Shall I praise you for this? Certainly not!” (v. ). In
these and the preceding verses Paul deals with the sectarianism and
uncaring behavior of some of the Corinthians. It is not necessary
for him to repeat it in verse . Beginning with verse  Paul is concerned with the Lord’s Supper itself and how it is being misused
and abused and the consequences of judgment. In verses – he
repeats the Words of Institution about the essence and purpose of
the Lord’s Supper. In verses – he talks about the consequences
and implications of the Lord’s Supper in the Corinthian congregation. Being reminded of the purpose and blessings of the Lord’s
Supper, Paul expected the problem of disunity at the Lord’s Table
to be corrected.
THE MEANING OF DIAKRINEI'N —DISCERNING
The basic meanings of this word include “to part,” “to sift,”
“to make a distinction,” “to differentiate,” “to judge,” “to
doubt,” “to separate,” “to discriminate a person/thing from the
rest.” As we study the use of this word in the New Testament
we learn what we are to discern and what we are not to discern.
It is proper to diakrinei'n (discern) ourselves: “But if we
judged ourselves, we would not come under judgment.” ( Cor
:⁾. It is also permitted to discern legal disputes (controversies):
“I say this to shame you. Is it possible that there is nobody among
you wise enough to judge a dispute between believers?” ( Cor :).
It is also proper to do this with the devil: “But even the archangel
Michael, when he was disputing with the devil about the body of
Moses, did not dare to bring a slanderous accusation against him,
but said, ‘The Lord rebuke you!’” (Jude :). People also discern
the sign of the sky: “He replied, ‘When evening comes, you say, “It
will be fair weather, for the sky is red,” and in the morning,
“Today it will be stormy, for the sky is red and overcast.” (Mt :).
You know how to interpret the appearance of the sky, but you cannot interpret the signs of the times’.” This last reference is a good
parallel to  Corinthians : as diakrinei'n is used in a sense to see
something that is not obvious to the uninformed person. To the
uninformed person it is only a red sky, but the informed see more,
what kind of day it will be. Likewise in the Supper there is more
than meets the eye. There is more than simply bread and wine; the
body and blood of Christ are present as we have been told by the
Words of Institution.
This understanding is reinforced in  Corinthians :, 
where Paul uses the verb krinei'n in connection with the real
presence of the body and blood of Jesus Christ in the Lord’s
Supper. Paul says, “I speak to sensible people; judge for yourselves what I say. Is not the cup of thanksgiving for which we
give thanks a participation in the blood of Christ? And is not
the bread that we break a participation in the body of Christ?”
Paul is asking people to judge, to discern, that there is more
than bread and wine in the Lord’s Supper. Though this is not

evident to the eyes, it is evident by the Words of Institution
which are accepted in faith.
Furthermore, diakrinei'n does not appear to be the appropriate verb to use if sw'ma refers to the church. If by “church,” “people” are meant, a word study on diakrinei'n shows that this is
something that we are not to do in the church, i.e., to fellow believers. Some examples: “He made no distinction between us and them,
for he purified their hearts by faith.” (Acts :); “For who makes
you different from anyone else? What do you have that you did not
The phrase “not discerning the body”
refers to the real presence of the body
of Jesus Christ in the Lord’s Supper
and not to the church.
receive? And if you did receive it, why do you boast as though you
did not?” ( Cor :); “Have you not discriminated among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts?” (Jas :). The point is
that we are not to discern the body of Christ, i.e., the church. We
are not to make distinctions and show discrimination among fellow
believers. But this is precisely what Paul speaks against in verses
– as he mentions the sin of despising and humiliating the
church. However, in verse  Paul says the opposite of this: “For
anyone who eats and drinks without recognizing the body of the
Lord eats and drinks judgment on himself.” He criticizes the
Corinthians because they should be discerning the body, and they
are not. This leads us to conclude, then, that Paul is not using the
word sw'ma to refer to the church, fellow believers.
CONCLUSION
In summary, the phrase “not discerning the body” refers to
the real presence of the body of Jesus Christ in the Lord’s Supper
and not to the church. We have based this conclusion on: ) The
immediate context of the verse (vv. –, especially the verses
containing the Words of Institution, and chapter , especially
vv. , ); ) The meaning of sw'ma in the immediate context; )
The meaning of the word diakrinei'n and its appropriate use in
reference to the real presence, and its inappropriate use in reference to the church; ) That the frequent use of sw'ma in chapter 
should not influence the interpretation of “discerning the body”;
) If Paul had the church in mind he had precedent in chapter 
to use ejkklhsiva (vv. , , ) again in verse  but did not.
) The lexicons understand verse  as referring to the Lord’s
body in the Supper and not to the church.
There were two closely related problems addressed by Paul
in  Corinthians . The presenting problem was the division and
discrimination manifested when the Corinthians came together.
However, the root problem was a false view of the Lord’s Supper
with reference to the real presence of Christ’s body and blood. In
verse  Paul is addressing this root problem. He warns all who
come to the Supper of the Lord that belief in the real presence is
required of all to partake in a worthy manner and not receive a
judgment. As such, Paul’s words still apply today and have implications for the issue of open versus closed communion.
LOGIA


NOTES
. Unless otherwise stated, all biblical quotations are from
April of  to the annual meeting of the Lutheran Historical
the New International Version.
Society. In addition, reference is made to David A. Gustafson’s
. AE :, .
Lutherans In Crisis: The Question of Identity in the American
. AE :, .
Republic.
. Chemnitz writes in Ministry, Word, and Sacraments—An
. See Vergilius Ferm, The Crisis in American Lutheran
Theology (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, ) pp.
Enchiridion [trans. by Luther Poellot, (St. Louis: Concordia
–; and E. Clifford Nelson, ed., The Lutherans in North
Publishing House, ) p. ]: “But the following are they that
America (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, ) pp. –, ,
eat unworthily, as one can very clearly gather from Paul,  Cor
–, .
:. They that do not discern the body of the Lord, that is [they]
. Grimm and Wilke. A Greek-English Lexicon of the
that do not hold that the very sacred food of this Supper is the
New Testament, translated and revised by Joseph H. Thayer
body and blood of Christ, but handle and use it with no greater
(Wheaton, Ill.: Evangel Publishing Co., ) p. ;
reverence and devotion than other common foods.”
W. Bauer, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament,
. The Book of Concord has two references to  Corinthians
translated and edited by W. Arndt, F. Gingrich (Chicago:
:: Ap XI (Tappert , p. ) and FC Ep VII (Tappert , p. ).
The University of Chicago Press, ) pp. , ; G. Kittle
. Colin Brown, ed., The New International Dictionary of
and G. Friedrich, eds., Theological Dictionary of The New
New Testament Theology, Vol.  (Grand Rapids: Zondervan
Testament. trans. by G. Bromiley (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans
Publishing House, ) p. .
Publishing Company, ) pp. –. Bauer, Arndt,
. Paul Hinlicky, ed., Forum Letter, Vol. , No.  (May ,
Gingrich and Kittle understand sw'ma in  Cor : as a ref) p. .
erence to the body of the Lord in the Supper. Thayer makes
. Joseph A. Burgess, ed., Lutherans in Ecumenical Diano reference to  Cor :.
logue—A Reappraisal (Minneapolis: Augsburg, ) p. .
. W.R. Nicoll, ed., The Expositor’s Greek Testament, vol.
. This crisis has been noted by a number of individuals.
Vol. , No. , p.  of “Forum Letter” calls the readers’ attenII. (New York: George H. Doran Company) p. .
tion to a monograph by Luther A. Gotwald, Jr., “The Trial of
. Bauer, Lexicon, p. ; Kittle, Dictionary, Vol. III, p. ;
Luther A. Gotwald—A Lutheran Identity Crisis,” delivered in
Thayer, Lexicon, p. .
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Using the Third Use
Formula of Concord VI and the Preacher’s Task
JONATHAN G. LANGE
j
 L  ,     
hear the various uses of the law treated as though they were
so many tools at the preacher’s disposal. According to this
view, the preacher’s task is to select just the right law-tool, i.e.,
use, in order to accomplish the particular goal that he has in
mind. For instance, if the preacher wishes to condemn his
hearers, he must preach the second use, but if he wishes to
instruct in holy living he should preach the third use. Foundational to such a view is the assumption that the individual uses
of the law may be employed at the preacher’s bidding. Is this a
valid assumption? Is it confessionally sound? As the only locus
in the Lutheran Symbols that delineates the various uses of the
law by name, Article VI of the Formula of Concord, concerning
the third use, is the natural place to begin the query.
Historically, Article VI of the Formula is closely tied to
Article V. Both articles were written in response to parties that
sought to exclude law preaching from certain spheres of the
Church’s proclamation. Article V answered the challenge of
Antinomians who taught that repentance should not be
preached from the law but from the gospel (Ep V, ). The
resulting thrust of Article V is to demonstrate that, strictly
speaking, law preaching works repentance and gospel preaching does not. Article VI answers the challenge of a later variety
of Antinomian. These claimed that good works are not to be
taught by the law but by the gospel (SD VI, ). The burden of
Article VI, therefore, is to assert that good works for the Christian are normed by law and not gospel. Taken together, these
articles defend the preaching of the law in the Christian congregation since this law preaching both works repentance
(Article V) and instructs in righteous living (Article VI).
Concentrating on the relationship between the law and good
works, Article VI of the Formula sketches out two conflicting
opinions. On the one side, the Antinomians taught that the regenerate do not learn new obedience or good works “from the Law
because they have been made free by the Son of God, . . . and
therefore do freely of themselves what God requires of them” (SD
VI, ). As a result, they held that the doctrine of good works ought
not to be urged from the law that binds but from the gospel that
makes free. On the other side, the authors of the Formula agreed
with the Antinomians that the regenerate are indeed moved by
God’s Spirit; and, according to the inner man, do God’s will freely
and without compulsion. Nevertheless, they asserted that the Holy
Spirit still makes use of the written law to instruct the regenerate
in righteousness with the result that the Christian’s freely flowing
good works are always in accordance with God’s external Word
(SD VI, ). For this reason the Christian is instructed in good
works on the basis of the law and not the gospel.
The authors of the Formula assert the Lutheran position
within a carefully defined framework of dogmatic distinctions.
These distinctions are so essential to the argument that if at any
point they are blurred the intended sense of the Formula is lost
in the confusion. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that
the Formula here employs extremely precise terminology. A
correct understanding of the Formula requires careful attention to the terms involved.
I
I. THE CHRISTIAN AND THE INNER MAN
The foundational distinction at work in the Formula is
one between the Christian and the inner man. In the usage of
the Formula, the term “Christian” always refers to the Christian as he exists in this world. The Christian is simul justus et
peccator, consisting both in the new man created by spiritual
regeneration and in the old man of his fleshly birth. The term
“Christian” is used synonymously with the terms “true believers,” “truly converted,” “regenerated,” and “justified by faith”
(Ep VI, ). Other equivalent terms are “justified Christian” (SD
VI, ), “children of God” (SD VI, ), and “elect” (SD VI, ). All
of these terms are used interchangeably to speak of the Christian as he exists in this world, but never are they used in reference to the inner man. Later dogmaticians have labeled this
concept by the phrase Christian in concreto.
The inner man, on the other hand, is a designation
employed by the Formula to speak of the Christian only insofar
“as he is born anew [and] does everything from a free, cheerful
spirit” (SD VI, ). The inner man does not refer to a substance
altogether different from the Christian, but it narrows the
focus to only the saintly aspect of the Christian in concreto. For
this reason later dogmaticians have dubbed the inner man as
the Christian qua Christian.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JON LANGE is pastor of Immanuel Evangelical-Lutheran Church,
Spencer, Nebraska.



Within the Christian in concreto, the inner man and the old
Adam are at war inasmuch as “there also remains in them the
struggle between the spirit and the flesh” (SD VI, ). Accordingly, the inner man involves the whole Christian—body and
soul together—but only insofar as he is born anew through the
gospel. The old Adam, on the other hand, which also involves
both body and soul, is not born anew by the gospel or even
reformed to any degree, but his only end is death. Thus, the old
Adam is not included in the essence of the Christian qua Christian. Yet, one must not understand the old Adam and the inner
man to be separate or independent entities in this life. The
Christian in concreto always possesses the old Adam and the
inner man inextricably bound together, ergo simul justus et peccator. While it is necessary to distinguish the inner man from
the old Adam for clear theological discourse, one can never separate them one from another until God himself does so in the
resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.
. . . American evangelicalism wanders off the mark when it claims to
find the difference between Christians
and unbelievers in measurable traits.
The inner man can never be identified with any of the
internal or external powers of man. The Christian qua Christian is and remains an article of faith; and is not observable in
the understanding, the will, or any other tangible trait. To
assume otherwise is to adopt a Nestorian anthropology with
the result that one speaks of the inner man acting on one occasion and the old Adam acting on another as if they could be
identified by sight. Here is precisely the point where American
evangelicalism wanders off the mark when it claims to find the
difference between Christians and unbelievers in measurable
traits. In so doing, the inner man is separated from the old
Adam; and an empirical part of the Christian is placed above
the reproach of the law and beyond its reach.
The distinction between the Christian in concreto and
Christian qua Christian is rooted in the doctrine of original sin
as taught in Article I of the Formula. There it is affirmed that
the human nature is so corrupted that no amount of dissection
can reveal even one particle or one thought of sinful man that
is free from original sin. This is the case not only before conversion, but also after conversion insofar as a Christian
remains old Adam. Article I of the Formula affirms this truth
while simultaneously rejecting the notion that original sin is of
the essence of human nature.
While the Christian in concreto remains a sinner, incomplete and in need of the law insofar as he is also old Adam, the
Christian qua Christian lacks nothing in regard to holiness and
righteousness either with need for the urging of the law or for
its instruction. This point is made clear by the Formula:
[I]f the believing and elect children of God were
completely renewed in this life by the indwelling
Spirit, so that in their nature and all its powers they
were entirely free of sin, they would need no law . . .
but they would do of themselves, and altogether voluntarily, without any instruction, admonition, urging or driving of the Law, what they are in duty
bound to do according to God’s will (SD VI, ).
For just as the sun and the moon follow the law of their preset
orbits without force or compunction, but according to nature,
so also the Christian lives according to the law of God without
force or compunction, but only insofar as he is a new man. Dr.
Martin Luther’s sermon on the Epistle for the Nineteenth Sunday after Trinity, which has received a confessional character by
virtue of the imprimatur given it in SD VI, , makes this point.
Christians . . . thus enter again into their former relation and into the true paradise of perfect harmony with
God and of justification; they are comforted by his grace.
Accordingly they are disposed to lead a godly life in harmony with God’s commandments and to resist ungodly
lusts and ways. . . . He, therefore, that would be a
Christian should strive to be found in this new man created after God.
According to Luther, the new man (Christian qua Christian) is
a complete and perfect creature in which the believer (Christian
in concreto) strives to be found through faith in Christ Jesus.
II. FREEDOM FROM THE CURSE AND FREEDOM
FROM THE EXERCISE
The distinction between the Christian in concreto and the
Christian qua Christian leads naturally into a second. The confessors make two distinct assertions: First, that “justified Christians are liberated and made free from the curse of the Law”
(SD VI, ); second, that these same Christians “should daily
exercise themselves in the Law” (SD VI, ). The authors of the
Formula maintain that, although the Christian is free from the
curse of the law, he is still bound to the exercise of the very
same law. Yet how is it possible to exercise one’s self in a law
that always accuses while, at the same time, remaining free
from the law’s curse and coercion? This paradox is resolved
when it is understood that the Christian is free from the curse
of the law in a different sense than he is bound to its exercise.
The authors of the Formula could assert both statements
as long as the foundational distinction between the Christian in
concreto and the Christian qua Christian was maintained. The
logical progression of the Formula proceeds on this basis.
“Christians . . . should daily exercise themselves in the Law
. . . [because] the Law is a mirror in which the will of God,
and what pleases Him, are exactly portrayed” (SD VI, ). The
Christian in concreto must constantly examine his life in the
light of the law so that he might be shown the difference
between the things that God is working in him by grace, and
the things that he himself is working according to the old
Adam (SD VI, ). Although it is certain that “the law is not
made for a righteous man” ( Tim :), it is false to conclude
“that the justified are to live without the Law” (SD VI, ).
   
According to the Formula, the meaning of St. Paul in  Timothy can only be that the law cannot burden the reconciled with
its curse (maledictione sua), nor can it vex them with its coercion (coactione sua) (SD VI, ).
If the Christian is bound to exercise the law, in what sense
is it true that he cannot be burdened by the curse or coercion
of the law? Is it because the law applied to a Christian is different from that which is applied to an unbeliever? Absolutely
not! “[T]he Law is and remains both to the penitent and
impenitent, both to regenerate and unregenerate men, one
[and the same] Law, namely, the immutable will of God” (Ep
VI, ). A Christian is free from the curse of the law only because
he has pleasure in the law according to the inner man (SD VI,
). To the extent that he lives according to the old Adam, the
Christian in concreto remains under the law’s curse and punishments (SD VI, ). Thus, only the Christian qua Christian is
free from the curse of the law.
It is not permissible to conclude that the Christian is free
from the curse of the law because the accusing nature of the
law is removed, “for the Law always accuses (lex semper
accusat)” (Ap IV, ). Neither does the Formula imply that
there is such a way to preach the law that separates it from its
curse. Rather, a Christian is free from the law’s curse and
coercion only because “he is born anew [and] does everything
from a free, cheerful spirit” (SD VI, ). Although the Christian
in concreto is bound to the law with all of its force insofar as he
is still old Adam, Francis Pieper correctly states, “For the
Christian according to his new man the law is completely
superfluous not only in part, but in its every Usus.”
The authors of the Formula employed careful dogmatic
distinctions to maintain the typically Lutheran paradox that a
Christian is freed from the curse of the law while simultaneously bound to its exercise. This paradox was abolished by the
Antinomians who simply denied that a Christian ought to
exercise himself daily in the law (Ep VI, ). Because of a failure
to distinguish between the Christian in concreto and the Christian qua Christian, the Antinomians concluded that anyone
who is free from the curse of the law must also be free from its
exercise. Thus, for the Antinomians, the curse of the law was
made identical with the exercise of the law.
In addition to the error of the latter Antinomians, there is a
second distortion that can also result from the failure to distinguish the Christian in concreto and the Christian qua Christian.
This error abolishes the aforementioned paradox by proceeding
as though there were two different laws. Since the Christian is
free from the curse of the law and since the same Christian is
bound to exercise the law, it is supposed that there must exist a
form of law preaching that does not curse or coerce the Christian. Thus, there is one law that always accuses, and from which
the Christian is free, and another that has no curse or accusation, and in which the Christian must exercise himself daily.
This rationale undergirds the popular notion that one can
preach the law after the gospel in such a way that the Christian is
not condemned, but is only guided by the Spirit. With the
claim that the third use is just that form of law preaching that
carries no curse or accusation and is used to instruct a Christian
in good works, Article VI of the Formula is often trumpeted as

the confessional sedes for this idea. In reality, the Formula does
not support this notion nearly as readily as do Calvin’s Institutes.
The Formula teaches: “He [the Holy Ghost] exhorts them
[the regenerate] thereto, and when they are idle, negligent, and
rebellious in this matter because of the flesh, He reproves them
on that account through the Law. . . . He slays and makes
alive; He leads into hell and brings up again” (SD VI, ). Compare this to John Calvin who teaches: “The law is an exhortation to believers. This is not something to bind their consciences with a curse, but to shake off their sluggishness, by
repeatedly urging them, and to pinch them awake to their
imperfection.” In the Formula, the law reproves, kills and
condemns the Christian, while in the Institutes, the law only
shakes, urges and pinches the Christian.
When the distinction between the Christian qua Christian
The Antinomians concluded that
anyone who is free from the curse
of the law must also be free from
its exercise.
and the Christian in concreto is blurred and one operates as if
the old Adam is separated from the inner man here in this
world, the law is either banished from the church altogether, or
its uses are separated into different messages which are
preached to different people at different times. The Formula
rejects both of these errors as “pernicious and detrimental to
Christian discipline as also to true godliness” (SD VI, ).
The distinction between freedom from the exercise of the
law and freedom from the curse of the law makes it clear that
any ideas of an exercise of the law that could be separated from
its curse and coercion are excluded. Modern preaching theories that seek to find in the third use a brand of law preaching
whereby the preacher can instruct without accusing and exhort
without coercing are ruled out by the Formula. Such an evangelical use of the law is simply nonexistent.
III. THE LAW INSCRIBED AND THE LAW PROCLAIMED
While the Christian qua Christian is free from the law
according to its every use, it does not follow that he lives without the law. Rather, the Formula maintains a perfect tension
by stating that, “even our first parents before the Fall did not
live without the Law” (Ep VI, ), while also saying that when
man is “perfectly renewed in the resurrection . . . he will need
neither the preaching of the Law nor its threatenings and punishments” (SD VI, ). The perfected man has the law although
he does not need the law. This position cannot be comprehended by means of the sinner/saint dichotomy that describes
the Christian in concreto because the sinner is not included in
the essence of the Christian qua Christian. It can only be
understood in view of the distinction between the law proclaimed and the law inscribed upon the heart. The Christian in
concreto needs the law preached to him because of the old


Adam while the Christian qua Christian has the law perfectly
inscribed in the heart. This is a third essential distinction that
is operative in the Formula.
When speaking of the law written upon the heart, the Formula speaks of the law that is not given by proclamation, but
implanted in the heart by creation (Ep VI, ). This is law in
the same sense as one would use the term law to describe the
effects of gravity. The law of gravity does not cause an object to
fall to the earth but only describes what happens by nature. So
also, the law inscribed in the heart is purely descriptive of what
the perfect creation of God does by nature. The proclaimed
law, on the other hand, does not refer to the internal condition
of man but to an external proclamation of what that condition
ought to be. This distinction is brought into sharp relief where
the Solid Declaration brings both concepts into the same sentence. The authors of the Formula offer two proofs for the
assertion that the justified are not to live without the law. “For
the law of God has been written in their heart, and also to the
first man immediately after his creation a law was given
The proclaimed law . . . does not
refer to the internal condition of man
but to an external proclamation of
what that condition ought to be.
according to which he was to conduct himself” (SD VI, ). First,
there is the law written upon the heart. Second, there was the
law which was given concerning the tree of the knowledge of
good and evil. This distinction is vital for a proper understanding of the Formula. Without it, the Formula would give
the impression that both the original creation and also the new
man in Christ have need to be taught the law, thereby denying
that they have “the Law of God written also into their hearts,
because they were created in the image of God” (Ep VI, ).
Luther also operates within the framework of this distinction when he teaches of the correspondence between the prelapsarian perfection of Adam and the perfection of the Christian according to the new man in his sermon on the Epistle for
the Nineteenth Sunday after Trinity:
For if God’s image is in man, man must consequently
have the right knowledge of God and right conceptions
and ideas, and lead a godly life consistent with holiness
and righteousness as found in God himself. Such an
image of God Adam was when first created. . . . Christians, by the grace and Spirit of God, now have been
renewed to this image of God.
The law written upon the heart, inscribed at the first creation
(then subsequently rendered useless at the fall), is renewed by
the grace and Spirit of God and will remain in the new creation
after the resurrection of the dead.
The proclaimed law, on the other hand, lacks such an eternal aspect. According to the Solid Declaration, the preaching
of the law belongs only “to this mortal and imperfect life” (SD
VI, ). If the third use is indeed a function of the preached law,
then its purely temporal nature will not let it be equated with
the eternal law written upon the heart. Rather, the law written
upon the heart corresponds with the image of God which existed prior to sin and will continue after “the body of sin is entirely put off, and man is perfectly renewed in the resurrection,
when he will need neither the preaching of the Law nor its
threatenings and punishments” (SD VI, ). Plainly, the law
written upon the heart is not synonymous with the third use.
Since there will be no need of preaching the law in the resurrection, it is clear that the force of all preached law, including
the third use, is not directed toward the Christian qua Christian but only toward the old Adam, who is constantly with the
Christian in concreto as long as he remains in this world.
While it is true that the third use of the law serves as a rule and
guide for the Christian in concreto, it can never be a guide for
the Christian qua Christian because the preached law serves
no purpose for the inner man. The law governs the inner
man by virtue of its inscription on the heart. Nevertheless, the
renewal of the heart is not accomplished through law preaching, but only by the gospel. For “the Holy Ghost, who is given and received, not through the Law, but through the preaching of the Gospel, renews the heart” (SD VI, ). In this sense,
the preached law does not have a positive role in the formation
of the Christian, but only a negative one. For, “to reprove is
the peculiar office of the Law” (SD VI, ).
The law according to its third use is relevant only for the
Christian because only by virtue of the new creation can a man
ask, “What is the good and acceptable will of God?” The need
for Christians even to ask this question, however, is always evidence that “the old Adam still clings to them in their nature
and all its internal and external powers” (SD VI, ). This fact
makes it impossible for the Christian in concreto to discern the
law that has been inscribed perfectly upon his heart and necessary that he hear the law proclaimed. Since there is no isolated
part of the Christian that remains free of the old Adam, the law
is continually preached to the Christian in concreto on account
of the old Adam as long as he remains on this side of the grave.
After the resurrection, however, the law will no longer be
preached since the old Adam no longer exists in heaven.
CONCLUSION
Careful attention to the terminology and distinctions of
Article VI demonstrates that the third use was not set forth as a
particular way for the preacher to wield the law. This, of
course, does not deny that there are many different approaches
to law preaching. For instance, the law can be preached as
imperative or prohibition, as exhortation to holy living or as a
positive description of the new creation to name just a few.
However, the Formula denies support for the notion that any
one of these methods corresponds either exclusively or even
predominantly to any particular use of the law. So, for
instance, a preacher who uses the indicative mood to describe
the new creation in Christ must not assume that he has thereby
   
preached the third use in isolation from the other uses of the
law. For even the sweetness of this description curses and condemns the Christian according to his old Adam because he does
not measure up. As true as this is of the indicative mood, the
hortatory subjunctive is even less likely to guide without accusing. Regardless of the intent and demeanor of the preacher, a
string of “let us” phrases will always coerce the Christian
according to the old Adam to do that which is against his will.
This is always true of law preaching regardless of its location in
the sermon outline. No matter which form of speaking is chosen to proclaim the law, it is and remains proclaimed law that is
always superfluous for the Christian qua Christian while serving
to curb, to condemn and to instruct the Christian in concreto.
The third use of the law is not the preacher’s to use.
Rather, it is the Holy Spirit’s to use. It is the Holy Spirit who
uses the law according to all of its uses whenever and wherever
it is preached. The third use simply denotes one of several 
different ways that the proclaimed law functions in the heart of

the hearer. This does not mean that the Holy Ghost preaches
the third use apart from the oral Word proclaimed and heard.
For the law that the Holy Ghost uses is precisely that law that is
preached and none other.
Regarding that which is proclaimed by the preacher, one
can only conclude that it is the same law that is preached to the
Christian and non-Christian alike—complete with all the curses, threats and punishments that always accompany the
preaching of the law. A preacher is not called to use or apply
the law according to its various uses. That task is left to the
Holy Spirit to accomplish as he will wherever the law is
preached in its full force. Any attempts to speak of the third use
as if it were the preacher’s use are contrary to the intended
sense of the Formula. The wording of the Solid Declaration
must stand unqualified, that “it is just the Holy Ghost who uses
the written law for instruction” (SD VI, ). Only in this way will
one make proper use of the Evangelical Lutheran doctrine of
the third use of the law.
LOGIA
NOTES
. “Christians do continue to use the Law as a mirror. But
dia Publishing House, ), pp. –. See also Ep IV, .
chiefly they use it as a rule and guide for the new man to do
. This and all following quotations from the confessions
what is pleasing unto God.” Edward Koehler, A Summary of
are from the Concordia Triglotta (St. Louis: Concordia PublishChristian Doctrine (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House,
ing House, ).
), p. .
. Werner Elert differs in that he sees “a double usage of
. Luther’s sermon on the Gospel for the Fifth Sunday
the term ‘regenerate.’ On the one hand, it designates that perafter Trinity, which is cited in SD V, , summarizes the Agrison who ‘is born anew by the Spirit of God and is liberated
colan type of antinomianism: “Hence, there is nothing in the
from the law.’ . . . On the other hand, it [the Formula]
juggling tricks which our Antinomians play upon this example,
applies this term to the man who despite his regeneration still
when they say that repentance is not to be preached and praclives in internal conflict.” Werner Elert, Law and Gospel, tr.
ticed through the Law, but through the Gospel, or, as they put
Edward H. Schroeder (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, ), p. .
it, through the revelation of the Son.” Martin Luther, The Ser. “But the Christian, considered in concreto, as he exists in
mons of Martin Luther, Vol. , ed. and tr. John N. Lenker
this world, is not yet entirely a new man; he still has the old
(Grand Rapids: Baker Book House, ), p. .
man dwelling in him.” Francis Pieper, Christian Dogmatics, vol.
. See Johannes Seehawer, Zur Lehre vom Brauch des Geset, tr. Walter W.F. Albrecht (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing
zes und zur Geschichte des späteren Antinomismus (Rostock:
House, ), p. .
. “And [we affirm] that no one but God alone can sepaCarl Boldt’sche hof-Buchdruckerei, ).
rate from one another the nature and this corruption of the
. Historians have differed on the precise delineation of the
nature, which will fully come to pass through death, in the
positions of Andrew Poach, Anton Otto and the second wave of
[blessed] resurrection, where our nature which we now bear
Antinomians. However, Martin Chemnitz’s Loci Theologici,
will rise and live eternally without original sin and separated
compiled during the time of the second Antinomian controverand sundered from it” (Ep I, p. ).
sy (–), give us reason to believe that this assertion is at
least one element of the controversy. “In our time the antino. Included here are any and all philosophical, physiologimians are contending that the use of the Law refers only to
cal or psychological divisions within man. The Freudian id,
external civil life. . . . Even now certain fanatics are claiming
ego, and super ego are all simul justus et peccator as also are the
that there is no true use for the Law to show the regenerate how
heart, mind, will, soul, etc. The term spirit is a special case,
they may learn good works. . . . Therefore, they argue, the
however. When used in opposition to the flesh, it designates
regenerate has no use for the Law, not even for teaching,
the inner man. However, when it is used in phrases such as
because ‘His anointing will teach you all things,’  John
“the spirit of man,” it must be included as one of the philo:. . . . But finally these extravagant statements leave in our
sophical divisions which are simul justus et peccator.
minds . . . the notion that it is not necessary for a regenerate
. “We believe, teach, and confess that original sin is not a
person to govern his life according to the norm of the divine
slight, but so deep a corruption of human nature that nothing
law, from which he has been liberated; but rather whatever he
healthy or uncorrupt has remained in man’s body or soul, in
decides and thinks of and does is by the Spirit.” Martin Chemhis inner or outward powers, but, as the Church sings:
nitz, Loci Theologici, Vol. II, tr. J.A.O. Preus (St. Louis: ConcorThrough Adam’s fall is all corrupt, Nature and essence human.

This damage is unspeakable, and cannot be discerned by reason, but only from God’s Word” (Ep I, –).
. “This hereditary evil is so great and horrible that only
for the sake of the Lord Christ it can be covered and forgiven
before God in the baptized and believing. Moreover, human
nature, which is perverted and corrupted thereby, must and
can be healed only by the regeneration and renewal of the Holy
Ghost, which, however, is only begun in this life, but will not
be perfect until in the life to come” (SD I, ).
. “Without the recorded Law, the new man in him
knows both what is sinful and what is good; and since the
Christian is entirely godly according to the new man, he does
not need the Law to keep him in check outwardly by its threats
and scourges. According to the new man, the Law is written in
the heart of the Christian (Jer :), even as the first men
before the Fall were created with God’s Law in their hearts.”
Francis Pieper, Christian Dogmatics, :.
. The Sermons of Martin Luther, :.
. See August Pieper, “The Law is Not Made for a Righteous Man,” tr. K.G. Sievert, Wisconsin Lutheran Quarterly 
(October ) pp. –;  (January ) pp. –.
. “The law is certainly to be preached without diminution (Matt. :–; Gal. :; Rom. :; :–), but solely for
the purpose of bringing man to a realization of his sinfulness
and deserved condemnation.” Francis Pieper, Christian Dogmatics :.
. Note here the joining of the reflexive pronoun sua with
both maledictione and coactione. The implication is that both
curse and coercion are inherent qualities of the proclaimed
law. This being the case, it would be impossible to conceive of a
preaching of the law to sinners where these were not present.
The same thought is echoed in SD VI, , “to reprove is the
peculiar office of the Law.”
. The adjective immutable is an important part of the
Formula’s definition of the law. By this, the confessors distinguish between the will of God that is valid for people of all
times and places and the particular precepts or commands that
are given to specific people for specific occasions and are not
applicable across the board (e.g., the command to Aaron to
cast down his rod before Pharaoh is not to be considered under
the concept law). It is in this sense that the authors of the Formula state, “the law is the immutable will of God.” For further
discussion of this distinction, see August Pieper, p. –.
. “The Formula of Concord refers in this connection (Trigl.
, SD, VI, ) to the fact that according to their flesh Christians
are not more pious than the ungodly and that in dealing with the
old Adam of the Christians only coercive measures are in place.”
Francis Pieper, Christian Dogmatics, :, n. .
. Francis Pieper cites Luther from the th volume of the
St. Louis edition, “Moreover this, too is an exceptional blindness and folly, that they think the revelation of wrath is something else than the Law, which is impossible; for the Law is revelation of wrath wherever it is understood and felt, as St. Paul
says: Lex iram operatur.” Martin Luther, Sämmtliche Schriften,
vol.  (St. Louis: Lutherischer Concordia Verlag, ) ,
quoted in Francis Pieper, Christian Dogmatics, :.
. “Für den Christen nach dem neuen Menschen ist das

Gesetz nicht bloß teilweise, sondern in jedem Usus, den es hat,
völlig überflüssig.” Franz Pieper, Christliche Dogmatik, vol.  (St.
Louis: Concordia Publishing House, ), p. .
. E.g., “The preaching of the law is not to condemn but
to convict and to correct. Persons in Christ are free from the
condemnation of the law but no one is free from the law’s conviction and correction.” Lowell Erdahl, Preaching for the People
(Nashville: Abingdon, ), p. .
. John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, tr. Ford
Lewis Battles (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing
Co., revised ed. ), p. .
. “Luther reminds us that those preachers who use the
Law instead of the Gospel to effect sanctification are to blame
for the paucity of sanctification and good works.” Francis
Pieper, Christian Dogmatics, :.
. “There is a very beautiful dictum that the Law must
not be used in an evangelical sense but in a legal sense.” Chemnitz, p. .
. Because of the anthropological considerations outlined
in endnote , the law written upon the heart cannot simply be
identified with any part of the Christian in concreto but must
remain an article of faith. Therefore the voice of the heart,
mind, will or conscience is not inscribed law but these are
rather instruments of the proclaimed law. Werner Elert arrives
at this same conclusion, “Conscience, therefore, is not simply a
synonym for law in the heart. Otherwise, it could not be
described as ‘witness.’” Werner Elert, The Christian Ethos
(Philadelphia: Muhlenberg Press, ), p. .
. To what extent does the law written upon the heart
remain in the unconverted sinner (Rom :)? The article on
original sin teaches that even as the human nature of man is
wholly corrupted in the fall (SD I, ) and yet remains human
(SD I, ), so also, the law written upon the heart is wholly corrupted and yet remains the law written upon the heart.
. Some recognize the descriptive character of the law,
but ascribe it to the function of the third use rather than to the
law written upon the heart, e.g. “Luther’s explanations of the
second through the tenth commandments are what would later
be commonly called the third use of the law, referring to the
relationship of the law to the Christian qua Christian. . . .
What this means is that for Luther the law can stand without
its condemnations and still be the law in some sense. . . . The
law functioning for the Christian is not law in the sense of prohibition and condemnation. This is the content of the Lutheran understanding of the third use of the law.” David P. Scaer,
“Sanctification in Lutheran Theology,” Concordia Theological
Quarterly Vol. , pp. ,  (), pp. , .
. See AE (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, ), :
–.
. At issue is the very nature of the law of God. The law is
not something extra that God imposed upon man after creation. Rather, the inscribed law is inseparably connected with
the imago Dei that is given at creation (Ep VI, ). Werner Elert
argues that the law of God can never be an arbitrary set of rules
without impinging on the atonement itself: “A judge proceeds
according to right and law. Therefore he does not sentence
arbitrarily. But neither can he acquit arbitrarily.” Werner Elert,
   
The Structure of Lutheranism, tr. Walter A. Hansen (St. Louis:
Concordia Publishing House, ), p. . Prior to this, Elert
had quoted Luther to show both the distinction and the correspondence between the implanted law and the preached law:
“‘Thus I now keep the commandments that Moses gave, not
because Moses gave them, but because they have been implanted in me by nature; and here Moses is in agreement with
nature’ (WA , , ). Naturally, the correspondence of the
written or proclaimed Law to the implanted Law is not accidental.” Elert, The Structure of Lutheranism, p. .
. Luther, Sermons of Martin Luther, Vol. , p. .
. Some do see an eternal aspect to the third use; e.g., “In
heaven, the third use of the law will be perfectly realized.”
David Scaer, “Formula of Concord Article VI: The Third Use of
the Law,” Concordia Theological Quarterly ,  (), p. .
. Max Schneckenburger explains, “Only because the
believer as he is in this life (in concreto) is also something else
besides a believer does the law still also apply to him to convict
him of sin. The Reformed, on the other hand, let the law apply
to the believer because and in so far as he is a believer.” Quoted
in August Pieper, “The Difference between the Reformed and
the Lutheran Interpretation of the So-Called Third Use of the
Law,” Wisconsin Lutheran Quarterly, tr. Richard W. Strobel,
Vol. , No.  (Spring ), p. .
. Some apply the third use to the Christian qua Christian; e.g., “Self-evidently, and on the basis of Holy Scripture, the
Formula stressed the continuing need that the regenerate man
has, because of the presence of the flesh, for the Law . . . as an
instrument of spiritual radar and guidance for the inner man.”
Eugene F. Klug, “The Third Use of the Law,” A Contemporary
Look at the Formula of Concord, ed. Robert Preus and Wilbert
Rosin (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, ), p. .
See also Koehler, p. .

. “Therefore it is false in every way and contrary to the
clear word of Scripture and also of our Confession, to say: The
Christian as Christian, as a believer, is still under the Law, at
least in its use as a rule of conduct.” August Pieper, The Law Is
Not Made For A Righteous Man, p. .
. In a footnote, Francis Pieper cites Carpzov to correct
Baier’s inaccuracy on this point. “The Law indeed is said ‘to be
inscribed in the heart,’ Jer :, but it does not inscribe. The
inscription takes place solely through the Gospel. Solely that
which regenerates us renews us; now, we are born again solely
by the Gospel; ergo, we are also renewed solely by the Gospel.”
Francis Pieper, Christian Dogmatics, :, n. .
. While the law does have a role in the work of sanctification, its role is purely negative and only in service of the
gospel. “According to Scripture, sanctification, expressed negatively, consists in the putting off of the old man, and positively,
in the putting on of the new man.” Francis Pieper, Christian
Dogmatics, :. “Strictly speaking, only that Word which mortifies the old man and supplies strength to the new man is the
means of sanctification, namely, the Gospel (the means of
grace), not the Law. It is only the Gospel which dethrones sin;
the Law can only multiply sin (Rom :; :, ; Jer : ff.).
However, the Law has its place in the work of sanctification; it
serves the Gospel.” Francis Pieper, Christian Dogmatics, :.
. Francis Pieper quotes the Nitzsch-Stephan, Dogmatik
(p. ), to say that the specific numbering of the uses is in
essence irrelevant. “One need not feel alarmed either at the
threefold nor at the fourfold division, so long as the thoughts
brought out correspond to Scripture, as in fact they do.” Francis Pieper, Christian Dogmatics, : , n. . Again, “according
to his old man, the Christian still needs the Law in all its uses,
no matter how these uses are divided or designated.” Francis
Pieper, Christian Dogmatics, : .
The Law and the Gospel in Lutheran Theology
DAVID P. SCAER
j
-L       
of an interdenominational meeting in which a fire
broke out. The reactions of each denomination were
predictable. The Presbyterians elected a chairperson, whose
task was to appoint a committee to report to the session. The
Methodists pondered the implications of the fire for the
blessed assurance of salvation. The Roman Catholics took a
collection for rebuilding. Baptists were heard asking loudly
where the water was. The Congregationalists cried out: “Every
man for himself.” The Lutherans decided that the fire was
against either a) the law or b) the gospel, and was in any event
unlawful. That indelicate introduction may have been on the
mind of your planning committee in having a Lutheran lead
off on the topic of the law and the gospel.
Simply through overuse I have developed a dislike for theological clichés. My unfavored ones include “word and sacrament” and “means of grace,” but my most favorite unfavored
remains “law and gospel.” Reciting clichés provides no guarantee that the sublime realities which they intend to represent are
presented. I am sure that we agree that the law and the gospel
should be preached, but I am not so certain that the use of a
cliché, including this one, accomplishes the task. Somehow
even experienced preachers can ascend the pulpit and use the
law and gospel cliché and by doing only this have preached neither the law nor the gospel. The real challenge is to preach the
law and the gospel without ever using these terms. By themselves each of these terms is open to misinterpretation. Such
phrases as “gospel ministry,” “gospel preaching,” “evangelist,”
which is only the Greek derivative for “a gospel preacher,” can
in common parlance refer to revivals and revivalist preaching,
which can be strongly law-oriented. On the other hand the invitation to live by the gospel can be no more than an enticement
to moral license without any imperatives whatsoever.
I would like to address the following subtopics under the
heading of the law and the gospel: ) The law and the gospel as
a characteristic of Lutheran theology; ) How do the law and
the gospel relate to our understanding about God? ) Overcoming the contradiction between the law and the gospel; )
The traditional three uses of the law with special attention to
the third use; ) The law and the gospel as a hermeneutical
instrument; ) The law and the gospel as a homiletical device.
A
THE LAW AND THE GOSPEL AS A CHARACTERISTIC
OF LUTHERAN THEOLOGY
The law and the gospel express the human dilemma in
which the Christian experiences what he can only understand as
a contradiction in a God who hates and loves him at the same
time. To contrast his former life in Pharisaism and new life in
Christ, St. Paul speaks of the bondage of the law and the freedom of the gospel. Paul’s use of these words in this way does not
prevent him from using these words in other ways and should
not be made normative for the rest of the Scriptures. Law can
refer to the first part of the Old Testament canon or the entire
canon. The psalmist (Ps :) who delights and walks in God’s law
is not so much morally self-confident; he finds confidence in the
salvation of God’s people as recorded in the Pentateuch. Torah is
the account of Israel’s redemption from the bondage of Egypt
with the promise that God will continue to act redemptively in
behalf of his people. Torah, the written law or Scripture, is what
we would call gospel, the promise of salvation, in the phrase “the
law and the gospel.” In the New Testament law, nomos, can also
be a synonym for the gospel, as in the phrase “the law of
Christ.” Gospel can mean the message Jesus preached, the message about Jesus, or one of the four books about Jesus, which
contain both law and gospel. Taking an oath by the gospel is
taking an oath by the first four books of the New Testament
Scriptures. In this sense both gospel and law (nomos) can refer to
written Scriptures. We should not even bother ourselves in saying that Old Testament is law because it predominates the message there and that the New Testament is gospel for the same
reason. Historically these words have been manipulated to cause
theological confusion. For Marcion the law represented the inferior revelation of the Old Testament to be replaced by his narrowly defined canon of the New Testament as the gospel.
Whether this manipulation was done ignorantly or deliberately,
Marcion’s procedure has reappeared under other guises.
For Martin Luther the law and the gospel expressed his
own existential experience, not totally unlike that of St. Paul.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DAVID P. SCAER is Professor of systematic theology and New Testament at Concordia Theological Seminary, Fort Wayne, Indiana, and
is a contributing editor of LOGIA.



The law described that early period of life in which he attempted to convince himself of personal salvation through the works
prescribed by medieval catholicism. This contrasted with the
new-found freedom in the gospel of the Reformation. For him
the catholicism of his day offered the gospel as if it were the
law. The Roman Church did not deny the fundamentals of the
faith, but presented them as demand. Luther’s resolution of his
personal dilemma by the biblical data which promised freedom
in the gospel and not demand was perhaps more than any other factor the primary cause of the Reformation. Law was
demand and the gospel was God’s free gift in Christ. In these
senses we use these words in this essay.
If Luther resolved the dilemma of
the law and the gospel theologically,
he never resolved it existentially.
If Luther resolved the dilemma of the law and the gospel
theologically, he never resolved it existentially. For as long as
he lived he understood himself as standing condemned and
forgiven before God at the same time. It was not simply a matter of being rescued once, at one time, from law’s condemnation by the gospel’s emancipation. As long as he lived he was
weighed down by the law from which he was freed by the
gospel. The contradiction can be resolved theoretically, but
never really within human experience. The law and the gospel
are simultaneous words of God to the Christian and not subsequent ones. The resolution of the tension between the law
and the gospel is their destruction. Lutheran theology uses the
Latin phrase simul iustus et peccator to express this existential
dilemma. Even the mature Christian never feels himself free
from sin and its curse. Christians die as much sinners as
saints. Next to the Jesus Christ, no person has been the focus
of more books than Luther. His contribution to theology, language, culture, government, and education is simply
unmatched. Close to death, Luther was asked by his colleague
Justus Jonas, “Reverend Father, are you willing to die in the
name of the Christ and the doctrine which you have
preached?” He answered a distinct “Yes,” heard by all in the
room, and sank into a coma. Among the notes found on his
desk, which may have been his last written words: “The truth
is, we are beggars.”
The law and the gospel did not express a chronological
sequence but an existential awareness of God in which Luther
found himself as saint and sinner at the same time. Lutherans should be a little uncomfortable with the line in “Amazing
Grace” that “I once was lost but now am found.” A profound sense of spiritual forsakenness persists as long as the
Christian lives. In the confession of sins preceding the celebration of the Holy Communion, the Christian prays as a lost and
condemned sinner that he does not deserve to be forgiven, but
asks that God would receive him for the sake of the bitter sufferings and death of God’s Son, Jesus Christ. He is always in
the position of penitent David praying Psalm : “Have mercy
upon me, O God, according to thy tender mercies. Against
thee only have I sinned and done this great wickedness in thy
sight.”  He is always like Isaiah praying that he is a person of
unclean lips. He is the unworthy centurion under whose roof
Christ dare not come. He is Peter confessing sin and being
restored. The Christian forgives seven times seventy, because
God in Christ has far exceeded that number. Within the liturgy of the Lutheran Church, it is not impossible to pray the
Lord’s Prayer several times: “And forgive us our trespasses as
we forgive those who trespass against us.” The Christian
cannot escape the contradiction of the God who rejects him
for not fulfilling the law and at the same time loves him in
Christ. The law and gospel theme is problematic simply
because of this contradiction and is theologically troublesome
because of the attempts to resolve this contradiction. This
contradiction must be addressed.
The law and gospel theme is more crucial for understanding the genius of Lutheran theology as it leaves the
Christian in a continued unresolved contradiction of being a
sinner, even though he has been declared a saint by the
gospel. Lex semper accusat, the law always accuses, is traditionally known as the second use of the law. Lutherans are
hardly alone in understanding the law as accusatory, but it
characterizes their approach as its major use. The Reformed
have traditionally put the weight on the third use of the law as
a guide in Christian life. The Arminians have downplayed the
law in favor of the gospel, but still the emphasis is on the
Christian life with the possibility of moral progress or even
perfectionism, though perfectionism is a goal never realized. The Lutheran position is perhaps the most philosophically unsatisfying because the Christian is continually confronted by a God who hates and loves him at the same time.
He cannot escape it. This allows no sense of self-satisfaction
or accomplishment. He sees himself going nowhere. He is
always starting all over again. He is not the saint who occasionally sins, but the saint who feels himself in such a constant state of siege that he still understands himself as sinner.
Such a view in which the law and the gospel are severely contrasted may however actually be the emotionally most satisfying, because it explains the human dilemma of knowing that
we never really do what is required of us.
At this point the Christological factor must be introduced. Certainly there can be no suggestion that Christ is a
sinner, but like the Christian who is at the same time rejected and accepted in the law and the gospel, Christ in his
atonement is accepted and rejected by God at the same time.
He who is abhorrent to God on account of our sin is the
sweet-smelling sacrifice. He who is slain by God is also
raised by him. Christ becomes a paradigm for the Christian’s life. He experiences to the extreme what the Christian
does in his daily life, a dilemma which he cannot escape.
This severe contrast or dichotomy between law and gospel,
of being rejected and accepted by God, can degenerate into
an unbridled dualism with disastrous consequences in any
ontological understanding of God. We must attempt to
address this question next.
       
HOW DO THE LAW AND THE GOSPEL RELATE
TO OUR UNDERSTANDING ABOUT GOD?
While the law and the gospel are intended to describe man’s
dilemma and not a contradiction within God, it is imperative to
focus the category of law and gospel back on to God himself. If
his revelation to man can be described by the categories of law
and gospel, can God be described in these terms? Let us answer
this question in a preliminary way. Apart from the law-gospel
category, I can have no authentic experience or valid knowledge
of God, but this contradiction cannot possibly exist in God. Marcion and Gnosticism resolved the contradiction philosophically
in favor of the gospel by degrading the law. The Old Testament as
law was seen as an inferior revelation in comparison to the New
Testament as gospel. From that it followed that the New rather
than the Old gave us the true picture of God. In fact different
deities were posited for each testament. This view resulted from
a theological failure which required linguistic manipulation in
assuming that the law referred solely to the Old Testament and
the gospel to the New. It was only a minor confusion, but resulted in creating a religion that simply was not Christian.
Dispensationalism has faced this dilemma not by a multiplicity of gods, but by positing periods or epochs of different
revelations. God chooses to unveil different motives or plans of
salvation. In its simplest form the religion of the gospel has
replaced the religion of the law, though most forms of dispensationalism are more complex than this. No change is attributed to God, but to the way in which he deals with man. This
approach in resolving the contradictions or differences at least
raises the question of why the same God chooses to act in different ways in different periods of time.
If we say that the law and the gospel
are revelations of God with equal force
then we are forced into a dualism of
seeing a God with competing motives
to love and to hate at the same time.
A similar approach is offered by Religionsgeschichte which in
comparing religions sees an evolutionary process in man’s search
for God. Influential for any modern evolutionary theory of religion is Schleiermacher who assumed the religion of the law in the
Old Testament was inferior to the gospel of the New. German
theology has never been able to escape this evolutionistic view of
religion in which the New Testament in offering the gospel is
seen as superior to the Old Testament. We might quibble with
their definition of the gospel, but the gospel, regardless of how it
is defined, was viewed as superior to the law.
The names of Adolph von Harnack and his step-disciple,
Rudolph Bultmann, could also be mentioned. With both men
Pauline theology with its clearer dogmatic outlines is seen as a
regression from the pristine simple gospel of Jesus. Dispensationalism resolves the difficulty in favor of the epistles.

All these views share in common the attempt to resolve the
tension between the law and the gospel by applying them to periods of time. Thus it is not uncommon to hear that God of the
Old Testament was vengeful and wrathful, but the God of the
New is loving. Though this does not intend to be a presentation
in biblical theology, I contend that it may be that just the reverse
should be argued. The God of the Old Testament was more
patient and hence more loving than the God of the New Testament. The command to exterminate the Canaanites is no more
severe than the warnings of Jesus that Jerusalem shall be leveled
to rubble. This I offer for the sake of argument, as God is consistent in his love. As inadequate as these answers attempted by
some (e.g., Marcion, Schleiermacher, dispensationalism) were in
resolving the tension between law and gospel, they did recognize
how uncomfortable tensions are in theology, especially as they
apply to God. The question is whether the law and the gospel are
equal revelations of God.
This question becomes crucial. If we say that the law and the
gospel have nothing to do with what God is in himself, we are
pushed in the direction of agnosticism. But if we say that the law
and the gospel are revelations of God with equal force, then we
are forced into a dualism of seeing a God with competing
motives to love and to hate at the same time, a form of
Manichaeism. If we see law as primary, we seemingly deny the
God whose ultimate revelation is in man’s salvation. If we choose
the gospel, we are threatened with antinomianism. Here lies a
reason for the divisions within Christendom, even if it lies unrecognized beneath the surface.
OVERCOMING THE CONTRADICTION BETWEEN
THE LAW AND THE GOSPEL
In the phrase “the law and the gospel,” the law is interpreted
as prohibitions. Even a minor infraction incurs a penalty. The
ultimate penalty is eternal separation from God. The Levitical
laws set forth requirements and prohibitions with corresponding
penalties and sacrifices. Thus the inescapable impression is that
God is to be understood chiefly in terms of prescriptions with
rewards for obedient behavior and penalties for transgressions.
The view provided by the gospel is that God chooses or elects
Israel and continues to love her in spite of her failures. These failures are not merely ritual misdemeanors but gross blasphemies.
But even ritual misdemeanors reflect a fundamental disregard for
God. Minor regulations reflect larger principles. The ban against
muzzling the ox is an extension of the higher principle that refusing to pay a salary commensurate with the work is stealing. In
spite of all the spiritual felonies and liturgical misdemeanors, God
preserves the remnant. The love of God then comes to its fullest
expression in the incarnation, atonement, and resurrection of
Christ and embraces all and not just Israel. From this picture the
law is seen as negative in demanding and punishing, and conversely the gospel is seen as positive, giving what the law demands.
This distinction between the law and the gospel is called by the
Formula of Concord V “an especially brilliant light.”
But which of these contradictory pictures is the true picture of God? Is God to be understood through the law or the
gospel or both, but in a particular order? The Apology of the
Augsburg Confession says the law always accuses: lex enim


semper accusat (IV ). But this statement could not be true in
an absolute sense. It speaks of man in the state of sin, the condition which he has experienced since the fall and will endure
to the last day. In this condition everyone is born and dies.
Before the fall the law did not condemn and at death the law
loses its authority. Even in this life the Christian as saint is not
condemned by the law. Though law appears to man in the state
of sin as demanding and punishing, law as it exists in God is
neither demanding nor punishing, but it is the positive affirmation expressing God’s relationship to his creation. The
transformation of law as positive affirmation into demand and
punishment was caused by man’s transgression. Within himself God is not an accumulation of moral negatives, but is
throughout perfect love.
The law as positive affirmation was understood by man
only during his brief stay in paradise. He knew God as his Creator, accepted his responsibility for creation, and procreated.
He was prohibited from stepping out of this positive relationship with God. But this prohibition is not arbitrarily superimposed on man to test him, but was simply the explanation or
description of what would happen to man if he stepped outside
of the relationship with God in which he was created. The
indicative was its own imperative. Pardon the poor illustration,
but it would be similar to the prohibition of shaving with an
electric razor in the bathtub. This action imposes its own
penalty. This is quite different from murdering someone.
There the penalty must be superimposed from the outside.
Disregarding the prohibition is an unsatisfactory description for the cause of man’s fall, if it suggests that God placed a
negative in man’s life. In the positive relationship man knew
God’s will and could do it. By stepping outside of the created
Law as it exists in God is neither
demanding nor punishing, but it is the
positive affirmation expressing God’s
relationship to his creation.
order, man brought calamity upon himself. The act provided
its own consequences. In attempting to become like God he
placed himself outside of a positive relationship with God, so
that now God was seen as the enemy placing unjust demands
upon him. The First Commandment prohibiting the worship of other gods is in no sense the arbitrary act of God determined to exercise sovereignty, but only the natural or logical
consequence of the oneness of God. What was totally positive
is now seen as completely negative by man. The law in this
primitive, positive sense is a necessary and not alien or inadequate reflection of God’s essence. The law is not a code of arbitrary restrictions placed by a capricious God on man.
The Ten Commandments are afterthought in that they
address man in his fallen condition. The law had to be set forth
negatively because man in a state of sin could no longer understand God as he is. Even the negative expression of the law which
man knows in the state of sin is an inverse reflection of the law in
its original positive forms. Because of sin we are looking in from
the outside and see an entirely different picture of God. The law
which could be viewed as the positive relationship of God and
man is now seen by man as an impossible burden. Man whose
entire existence was committed to God must be told in no
uncertain terms that all other gods have no existence and dare
not be worshiped. In paradise polytheism was not even in the
range of possibilities. Outside of paradise all sins were not only
in the range of possibilities, but became realities.
Sin transformed the law. For example the command not to
murder reflects that God is life. This and the other negative
assertions of the Commandments do not have an eternal origin
in God, but are the positive commands of God reflecting his
eternal nature, now transformed and translated into terms
which man in the state of sin can understand. Even here the negative commands are bifurcated. Man can regulate his outward
behavior by refraining from the evil prohibited by these negative
commands, the so-called first or civil use of the law, but he cannot control his inner and true self. He cannot put God before
himself. The same law, which controls man’s outward behavior,
is addressed by God to man’s inner self so that he becomes aware
of his estrangement from God and his moral incapacity. This is
known as the second use of the law. For the sake of his own sanity, he can ignore the law’s piercing of his inner being or he can
delude himself into believing that he has actually fulfilled it. In
other cases he pretends it does not exist. He lives an amoral life
with no reference to God or any law.
In the condition of sin, man is on the outside looking in.
The gates of heaven and paradise are shut. He, not God, is
responsible for his exclusion, for seeing law as a negative intrusion in his life. The “thou shalt not’s” are of man’s own doing.
Now Christ enters into man’s situation, takes his place, fulfills
the law perfectly not only by refraining from all immorality but
by doing positive good and then suffering the full consequences
of man’s fall. Christ understands and accepts God’s no and yes
in his life. Christ’s fulfilling of the law becomes the gospel’s content. Only where Christ in his atonement continually and always
is preached is the gospel being preached. By faith man is set
within a positive relationship with God and man is free from the
curse of the law and fulfills God’s law both positively and negatively. Where Christ as living sacrifice and atonement as the end
and completion of the law is not preached there is no gospel.
There is no church. There is no salvation.
But though the law and the gospel look contradictory to
man in a state of sin, there is no contradiction in God. The
God who created the world out of love and set man in a positive relationship with himself is the same God who redeems the
world out of love. But the divine love revealed in the gospel not
only has its origin in God’s creative love for the world, but in
God himself. The God who loved the world by sending the Son
is the same God who created the heavens and the earth. The
Trinitarian doctrine is distorted beyond recognition when the
Father is seen as the expression of law within God and the Son
as love. God is love and the eternal generation of the Son from
the Father, the creation of the world with its positive expression of the law, and the gospel must be understood in terms of
       
love. Thus God’s redemption of the world must never be seen
as incidental to God’s essence, as if he did not want to do it or
was even forced to do it. He wanted to do it and he wanted to
do it because he is love. The gospel is the final revelation and
expression of who God is. We are not dealing with different
gods in the law and the gospel or even different dispensations,
but with the same God.
Even the translation or transformation of the law from positive description and affirmation into negative prohibition is an
expression of divine love. By the horror of the law with its
demands and punishments, God intended that man should be
diagnosed as sinner to be receptive to the gospel. In no way does
God intend the law to be his last word to any man, even the man
who is rejecting Christ. As severe as the law is, the law is God’s
alien work in that it does not reveal to us what God is really like. It
is a saving work because it brings man to the depths of desperation where only the gospel can help him. Rejecting the gospel is
worse than any offense against the law, because it is not merely the
refusal to conform to a divine code, but the rejection of God’s free
gift in Jesus Christ. Sins against the law have been covered by the
atonement. Man’s rejection of the atonement is not.
THE TRADITIONAL THREE USES OF THE LAW WITH
SPECIAL ATTENTION TO THE THIRD USE 
Problematic is the use of the law in the Christian life, traditionally called the third use. Does this mean that since the
Christian now lives his life freed from the law by the gospel, that
he is free from directives of the law? Or is the opposite true? Is
the law reintroduced as a regulating phenomenon in the Christian’s life? There is no argument in Lutheran theology that the
civil use of the law regulating outward behavior remains in
force for everyone, including Christians. No better proof of this
reality exists than driving along at  mph and seeing the red
and blue lights of a state police car behind you. A letter from the
IRS has the same effect. Since the law always accuses the sinner,
it continues to function in this way in the life of the Christian
since he remains as a much a sinner as a saint, simul iustus et
peccator. The liturgy of the Lutheran Church, following that of
the ancient catholic and orthodox church, allows for the worshiper continually to confess his sins and receive absolution.
The daily commemoration of baptism in Luther’s Small Catechism requires that the old man die each day with all its evil
lusts and desires and a new man be daily resurrected.
Confusion on what is meant by the third use has led to its
rejection by certain Lutheran theologians. This is somewhat
of an internal embarrassment, since the third use of the law is
entitled to a separate article in the Formula of Concord, the
definitive confessional document for Lutherans. For others the
third use of the law has been interpreted simply to mean that
the first and second uses of the law remain in force. Such a
view is not the Lutheran one, even though some Lutherans
have claimed this definition. The introduction of the law into
the life of the Christian seems a legalistic intrusion denying the
freedom of the gospel or turning the gospel into law because
the gospel requires or demands certain types of behavior.
In answering this ticklish question for Lutherans, I would
like to make reference to Luther’s understanding of the Ten

Commandments in his Small Catechism as a way out of this
dilemma. The reformer’s explanations of the commandments,
with the exception of the first and sixth, have two parts: negative prohibitions and positive requirements. Thus the one on
killing prohibits bodily harm to our neighbor and requires
providing for his physical needs. The one on stealing prohibits
any attempt, even if it be legal, to obtain the neighbor’s property. Rather he is required to help the neighbor improve it.
Is the law reintroduced as a regulating
phenomenon in the Christian’s life?
Luther, by not mentioning outward robbery and murder,
assumes that the Christian simply will not do these things.
Gross immorality is out of range for the Christian, but refraining from it does not even begin to fulfill the commandments.
Any harm to the neighbor breaks the commandments. You
may not rob the neighbor, but if you manipulate law or contract to deprive him of his property, you stand condemned.
Perhaps Luther’s delineation of the law of God to less than
blatant transgressions is acceptable by all. But Luther reverses
the negative prohibition into the positive requirement of helping the neighbor, especially in his distress. The prohibition
against cursing God becomes a requirement to pray. Instead of
saying foul things about our neighbor, even if they are true, we
are to put the best construction on everything. Luther’s explanations of the First and Sixth Commandments have no prohibitions whatsoever. He turns the First Commandment around
so that the prohibition against idolatry becomes an invitation
to faith. What was law is now gospel. Under the Sixth Commandment Luther makes no mention of adultery, but says that
spouses should honor and love one another.
In my estimation Luther’s positive intensification of the
commandments is a work of theological genius. His explanations of the commandments are addressed to Christians, not
non-Christians. They have nothing to say to civil law. Rather
they are addressed to Christians as sinners and saints. Man as a
sinner cannot escape the negative prohibitions of the law, but
at the same time the Christian is addressed as a saint, taken
back to that original paradise situation in which he loves God
and his neighbor. The Christian, since he is in Christ and
Christ is in him, even before he becomes aware of the possibility of fulfilling the law, is actually fulfilling the law.
Has Luther manipulated the Ten Commandments beyond
recognition by following the negative prohibitions with positive
suggestions? Here is the law in its pristine sense, as positive
requirement, as it was known before the fall into sin. Here is the
law as it was fulfilled in Christ. All of the positive descriptions of
the law in the Christian’s life are really only christological statements, things which Jesus did and which reached their perfection
in him. The fulfilled law is christological, as it is the account of
the life and death of Jesus. He loved God with his whole heart, he


prayed to God, he heard the word of God and kept it, he honored his parents, he helped those in bodily distress, he lived a life
of pure thoughts, he provided for those in financial distress, he
spoke well of others, he had no evil desires. Christ is the fulfillment of the law not only in the sense that all the Old Testament
prophets spoke of him, but he is the positive affirmation of what
God requires of us and what God is in himself. In Christ the tension between the law and the gospel is resolved.
Luther’s understanding of the commandments as positive
christological affirmations is similar to the parable of the good
Samaritan, though I could hardly demonstrate any influence
this pericope had on the reformer’s mind. The commandments
are not really fulfilled by refraining from the prohibited evil,
but by helping the stricken traveler. Thus Christians should be
embarrassed about making any unwarranted claim to moral
perfection for themselves. They should be so engaged in positive good that they have no time to think about their personal
morality or holiness.
All of the positive descriptions of the
law in the Christian’s life are really
only christological statements.
How did Luther come to such a radical contradiction which
required that the Christian think of himself as total sinner and as a
person who accomplished only the good things which Christ did?
He took the First Commandment with its prohibition against
idolatry and turned into an invitation to faith: “We should fear,
love, and trust in God above all things.” The first commandment
is transformed into a statement of the gospel. But the reformer
was not playing fast and free with the commandments, as in Exodus the commandments really begin with the statement of
redemption: “I am the Lord your God who brought you out of the
land of Egypt, out of the land of bondage.”
THE LAW AND THE GOSPEL AS A
HERMENEUTICAL INSTRUMENT
The law and the gospel cannot be looked upon as providing the hermeneutical key to every pericope in the Bible.
Hermeneutics is too complicated a procedure to be resolved by
a simple method. It can however tell the reader ahead of time
what he should expect to hear about his condition before
God. If he does not find himself in the terrible dilemma of
standing condemned and forgiven by God at the same time, he
may conclude that he has misunderstood the Scriptures.
Luther, by understanding Hebrews as providing no salvation
for those who had fallen into sin, rejected it from the canon.
This was a radical decision on his part that might have been
resolved by a re-examination of the pericope in question, but it
does demonstrate the seriousness with which he understood
the law and the gospel. The same is true of his rejection of the
Epistle of James, which he understood as teaching works as a
way of salvation.
THE LAW AND THE GOSPEL AS
A HOMILETICAL DEVICE
Law and gospel must also be understood as the basic
homiletical device in the church. The sermon must reflect
the tension created by the God who condemns and redeems
the Christian at the same time. The hearer must never be
allowed to fall back on the laurels of his own morality or spiritual accomplishments. The listener is pummeled continuously
by the law and the gospel. Testimonies of spiritual greatness
must be replaced by the proclamation of God’s fulfilling of his
own law in Christ and the freedom which is now given the
Christian in Christ. The law and the gospel should be seen as
the key to man’s existential dilemma in understanding himself
and his relationship to God. If the universal atonement means
anything, it means that God has satisfied all of the law’s
requirements, its demands and penalties, in the person of
God’s Son, Jesus Christ. The law no longer can describe how
God views man. The gospel can never be nullified. The
gospel is never conditional, since incarnation and atonement
are permanent realities with God. Our moral and spiritual failures do not trigger a negative response in God so that he
returns to the old covenant. The former agenda of penalty is
not reinstated. This has been satisfied once and for all. For
what reason is anyone now condemned, if the law is not in
effect? A great condemnation awaits those who reject God’s
free gift in Christ. Under the covenant of the law, we failed to
do what God required. Those who reject the gospel have not
failed to fulfill a requirement (that would make the gospel only
another law) they have rejected what God has freely done. Sinners are accepted by Christ. Those who reject him are not.
Two sayings are attributed to Luther. He promised a doctor’s cap to anyone who could rightly distinguish between the
law and the gospel. Even theologians who can dogmatically
distinguish between them cannot preach it. The other has to do
with good works. The Christian does not need the motivation
of the law simply because he is so busy doing good works. Still
the motivation of the law is there, but not law as demand, punishment, and reward, but law as fulfilled in Christ. In spite of
the terrible spiritual agony Luther experienced as long as he
lived, he was not a dour, gloomy or sullen person, as some other reformers were reputed to be. Quite to the contrary he never
overcame some of his crude peasant speech, which today
would be looked upon by some as signs of an unsanctified life.
When faced with his own greatness, he said that God brought
about the Reformation while he and Melanchthon drank beer.
He was annoyed with Melanchthon’s obsession with minor
sins and urged him to do something really sinful: “sin boldly.”
As a hymn writer, where the brine of the middle ages merged
with the sweet waters of the Reformation, Luther was
unmatched. He spoke about the Christian merrily going about
his business and doing good. The law and the gospel are the
secret to understanding Luther. No longer is my chief concern
refraining from moral evil and then coming to the conclusion
that I have lived a sanctified life and thus have triumphed.
Christians are never free from sin, but they are so busy doing
good that even when they fall into sin as they do good, this is
all covered by grace.
LOGIA
       

NOTES
. Lutheran Worship, pp. , .
. John Agricola taught that repentance was to be taught from
. The conclusion of Psalm , “Create in me a clean heart, O
the gospel and not the law. This position was condemned by ForLord,” ordinarily precedes the celebration of the Holy Commumula of Concord V and VI. Theodore G. Tappert, trans. and ed.,
The Book of Concord (Philadelphia: Fortress, ), pp. –.
nion. Lutheran Worship, pp. , .
. For an extensive discussion, see Werner Elert, The Structure of
. In the Order of the Confessional Service of The Lutheran
Lutheranism, Vol. , tr. Walter A. Hansen (St. Louis: Concordia PubHymnal, the Christian as a penitent sinner is to compare himself
lishing House, ), pp. –. Elert’s section on the law reflects
with David, Peter, the sinful woman and the prodigal son (St.
Lutheran thinking with its title “Under the Wrath of God,” pp. –.
Louis: Concordia Publishing House, ), p. .
. See also Eugene F. Klug, “The Third Use of the Law,” in A
. The Lord’s Prayer is used by Lutherans at Baptism and
Contemporary Look at the Formula of Concord, eds. Robert D.
Ordination and in the Holy Communion and the minor services
Preus and Wilbert Rosin (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House,
of Matins, Vespers, Morning Prayer, Evening Prayer and Com), pp. –. “Luther could not have put their existential
pline. According to Luther’s Small Catechism it is to be prayed
along with the Ten Commandments and the Apostles’ Creed by
tie in the sinner’s life more graphically than when he compared
the family in Morning and Evening Prayer and also before and
the Law to the upper grindstone and the Gospel to the lower
after meals. Lutheran Worship, p. .
grindstone. The Law crushes pretension of self-achieved right. Apology IV, . “For the law always accuses and terrifies
eousness out of the human breast; the Gospel breathes life and
consciences. It does not justify, because a conscience terrified by
forgiveness into the smitten sinner,” pp. –.
the law flees before God’s judgment.” Tappert, p. .
. For a detailed discussion of law, nomos, see Johannes P.
. Lex est Deus accusans et damnans; evangelium est Deus
Louw and Eugene A. Nida, eds., Greek-English Lexicon of the New
absolvens et iustificans. Pieper, :.
Testament, Vol.  (New York: United Bible Societies, ). In
. This position came over into Lutheranism through Pietism
Romans : it is used of regulations (p. ). In John :, nomo"
which had roots in Reformed theology and was akin to English
is used of the Old Testament Scriptures (pp. , ). In Rom :
Methodism. For a scholarly discussion of Pietistic influence in
it is used for principle and in the first case refers to the gospel and
the second the law: “For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus
Lutheran theology, see Carter Lindberg, The Third Reformation?
has set me free from the law of sin and death” pp. , ).
(Macon, Georgia: Mercer, ), pp. –, “The ‘Second Refor. John Wenham, Redating Matthew, Mark & Luke
mation’—Pietism.”
(Downers Grove, Illinois: Inter Varsity Press, ), p. .
. See my “The Concept of Anfechtung in Luther’s Thought,”
. For a discussion of terms in a Lutheran perspective, see
Concordia Theological Quarterly  (), pp. –.
Francis Pieper, Christian Dogmatics, Vol. , tr. Walter W.F.
. “Marcion is characterized by extreme dualism. In his
Albrecht (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, ), pp.
‘Antithesis,’ in complete contradiction to the Christian tradition
from which he came, he assumed the existence of two gods, one of
–. Pieper is developing an argument presented in the Forthe Old Testament and another of the New.” Aloys Grillmeier,
mula of Concord VI (Tappert, pp. , ).
Christ in Christian Tradition, Vol. , nd rev. ed., tr. John Bowden,
. Luther’s Reformation discovery is associated with what has
(Atlanta: John Knox, ), p. .
been called his “tower experience.” There is scholarly debate as to
. See also James Dahl, “Friedrich Schleiermacher and His
the date, but none to its being the turning point in the formation of
Renunciation of the Old Testament,” a lecture delivered and dishis principle of justification. See E.G. Schwiebert, Luther and His
tributed at the Midwestern Conference of the Evangelical TheoTimes (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, ), pp. –.
logical Society at Grace Theological Seminary, Winona Lake,
. See Pieper, : –, “Law and Gospel as Opposites.”
Ind., March , . Dahl is an assistant professor at Trinity
. Schwiebert, p. .
Seminary, Deerfield, Ill., and developed the lecture from a Ph.D.
. John M. Todd, Luther: A Life (New York: Crossroad,
dissertation in process.
), p. .
. The point was made in a lecture and defended by Myron J.
. This point is made by Lowell C. Green. In speaking of the
Houghton, “Law and Gospel in Dispensational Tradition,” given at
Christian as simul iustus et peccator, Luther “retained the paradox but
the Midwest Evangelical Theological Society Meeting, Grace Semimeant instead that the believer was a sinner in the eyes of the world but
nary, Winona Lake, Ind., March , .
was a just person in the sight of God and under God’s forensic declara. Pieper discusses the differences that Lutherans have with
tion for the sake of Christ and His righteousness. …This insight of the
Roman Catholics, the Reformed, and synergists under the category
reformers [Luther and Melanchthon] was tragically confused in ensuing years. If some seventeenth-century dogmaticians not only tended to
of the law and the gospel. Pieper, :–.
. Tappert, p. .
distinguish justification and sanctification but also to separate them, the
. Lutherans distinguish man in the state before the fall,
eighteenth-century pietists went to the opposite extreme. They thought
after the fall, after regeneration and after the resurrection
one was a sinner and then a just person (in a before-and-after arrange(FC II). Tappert, p. . The law does not accuse in the first
ment) rather than as simultaneously sinful and just through forensic
justification.” Lowell C. Green, How Melanchthon Helped Luther Disand the last conditions. In the condition of regeneration, man
cover the Gospel (Fallbrook, California: Verdict, ), pp. , .
as he is regenerated is not condemned. As sinner he is.
. This hymn by John Newton is in Lutheran Worship (St.
. See my “Formula of Concord: Article VI,” Concordia TheoLouis: Concordia Publishing House, ), No. .
logical Quarterly  () pp. –.

. At the end of his explanation to the First Commandment
in his Large Catechism, Luther writes: “Let this suffice for the First
Commandment. We had to explain it at length since it is the most
important. For, as I said before, where the heart is right with God
and this commandment is kept, fulfillment of all the others will follow of its own accord.” Tappert, p. .
. FC V, Tappert, p. .
. In Lutheran theology the gospel is offered through preaching, Baptism, the Lord’s Supper, the Office of the Keys [Absolution], and the Church. SA III IV, Tappert, p. .
. The three uses of the law are spelled out in FC VI, Tappert, p. .
. Tappert, p. .
. The problem is alluded to by Hans Schwarz, “The Means
of Grace,” Christian Dogmatics Vol. , ed. Carl E. Braaten and
Robert W. Jenson (Philadelphia: Fortress, ), p. .
. Tappert, pp. –.
. As mentioned above, Luther said that if man knew the First
Commandment, he would not need the others. For a discussion on
the significance of Luther’s Small and Large Catechisms, see Robert
D. Preus and David P. Scaer, eds., Luther’s Catechisms— Years
(Fort Wayne: Concordia Theological Seminary Press, ).
. See my “Sanctification in Lutheran Theology,” Concordia Theological Quarterly  () pp. –; “Sanctification
in the Lutheran Confessions,” Concordia Theological Quarterly
 () pp. –.
. “As I have often said, the trust and faith of the heart
alone make both God and an idol. If your faith and trust are
right, then your God is the true God.” Luther’s Explanation to
the First Commandment. Large Catechism, Tappert p. .
. The law-gospel as a hermeneutical device was the center of
the controversy between the faculty of Concordia Seminary, St.
Louis and The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod in the s.
Various faculty members and others in the synod defended the
opinion that a Lutheran exegesis of a particular pericope required
no more than determining its significance as law-gospel. This position was called “Gospel reductionism” and was rooted in the existential approach of Rudolph Bultmann. It is debatable if this
hermeneutical approach could be recognized as legitimate. It would
be difficult to cite scholarly works that even mention this approach.
A preaching principle cannot be substituted for a historical investigation of the text. Matters are even more complicated when
“gospel” is interpreted in Bultmann’s sense of coming to an awareness of one’s authentic existence within the Christian community
with little or no attention paid to the question of the historical existence of Jesus. The reader may refer to my “The Law Gospel Debate
in the Missouri Synod,” The Springfielder  (December ), pp.
– and “The Law Gospel Debate in the Missouri Synod Continued,” The Springfielder  (September ) pp. –.
. The law and the gospel are “used to counter false and
unevangelical practices which undermine the gospel, to combat rationalist or legalistic exegeses which undermine the
gospel, and positively to offer a setting for the presentation of
articles of faith.” Robert D. Preus, “Hermeneutics of the Formula of Concord,” No Other Gospel, ed. Arnold J. Koelpin
(Milwaukee: Northwestern, ), p. .
. The Formula of Concord V claims that the law and

gospel are to be used in understanding the Scriptures. “The distinction between law and gospel is an especially brilliant light
which serves the purpose that the Word of God may be rightly
divided and the writings of the holy prophets and apostles may
be explained and understood correctly.” Tappert, p. .
. For a critical appraisal of Luther’s view of James, see
my James the Apostle of Faith (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing
House, ⁾.
. The Formula of Concord V, “Law and Gospel,” is set
forth primarily as an article on the preaching of God’s word.
Tappert, pp. –.
. A document entitled, “The Condemnations of the Reformation Era: Do They Still Divide?” was produced by Lutheran and
Roman Catholic theologians with the suggestion the historical
divisions of the Reformation period were no longer applicable. The
theological faculty of the University of Göttingen responded negatively. A subsection of the opinion entitled “Justification” demonstrates how Lutheran theology is dependent on the law-gospel distinction, especially in its understanding of justification. See The
Lutheran Quarterly  (Spring ), pp. –. The following is the
classical Lutheran position. “Thereby his being justified, which he
is in God’s judgment, stands in contradiction to his experience of
himself, according to which he can know himself only as sinner as
long as he lives. He is always both at the same time: justified in his
relationship to God and sinner according to his quality (simul iustus et peccator). In Christ the believer is separated from his sin, so
that he can pray daily for forgiveness of persistent sins” (p. ).
. At the Midwestern Evangelical Theological Society Meeting at Grace Seminary, Winona Lake, Ind., March –, , it
became evident that the law-gospel distinction, in precisely this
order, was characteristic of Lutheran theology and not other traditions which either reverse the process or see a gospel-lawgospel distinction or which overlook the category. To show the
importance of this category in Lutheran theology, the Formula of
Concord V condemns any confusion on this article. “Hence we
reject and deem it as false and detrimental when men teach that
the Gospel, strictly speaking, is a proclamation of conviction and
reproof and not exclusively a proclamation of grace. Thereby the
Gospel is again changed into a teaching of the law, the merit of
Christ and the Holy Scriptures are obscured, Christians are
robbed of their true comfort, and the doors are again opened to
the papacy.” Tappert, p. .
. “Now, him who is adept at this art of properly dividing
Law and Gospel set at the head of the table and declare him a
Doctor of the Holy Scriptures.” St L, :. Quoted from
Pieper, :.
. FC VI . Tappert, p. . See also Pieper, :.
. For a discussion of just this point see my James the Apostle of
Faith, “The Gospel as a Fulfilled Law,” pp. –. “The Law has been
fulfilled not through a divine sovereign act of arbitrary abrogations
but by Christ’s satisfying the divine requirements of the Law with its
demands. Thus the Law is not presented to the Christian with its
demands only, but also with the fulfillment of these demands. To the
non-Christian the Law appears revealing the wrath of God because
he has not yet recognized Christ as the Law’s perfect answer” pp. ,
. The reader may wish to consult my “Theses on Law and Gospel,”
The Springfielder  (June ) pp. –
Angels Unaware
PAUL R. HARRIS
j
      “W A 
Archangels.” In keeping with this theme, my paper is
entitled “Angels Unaware.” The King James Version of
Hebrews : says, “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for
thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” However, the
subject of this paper is not that we miss seeing angels, but that
we miss seeing the pastor as an angel. Walther cites Malachi :
as proof that ministers are angels. The most interesting proof
passages, however, are found in Revelation. There the letters to
the seven churches are addressed to “the angel of the church
of. . . .” These cannot be heavenly angels since in some of the
letters they are implicated in sin. The angels are the pastors of
the seven churches receiving letters. We note two things about
these “angels.” They have a privileged position and special
responsibility. They are found in the hand of the reigning Lord
Jesus (:), and they are singled out as being responsible for
what is going on in their churches.
Many pastors or congregations are unaware of the position and responsibility of the pastor in the local congregation.
Many have come to believe that the pastor is an employee of
the congregation. I believe this view is a consequence of the
Missouri Synod’s understanding of the voters’ assembly. This
paper seeks to show what the proper place of the pastor is relative to the congregation and the voters assembly and what happens when the proper place of the pastor is usurped or ignored.
The proper place of the pastor is to rule the congregation.
Stating this so bluntly shocks Missouri Synod ears. But should
it? We all agree that in some sense the pastor “incarnates”—
brings out in flesh and blood—the person and work of Christ
in the church. In the traditional treatment of the threefold
office of Christ, we say Christ is our prophet, priest, and king.
No one doubts that a pastor has a prophetic function and a
priestly function, but the minute it is suggested that he has a
kingly function feathers are ruffled.
But the pastor does have a kingly role. He is to rule. There
are four clear passages in the New Testament that state this. In
 Timothy :,  we read that a pastor should be “one that
ruleth well his own house, having his children in subjection
with all gravity; (for if a man know not how to rule his own
house, how shall he take care of the church of God?)” Are our
homes to be democracies? Are they to be led by committees? Is
there to be more than one head of a household?
The Greek word translated “rule” in these passages from I
Timothy is proistemi. A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament (B.A.G.) lists as the primary meaning “be at the head (of),
rule, direct.” The secondary meaning is “be concerned about,
care for, give aid.” Since St. Paul describes “one that ruleth well
his own house” as him who has his children “in subjection,” it
is clear that only the meaning “rule” fits.
The other two references to a pastor ruling come in
Hebrews . Verse  says, “Remember them which have the rule
over you, who have spoken unto you the word of God: whose
faith follow, considering the end of their conversation.” Verse 
reads, “Obey them that have the rule over you, and submit
yourselves: for they watch for your souls, as they that must give
account, that they may do it with joy, and not with grief: for
that is unprofitable for you.” The word translated “rule” here is
hegeomai which B.A.G. defines as “lead, guide, ruler, leader.”
Two other clear references to the authority of the pastoral
office can be found in Acts and Titus. Acts : tells us the
pastor is in the position of overseer. “Take heed therefore unto
yourselves, and to all the flock, over the which the Holy Ghost
hath made you overseers, to feed the church of God, which he
hath purchased with his own blood.” There is no way the word
“overseer” (episkopos) can be taken to mean anything but a
position of authority. Titus : also emphasizes the authority
of the pastoral office: “These things speak, and exhort, and
rebuke with all authority. Let no man despise thee.”
Pastors are to rule their congregations. This is the clear
teaching of Scripture. Martin Luther warns of the danger of
ignoring clear passages of Scripture. “I have noticed with special care that all heresies and errors mentioned in Scripture did
not flow from the clear words of Scripture or the Bible . . . but
every error had its origin in this, that the heretics avoided the
clear passages and fabricated special interpretations out of their
own minds by conclusions and tropes.”
The church and her fathers have always recognized that
the proper thing for a pastor to do is to rule. The Augsburg
T
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PAUL R. HARRIS is pastor of Christ Our Savior Lutheran Church, Harvey, Louisiana. This Essay was first presented to the Angels and
Archangels Conference in September, 1992 at New Orleans.



Confession acknowledges the pastor’s authority to make ordinances in the church. “What, then, are we to think of the Sunday and like rites in the house of God? To this we answer that it
is lawful for bishops or pastors to make ordinances that things be
done orderly in the Church, not that thereby we should merit
grace or make satisfaction for sins, or that consciences be bound
to judge them necessary services, and to think that it is a sin to
break them without offense to others” (AC XXVIII, ; emphasis
added). In the Formula of Concord the Latin says that ministers
of the word are “leaders of the congregation . . . those whom
God has appointed to rule His Church” (SD X , Triglotta, p.
). In the “Treatise on the Power and Primacy of the Pope,”
Philip Melanchthon states that the pastor is to preside over the
church and has the command from Christ to excommunicate.
“In our Confession and the Apology we have in general
recounted what we have had to say concerning ecclesiastical
power. For the Gospel assigns to those who preside over
churches the command to teach the Gospel, to remit sins, to
administer the Sacraments, and besides jurisdiction, namely,
the command to excommunicate those whose crimes are
known, and again to absolve those who repent” (Tr ; Triglotta, p. ).” The fact that the Treatise recognizes that the pastor
has the keys says much about his authority to rule. H. Armin
Moellering in a  Concordia Journal article says, “As Joachim
Jeremias points out, the conferral of keys in Biblical usage
means something more than appointment to be a flunky doorkeeper. On the basis of Biblical (and Judaic) evidence he concludes: ‘Transferral of the keys is accordingly installation into
the position of plenipotentiary. . . .’ ”
The fact that the Treatise recognizes
that the pastor has the keys says much
about his authority to rule.
The church fathers over the centuries have made similar
statements. Irenaeus says in Against Heresies, “Wherefore it is
incumbent to obey the presbyters who are in the
Church. . . .”Ignatius in writing to the Ephesians says, “Let
us therefore be careful not to resist the bishop, that by our submission we may give ourselves to God.” In the same letter he
says, “Plainly therefore we ought to regard the bishop as the
Lord Himself.” In writing to the Trallians Ignatius says, “For
when ye are obedient to the bishop as to Jesus Christ, it is evident to me that ye are living not after men but after Jesus
Christ.” Throughout the epistles of Ignatius there is the constant refrain, “Do nothing without the bishop.” Contrast this
with today’s unspoken yet ever present refrain, “Pastors, do
nothing that doesn’t please the congregation.”
Luther says pastors are to rule. “For the pastor is in charge
of the pulpit, Baptism, the Sacrament, and the care of the souls
is laid on him.” In his exposition of Psalm  Luther says that
“some must be taken who shall rule the others.” In fact, in
another place Luther says, “A pastor may indeed glory publicly
and rightly that he has charge of the ministry, Baptism, the
Sacrament, and the care of souls, and that these are commanded him. . . .” He is even more emphatic in a sermon where
he says, “The apostles and their successors are made teachers
till the end of the world, and to them, according to their office,
there has been given such great power and authority as Christ
the Son of God, Himself had. . . .” In another sermon for
the Fourth Sunday after Easter he even went so far as to say,
“Thus all people on earth are subject to the ministry, which the
apostles and their successors administer by divine right; they
have to submit themselves and follow it if they really want to
receive God’s grace and be saved.”
The second Martin, Martin Chemnitz, also wrote of the
power of the pastoral office. “This power which was given to
the apostles in their ministry for the necessary work of pastors
is neither a natural characteristic nor a created quality nor a
normal gift nor an attribute peculiar to the apostles themselves;
but it is a divine strength, power, and efficacy which assists
them in their ministry and which works effectively through this
ministry. . . . At the same time He promised that with all His
authority, strength, might and efficacy He would be with the
apostolic ministry in the church, not only in the person of the
apostles but also through all days till the end of the world.”
While the pastor exercises a divine power when he rules, it
should go without saying that when the Scriptures or the
church fathers speak of a pastor ruling they do not mean dictating or tyrannically overseeing. The Scriptures themselves say
this. “Jesus called them unto him, and said, 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” (Mt :, ). Paul says that pastors do not
have dominion over the faith of their flocks ( Cor :). Peter
tells us that we are not to be “lords over God’s heritage” but be
“examples to the flock” ( Pt :). Twice in  Corinthians (:
and :) Paul says the authority of the pastoral office is for
edification, not for destruction.
The Treatise says, “Let neither the other ministers nor
Peter assume for themselves lordship or superiority over the
Church” (Tr ). And the Apology limits the authority of pastors saying they do not have “a free, unlimited order and power, but a limited order, namely, not to preach their own word,
but God’s Word and the Gospel” (Ap , ). Chemnitz also
limits the pastor’s authority:
This ministry does indeed have power, divinely
bestowed ( Cor :–; :–), but circumscribed
with certain duties and limitations, namely, to
preach the Word of God, teach the erring, reprove
those who sin, admonish the dilatory, comfort the
troubled, strengthen the weak, resist those who
speak against the truth, reproach and condemn false
teaching, censure evil customs, dispense the divinely
instituted sacraments, remit and retain sins, be an
example to the flock, pray for the church privately
and lead the church in public prayers, be in charge
of care for the poor, publicly excommunicate the
 
stubborn and again receive those who repent and
reconcile them with the church, appoint pastors to the
church according to the instruction of Paul, with consent of the church institute rites that serve the ministry and do not militate against the Word of God nor
burden consciences but serve good order, dignity,
decorum, tranquility, edification, etc. For these are the
things which belong to these two chief points, namely,
to the power of order and the power of jurisdiction.
These limitations are essential, but we cannot go beyond the
limitations in the other direction either. That is, while it is wrong
for pastors to assume lordship and superiority, it is not wrong
for them to accept the headship and exercise their God-given
rule. Matthew :,  does not forbid pastors from ruling but
only from ruling as the Gentiles do. In the words of Chrysostom,
a pastor should be “awe-inspiring yet kindly” and “humble yet
not servile.” As in marriage, the husband is not commanded to
subdue his wife, but she is instructed to submit to her husband,
so in the church, pastors are not commanded to subdue congregations, but congregations are directed to submit to pastors. Pastors are commanded to teach the truth about submitting.
In what sense then is the pastor the servant of the congregation? He is a servant of the congregation’s needs, as outlined
in the Scriptures. He is not a servant of their whims and
wants. Using the love-faith distinction Luther is so fond of
employing, in matters of love the pastor is the servant of the
congregation. But in matters of faith, the pastor is the servant
of no man, but of Christ alone.
Why emphasize the power, authority and rule of the pastor
at all? It seems so worldly. First, the emphasis is not on the power
of a person but on the power of an office. The pastor as a man is
no different than any other man. But he holds an office that is
very special, one that Christ instituted. As Luther said, “Whatever
pertains to our person we must and will bear gladly, but what
pertains to grace, especially to this office, which has and bestows
nothing but grace, we want everybody to honor. . . .”
Second, the authority of the pastoral office should be
emphasized because pastors today are regarded as lackeys or
maybe managers in God’s house. Surely, the fact that we have
not only laymen but also theologians arguing that the pastor is
an “at-will employee of the congregation” is testimony to how
little we esteem this divine office. To paraphrase what Luther
said about the Word of God: If they really believed the pastoral
office was divine, they wouldn’t play around with it so. How
far we have fallen! In the past, many congregations had Christ’s
exhortation, “He that heareth you heareth Me,” embroidered
on their pulpit altar cloths. This Bible verse was also painted on
the east wall of churches where it was constantly before the
eyes of the worshiping congregations.
Third, we want to exalt the authority of the pastoral office
for the benefit of the sheep. In the words of Luther, “When we
boast this way [of our office like St. Paul did], we are not looking
for prestige in the world or praise from men or money, or for
pleasure or the good will of the world. The reason for our proud
boasting is that we are in a divine calling and in God’s own work,
and that the people need to be assured of our calling in order that

they may know that our word is in fact the Word of God. This,
then, is not a vain pride; it is a most holy pride against the devil
and the world” (AE :, ). The Lutheran Confessions also
enjoin such “holy” boasting. “For the Church has the command
to appoint ministers, which should be most pleasing to us,
because we know that God approves this ministry, and is present
in the ministry [that God will preach and work through men and
those who have been chosen by men]. And it is of advantage, so
far as can be done, to adorn the ministry of the Word with every
kind of praise against fanatical men. . . .” (Ap XIII, , ).
Second, the authority of the pastoral
office should be emphasized because
pastors today are regarded as lackeys
or maybe managers in God’s house.
The pastoral office is the means through which Christ rules
his church on earth through his word. The Reformation was in
some sense a battle to restore the pastoral office’s rightful
authority. The papacy, a man-made institution, had placed
itself over the pastoral office. In our day, another man-made
institution has usurped the authority Christ has given to the
pastoral office. The constitutions of most American Lutheran
congregations state that the voters’ assembly is the final authority. The voters’ assembly rules, not the God-given office of the
pastor. This is contrary to the Word of God and the Confessions. This is no less an error than the papacy.
It is generally assumed that the voters’ assembly is a scriptural and even a divine institution. The Abiding Word calls the
voters’ meeting an executive assembly and says these “were
generally maintained in the first Christian congregations, as
the Book of Acts records.” Even if the first congregations did
maintain voters’ assemblies, especially standing, regularly
meeting ones, this does not mean they are mandated or even
scriptural. In the words of Walther, “Whatever cannot be
proved to be God’s institution from His Word cannot be
regarded as His own institution without committing idolatry”
(emphasis added).
While the church has the freedom to establish voters’ assemblies, it does not have the freedom to exalt a man-made institution over a divine one. What Kurt Marquart says concerning auxiliary offices and the pastoral office applies here too: “Only one
thing the church may not do. She may not forget the difference
between what God Himself has established in the church as His
institution, and what men establish from time to time as fruits of
faith and love.” Elsewhere Marquart says that human traditions
“are all the details of church organization beyond the divinely
made provisions for the orderly ministrations of the holy means
of grace.” The only divine provision is for the pastoral office.
We do well to heed the warning of Quentin Wesselschmidt: “One
thing which we must strongly guard against is the temptation to
read back into Scripture practices that developed for other reasons than by divine institution.”


Did standing voters’ assemblies exist at all in the New Testament? Was there a body of men who sat over the divinely
given pastoral office? Some might point to Acts :–, where
the disciples took steps to fill Judas’s vacant office, as proof that
voters’ assemblies existed. The text doesn’t state or even imply
that voting took place in this apostolic meeting. It says “they
appointed two” (v. ) who “went in and out” with the apostles
(v. ). Then after Peter prays, verse  says “they gave forth
their lots.” “They” means Matthias and Justus did. When people gave lots they weren’t voting for something. They were
seeking to allow God to select rather than men. Look at the
account of Jonah. When the men cast lots to see on whose
account the terrible storm had come upon them, they did not
vote Jonah to be the guilty party.
By establishing voters’ assemblies in
our midst we have bowed to the
principle of democracy and majority
rule. Thinking men in our midst
have always warned against the
evils of democracy.
Another place some turn to prove that voters’ assemblies
did and are to exist is Matthew :, “tell it unto the church.”
But Jesus doesn’t call on the church to make a decision here.
The decision is already made. The man is judged to be unrepentant by the first disciple. The second goes along to witness this.
Then finally his impenitence is announced to the church. They
do not vote to decide if it is so or not.A misunderstanding of
the “Treatise on the Power and Primacy of the Pope” has clouded this issue. The German translation of the Treatise includes
this gloss on paragraph : “Likewise Christ gives supreme and
final jurisdiction to the Church when He says, Tell it unto the
church” (Mt :). This gloss does not reflect Melanchthon’s
position. Everywhere in the Treatise, Melanchthon places the
authority of jurisdiction in the hands of pastors and bishops
(Tr. , , , , etc.). The argument in the Treatise is that the
German states do have the church, and they do not need to look
to Rome for ecclesiastical authority. It by no means places the
power of jurisdiction in the hands of voters’ assemblies.
By establishing voters’ assemblies in our midst we have
bowed to the principle of democracy and majority rule.
Thoughtful men in our midst have always warned against the
evils of democracy. Wilhelm Löhe warned the Missouri Synod in
a letter dated September , : “We notice with growing concern that your synodical constitution, as it has been adopted,
does not follow the example of the first Christian congregation.
We have good reason to fear that the strong admixture of democratic, independent and congregational principles in your constitutions will do greater damage than the influence of princes
and governmental agencies in the church of our homeland.”
John H.C. Fritz, in his  Pastoral Theology, also tried to
limit the effects of democracy. “Matters of doctrine and of conscience should not be submitted to the vote of the congregation, for these have already been decided by the Word of God
itself.” In our own time men have tried to do the same thing.
Marquart writes, “In the temporal sphere, given democratic
arrangements, to vote is to take part in and to exercise the awesome powers of Romans : ff. Voting is an act of supreme
sovereignty, which can, within constitutionally specified limits,
enforce the majority will with the ultimate sanctions of the
death penalty and war. Voting can mean nothing like this in
the church at all (Mt :–). The church is not a democracy
but a Christocracy: Christ alone is Lord. Voting is but a way of
expressing agreement or consensus.”
Despite the warnings, despite the attempts to limit democracy, despite the desire to redefine voting, majority rule is a principle held near and dear by most American Lutheran congregations. The more informed laymen may be aware that their vote
cannot make something false true or true false. But the very best
of them believes that in matters where the Word of God is not
clear to them majority should rule. Furthermore, when constitutions make the voters’ assembly the final authority, that means
voting is an exercise of authority; a group of laymen rather than
the divinely instituted office is ruling the congregation.
A standing voters’ assembly that rules by majority vote
cannot be a biblical teaching. The orthodox theologian John
Gerhard said that against the rule of faith no interpretation of
Scripture should be advanced. Majority ruling among God’s
people is contrary to the analogy of the faith. Majority rule is a
loveless principle. It means in essence that might makes right.
Majority rule means the majority has the right to inflict its will
on the minority. Majority rule means that truth is to be found
in numbers. Chemnitz wrote of the folly of such thinking: “If
then at the time of Elijah someone would have judged the truth
of the doctrine according to the consensus of the visible assembly, he certainly would have erred.”
Where did the present polity come from? Not from the
Lutheran Confessions, not from Luther, not from the orthodox fathers. It came from a unique situation, in many ways an
extraordinary situation. The recognized authority on the history of Missouri Synod’s polity is Carl S. Mundinger’s Government in the Missouri Synod. He says that the principle established in Missouri is “laymen have the power by majority vote
to regulate financial and spiritual matters.” He calls it “the
theory of the ‘supremacy of the congregation.’”He also says
that Walther made it work through his shrewdness “and his
ability to get around difficulties even if those difficulties were
constitutional. . . .” That was all well and good for Walther.
But the constitution of Trinity, St. Louis was used as a model
for a large number of congregations. What if we lack the
shrewdness of Walther to make our inherited polity work or
please God?
It is well known that there are two strands in Luther’s
thoughts on church and ministry: the priesthood of all believers and the divine institution of the pastoral office. He emphasized the former against the Romanists and the latter againstthe Enthusiasts. The extraordinary situation in Perry County
 
led to only one of those strands being followed, the priesthood
of all believers.
The situation was that a group of pastors and laymen had
followed a man, Martin Stephan, halfway around the world,
believing him to be the very bishop of their bodies and souls.
(One of the constitutions Stephan introduced said, “The
supreme administration of all of the association’s affairs is in the
hands of the first clergyman [Stephan], who combines in his person the highest powers in both spiritual and secular affairs.”
When Stephan proved to be a false shepherd, the colony was
divided sharply. The laymen blamed the other pastors for what
happened. They, figuratively speaking, placed them in the same
boat as Stephan. They would have done so literally if they could
have. For two years after Stephan was deposed, “The colony was
divided into a clerical and a lay group, both arrayed against each
other; both striving for control of their brethren.” The lay people wanted nothing to do with pastors ruling. Mundinger
remarks, that they “had been subjected to priest rule in its most
offensive form for half a dozen years in their early adult life. That
they should act like burnt children does not surprise us.” Had it
not been for this group of “burned” children, according to
Mundinger, “the principle of congregational rights would not
have bulked so large or been worded so precisely in Missouri’s
constitution.” But Walther did not cave in immediately to the
laity’s demands. He resisted the demand for lay participation in
the government of the church for almost a year and a half.
Missouri Synod polity came out of a
compromise with a “rabid” lay party
. . . which stood for an extreme
congregationalism . . .
Missouri Synod polity came out of a compromise with a
“rabid” lay party which, in the judgment of Mundinger, “stood
for an extreme congregationalism with heavy emphasis on the
individual. Like the Anabaptists, they took certain isolated
quotations from Luther’s writings of the early ’s, tore them
out of their life situations, and tried to construct a new church
polity.” After years of opposing this, Walther compromised
with them. “In this extreme exigency Walther made a virtue of
necessity and adopted a realistic course. He accepted principles
of church government which his lay opponents had gathered
from the writings of Luther (these were all from the early
Luther as was noted above). To these he added from Luther
certain provisions which safeguarded the dignity of the ministerial office: his transfer theory, the doctrine of the divinity of
the call, the absolute authority of the Word of God, and the
permanence of tenure.”
As a result of this compromise Walther pastored a congregation in which the lay people ruled. Trinity congregation voters
meetings were not opened with prayer for the first year of their
existence because the pastor, Walther, was not permitted to
attend the voters meetings. The congregation wouldn’t allow it
because they did not want to become the victims of priest rule.

“As far as the minutes show, the pastor was never legally permitted to attend the business part of the voters meetings.” Trinity
is not just one isolated congregation. It is the mother church of
the Missouri Synod. The preliminary conferences to form the
synod and review drafts of the constitution took place at Trinity
with the voters of Trinity present. Mundinger believes it is significant that “The wording [for the Missouri Synod’s constitution] was fixed in the midst of a congregation that was intensely
jealous of its congregational rights.”
This polity emphasizes what neither Luther (later in life)
nor our Confessions emphasize, the priesthood of all believers.
The Confessions only refer to the priesthood of all believers
once, and there it is used as a synonym for church (Tr ). In
fact the Apology specifically states that it is the Reformer’s
greatest wish to maintain the old church polity: In “Of Ecclesiastical Order” we read, “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]” (Ap
XIV, , ). How did we get from this statement to a lay-ruled
(in Mundinger’s estimation) church?
Luther did not establish lay-ruled congregations.
Mundinger claims that he could have but he did not. The
French historian J.H. Merle d’Aubigné says at Luther’s time
among the Lutherans everything flowed from the pastor.
Also the people in Luther’s time had a general fear of democracy. Erasmus had a popular saying at the time which reflected
this fear: “They ask us to open our gates, crying aloud—the
Gospel! the Gospel! . . . Raise the cloak, and under its mysterious folds you will find—democracy!”
Furthermore, Luther specifically writes against congregational rule. “You can imagine it yourselves how a fine young fellow who has gone to school all his life, spent his father’s money,
and endured all manner of tribulation would like to become a
pastor in Zwikau ever since the news from there is that the
members would be the masters and the pastor the servant, sitting day in, day out on a swing as it were.” In another letter to
a congregation in  he writes, “You are not the masters of
your pastor and the ministry. You have not established it, but
solely the Son of God. You have not contributed anything
toward it, and hence you have less authority over it than the devil has over the kingdom of heaven. You should not lord it over
him or teach him or prevent him from admonishing. Attend to
your business and don’t interfere with God’s rule, lest He teach
you that you must do this. None of you would tolerate it if a
stranger would give your servant, whom you cannot spare, a furlough or chase him away. There is not a shepherd lad, be he ever
so lowly, who would take an insult from a stranger, but God’s
servant should be everybody’s puppet and suffer all things from
everyone” (emphasis added).
Another orthodox Lutheran father, David Chytraeus, one
of the contributors to the Formula of Concord, has an opinion
as to what type of polity should be followed. “This episcopal
order and the ranks connected with it are not evil in themselves.
They should not be disparaged when they serve to uphold the


unity and harmony of the church in true evangelical doctrine
and the preservation of Christian discipline and peace.”
A lay-ruled church was not what Luther established or wanted established. He did not establish the voters’ assembly nor did
Lutheran congregations of his time. In the words of Norman
Nagel, “We can hardly be understanding the Confessions rightly,
if that understanding runs counter to what was then being done
in the churches.” To extract Luther’s statements concerning the
priesthood of all believers out of the particular circumstances in
which he wrote them, and make them a basis for a lay-ruled
church is like focusing on some of his statements against liturgical rites and vestments in order to reform worship. Luther was
most definitely opposed to the papacy and pastors lording
authority over the flock, but he was not for democracy, majority
rule or voters’ assemblies.
The establishmentof standing voters’
assemblies over the pastoral office
is no minor error.
The establishment of standing voters’ assemblies over the pastoral office is no minor error. In the Missouri Synod’s synodical catechism of , John :–, “Christ breathed on them and saith
unto them, Receive ye the Holy Ghost. Whosesoever sins ye remit,
they are remitted unto them; and whosesoever sins ye retain, they
are retained,” is used as a proof passage for the teaching that “Christ
has given this power [the Office of the Keys] to His Church on earth;
especially, to every local congregation” (emphasis original).
Melanchthon, however, says in the Treatise, “These words testify
that the keys are given alike to all the apostles, and that all the apostles are alike sent forth [to preach]” (Tr ). Marquart says that
John :– is “rightly treated” as the words of institution of the
ministry. Words which refer to the pastoral office having the keys
are twisted to mean the local congregation does.
Father Rudolph E. Kurz, a pastor for thirty years in the LCMS
and now a pastor in the Evangelical Catholic Church, points out
how absurd the position of the LCMS is. “A group of laymen (a
voters’ assembly) always has the ‘power of the keys,’ but a group
of validly ‘called’ and ordained pastors never has the ‘power of the
keys.’ For the ‘power’ by divine authority resides only with the
laity (by whose sufferance the pastor publicly holds the office on
their behalf).” The awkwardness of the situation manifests itself
when the pastor brings a matter of excommunication before the
voters assembly. He does not function as “judge” having made a
“ruling” on a hard case and now announcing it. Instead he functions as a prosecuting attorney trying to convince the voters to
judge in his favor. The God-ordained shepherd must convince the
sheep to do what is best on behalf of another sheep under his care,
for whom he will give an account before the Lord Jesus!
Another area in which this flip-flopping of authority shows
itself is in stewardship. Gerhard, the sixteenth-century orthodox
Lutheran theologian, says if one title were to be chosen to describe
the work of the pastor it would be “steward.” In our day, the
laity are regarded as the stewards and the task of the pastor is
defined as making them stewards or making them better stewards.
What about the relationship of the pastoral office to the
church? Both are divine institutions. Both have existed from the
very foundations of the world. There never was a time that the
church existed without the pastoral office or the office existed
without the church. The church is people and pastor. There is a
shepherd-shaped vacuum in the church that only a called and
ordained shepherd can fill. The church does not create the office
but she is called on by God to acknowledge it. This she does by
calling faithful men, approved by others in the office to fill the
office. Church and ministry, shepherd and sheep, each have their
divinely instituted roles. The pastor is called to rule and serve the
sheep. These are not contradictory roles as can be seen in the life
of any physical shepherd. He leads them to pasture and uses his
rod and staff on them. But at the same time he binds up the
wounded and stays up with the sick. The church is called to follow and support the shepherd. These are not contradictory roles
as can be seen in any physical flock of sheep. They come in and
go out at their shepherd’s leading. Yet they clothe him with their
wool and feed him with their bodies.
Having seen how the voters’ assembly usurps the power and
place of the pastoral office, we turn now to the practical problems
that come from this. First, the voters’ assembly gives standing and
authority in the church to people the Lord never intended. In the
vast majority of Missouri Synod congregations a person can
absent himself from the means of grace for weeks, months, even
years and still have a vote on matters that profoundly affect the
church. They can determine whether or not a fellow member will
be excommunicated for despising the means of grace! These people can be likened to the “mixt multitude” that lusted after the
food in Egypt and dragged the Israelites along with them (Numbers :). Pastors have seen how they can materialize out of
nowhere to “pack” a voters’ meeting on a particular issue. Many
a pastor has been ousted by the “mixt multitude.”
Second, the polity of the voters’ assembly requires a large
number of lay people who will meet monthly to rule the church.
It is clear from Mundinger’s account of old Trinity that the voters
thought nothing of meeting two or three times a week for hours.
Running the church was their pastime; their hobby. People today
are not so inclined. They will take a turn holding office but do
not want to be constantly involved.
Third, the polity of the voters’ assembly lends itself to the
idea that the pastor is the trainer of the laity, as if Christ had said,
“Organize my sheep into work brigades, to do the ‘real’ ministry,
themselves,” rather than “Feed my sheep.” The pastor in this
system is viewed primarily as a trainer or manager, not a shepherd who leads and rules.
Fourth, the voters’ assembly is a gigantic stumbling block to
the assimilation of new members. When people are brought into
the church through adult instruction, they typically have a very
open, positive relationship with the pastor. But being accepted by
the shepherd is only part of the battle they learn as they face the
congregation’s power structure. In most congregations the voters’ assembly is a closed club. People are accepted by it only
after they prove themselves.
 

Contrast this view with that of Ignatius. In his letter to the
Philadelphians he says, “Where the shepherd is, there follow ye
as sheep.” To the Smyrneans he writes, “Wheresoever the
bishop shall appear, there let the people be; even as where Jesus
may be, there is the universal church.” The Ignatian model is
the pastor at the center as the steward of the means of grace with
the sheep arrayed around him. The current LCMS model has a
voters’ assembly (or possibly an executive board) at the center
with the congregation arrayed around it. How close the pastor is
to the center of the circle is determined by how long he has been
there, how well he gets along with the congregation, and how well
he gets along with the voters’ assembly. But any model that does
not have at its center the pastoral office, which is in the stead of
and by the command of the Lord Jesus Christ, has something
other than the Lord Jesus there.
Fifth, the voters’ assembly has a grave problem when the
shepherd becomes a wolf. Sheep have the right and duty to
judge their shepherd’s teachings, but when they find they have
a wolf they are helpless. They instinctively turn to other shepherds for help. But congregational polity leads us to say, “I
can’t do anything. You must remove him yourself.” It is not
enough that sheep have recognized the wolf; they must kill him
too. Shepherds are to protect sheep; sheep cannot protect
themselves.
Sixth, individual confession and absolution will never be
restored as long as voters’ assemblies exist. The Apology clearly
states that the Reformers did not want to abandon private absolution: “Therefore it would be wicked to remove private absolution from the Church. Neither do they understand what the
remission of sins or the power of the keys is, if there are any who
despise private absolution” (Ap. VI , ). As long as it is believed
and/or perceived that the voters’ assembly has the keys rather
than the pastor, the benefit of individual confession before him
and personal absolution by him will be obscured. At best, he will
remain a prosecuting attorney.
Last, voters’ assemblies are not immune from the prophecy
of St. Paul: “For the time will come when they will not endure
sound doctrine; but after their own lusts shall they heap to themselves teachers, having itching ears” ( Tim :). Is it wise to vest
rule in the very group (“they,” the group to which the pastor is
preaching) that has the potential for only wanting pastors who
will scratch where they itch?
Pastors and congregations are unaware of the high and holy
office they have in their midst. This is serious for two reasons.
First, divine offices have authority above offices of human
origin. Where this is not recognized Christ is not honored. Second, according to Ephesians :, the reason the Lord Christ gave
the pastoral office to the church is so “that we henceforth be no
more children, tossed to and fro, and carried about with every
wind of doctrine.” The church is being tossed “to and fro” so
much today because of this low view of this divine office. May
our Lord deliver us from this error.
LOGIA
NOTES
. C.F.W. Walther, Church and Ministry, tr. J.T. Mueller
(St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, ) p. .
. Martin Luther, Sämmtliche Schriften, vol. , ed. J.G.
Walch (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, ), pp. ,
, quoted in Walther, The True Visible Church (St. Louis:
Concordia Publishing House, ) p. ; see also AE (St. Louis:
Concordia Publishing House, ) :.
. H. Armin Moellering, “Some New Testament Aspects
of the Ministry Identified and Applied,” Concordia Journal 
() p. .
. Irenaeus, Against Heresies .. (in Alexander Roberts
and James Donaldson, eds., The Ante-Nicene Fathers, Vol. ,
reprinted. [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, ] p. ).
. Ignatius, Epistle to the Ephesians  (in J.B. Lightfoot,
trans. The Apostolic Fathers, part , Vol. , nd ed. [Grand
Rapids: Baker Book House, ] p. ).
. Ignatius, Epistle to the Ephesians  (In The Apostolic
Fathers, p. ).
. Ignatius, Epistle to the Trallians  (in The Apostolic
Fathers, p. ).
. St. L. :, quoted in Walther, The Form of a Christian Congregation (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House,
) p. . See also AE :.
. St L :; see also AE :.
. St L : quoted in Church and Ministry, p. ; see
also AE :.
. St L :, quoted in Church and Ministry, p. . See
also The Sermons of Martin Luther, Vol. , ed. John Nicholas
Lenker (Grand Rapids: Baker Book House, ) p. .
. St L : quoted in Church and Ministry, p. .
. Martin Chemnitz, The Two Natures in Christ, tr. J.A.O.
Preus (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, ) p. .
. Martin Chemnitz, The Examination of the Council of
Trent, Vol. , tr. Fred Kramer (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing
House, ) pp. –.
. John Chrysostom, On the Priesthood ., quoted in
Quentin F. Wesselschmidt, “The Concept and Practice of Ministry in the Early Church,” Concordia Journal  () p. .
. Kurt E. Marquart, Confessional Lutheran Dogmatics, vol.
, The Church, ed. Robert D. Preus (Fort Wayne: The International Foundation for Lutheran Confessional Research, ) p. .
. St L : quoted in Church and Ministry, p. . AE :.
. Carl S. Mundinger, Government in the Missouri Synod
(St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, ) p. .
. I am indebted to Father Rudolph E. Kurz of the Evangelical Catholic Church for these insights, and especially to his
unpublished manuscript The Pastoral Office and Church Polity
().
. George H. Perlich, “The Lutheran Congregation,” The
Abiding Word, Vol. , ed. Theodore Laetsch (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, ) p. .
. Church and Ministry, p. .
. Marquart, p. .
. Marquart, p. .

. Wesselschmidt, p. .
. Rudolph E. Kurtz, “Summaries of the Keys” )unpublished manuscript, ) p. .
. “Summaries of the Keys” p. .
. Quoted in Mundinger, p. .
. John H.C. Fritz, Pastoral Theology (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, , p. .
. Marquart, p. .
. John Gerhard, Loci Theologici, Vol. 1, ed. Eduard
Preuss (Berlin: Schlawitz, ), p. , quoted in The True Visible Church, p. .
. Martin Chemnitz, The Examination, p. , quoted in
Church and Ministry, p. .
. Mundinger, p. .
. Mundinger, p. .
. Mundinger, p. .
. Mundinger, p. .
. Mundinger, p. , n. .
. Mundinger, p. .
. Mundinger, p. .
. Mundinger, p. .
. Mundinger, p. .
. Mundinger, p. .
. Mundinger, p. .
. Mundinger, p. .
. Mundinger, p. .
. Mundinger, p. .

. J.H. Merle d’Aubigné, History of the Reformation of the
Sixteenth Century, rep. of  ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker Book
House, n.d.), p. .
. Quoted in d’Aubigné,, p. .
. St. I. :, quoted in Walther, The Form of a Christian Congregation (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House,
1987), p. .
. St. I. :, , quoted in The Form of a Christian
Congregation , pp. , .
. David Chytraeus, On Sacrifice, tr. and ed. John W.
Montgomery (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, ),
pp. , .
. Norman E. Nagel,“The Office of the holy Ministry in
the Confessions,” Concordia Journal  (), p. .
. A Short Explanation of Dr. Martin Luther’s Small Catechism (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, ) p. .
. Marquart, p. .
. “Summaries,” , p. .
. James H. Pragman, Traditions of Ministry: A History of
the Doctrine of the Ministry in Lutheran Theology (St. Louis:
Concordia Publishing House, ), p. .
. Marquart, p. .
. Ignatius, Letter to the Philadelphians  (in The Apostolic
Fathers, pp. , ).
. Marquart, p. .
. The Pastoral Office and Church Polity, p. .
. The Pastoral Office and Church Polity, p. .
Only Playing Church?
The Lay Minister and The Lord’s Supper
DOUGLAS FUSSELMAN
j
-     
of the laity performing churchly acts:
otherwise be deprived of the sacrament for a long period of
time. At present, approximately  lay ministers are serving
in “an ongoing Word and Sacrament ministry” within the
Missouri Synod. Luther’s suggestion that any layman who performs the outward functions of a priest is “only playing
church” is of more than passing historical interest when one
realizes that hundreds of God’s people receive what they
believe to be the body and blood of Christ from the hand of a
lay minister. Concern for these believers makes it imperative to
determine if, as Luther suggested, the efficacy of the Holy
Communion is in any way dependent upon the office of the
ministry. Does a lay minister distribute the true sacrament or
only bread and wine? Can the functions of the ministry be genuinely performed apart from the office? Answers to these and
other related questions shall be sought in early Lutheran discussions of the pastoral ministry.
A
If a layman should perform all the outward functions of a
priest, celebrating Mass, confirming, absolving, administering the sacraments, dedicating altars, churches, vestments, vessels, etc., it is certain that these actions in all
respects would be similar to those of a true priest, in fact,
they might be performed more reverently and properly
than the real ones. But because he has not been consecrated and ordained and sanctified, he performs nothing
at all, but is only playing church and deceiving himself
and his followers.1
The proposition that any such layman is “deceiving himself and his followers” becomes noteworthy and evokes serious
consideration only when it is disclosed that the priest who
uttered these words in  was the young Martin Luther. Was
this notion nothing more than a remnant of Luther’s Roman
roots? Did the mature Luther ultimately reject this understanding of the office of the ministry? If not, to what extent did he
and other sixteenth-century theologians retain this position?
Many such questions beg for answers. Luther’s statement is
significant also in light of the ever expanding utilization of lay
ministers in North American Lutheranism. Most Lutheran
bodies are currently either exploring or employing lay ministry. The Missouri Synod, for example, opened the door for
lay ministry in  with the provision that “in exceptional circumstances or in emergencies . . . qualified individuals may
temporarily be called upon to perform, under proper supervision, functions that are otherwise performed by the pastor.”
In  Missouri officially sanctioned the lay exercise of public
ministry functions when the th Synodical Convention adopted a resolution which allowed for the celebration of the Lord’s
Supper by “licensed” layworkers in congregations which would
THE CHRISTOLOGICAL VIEW OF THE OFFICE
From the beginning, Lutherans have confessed a decidedly
christological understanding of the public ministry. Luther, in
his  treatise on the private mass, highlighted Christ’s intimate connection with the office.
For we must believe and be sure of this, that baptism
does not belong to us but to Christ, that the gospel
does not belong to us but to Christ, that the office of
preaching does not belong to us but to Christ, that the
sacrament [of the Lord’s Supper] does not belong to
us but to Christ, that the keys, or forgiveness and
retention of sins, do not belong to us but to Christ. In
summary, the offices and sacraments do not belong to
us but to Christ [AE 38:200].
The office of the public ministry is Christ’s office in Christ’s
church. Individuals are allowed, even commanded, to exercise
the office, yet it is not their possession. The ministry, like the
church, belongs to Christ alone. A pastor, therefore, cannot
perform the functions of the office personally. The pastor can
act only as a representative of Christ. Thus Melanchthon, in
Apology VII and VIII, was able to assert: “[Ministers] do not
represent their own persons but the person of Christ, because
of the church’s call, as Christ testifies (Lk :), ‘He who hears
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DOUGLAS D. FUSSELMAN is pastor at Our Savior Lutheran Church in
Valentine, Nebraska. This essay was presented as an Open/Academic
Topic at the Second Annual Theological Symposium at Concordia
Seminary, St. Louis, Missouri, on May 6, .



you hears me.’ When they offer the Word of Christ or the
sacraments, they do so in Christ’s place and stead.”
The pastor functions “in the stead and by the command” of
the Lord Jesus Christ, as the modern Lutheran liturgy so clearly
states. This common description of the Christ/pastor relationship, however, can easily convey a Reformed rather than
Lutheran christology if understood in isolation. To say only that
the pastor represents Christ or stands in his place can suggest
that Jesus is locally confined in heaven and thus incapable of
personal presence among his people. Under this scheme a pastor must serve as the earthly surrogate necessitated by Jesus’
heavenly exile. Since the pastor is required to perform churchly
acts for Jesus, as his substitute, the functions of the office ultimately eclipse the office itself. Christ is relegated to a place far
The minister then functions as the
means and instrument through which
Christ himself personally does his
work in his Church.
removed from his church on earth and to the very fringe of any
discussion of the office of the ministry. Inasmuch as this understanding of the public ministry portrays Christ in absentia, it
must be identified as neither Lutheran nor truly Christological.
This was never the intent of the early Lutheran fathers. The pastor does not stand in the place of an absent Christ, but rather in
the stead of an eminently present Christ. According to both his
divine and human natures, Jesus is present in his church. This
concept was clearly stated in Solid Declaration VIII.
[N]o other human being in heaven and on earth can
say truthfully, “Where two or three are gathered in
my name, there am I in the midst of them” [Mt
:], likewise, “I am with you always even to the
close of the age” [Mt :]. . . . We believe that the
cited passages illustrate the majesty of the man Christ,
which Christ received according to his humanity at
the right hand of the majesty and power of God, so
that, also according to and with this same assumed
human nature of his, Christ can be and is present
wherever he wills, and in particular that he is present
with his church and community on earth as mediator,
head, king, and high priest [SD VIII , ].
Christ is not distant from his people but he is truly present
and active in his church on earth. This divine/human ecclesiastical presence is identifiable, for Christ has chosen to approach
his people under earthly elements. One such place in which
Christ is present is in the Sacrament of the Altar [SD VIII,
–]. In Apology XIII Melanchthon identified the office of the
ministry as another place in which Christ’s presence is encountered: “The church has the command to appoint minister; to
this we must subscribe wholeheartedly, for we know that God
approves this ministry and is present in it” [Ap XIII, ].
Christ’s presence in the church is not ethereal but real. Congregations are obliged to give concrete embodiment to this presence by appointing pastors. The pastor then is the means and
instrument through which Christ himself personally does his
work in his church. The pastor does not function in the place
of a Christ who is far removed from his people; on the contrary, Christ is personally present in the local congregation in,
with, and under the person of the appointed pastor. Other sixteenth-century Lutheran theologians would concur. In his
Enchiridion, Martin Chemnitz explained: “God Himself deals
with us in the church through the ministry as through ordinary
means and instrument. For it is He Himself that speaks,
exhorts, absolves, baptizes, etc., in the ministry and through
the ministry.” Luther directly applied this understanding of
the ministry to his own office and ecclesiastical function in a
 sermon: “Whenever you hear me, you hear not me, but
Christ. I do not give you my baptism, my body and blood; I do
not absolve you’’ [AE :]. On another occasion he amplified this same concept:
Thus the apostles and pastors are nothing but channels through which Christ leads and transmits His
Gospel from the Father to us. Therefore wherever you
hear the Gospel properly taught or see a person baptized, wherever you see someone administer or receive
the Sacrament, or wherever you witness someone
absolving another, there you may say without hesitation: “Today I beheld God’s Word and work. Yes, I
saw and heard God himself preaching and baptizing.”
To be sure, the tongue, the voice, the hands, etc., are
those of a human being; but the Word and the ministry are really those of the Divine Majesty Himself.
Hence it must be viewed and believed as though God’s
own voice were resounding from heaven and as
though we were seeing him administering Baptism or
the Sacrament with His own hands [AE :].
In his  sermon on John , Luther used even stronger language to express this important truth.
Even today Baptism and the proclamation of the
Divine Word are not mine but God’s. When we hear
this Word, we must bear in mind that it is God himself who is addressing us. When kings hear the Word
and see the administration of the Sacraments, they
should place their crowns and scepters at His feet and
say: “It is God who has His being here, who speaks
here, and who is active here.” You will perhaps be
tempted to interpose: “Why, it is just a plain priest
standing there and administering the Lord’s Supper!”
If that is your viewpoint, you are no Christian. If I
were to hear none but you preach, I would not care a
straw about it; but it is God who is speaking there. It
is He who is baptizing; it is He who is active. He Himself is present here. Thus the preacher does not speak
for himself; he is the spokesman of God, the heavenly
  
Father. Therefore you ought to say: “I saw God Himself baptizing and administering the Sacrament of the
Altar, and I heard God preaching the Word.” . . .Why
do you refuse to listen to God, who comes in the guise
of a humble human being, who conceals Himself and
resembles His beloved apostles? The word that you
hear is not that of a pastor; it is God’s Word. And since
it is God’s Word, you should be excited and happy
over it. But people will not do this. They think that
they know better [AE :, , ].
Luther and other Lutheran fathers espoused an understanding
of the ministry which was exceedingly christological. They held
that Christ himself in, with, and under the office of the public
ministry is both present and active among his people. It is precisely this mystical union of Christ’s office and Christ’s
divine/human presence that is described in Apology VII and VIII:
“[Ministers] do not represent their own persons but the person
of Christ, because of the church’s call, as Christ testifies (Luke
: ), ‘He who hears you hears me.’ When they offer the Word
of Christ or the sacraments, they do so in Christ’s place and
stead.” No empty representation is intended here. The pastor
does not act as a private individual but, “because of the church’s
Luther and other Lutheran fathers
espoused an understanding of the
ministry which was exceedingly
christological.
call,” functions as the earthly element through which Christ
himself is speaking to and working among his own people. The
congregation does not simply hear Jesus’ words coming out of
the pastor’s mouth like one person reading a speech written by
another. The congregation hears Jesus! He is present as speaker
and actor. The pastor is only the means or instrument through
which Jesus personally does his work in his church. This is not
to say that everything a pastor does is instrumental. In Solid
Declaration VII it is asserted that, “Nothing has the character of
a sacrament apart from the use instituted by Christ, or apart
from the divinely instituted action’’ [SD VII, ]. This oft-cited
“Nihil rule” can be profitably applied also to the public ministry. Only those ministerial actions which are commanded by
Jesus can be performed instrumentally. Apart from these
dominically instituted actions, the pastor does not—indeed
cannot—represent the person of Christ. The specific actions of
the ministry, therefore, are essential. They must be conducted
in accordance with the divine command. But “correct function”
is not the only consideration. As has been demonstrated above,
“office” is also of vital importance. The proper relationship
between both factors must be maintained: Jesus is present and
active under the earthly element of the human pastor when
(and only when) the pastor performs Christ’s functions in
Christ’s office in accordance with Christ’s commands.

THE OFFICE AND SACRAMENTAL EFFICACY
This understanding of the office can help to clarify the distinction between laity and pastors. The difference here is most
certainly not a matter of spiritual or personal inferiority/superiority. The pastoral vocation in no way entails human achievement of a more spiritually advanced quality than that possible
among the laity. Rejected, too, is any notion of the pastor as an
elitist, high-level, ecclesiastical manager. Such an administrative view of the office is only marginally christological if not
altogether unchristian; Christ came—and continues to come in
the office—not as tyrant, but as servant: “I am among you as
one who serves” (Lk :). Far from second-class members of
the kingdom, laymen and laywomen are the very objects of
Christ’s continuing service through the public ministry. He
has, in fact, promised his presence only to them (the “two or
three” gathered in his name) and not to isolated clerics separated from the Christian community. The office does not and
cannot exist apart from the church! The laity need only supply
the elements for Christ’s presence among them; congregations
must provide the concrete embodiment for his presence by
calling and appointing pastors. Through these pastors, as
through means, Christ himself personally serves his people
with his own word and sacraments.
The distinction between laypeople and pastors, then, is simply a matter of instrumentality; a layperson functions according
to his/her own person; a pastor functions in the office, that is, as
the instrument of Christ’s presence. The layperson might correctly perform churchly acts, but in such actions he/she alone is
the actor. When the pastor performs these same acts in the
office, Christ himself is the actor. This distinction can influence
the efficacy of the divinely instituted actions.
The lay/pastor distinction is nowhere better understood
than in absolution. The pastor, by virtue of the office, is able to
deliver “indicative-operative absolution” in the first person
singular: “I forgive you all your sins. . . .” Christ is here personally addressing the penitent through the instrument of the
pastor—the penitent truly encounters Christ. If a member of
the laity should speak in this manner, the offered forgiveness
would be considered as coming from the absolving individual
rather than from the only begotten Son of the Father. The laity
can deliver divine pardon only in the third person singular:
“God forgives you all your sins.” While it cannot be demonstrated that one form of absolution is always or necessarily
preferable to the other, it can be demonstrated that the two
absolutions are not identical. The office is the difference. The
lay/pastor distinction is discernible also in the application of
the Word. In Church and Ministry, C.F.W. Walther quoted
Luther on this issue.
Indeed, many blurt out and say: ‘Why do we need more
pastors and ministers, since we can read [the Bible] ourselves at home?’ So they go their way in carnal security,
and do not read it at home. Or even if they do read it at
home, it is neither as fruitful nor as effective as the Word
is efficacious when it is publicly proclaimed by the
mouth of the pastor whom God has called and appointed to preach and teach it to you.


It is not suggested here that the written word is without effect.
The point is that the Word proclaimed by the pastor is more
effective than that read by a layperson. How could Luther (and
Walther concurs) make such a contention? This statement is
difficult—if not impossible—to explain unless reading words
about Jesus is somehow different from hearing words from
Jesus. In which case, the office is once again the difference.
The lay/pastor distinction plays most prominently in the discussion of the efficacy of the Holy Communion. In his Examination of the Council of Trent, Chemnitz elucidated the importance
of the office in the administration of the sacrament after first
rejecting any sort of magical potency in the words of institution.
The words of institution are said to be
efficacious because they are the words
of the present and powerful Christ,
spoken by Christ himself through the
mouth of the minister.
[T]he recitation of these words is not to be used in the
way magicians recite their incantations in set formulas,
for instance to bring down Jupiter Elicius or the moon
from heaven, namely, by the strength and power of the
letters and syllables, if they are recited and pronounced
a certain way; but as Paul asserts, that in the preaching
of the Gospel Christ Himself speaks through the
mouth of ministers (Rom :, ;  Cor :) and that
God is “making His appeal through us” ( Cor :).
So in the action of the Eucharist the minister acts as an
ambassador in the place of Christ, who is Himself
there present, and through the ministers pronounces
these words: “This is My body; this do,” etc., and for
this reason His Word is efficacious. Therefore it is not
a man, the minister, who by his consecration and
blessing makes bread and wine into the body and
blood of Christ, but Christ Himself, by means of His
Word, is present in this action, and by means of the
Word of His institution, which is spoken through the
mouth of the minister, He brings it about that the
bread is His body and the cup His blood. . . .
Chemnitz would allow no incantational understanding of the
consecration; he rejected any suggestion that the sounds of the
words alone could effect a magical transformation of the elements. The words of institution are said to be efficacious because
they are the words of the present and powerful Christ, spoken by
Christ himself through the mouth of the pastor. Chemnitz continued his discussion of the essential relationship between the
office and the sacrament, after spurning the notion that the consecration has nothing more than historical significance.
Therefore the words of institution are spoken in our
Lord’s Supper, not merely for the sake of history but
to show to the church that Christ Himself, through
His Word, according to His command and promise,
is present in the action of the Supper and by the power of this Word offers His body and blood to those
who eat. For it is He who distributes, though it be
through the pastor; it is He who says: “This is my
body.” It is He who is working through His Word, so
that the bread is His body and the wine His blood.
Christ is said to be present not only in the words and elements of the Supper but in the action of the Supper as well.
The sacrament, therefore, is efficacious because Jesus personally speaks the words of institution. The pastor is only the instrument through which Christ himself is among his people to
consecrate and distribute his own body and blood.
This understanding of the consecration and distribution
was also presented in The Lord’s Supper where Chemnitz cited
Chrysostom to once more suggest that through the minister it
is Christ himself who actually consecrates and distributes the
sacrament: “When you see the hand of the priest holding out
to us the body of the Lord, we must remember that it is not the
hand of the priest stretching out to us but the hand of Christ
who says, ‘Take and eat; this is My body’.” Chemnitz would
have the Christian “see” Christ under both the sacramental
bread and the sacramental celebrant. The “real presence” of the
Lord’s Supper is here fused with the “real presence” of the
Lord’s office. Luther similarly emphasized the importance of
Christ’s presence in the administration of this sacrament.
We hear these words, “This is my body,” not as spoken
concerning the person of the pastor or the minister
but as coming from Christ’s own mouth who is present and says to us: “Take, eat, this is my body.” We do
not hear and understand them otherwise and know
indeed that the pastor’s or the minister’s body is not in
the bread nor is it being administered. Consequently,
we also do not hear the command and ordinance
according to which he says, “Do this in remembrance
of me,” as words spoken concerning the pastor’s person; but we hear Christ himself through the pastor’s
mouth speaking to us and commanding that we
should take bread and wine at his word, “This is my
body,” etc., and in them according to his command
eat his body and drink his blood [AE :, ].
For Luther the elements do not encompass the pastor’s body
because the consecration is not spoken concerning the pastor’s
person. Through the office Christ speaks and thus offers his
own body and blood under the elements. This understanding
of the consecration is also set forth in Solid Declaration VII:
No man’s word or work, be it the merit or the speaking of the minister, be it the eating and drinking or
  
the faith of the communicants, can effect the true presence of the body and blood of Christ in the Supper.
This is to be ascribed only to the almighty power of
God and the Word, institution, and ordinance of our
Lord Jesus Christ. . . . Chrysostom says in his Sermon
on the Passion: “Christ himself prepares this table and
blesses it. No human being, but only Christ himself
who was crucified for us, can make of the bread and
wine set before us the body and blood of Christ. The
words are spoken by the mouth of the priest, but by
God’s power and grace through the words that he
speaks, ‘This is my body,’ the elements set before us in
the Supper are blessed. . . .” [SD VII, , ].
No mere mortal is capable of presenting the Supper. It is Christ
himself, through the pastor, who prepares the sacrament and
blesses it. Luther’s insights into the consecration of the Supper
are cited in support of this position in the Solid Declaration.
“[I]f I were to say over all the bread there is, ‘This is
the body of Christ,’ nothing would happen, but when
we follow his institution and command in the Lord’s
Supper and say, ‘This is my body,’ then it is his body,
not because of our speaking or of our efficacious
word, but because of his command in which he has
told us so to speak and to do and has attached his own
command and deed to our speaking” [SD VII, ].
To attempt consecration in the third person singular,
“This is the body of Christ,” is here said to be contrary to the
divine institution and therefore fruitless. Apart from an incantational recitation of the words of institution (which Chemnitz
disallowed above), the laity can not employ the first person singular consecration, “This is my body,” and have it apply to the
body of Christ because the antecedent of “my body” is the individual’s own body. For a layperson to attempt consecration
with the formula “Christ said, ‘This is my body,’” is to resort to
mere historical narrative which has also been rejected above. In
the final assessment, only a minister, by virtue of the office, can
speak the words of institution according to Christ’s command,
for only a pastor can genuinely consecrate the Supper in the
first person singular. When, through the instrument of the pastor, Christ himself is present and declares, “This is my body,”
then and only then is the Holy Communion efficacious. The
office makes the difference. It must be ever maintained that the
Lord’s Supper is not robbed of its efficacy when administered
by unworthy or evil ministers [Ap VII and VIII, , ]. Neither
is the intention of the officiant of any consequence, as Chemnitz declared: “Faith may hold the sacrament to be true and
have true efficacy when it is administered according to the institution, no matter what the minister either thinks or believes or
intends, if only he preserves the institution of Christ in the
administration.” In  Luther went so far as to suggest that
even the devil himself could celebrate a valid sacrament.
[L]et us suppose that I found out afterward that the
devil had inveigled his way into the office by stealth

or, having assumed the form of a man, let himself be
called to the office of the ministry, and publicly
preached the gospel in the church, baptized, celebrated mass, absolved and exercised and administered
such offices and sacraments, as a pastor would,
according to the command of Christ—then we would
for all that have to admit that the sacraments were
valid, that we had received a valid baptism, had heard
the true gospel, obtained true absolution, and had
participated in the true sacrament of the body and
blood of Christ.
For our faith and the sacrament must not be
based on the person, whether he is godly or evil, consecrated or unconsecrated, called or an impostor,
whether he is the devil or his mother, but upon Christ,
upon his word, upon his office, upon his command
and ordinance; where these are in force, there everything will be carried out properly, no matter who or
what the person might happen to be [AE :, ].
. . . the public ministry must be
understood christologically—the office
is a concrete expression of Christ’s
presence in the congregation.
Christ’s body and blood would be present under the elements
even though administered by the devil himself if two basic
requirements were satisfied: if the sacrament was celebrated in
accordance with the divine command, and if the devil held the
office of the ministry through which Christ personally functions. The office, not the person who fills it, is a most important consideration in determining sacramental efficacy. Luther
illustrated this truth with his usual eloquence.
Offices and sacraments always remain in the church;
persons are daily subject to change. As long as we call
and induct into the offices persons who can administer them, then the offices will surely continue to be
exercised. The horse has been bridled and saddled; if
you place on it even a naked lad who can ride, the
horse will proceed as well as if the emperor or the
pope were riding it [AE :].
Even a boy may be set in the saddle and ride, but any attempt
to jog alongside is an altogether different proposition.
LUTHER WAS CORRECT
According to the early Lutheran fathers, the public ministry must be understood christologically; the office is a concrete expression of Christ’s presence in the congregation.
Christ is not a distant or absent lord but the ever-present Lord
of the church! He is the foundation upon which the public
ministry is built. Consequently, there can be no ministry about


Jesus Christ for there exists only the one ministry of Jesus
Christ. Through the office, Christ is personally active among
his people. He preaches, he absolves, and he celebrates the
sacraments according to his own command and institution.
Apart from the office of the ministry, churchly acts are performed not by Christ but by the individual alone. Historically,
the functions of the pastoral office have been almost exclusively performed by those placed into the pastoral office. The
christological understanding of the ministry presented here
would suggest that this ancient practice is not only reasonable
but absolutely essential.
To insure every communicant’s sacramental certainty, no individual should
be allowed to perform the functions of
the office of the ministry apart from
the office itself.
It seems that the young Luther’s view of the efficacy of
sacraments was correct: a layperson may perform all the
actions of the Holy Communion quite reverently and correctly,
yet he/she can only offer ordinary bread and wine; for without
Christ’s presence through the office of the ministry, his command and institution simply cannot be observed. Unless Christ
himself says, “This is my body . . .” there can be no consecration and therefore no Sacrament of the Altar. Any attempt to
celebrate the Eucharist apart from the public ministry is more
than a minor departure from “good order”; it is not only illicit
but also invalid and inefficacious.
Since “lay minister” is a confusing, oxymoronic term,
the issue of the lay minister and the Lord’s Supper is not so
easily or quickly resolved. The endless discussions of
“ordained versus called,” “educated versus uneducated,”
“exclusive functions of ministry versus distinctive functions of
ministry” may be promptly dismissed, however, for lay ministry can only be properly defined and understood according
to its relationship to the public ministry. In matters of
eucharistic efficacy, the office makes a difference. If, in fact,
the lay minister holds the office of the ministry because of the
congregation’s appointment (as some congregations and lay
ministers might suppose), then Christ is indeed present and
active in the office and the sacrament consecrated by a lay
minister is valid and efficacious. If, on the other hand, lay
ministers do not hold the office—if they only perform the
functions of the ministry apart from the office itself (as suggested in the LCMS Lay Worker resolution)—then lay ministers are merely acting according to their own persons when
they attempt to consecrate the Supper and can offer only empty bread and wine; for apart from Christ’s speaking in and
through the office, Christ’s own institution cannot be
observed and no valid Eucharist is possible.
Who is to say which assessment of the lay minister
describes the spiritual reality? Man-made theological hybrids
like lay ministry often defy easy categorization, always raise difficult questions, and sometimes even obscure the truth. In
matters related to the Lord’s Supper, however, such uncertainty is intolerable and inexcusable. God’s people should never
have occasion to doubt the efficacy of the Lord’s Supper celebrated in their midst. This is precisely the kind of confusion
and suspicion that Augustana XIV was intended to eliminate.
Something must be done!
To insure every communicant’s sacramental certainty, no
individual should be allowed to perform the functions of the
office of the ministry apart from the office itself. This does not
necessarily mean that all lay ministers should be banned from
their altars and driven from their congregations, although the
present difficulty could be corrected in this way. A less drastic
approach might be more desirable: Why not openly and publicly confer the office of the public ministry on those lay ministers presently serving in “ongoing Word and sacrament ministry”? Not just a “license” to impersonate a pastor, but the
holy office itself could be granted to these individuals. Then
there would be no doubt about the efficacy of the church’s
sacramental celebration. Then God’s people would no longer
need to wonder if, perhaps, the individual at their altar was
“only playing church.”
LOGIA
  

NOTES
. Luther’s Works, American Edition, Vol.  (Saint Louis:
. It is perhaps significant that in the Roman Catholic traConcordia Publishing House, ) pp. , .
dition, a layperson may read the first two lessons, but only the
. The Commission on Theology and Church Relations of
priest (or deacon) is allowed to read the Gospel, the very words
the Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod, The Ministry (St.
of Christ.
Louis: LCMS, ) p. .
. Martin Chemnitz, Examination of the Council of Trent,
. “To Adopt Recommendations of Lay Worker Study
vol. , tr. by Fred Kramer (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing
Committee Report as Amended,” Resolution –B in ProceedHouse, ) p. , .
ings of the th Regular Convention of the LCMS in Wichita.
. Examination, p. .
Kansas – July  (St. Louis: LCMS, ) p. .
. If Luke’s Emmaus account (: ff.) is understood
. “Recommendations,” p. .
sacramentally (see Tappert, p. ), it is significant that the two
. T.G. Tappert, ed. and trans., The Book of Concord
did not recognize Jesus in the elements of the Supper but in the
(Philadelphia: Fortress, ) p. .
action of the Supper: “the breaking of the bread, th/" klavsei
. The Commission on Worship of the Lutheran
tou'" a[rtou (:).
Church—Missouri Synod, Lutheran Worship (St. Louis: Con. Martin Chemnitz, The Lord’s Supper, tr. by J.A.O. Preus,
cordia Publishing House, ) p. .
(St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, ) p. . For a fuller
. Martin Chemnitz, Ministry, Word, and Sacraments, tr.
treatment of Chrysostom’s understanding of the office and
by Luther Poellot (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House,
eucharistic efficacy see Carl A. Volz, Pastoral Life and Practice in
) p. . For a fuller treatment of Christ’s presence and
the Early Church (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, ) p. .
activity in the church see Chemnitz, The Two Natures in Christ,
. Herein lies an important difference between Baptism
tr. by J.A.O. Preus (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House,
and the Lord’s Supper. While the formula for the Eucharist is
) p. –.
in the first person (“This is my body”) thus necessitating
. Tappert, p. . See also Tappert, p. .
Christ’s own action in the office for efficacy, the formula for
. Commission on Worship of the Lutheran Church—
Baptism is in the third person (“. . . in the name of the Father
Missouri Synod, “Notes on the Liturgy,” in Lutheran Worship
and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit”) thus allowing valid
Altar Book (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, ) p. .
emergency lay baptisms apart from the office.
. C.F.W. Walther, Church and Ministry, tr. by J.T.
. Examination, :–.
Mueller (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, ) p. .
. Substituting “lay worker” or “deacon” helps little. See
. This distinction may be subtly suggested in the Gospels:
Proceedings, p. .
John the Baptist announced that his proclamation about Jesus,
. Proceedings, p. .
although effective, was inferior to the greater personal ministry
. Others have suggested this course of action. See, for
of Jesus (Mt : ). Similarly, emergency lay baptism might be
example, John R. Stephenson, “Who is the Rightful Celebrant
profitably compared to John’s baptism, which was effective but
of Holy Communion?”, Lutheran Theological Review :
distinguishable from Jesus’ baptism (Acts :).
(Fall/Winter –) p. .
COLLOQUIUM FRATRUM
“Through the mutual conversation and consolation of the brethren . . .”
Smalcald Articles III/IV
j
DAVID SCAER:
A REPLY TO LEONARD KLEIN
to himself (which he cannot be), he must reveal himself as
Father and Son. His Trinitarian existence as Father and Son
and Spirit is not subject to a sovereign choice. To suggest a
name change for God is comparable to the question of whether
God could put himself out of existence, an idea put forward by
process philosophy.
Without denying the metaphorical or symbolical character
of language—including religious language—certain terms
describing God cannot be absolute metaphors. Under such
conditions, we could never be sure whether language about
God corresponded to what he is. We could never know who or
what was behind the words. If language about God was pure
metaphor, we might concede “mother” and “daughter” as
appropriate substitutes for “Father” and “Son,” especially if we
concluded that feminine attributes in God should be given
equal space to masculine ones. Not only is this being suggested
by others, but it is in fact being carried out. Those who are
unaware of this have not kept abreast of current theological
issues. But putting that issue aside, consider Pastor Klein’s
argument for speaking of God as Father and Son.
His basic thesis, that “the ordinary English meaning of
father is sexual begetter of children,” might be an assumption.
First, it is arguable whether “father” or “son” in English has a
different connotation than, for example, in French, German,
Greek or Hebrew. Second, “father” is used by children prior to
the age of sexual awareness without any sense of being physically conceived. Even after they learn about “the birds and the
bees,” they still might choose to remain in the dark. Call it
denial. In fact, a child’s first and prolonged use of “father” has
no sexual connotation to him at all. Third, “father” is used as a
title of honor for the clergy in the vast majority of Christendom and to say to an older clergyman that “you are a father to
me” has no sexual overtones at all. Compare  Timothy  and
 Timothy . Fourth, “father” has been used of ancestors like
Abraham and Isaac. Fifth, “father” and “sons” have been used
for the older and younger members of society. Finally, Jesus
understands his relationship to the disciples as that of father to
children (sons) (Mt :). Obviously “father-son” language
does carry the idea of a “sexual begetter of children,” but hardly in every case.
Still, “Begetter” is hardly foreign to God’s own essence and
work. Apart from any “sexual” connotations, the Father is the
Begetter of the Son in a real and not figurative sense: “his only
Comparatively speaking, it could be argued that Pastor
Leonard Klein has been more courageous in affirming confessional Lutheranism in the ELCA than has anyone in the LCMS.
The key word is “comparatively,” but this does not detract
from the courage of his convictions. His Lutheran Forum has
not minced words in describing the introduction of a neutered,
genderless liturgy as apostasy and gnosticism. In “Counterpoint: Against the Ordination of Women” in the February 
issue of Lutheran Forum (), the author was among those
cheering the present editor Leonard Klein and former editor
Paul Hinlicky for fighting what could be a hopeless battle to
maintain traditional Trinitarian terminology in the ELCA.
They refuse to allow feministic philosophies to replace “Father,
Son, and Spirit” with “Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier.” Past
issues of the Concordia Theological Quarterly have placed
Klein’s Lutheran Forum and its monthly offspring Forum Letter
on the “must” reading list.
Klein agrees with the author that we are fighting a modern
form of ancient gnosticism in neutered Bible translations,
creeds and liturgy. Though he does not see that ordained
women pastors are part of this modern gnosticism, he does
recognize that both women clergy and neutered references to
God were part of historical gnosticism. This writer’s position is
that both phenomena are symptomatic of gnosticism; not that
one is the cause of the other. However, at the appearance of
one symptom one may confidently await the other. The other
shoe will drop! Klein rightfully insists that we may not transgress the biblical revelation of God by explaining him in any
other sense than that in which reveals himself, namely as
Father, Son and Spirit. In this revelation “Father” and “Son”
are hardly mere metaphors. God can be like a mother, thief,
farmer—these are metaphors—but he is Father and Son. Supposedly God might have chosen other metaphors besides thief
or farmer, a point which will not be debated here. Sermons are
in a sense metaphors, or a collection of metaphors, since they
attempt to explain the divine in human terms. All such
attempts are not of equal value. Biblical metaphors have the
advantage of prior divine choice and approval. But God’s revelation of himself as Father and Son is not a metaphor. He
chooses when to reveal himself; but unless he would be untrue

 
begotten Son.” Beyond this no other mystery, not even the
incarnation, is more profound. The Son is dependent on the
Father—almost in the way children are dependent on their
fathers—in such a way that the Son shares in the divine essence
of Father as God. Pagan religions fail precisely in their introduction of female deities by whom other deities and the (rest
of) creation are brought into existence. Again, apart from “sexual” connotations, God is the Father of his creation and, in a
special way through baptism, also of his church. “He has sent
the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying Abba, Father” (Gal
:). “He has begotten us with the word of truth” (Jas :).
Perhaps we should reverse the discussion and turn the
metaphor around. The relationship between earthly fathers
and their children is a metaphor of the one, lasting reality of
God, who is not “like” but truly is the Father. We must choose
to be fathers. God is Father. This is how Athanasius and
Nazianzus argued, and therefore we have introduced nothing
new into the discussion. Human fathers are instruments of the
Eternal Father and they are only fathers because he allows them
to be. We come to a fuller knowledge of what we are as fathers
and sons, only after we have known God as the Father and the
Son. The existence of God as Father and Son is not a metaphor,
but the most real of all realities, the ground of all being, the
basis of all existence.
The theological argument (here using “theological” in the
narrow sense) must be brought into every theological argument
(here being used in the wider sense). That is to say whatever
the church says and does must in some way reflect and correspond to God as Father and Son. There is no theology (as all
religious knowledge) which is not derived from theology (as
the precise knowledge of the Trinity). We cannot describe God
as a mother—not simply because this terminology denies his
revelation, as Klein holds—but because it contradicts that he is
the Father.
Klein supports both masculine terms for God (FatherSon) and female clergy, even though in pointing to historical
gnosticism he is not unaware of a potential contradiction. One
way to overcome the tension of having a God who is understood as Father (and not mother) while maintaining a female
clergy is to establish the foundation for the ministry not in the
Holy Trinity, nor in the incarnation of the Son or the all-male
apostolate, but in faith or baptism. The Archbishop of Canterbury, in response to the decision of the House of Lords to
endorse the ordination of women priests in the Church of England, went one step further and made humanity the basis for
the practice. This anthropocentric (male-female) approach, as
opposed to a theocentric (Father-Son) approach, not only
allows but requires that women be ordained on the same basis
as men, since it regards the ministry as the common possession
of all believers. Klein contests that this is not his position, but it
might well belong to his fundamental argument, as will be
shown below. In a similar vein, though the Wisconsin Synod
certainly opposes the ordination of women, their recent pronouncements on the ministry provide the philosophical arguments for the practice. Now we have reversed images. Klein
endorses the ordination of women pastors, but claims not to
derive the ministry from a common faith or baptism. The Wis-

consin Synod derives the ministry from a common faith, but
forbids women ordination. They are saved from adopting the
ELCA practice by biblical prohibitions (law). Pastor Klein
wants to find himself in what the author has written. Rarely
does one have such a privilege to serve as the second use of the
law (mirror). He may discover that this writer’s comments in
“The Integrity of the Christological Character of the Office of
the Ministry” (LOGIA, Vol. , No. ) were not shot from the hip,
but after having taken careful aim several times: On your mark,
get set, fire. In the Advent  issue of Lutheran Forum (), the
initials “P.R.H. & L.K.” are appended at the end of an article
entitled with the poor pun “Professor Scaer’s Tactics.” [The
forgiveness in speaking of “a scare tactic” requested by “P.R.H.
& L.K.” is denied on the grounds that it lacks originality, the
mark of dyed-in-the-wool conservatives. Besides, the Scaer
family finds “scare” jokes wearisome.] One may assume that
“P.R.H. & L.K.” are Paul R. Hinlicky and Leonard Klein. And
in their article baptism is introduced into the discussion on the
ordination of women: “As for us [Hinlicky and Klein], the
evangelical credibility of the evangelical catholic movement
depends on delivering genuine theological support for the
ordination of women, grounded in Holy Baptism, normed by
the same standards of confessional subscription, personal
integrity and professional competence that have always been
required, and warranted by the gospel freedom of the church
and to respond and adapt to a changing world which we trust
to be governed by the loving hands of the Father of Jesus”
(emphasis added).
The arguments in “The Integrity of the Christological
Character of the Office of the Ministry” were hardly new, since
they appeared in part in the author’s “Counterpoint: Against
the Ordination of Women” in Lutheran Forum (February ,
p. ). “Hinlicky and Klein attempt to support the ordination
of women within a theological totality by deriving it from baptism. But this is only a sacramental variation we all [Hinlicky,
Klein, Scaer] oppose.” For two years Pastor Klein made no
response to the author’s article in his own Lutheran Forum. Let
the readers draw their own conclusions. Neither Hinlicky nor
Klein nor the author hold to a functional view of the ministry,
but in an attempt to justify the ordination of women, Hinlicky
and Klein introduced baptism as a theological factor into the
argument. Such tactics amount to a “high church” variation of
“everyone a minister.” Baptism—not faith—is considered the
basis of the ministry, but there is essentially no difference, since
ministry is derived from the church. Indeed the Wisconsin
Synod might have to show why it is that every Christian should
not be ordained in accordance with its theory of deriving the
public ministry from what they call “the personal ministry.”
One observer remarked that the Wisconsin Synod might as
well ordain everyone, which is strangely the fear of some ELCA
women pastors. If the ministry and ordination are the common possession of all believers, then for women to possess the
ministry through ordination has little or no value. Pastor Klein
and even some women ELCA clergy consider the practice to be
proper, but the arguments admittedly not. (See “Open Letter,”
Lutheran Forum, Vol. , , pp. , .) All this hand-wringing
comes about twenty years too late. Rather than overturning a

near , year tradition, it might have been the better part of
wisdom not to ordain women at least until the matter was
resolved. Klein is among the remnant in the ELCA who “think
that the issue and meaning of women’s ordination is open to
debate.” This overlooks the fact that in every intersynodical
dialogue with the LCMS the ELCA has removed the ordination
of women as a negotiable item from the table. Any future fellowship arrangement will require that the LCMS accept the
ELCA practice. Any rapprochement will require that the ordination of women become an open question for the LCMS, but
not the ELCA. Unfair!

I count Pastor Klein as a scholar, a confessor and a friend
and I appreciate his rejoinder as he certainly does mine. We
both recognize and oppose “making the ministry optional and
functionalist” in our churches. But a functionalist view provides the most accessible support for the ordination of women.
Many of Klein’s statements are memorable. Here is one of my
favorites: “One of the abler minds in the Lutheran Church—
Missouri Synod is David P. Scaer of the Fort Wayne Seminary.”
A prophet is never without honor except in his own country.
Even without a common synodical citizenship, this might be
applicable to both of us.
David P. Scaer
Fort Wayne, IN
REVIEWS
“It is not many books that make men learned . . . but it is a good book frequently read.”
Martin Luther
j
Review Essay
forced to change to the NRSV, or to some other version.
Indeed, worship inserts published by Augsburg Fortress for use
with the Lutheran Book of Worship switched to NRSV already in
the summer of , thus in effect forcing a change. Either use
inserts with NRSV readings or do without them, that is the
choice.
“Standard” in the NRSV’s name implied to me it would
hold to the “standard” of the KJV as faithfully as possible, and
thus substantially preserve past renderings. A “standard” version should resist the impulse simply to tinker with words, for
example. One of my memorable irritations with the RSV was
its substitution in Deuteronomy : of “every word that proceeds out of the mouth of the LORD” with “everything.” The
NRSV returns to “every word” here, only to foul the text further by reading “one” for “man” in the clause, “one does not
live by bread alone,” and striking “man” from the second
clause altogether.
A “standard” version ought not indulge in such tinkering,
yet it keeps happening. In Ezekiel :, KJV’s “The way of the
LORD is not equal” (Hebrew ˆ~ keTy; )I was accurate and intelligible
enough, yet RSV tinkered it into “not just,” and the NRSV now
into “not fair.” “Let my son go that he may serve me (Hebrew
db'[); ” in Exodus : KJV and RSV becomes “worship me” in the
NRSV—more tinkering. In a parallel text NRSV retains “serve”
for db'[,; however, “him shall you serve” (Dt :). The link of
sonship with servanthood in Israel is highly significant in the
Gospels, yet NRSV’s tinkering obscures it. Driven by nothing
more than the bare Greek douleuvw and its noun form dou'lo",
NRSV foists a Greek conception of “slavery” upon the Hebrew
“servant” world in which Jesus lived and taught. It has Jesus say,
“No one can serve two masters, for a slave will either hate the
one and love the other. . . .” (Mt :; Lk :). The complaint
of the elder son takes the form, “All these years I have been
working like a slave for you” (Lk :). Most problematic, in the
parable of “the unforgiving servant” (Mt :–) the notion of
Israel as God’s “son” and “servant” is utterly lost. A reader perceives only the dou'lo" of Greek culture, a boss king, a sub-boss
“slave” and an underling “fellow slave.”
The general effect of such departures from the “standard”
is to erase conceptual links previously preserved. A “standard”
version ought to cherish and not diminish the “concordance”
value of its renderings for the associative memory of readers.
Words and their roots ought to be translated the same way
TRANSLATING THE BIBLE
An Evaluation of the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV),
Oxford University Press, New York. Produced and copyrighted
() by Division of Christian Education of the National
Council of Churches of Christ in the United States of America,
owner of the copyright also of the Revised Standard Version
(RSV), New Testament , whole Bible , NT revised .
Released Spring .
■ The term “Standard” constitutes a claim on continuity with
the historic King James Version of  (KJV), “Appointed to be
Read in Churches.” It seems appropriate then that an evaluation
of the NRSV be done by someone like myself, who grew up with
the KJV and made the transition to the RSV. I became a Bible
reader upon my confirmation in , my version being the KJV
which I had heard read Sunday upon Sunday from childhood,
verses of which I had also memorized. My first Bible, published
by Concordia, St. Louis, and given me by my parents, was handsomely bound, with splendid center-column cross-references
and even a Bible dictionary and concordance. It saw me through
the seminary and well into my first pastorate.
The appearance of the RSV in  was a rare and notable
event for me and my congregation. It preserved the language
and cadences of the KJV wherever possible, even the respectful
“thee” and “thou” language toward God, rightfully discontinued now by the NRSV. My earlier memorizing adapted to it in
most cases with little difficulty. Its paragraphing was a positive
gain. It read well. Helped by my recollections of the KJV, I continued even to use my Young’s Analytical Concordance. For
teaching and sermon work I used the original Hebrew and
Greek, however, and thereby discovered my own list of flaws
and occasional irritations in the RSV, as I would for any translation. Overall, however, I accepted it, grew into it, enjoyed
reading it in worship, and quoted the Scriptures by it.
Into that competition comes now the NRSV. Although the
KJV has continued in the public domain and can still be purchased, the copyright holder of both RSV and NRSV is purposefully phasing the RSV out of existence. For me at my age
this does not matter much, but for churches that have long
bought into the RSV it will pose a problem. In time they will be


wherever possible. KJV did some of this by its relative literalness. RSV improved on KJV modestly here and there, though
perhaps more by accident than conscious intent. It renders the
Greek ejxousiva as “authority” rather than “power” in additional places (Lk :; Mt :), yet still reads “power” in others
(Jn :; :). NRSV is no improvement.
Another principle, obvious at least to me, is that a “standard” version not pamper its readers, but respect their intelligence and challenge them to think on their own. A problem
passage ought not be explained away or covered over. Bible
story books, movies, paraphrases, commentaries and even
preachers may entertain, but translators should translate. Their
calling is not to make a translation “free-flowing and easy” by
imposing their own “solutions” on problematic texts, for that
would deny readers any chance to know and wrestle with what
a text in itself actually says, and foreclose the possibility that
some reader might break through into what could be an
authentic understanding.
One value I cherished in the KJV was its preservation of
Hebrew stylisms. If a text said, “. . . 4him that pisses against
the wall” ( Kgs :), KJV said it too, not displacing it with
“male” as in RSV and NRSV. On the feminine side, if a text
said “vessel,” like  Peter :, KJV said “vessel” too, not “sex” as
in RSV and NRSV (though NRSV reinstates “vessel” at least in
a footnote). Reducing the Hebraism “Is your eye evil because I
am good?” (Mt :) to paraphases like “Do you begrudge my
generosity?” (RSV), or “Are you envious because I am generous?” (NRSV), robs readers of any chance to link “evil” and
“good” here with texts like Psalm : and Mark :, or “eye”
with “eyes opened” to “the tree of the knowledge of good and
evil” in Genesis . Displacing the classic “Peace to you” in Genesis : with a vapid “Rest assured” (RSV and NRSV),
“assures” nothing more than that readers will never notice parallels like Jesus’ “Peace be with you” in John :, or the greeting of peace in the church’s liturgy.
Readers trusted with the literal text might have imagination to see what translators failed to see. “The breath of God
held still over the waters” might stir them to visualize God as
“holding his breath” in a precreation silence, and then by his
breath giving voice to his creating word (Gn :). Jesus’ saying,
“Which of you by being anxious can add one cubit to his
stature?” if not transmuted into “span of life” as in the RSV
(fouled further by NRSV), might stir some readers to marvel
how a newborn infant of a forearm’s length, one cubit, grows
up in time to an adult “stature” of three or four cubits, without
worrying about it in the least! (Mt :)
“Inclusive Language” in the NRSV
Such concerns are trivial, however, alongside the sponsors’
momentous policy decision that the NRSV be translated not
into mere English, but into a recently invented “inclusive language” English. The Pilgrim Press (Yeadon, Penn.) has produced An Inclusive Language Lectionary “based on the RSV,” and
other biblical books, on that principle. People who want this sort
of translation can find it here. When NRSV, however, which
claims still to be “standard” and for all “the churches,” is made

to conform to this additional, alien, and radically new “standard” (in effect, the politically correct feminist-culture-religion
of our time), it is no longer for all churches, but sectarian.
Bruce M. Metzger, chairman of the committee of thirty
translators, seeks to justify this decision in his preface “To the
Reader” (italics are mine):
. . . NRSV remains essentially a literal translation.
Paraphrastic renderings have been adopted only sparingly, and then chiefly to compensate for a deficiency
in the English language the lack of a common gender
third person singular pronoun.
During the almost half-century since the publication of the RSV, many in the churches have become
sensitive to the danger of linguistic sexism arising
from the inherent bias of the English language toward
the masculine gender, a bias that in the case of the
Bible has often restricted or obscured the meaning of
the original text. The mandates from the Division
specified that, in references to men and women, masculine-oriented language should be eliminated as far
as this can be done. . . .
I perceive three fallacies here. First, what Metzger calls
“the inherent bias of the English language toward the masculine gender,” is no less a bias of Hebrew, Greek and other languages. To eliminate it in English requires editing it out of the
original Hebrew and Greek texts too.
Second, to posit “a deficiency in the English language the
lack of a common gender third person singular pronoun,” is to
ignore or blandly decree out of existence the male grammar
“inclusive language” that has in fact long characterized English
and most languages. Male-form singular pronouns like “he,”
“him,” and “his” are often “inclusive” of both male and female
as are also nouns like “man” in English, µd:a; in Hebrew, and
a[nqrwpo" in Greek. People may have reasons to object to this
in our time, repudiate it, even hate it. But to deny that forms
grammatically male can express “common gender,” and to
insist (by way of the NRSV) that the languages of the biblical
past also be made to express common gender in the neutered
forms invented by our culture, is tyranny. The problem here is
not linguistic but cultural. What is needed in Bible reading,
translating and interpreting today is a dispassionate and appreciative understanding of its own style of gender-inclusivity.
Only within its own style can the Bible’s core message and wisdom be recovered, and that not for the churches only, but for
the world and culture of our time.
A third fallacy is the anti-male prejudice implicit in the
word “bias.” Feminist logic argues that men have dominated
women and held them in bondage through the ages. It follows
that, if women are to have any integrity as persons in their own
right, they must renounce such domination and every sign of
it, and set out on their own. Let me hasten to acknowledge that
male domination over women does exist, and that it must be
addressed, likewise instances of female seduction and domination over men. Perversions of this sort are “sin,” and need to be
dealt with as such. The root issue here, however, concerns the

validity of our culture’s blanket condemnation of what it perceives to be biblical “patriarchy” in its manifold expressions,
and its assessment that this is a subtle conspiracy on the part of
men to dominate women and keep them inferior. In my mind
that diagnosis is not only mistaken but deadly. What appears
to be “bias toward the male gender” in the Bible (to use Metzger’s term) has to do with a remarkable insight which feministconditioned anti-male culture seems incapable of knowing:
the wonder of oneness through the diversity of male and
female for the sake of family and home down through the generations, and the noble responsibility assigned to men for their
families. In the biblical view men and women possess one and
the same basic human personhood and honor. Every person
individually has this treasure as pure gift from the God who is
without partiality. Secure in this commonality, and building
on this one grand “given,” men and women alike are called and
freed also to discover, receive and fill full their diverse gifts
toward each other, their children and their society, in praise
toward God and in love for one another.
Enslaved by their fallacies, however, NRSV and its protagonists wait expectantly for everybody with any sense eventually
to buy into their theory, thereby misjudging and unable to
comprehend the many who don’t and won’t. Why won’t they?
Because men and women who know their native honor from
God, and cherish the wonder of love and mutual honor in
marriage and family, do not regard the home as a second-rate
frontier, or wifehood and motherhood as an inferior calling, or
the husbandhood and fatherhood of a man in the home as suppressing women and their talents, or work outside the home as
superior in glory and freedom. Since they accept and value
without offense the Bible’s own style of “inclusivity,” they are
able to recognize that “Father” as a name for God is not maledominating but gender-inclusive language, and that the name
“my firstborn son” for God’s people is likewise gender-inclusive. They are able to notice also how personal pronouns like
“he” and “him” include women as well as men, as do other language forms too.
NRSV’s myopic policy is a “religious” aberration. It directs
people’s eyes and hearts inward toward their own self-judging
self-consciousness, rather than outward to the grace of God in
Jesus Christ, and to the “equality” already “given” not to men
and women alone either, but to people of every other diversity
too. NRSV and its language game will not enhance the equality
of women. On the contrary, as Jesus says, “Whoever does not
gather with me scatters” (Mt :). NRSV’s tactic will only
split those who support it, from others who perceive it as evidence of NRSV’s tragic captivity to an unreal, destructive and
inevitably transitory sociopolitical theory.
Furthermore, NRSV’s policy dishonors both Scripture and
its readers. With respect to “translating” it yields nothing but
disaster. The evidences I offer here are only a beginning.
“What is man (v/Ona‘) that you are mindful of him, and the
son of man (µd:a;AˆB,) that you care for (visit) him?” says
Hebrews : (RSV, KJV) quoting Psalm :. NRSV converts
“man” into a plural here, “human beings,” and “son of man”
into “mortals” not to translate, however, but only to eradicate
the stench of maleness. An NRSV footnote in Hebrews

(entered apparently when Psalm : had not yet been deodorized) explains that “man” and “son of man” in the Psalm “both
refer to all humankind.” Yet in NRSV as published this Psalm
verse too, and its parallels, has been “corrected” to say “human
beings” and “mortals” (Ps :; :). Evidently consistency
counts for nothing, however. Isaiah : has “the man” as “the
mortal,” with “the son of man” reduced to merely “the one,” a
“neutering” device found also in Deuteronomy : (above).
That readers are not allowed to notice what such texts really
say, or to associate one text with another, or to think for themselves, matters nothing to these tamperers. All they care about
is their deodorizing word game.
The title “son of man” is critical. It appears to be a pious
euphemism for “son of God,” not in the Gospels only, but
already in Daniel (:, , , ). “One like a son of man coming with clouds” is there identified as “the holy ones of the Most
High” meaning the Israel whom the Lord by Moses had
declared to be “my firstborn son,” in effect the “son of God”
(Ex :). Unconcerned for consistency, NRSV does not convert “son” into “child” in this text, as it does freely elsewhere. In
Daniel it displaces “son of man” with “human being” (not
“mortal” this time). When the Lord addresses Ezekiel as “son of
man” (Ez :, , , ), however, NRSV has “O Mortal,” as in
Psalm . When Jesus calls himself “the Son of man,” NRSV lets
it stand unchanged. Note what such “translating” does! It
denies readers the privilege of their own noticing, associating
and thinking. They have no way to link Daniel’s “son of man”
vision with Jesus’ designation of himself by that name, not even
in contexts where the association is almost explicit (Mt :, ;
:). Neither can they wonder about “son of man” in Ezekiel.
Thus the false “standard” makes mockery of “translating.”
The Greek for “son” is the masculine uiJo"v , for “brother”
a
v dj elfov". As designations for God’s people both of these terms
are “inclusive.” NRSV cannot tolerate male inclusivity, however. Consider Romans :–. Where Paul addresses the saints as
“brothers,” it must add “and sisters.” Where Paul thinks inclusively, “All who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God,”
NRSV writes “children.” Where Paul perceives his hearers as
having received “a Spirit of sonship,” NRSV substitutes “adoption.” Where Paul speaks of “the Spirit bearing witness with our
spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs
(vtevkna in Greek),” NRSV cares not in the least whether readers
notice that the shift from “sons” to “children” here is Paul’s
own doing his way of affirming that prior terms like “brothers”
and “sons” and “sonship” are gender-inclusive.
NRSV mangles Galatians :‒ in the same way. “In
Christ Jesus you are all sons of God through faith,” Paul writes,
“sons” affirming their link to “Christ Jesus” as “the Son of God.”
Yet NRSV scratches “sons” again and writes in “children,” as
though the church’s sonship link to Christ were of no account.
That Paul goes on to affirm explicitly the total “inclusivity” of his
term “sons” “neither Jew nor Greek, neither slave nor free, neither male nor female,” matters nothing to the NRSV either. All it
cares about is to neuter every stench of maleness.
On the other hand, in Matthew :– NRSV blindly follows KJV and RSV. The Greek text says, “A certain man had
two children (vtevkna), and he went to the first and said, ‘Child,

go and work in my vineyard today!’” “Children” here, rather
than “sons,” may anticipate the upcoming male and female
diversity of “tax collectors and harlots.” What a marvelous
chance to stress “inclusivity” by way of Jesus’ own language! Yet
NRSV keeps “two sons” and “son,” just like its predecessors.
“Brothers,” likewise male in grammar, is clearly inclusive of
the whole church. NRSV, however, under compulsion to neuter
this term too, and yet unable to come up with a decent alternative (“siblings” for some reason will not do) makes it read
“brothers and sisters.” The Bible’s own assurances, that the male
language form does not make women inferior or leave them out,
count for nothing. Women must hear the language say again
and again, to the point of nausea, “brothers and sisters”! Consider James :, , , “My brothers . . . my brothers beloved . . .
my brothers.” In every case NRSV tacks on “and sisters.” That
James interposes “the royal law” and a sound warning against
showing “partiality” is of no consequence. When James himself
says “a brother or sister” in verse , however, NRSV’s tampering
frustrates any chance for readers to take note of it.
In Matthew :– NRSV comes up with another device
to neuter “brother.” “If your brother sins . . .” becomes “if
another member of the church sins.” Peter’s “How often shall
my brother sin against me . . . ?” becomes “If another member of the church sins against me. . . .” Stilted artificialities of
this sort are the price NRSV must pay to cleanse the Bible of its
maleness. But does “brother” here really mean “another member of the church”? Might it not mean a “brother” still in
Judaism? The tamperer does not care about such questions or
allow the reader to care. Elsewhere in Matthew, four times
within three verses, he converts “brother” to “brother or sister”
(Mt :–).
The perversions go on. Patriarchal “fathers” must be
neutered into “ancestors,” and “fathers” into “parents.” Hosea
is not allowed to foresee the nations as “sons of the living God”
but must say “children” (Hos :; similarly Dt :). “Sons of
the Most High” in Psalm : is a crucial referent for the dispute between Jesus and “the Jews” over his supposed blasphemy (Jn :, ), yet NRSV’s “children” makes this link unrecognizable. NRSV cannot let Jesus say, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God” either. He must
say “children.” But enough!
The church could still use a “standard” translation, but
this one does not qualify. I cannot imagine that Metzger and
the thirty competent scholars who worked so intensely with
him for so many years (since ), men and women of integrity, created this abuse of their text on their own. A copy of their
original, untampered work must surely still exist somewhere.
My guess is the parent committee, having received their finished manuscript, submitted it for stylistic improvement to
some “expert” or “experts” in modern “inclusive language”
theory (who understood and cared about nothing else, meanings being out of their province in any case) with no comprehension whatsoever of the ruthless mangling that would, and
did, inevitably result.
Paul G. Bretscher
Valparaiso, Indiana

Pastoral Care and The Means of Grace. By Ralph Underwood.
Fortress Press, Minneapolis. .  pages. Paper.
■ In Pastoral Care and The Means of Grace, Ralph Underwood, Professor of Pastoral Care at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary, Austin, Texas, attempts to “demonstrate and
support a thesis . . . that emphasizes the essential place of ritual in pastoral care ministry.” To do this he presents chapters on
Prayer, Dialogue, Scripture, Reconciliation, Baptism and
Eucharist. To his credit Underwood seeks to counter the postmodern culture which he claims discredits ritual and mystery.
Unfortunately, while desiring to free himself from a pastoral
approach that resorts merely to social ministry and psychological counseling devoid of spirituality, Underwood nevertheless
is too much a product of his clinical pastoral education background to free himself of the very post-modernism he attempts
to address. While dealing subjectively in his approach to pastoral care, he declines to deal objectively with the theology of
word and sacrament. One would like to assume the approach
he takes presupposes objective meaning in the Sacraments, but
never is it clear that he is able to incorporate it; priority always
seems to dictate that the experiential is the highest good of pastoral care.
To his credit and with an honest struggle to present truth,
Underwood says some good things and a few excellent things.
The first words of the chapter on Reconciliation (what Lutherans would call the Office of the Keys) describe masterfully the
temptation to exchange confession and absolution for mere
counseling. And in a rare reference to Lutheran theology,
Underwood lauds Lutherans for having a form of confession
which definitely “pronounces absolution in contrast to general
words of assurance.” Underwood even sounds Lutheran when
he says prayer is a response to the God of Scripture. And in his
chapter on Eucharist he rightly emphasizes the need for pastoral visits to shut-ins with the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper.
But beyond these references Pastoral Care and The Means of
Grace leaves much to be desired.
For one thing it is never quite clear what Underwood
means by “the means of grace” since he includes prayer as a
means and implies that people themselves are a means of grace.
Grace does not seem to be an attitude or action God takes
toward us, but one we take toward God as in, “Eucharist is a
means of grace in part because it is a means of a life of service.”
This could possibly be understood properly were it not for an
overriding sense that “means of grace” to Underwood has
more to do with our response to God than God’s response to
us. He waxes “poetic” but lacks clarity in the use of phrases
such as “prayer as the soul of pastoral care,” or “a theology of
sacred space,” or concepts such as “human faultedness” which
one gets the impression is something like human sinfulness but
without the guilt. One often reads anticipating the emergence
of definitions that seldom mature and clarify.
Although Underwood attempts to conserve tradition,
liturgy and the sacraments he ends up redefining them in ways
that denude them of meanings which would convey their


objective revelation of truth. In speaking of Eucharist, for
example, he never refers to the body and blood of Christ but
only to bread and wine, something we offer to God. Too often
we are left with theology as a relative enterprise that derives its
legitimacy from psychological pragmatism and the need for
process, rather than content, to lead us. All this is part of the
heritage of CPE which is permeated with post-modern existentialism and relativism. The goal of Pastoral Care and The
Means of Grace still seems to be the post-modern attempt at
self-fulfillment with the use of spirituality to accomplish it.
This, contrasted with pastoral care as a ministry of “feeding
and leading” with the means of grace as an end toward faithfulness in its own right. It seems appropriate to paraphrase Bonhoeffer’s warning that we must learn to love God for God’s
own sake and not for what we can get out of him—even “selffulfillment” in a post-modern age.
What is missing from Underwood’s effort is the theology
of the cross. Nowhere does he deal with justification as the
means to our “transformation” before God. For example, there
is no articulation of death and resurrection of the sinner that
frees us from post-modernism. As an “authentic” mainline
Protestant in a post-modern age, Underwood means well, but
has yet to discover the theology of the cross as Luther describes
it in the Heidelberg Disputation of , from which we derive
the heart of pastoral care of the sick and dying, the troubled
and hopeless, as a proclamation of God’s grace in the midst of
suffering. At the core of post-modernism is the rejection of
objective truth and the desire to recreate for ourselves the
meaning that suits us. Pastoral care ought not point people to
self-fulfillment, but to the abandonment of self and freedom in
Christ which sees even in suffering that “all things work
together for good to those who love God.”
In some ways Underwood is on the right track, having recognized the need to leave behind the void CPE created when
spirituality was traded for psychology, but he has yet to free
himself from the subjectivity of post-modernism in sheep’s
clothing which in this case aims at pastoral care as a means to
self-fulfillment. It is hard for me to recommend this book for
the typical parish pastor since it requires a depth of experience
with CPE and the pitfalls of the psychologizing of faith in order
to understand it rightly. Read lightly (if that is possible), the
book is comfortable in its accommodation to the culture of
post-modernism. Like the Church Growth Movement, Underwood’s approach “feels” good, but leaves us with a gnawing
sense that something is wrong at the very core of its appeal.
Sometime next spring this reviewer’s own book on pastoral
care and the theology of the cross will appear and will offer
another attempt at clarifying the meaning of pastoral care.
Richard C. Eyer
Director of Pastoral Care, Columbia Hospital
Milwaukee, Wisconsin
A Common Calling: The Witness of Our Reformation Churches in North America Today. Edited by Keith F. Nickle and
Timothy F. Lull, Minneapolis: Augsburg-Fortress Press, .
 pages.
■ A Common Calling “presents the report of the LutheranReformed Committee for Theological Conversations,
–. It includes a proposal that full communion be
established between the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America and three reformed churches: the Presbyterian Church
(USA), the Reformed Church in America, and the United
Church of Christ” (quoted from back cover of the book).
This proposal is the result of a third round of dialogue,
picking up where previous conversations between Lutheran
and Reformed church bodies left off. The present discussion
finds its roots in the conclusion of the first round of talks
(–) which stated already at that time that there were
“no insuperable obstacles to pulpit and altar fellowship” (Marburg Revisited, Augsburg, , p. ). This theme was carried
through ensuing ecumenical discussions contained in An Invitation to Action (Fortress Press, ). The result we have
before us in A Common Calling is the “action” in which the
Lutherans and Reformed are now invited to participate. The
report concludes:
In light of the specific mandate given this committee,
and on the basis of our theological discussions, we can
name “no church-dividing differences” that should
preclude the declaration of full fellowship between
these churches. While the disagreements between our
communities that led to the sixteenth-century condemnations regarding eucharist, christology, and predestination continue to shape and reflect our identities, they cannot claim to be church-dividing today
and should not stand in the way of achieving “full
communion” among us (p. ).
The Eucharist, christology and predestination are relegated to the role of shaping and reflecting our identities, as if they
were secondary articles of the faith. Gospel reductionism peeks
its head out from under the covers in many places in the book
while glossing over those who believe there is a place in ecumenical dialogue for the discussion of specific doctrines as they
impact upon the gospel. A Common Calling is, in all fairness
though, only pointing out the reality of gospel reductionism all
too prevalent in many parishes.
The reality today is that the present state of catechesis
encourages gospel reductionism. Eucharist, christology and
predestination are perceived to be peripheral to any discussion
of the gospel. And, sad to say, this perception is encouraged by
many Lutheran churches today, largely as a result of the church
growth manuals which tell us to avoid anything with which
others might disagree or find controversial. The call of Rodney
King is much more attune to the ears of our people than the
call of  Timothy :.

One can almost hear the groans of the committee as they
include the minority report of the LCMS which asks for doctrinal agreement in all of the doctrines of Scripture (p. ). A much
simpler and more productive way to reach our common calling,
according to the report, is through the principle of “mutual
affirmation and admonition” (p. ). The principle applied here
is really nothing more than the Hegelian dialectic approach to
theology. Both Reformed and Lutheran serve as correctives to
each other. Their union would result in a faith which leaves
behind the excesses of each tradition while confessing the synthesis: “Both sides . . . heed[ing] the concerns of the partners, if
not as a guide to their own formulations, then at least as no trespassing signs for the common forms of the churches’ witness
. . .”(p. ). It is no wonder that names such as Melanchthon,
Brenz and Bucer are viewed in a much more appreciative light
with regard to their formulas for union. The variata of
Melanchthon are alive and well in A Common Calling.
While this reviewer and most readers sympathize with the
goal of A Common Calling, the Hegelian dialectic it proposes is not
the solution. But then one must ask: How do we deal with what is a
real problem today—“denominational switching” and lack of
denominational loyalty due to biblical illiteracy rampant in our
church and others? We are facing a society that is impatient with
catechesis because of the churches that follow the church growth
model who revel in lowest common denominator theology.
Compounding the ELCA’s problem—and why A Common
Calling has more appeal for that church body than for the
LCMS—is their acceptance of critical scholarship which undermines any authoritative source such as Scripture and encourages
a subjective theology. A Common Calling predictably finds this
predicament helpful to the ecumenical cause. Scripture and
creeds are witnesses to our common calling, functioning as
“non-binding but authoritative norms for the community, its
theology and practice” (p. ). No wonder it can find agreement
with the UCC, which does not adhere to something as basic as
the three ecumenical creeds. Once the authority of a source has
been lost, then the rule and norm for determining what is doctrine is lost. All that remains is a consensus theology where we
agree where we can, and agree to disagree on the rest. This is the
basic proposal for fellowship in A Common Calling.
The church of the late twentieth century faces a dearth of
biblical knowledge and authoritative sources. This more than
anything else has paved the way for the modern ecumenical dialogue we see in A Common Calling. Some seminaries, perhaps
unwittingly, may be contributing to the appeal of ecumenical
endeavors like A Common Calling by cutting back on core systematic and exegetical courses in favor of more “practical” courses. Where the clergy are unclear about the significance of certain
doctrines, one knows that the laity cannot be far behind.
The solution must begin with catechesis for pastors and by
pastors. The church needs to become once again the teaching
church in its seminaries, sermons and Bible studies (as it was in
the sixteenth century), rather than simply the pep rally that our
culture wants it to be with the concomitant need to avoid controversy and discussion of differences. This is consonant with
the Lord’s mandate in Matthew : where he includes
didavskonte" in his Great Commission.

Disciples are made by baptizing and teaching. If both of these
are going on in our churches, there is a much greater chance of us
having a truly common calling based on our common knowledge
of God’s Word as he has given it to his church to confess. Where
this is not going on, subjective theology by consensus becomes the
norm for ecumenical dialogue as opinions are elevated above
creeds and confessions. Specific doctrines give way to “a coherent
approach to the whole of [a confessional tradition’s] theological
basis” (p. ). In other words, it is much easier to agree with
abstract “wholes” of something rather than getting mired in messy
specifics. Perhaps, because many pastors and lay people in the
churches of this proposed union (and our own) are unsure of
what the “specific doctrines” are anymore, A Common Calling has
a greater chance of succeeding today than ever before.
Joel Elowsky
Mission Developer, Peace Lutheran Mission
Galloway, New Jersey
One Ministry Many Roles: Deacons and Deaconesses through
the Centuries. By Jeannine E. Olson. St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, . Paper.  pages. ..
■ This latest book in the “Concordia Scholarship Today” series
fills a long-standing void. No book on the history of the diaconate
is this brief yet comprehensive. Since the Concordia Scholarship
series explores current issues from a theological viewpoint, readers
expect theological analysis woven into the historical review. However, this expectation must be put aside so the reader can appreciate the astounding amount of pure history.
Olson presents the office of deacon as created by the
church to administer charity. Thus, “in a sense, the history of
the diaconate can be viewed as the history of social welfare in
the church” (p. ). The book ambitiously chronicles 
years of the office of deacon, the offices which sprang from it,
and the diakonia of the church (which Olson describes as the
intertwining of religion and social service).
Eight chapters break down diaconal history into chronological
portions: Biblical and Early Church, Constantine to Luther, Reformation, Protestant Reformation to nineteenth century, nineteenth
century Europe, nineteenth century British Empire and America,
twentieth century, and Permanent Deacons and Contemporary
Trends. Within each chapter, Olson traces diaconal development
according to denomination or religious movement. Helpful summaries end major sections. This structure, along with an excellent
index, enables a selective reader to make maximum use of the
book. For those wanting to do further research, the superb twentyfive-page bibliography lists more than four-hundred sources .
Olson perceives several voids in diaconal research which she
attempts to fill. First, most scholarship unjustly centers on deacons’
liturgical role to the neglect of their charitable work. Deacons have
functioned in diverse ways: lay or clergy, volunteer or professional,
full- or part-time, permanent or transitional, and in charity or
liturgy. Second, the history of deaconesses is neglected in historical
surveys, especially in the LCMS. Almost all books regarding deaconess work are out of print (a challenge for this instructor of deaconess students). The author concisely reviews the monumental

contribution of deaconesses during the last  years. Third, there
are many recent changes in the status of deaconesses and deacons.
Olson’s final chapters are revealing. The World Council of
Churches and various denominational mergers and ecumenical
endeavors are profoundly affecting the diaconate.
Considering the quantity of information, the book reads surprisingly well. The social history lessons benefit lay people and students and are not laborious for the knowledgeable. The notes are
comprehensive. Those familiar with English only will appreciate
the translations of the French and German. Where possible English
translations of foreign works are cited.
An important contribution is the reinforcement of a historical
understanding that deacon and deaconess are not simply male and
female counterparts of the same office. This is particularly true
now as some denominations have female deacons; in some cases
deaconesses exist alongside male and female deacons. The reader
learns to appreciate the tremendous world-wide service to society
and the church done by the diaconate.
Beyond my disappointment that only six pages are devoted to
review biblical texts, my objections center around the final two
chapters (the weakest yet arguably the most valuable sections).
Since this was written for Concordia Publishing House, I would
expect a greater understanding of Lutheran polity and theology.
Three examples illustrate the problem. First, Olson did not utilize
vital primary sources. She did not visit the three Lutheran deaconess training centers in the United States or interview our deaconesses. She did talk with the three program directors by phone
and letter and used our limited responses as primary sources. Some
information was not evaluated; as a result, there are errors. She did
not attend DIAKONIA (The World Federation of Diaconal Associations and Sisterhoods) in Nova Scotia last June, which was an
invaluable opportunity to learn first-hand from the diaconates of
thirty-five countries. Second, Olson makes very few conclusions, so
one in particular surprised me. She supports deaconesses who wish
to remain so even when ordained into the pastoral office (p. ).
Her conclusion is not supported by theology, but only by sociology. Third, the title of the book demonstrates an insensitivity to the
orthodox Lutheran mind.
My concerns should not dilute the value of Olson’s contribution. It is useful for examining the significance of the diaconate in
various denominations. It serves as an incomparable tool for further research. The history of the church’s social service is revealing.
It will certainly be an encouragement to my students to see the
richness of deaconess history and how they are part of it. Theologians may find it intriguing to see that the struggles today regarding lay ministry and the pastoral office are nothing new. Rationales
for certain types of “lay ministry” today echo Protestant and
Roman Catholic models of years past.
Olson is to be commended for this comprehensive introduction to ecclesiastical practices in the diaconate of denominations
throughout the world. Although I suspect most people will not
want to read the text cover to cover, its value will not be lost by
selective reading. Personally, it is simply a joy to see the impact of
deaconesses is no longer a secret!
Kristin R. Wassilak
Deaconess Program Director, Concordia University
River Forest, Illinois

Messianic Exegesis: Christological Interpretation of the Old
Testament in Early Christianity. By Donald Juel. Philadelphia:
Fortress Press, .  pages.
■ The first paperback edition of a book originally published by
Donald Juel in  provides readers with yet another opportunity
to avail themselves of a work significant in its fresh approach to an
old debate, the development of New Testament christology. The
guiding thesis of Juel’s approach may be roughly stated as follows:
The confession of Jesus as Messiah, that is, as the crucified and
risen King of the Jews, stands at the forefront of the early Christian
church’s christological reflection and interpretation of the Scriptures (at least the reflection and interpretation that provide for the
substructure of New Testament Christianity). Beginning with the
historical realities of Jesus’ passion, then, “we can understand the
process by which a variety of biblical passages came to be enlisted
in the task of making sense of Jesus and his career, and how they
are combined” (p. ). The thesis, which Juel admits borrowing
from his teacher Nils Alstrup Dahl, may seem rather self-evident
to the readers of a journal of Lutheran theology. Indeed, as Juel
points out, most scholars would agree that early Christian reflection made use of the Scriptures of Israel. And few anywhere would
disagree that the primary focus of early Christian scriptural interpretation was “christological.” Still, there remains considerable
disagreement among scholars concerning the manner in which
the writings of Israel were used and for what reason. And only
very few prominent in this debate have argued “that what stands
at the beginning of that reflection and provides a focus and a
direction for scriptural exegesis is the confession of Jesus as Messiah” (p. ). Instead, studies have concentrated on such salvific figures as the Suffering Servant, the Son of Man, the eschatological
Prophet, Wisdom, or the Righteous Sufferer. Juel’s thesis, then,
“that the confession of Jesus as Messiah is primary,” does indeed
qualify as “something of a novelty” (p.). Why the Scriptures were
read and how they were read are questions which continue to
deserve attention, especially in light of the work which has been
done in recent decades to improve our understanding of the
exegetical traditions of first-century Judaism.
Juel begins his study, then, by arguing for the following. By
the first century, traditions of translation and interpretation
were well established both on the level of popular synagogue life
and on the level of the school. And all Jews, including those who
followed Jesus, located themselves squarely within these traditions. But no one expected that the Messiah would come to suffer for sins. No one expected that the Messiah would rise from
the dead, because no one expected that he would come in order
that he might die. When Jesus came, therefore, that he might
suffer, die, and rise from the dead, when he was executed as a
messianic pretender, and when his resurrection from the dead
was seen as the Father’s vindication of the crucified Messiah, the
proclamation of the crucified and risen Christ became the unexpected pivotal foundation of Christian preaching and Christian
faith. All christological exegesis focused on the crucified and
risen Messiah. That which lay at the heart of Christian tradition
and christological exegesis, therefore, was a confession of Jesus
in considerable tension with the traditional messianic figure
common to Jewish eschatological scriptural exegesis. The lack of

such a pre-Christian Jewish concept of a suffering Messiah provided, then, one of the first agenda items for the early Christian
church. The task of the first Christians was to understand how
such things could be and what the implications were, and that
task led them into the Scriptures with a specific agenda. Their
agenda was one never before implemented. And yet, because
the greatest difference between early Christian exegesis and any
other form of Jewish scriptural interpretation was only to be
found in the impact made by Jesus, the working out of that
agenda was still determined largely by the interpretive world of
which the first believers were a part.
The Christian documents which we presently have at our
disposal contain only “bits and pieces of interpretive tradition”
belying “a vast network of exegesis to which we have only limited
access.” In spite of these limitations, however, Juel argues that,
“given our knowledge of first-century scriptural interpretation,
and given some sense of interpretive traditions available, it
should be possible to explain the choice of biblical texts to explicate his (Jesus’) career, and to show what controlled the direction and shape of the interpretive tradition” (p. ). His study
focuses, then, on a variety of Old Testament passages which
receive messianic interpretations in the New Testament. How
these Old Testament passages are employed is examined and
why they were selected in order to illustrate the career of Jesus is
explained. The passages studied include  Samuel :–, the

Psalms (in general), Psalm  (in particular), Isaiah, and Daniel
. Thus, both passages qualifying as “standard messianic oracles”
and those which can boast no messianic reading outside Christian literature are treated. Where Jewish interpretations of the
Old Testament passages in question are available, these too are
identified both to point out similarities in interpretive technique
and to emphasize differences in the conclusions drawn.
There is much, then, which commends Juel’s study. His is a
valuable contribution not only to the study of how the earliest
Christian church interpreted the Old Testament, but also to the
study of its earliest beginnings. This is not to say, however, that his
study is without its weaknesses, which he himself acknowledges.
The study has its decidedly one-sided moments. For example, in
his examination of the New Testament use of the Old Testament,
Juel spends little time examining the use of scriptural material
from the wisdom traditions or from the biblical material
employed which speaks of Jesus as a heavenly being. Neither does
he devote serious attention to the scriptural material employed
which speaks of holy men and prophets. Questions concerning the
relationship of form and function have also often been neglected.
Still, these weaknesses do not in the end significantly detract from
the book’s primary accomplishment. Again, the strength of Juel’s
study is to be found in his fresh appreciation for that which the
New Testament itself offers as the chief stumbling block of Jesus’
messianic identity, the necessity of his suffering and death.
Bruce G. Schuchard
St. James Lutheran Church
Victor, Iowa


BRIEFLY NOTED
Introduction to Christian Worship: Revised Edition. By James
F. White. Nashville: Abingdon Press, .
■ James F. White, a United Methodist minister currently
serving as Professor of Liturgy at Notre Dame, is one of the
most prolific writers in the field of liturgics. First published in
, this revised edition takes into account subsequent developments in liturgical scholarship as well as the appearance of
several new worship books (including Lutheran Worship).
White has provided readers with a concise introduction to current liturgical theology and practices in Roman Catholic,
Orthodox and Protestant communions.
Dictionary of Cults, Sects, Religions and the Occult. By George
A. Mather and Larry A. Nichols. Grand Rapids: Zondervan
Publishing House, .
■ As there are thousands of religious cults in North America
alongside the major world religions, Mather (New England Institute of Religious Research) and Nichols (Our Redeemer Lutheran
Church, Greenville, R.I.) have rendered a fine service in writing a
well-documented account of various religious groups and practices. In their forward the authors note: “Although this book will
serve a variety of purposes, its pre-eminent objective is to equip
Christian believers with the material they need in the continuing
struggle against ‘the principalities and powers’ and the battle over
conflicting truth claims.” The writers make no apology for writing
from a Christian perspective, measuring the spiritual assertions of
a variety of religious groups against the standards of the Christian
faith as it is confessed in the ecumenical creeds. The authors write,
“You will note that throughout the volume we have made frequent references to the ecumenical creeds of Christianity (Apostles’, Nicene and Athanasian, and Chalcedonian—see Appendix
I). The rationale for this seems obvious. Every Christian denomination—Eastern, Roman Catholic, and Protestant—that subscribes to the traditional orthodox faith readily abides by these
ancient symbols of orthodoxy and orthopraxis. The methodology,
while not foolproof, prevents the sort of provincialism characteristic of denominational ‘proof-texting’ approaches so commonly
found in treatises on cults and religions.”
Appendices which diagram the christological heresies faced by
the early church and their connection to contemporary cults and
sects make the volume even more useful. An extensive bibliography concludes the book. This is a book for every parish library.
Martin Luther: The Preservation of the Church, –. By
Martin Brecht. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, .
■ This volume brings to a conclusion Brecht’s trilogy on the
life and theology of Martin Luther. Here Brecht traces the
career of the Reformer from the death of Elector John Frederick in  to Luther’s own death in .
The Church: Selected Writings of Arthur Carl Piepkorn. Edited
and introduced by Michael P. Plekon and William S. Wiecher.
Delhi, New York: American Lutheran Publicity Bureau, .
■ The American Lutheran Publicity Bureau has rendered
those who care about the church a great service in bringing
together articles of the sainted Arthur Carl Piepkorn (d. ),
one of this century’s most churchly and learned theologians.
Most of the essays were written during Piepkorn’s long tenure
as professor of Systematic Theology at Concordia Seminary,
St. Louis. The volume is divided into three sections: ) The
Church and Her Ministry, ) The Parish at Prayer, and )
Mary, the Archetype of the Church. The collection includes
scholarly works, devotional reflections, and sermons.
Readings for the Daily Office From the Early Church. By J.
Robert Wright. New York: The Church Hymnal Corporation, .
■ The St. Mark’s Professor of Ecclesiastical History at The
General Theological Seminary has brought together readings
from the patristic period, organized according to the church
year, for devotional reading with the Daily Office.
Adventures in Law & Gospel: Lectures in Lutheran Dogmatics.
By Lowell C. Green. Fort Wayne: Concordia Theological Seminary Press, .
■ Growing out of his doctoral work at Erlangen under
Werner Elert and more than thiry years of teaching theology,
Adventures in Law and Gospel: Lectures in Lutheran Dogmatics
is, as the author states, “a trial balloon” in presenting American
Lutherans with a one-volume dogmatics developed around the
distinction between law and gospel, between God as Deus
absconditus seu revelatus. This distinction permeates every
locus in Green’s work. Section , “The Central Importance of
the Means of Salvation and the Divine Service,” reflects
Green’s desire to view the liturgy theologically.
Selling Jesus: What’s Wrong With Marketing the Church. By Douglas D. Webster. Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, .
■ Presbyterian cleric Douglas Webster challenges the marketing mentality of the Church Growth Movement in general
and of George Barna in particular in this popular critique of
consumer-based Christianity. Rather than submitting to the
baby boomers’ wish list, Webster calls the church to a renewal
that is centered in Scripture and worship. JTP
LOGIA Forum
SHORT STUDIES AND COMMENTARY
While pastors ought to have been trained to have a keen
eye for yeast and wolves (Gal :; Mt :;  Tim :; Heb
:), it may not be so easy to get the people to see them.
And if people don’t see them, they may see their pastor as
fighting against shadows and mythical ogres. He may seem to
them like Don Quixote doing battle against a monstrous,
albeit imaginary, windmill.
Unseen enemies, however, are not necessarily unreal
enemies. It may be extremely difficult for members to
believe a pastor’s cautions, especially when they “don’t see
anything wrong with it,” or “don’t see how it would hurt
anything.” Yet, by God’s grace, they may be led to trust their
pastor as one who lovingly knows best—who is faithful to
the word of God and has a sharp eye for what would be dangerous to them.
I remember taking my car to visit a member who was an
auto-body specialist. With just a glance, he could see where
the body of the car had been worked on—and where it was
still dented. I looked and asked, “Where? I don’t see it!”
Carefully, he showed me where to stand and what to look for.
Sure enough: Those imperfections leapt out at me. He had a
keen eye for imperfections. A pastor, too, is supposed to have
a keen eye for the imperfections of beliefs which could prove
hazardous to the faith of the people he serves—even if they
don’t see it themselves. As the Spirit gathers, enlightens and
sanctifies through the word preached and taught, they are
shown where to stand and taught what to look for to make
the invisible standards become visible so that yeast and
wolves may be recognized for what they are.
The following is an attempt to make the pastor’s scriptural evaluations visible. Demonstrate these means to the
people and then let them evaluate their request on the basis of
this standard. It may be that they will resist this method and
any other because the desires of the heart can often outweigh
a clear exposition of the themes of grace in Christ. Nothing
short of the Spirit’s working through the means of grace can
change that. At the very least, however, people may come to
see that the pastor does have a standard that he follows—it’s
not just a matter of personal tastes. They may still accuse him
of being a stick-in-the-mud, but at least he is a stick-in-themud with clearly recognizable criteria.
Articles appearing in LOGIA Forum may be reprinted freely for
study and discussion in congregations and conferences with the
understanding that appropriate bibliographical references are
made. Unsigned articles in this section are the work of LOGIA
Forum’s editor, the Rev. Joel A. Brondos. Initialed pieces are written by contributing editors as noted on our masthead. Brief articles
may be submitted for consideration by sending them to LOGIA
Forum,  N. Eighth St., Vincennes, IN –. Because of the
large number of unsolicited materials, we regret that we cannot
publish them all or notify authors in advance of their publication.
PASTOR, COULDN’T WE . . . ?
“Pastor, couldn’t we sing In the Garden at one of our worship services? It’s a real favorite that many of us have had since
we were little.” “Pastor, couldn’t we let our young people write
their own special creed for the service?” “Pastor, couldn’t we
have our favorite Willie Nelson song sung at our wedding?”
“Pastor, couldn’t we celebrate National Fast for the Hungry Sunday? It’s a wonderful group that I belong to and they have sent
me a special worship service and prayer to be used next month.”
How does a pastor handle requests for extraordinary worship experiences? More than that, how does one evaluate the
hymns and services which are used by Christians as they are
gathered for the word of God? Is it merely a matter of personal
taste or is there something more?
Some members feel frustrated when their pastor turns
down a request for a special worship service or hymn. They
don’t understand why the pastor is being so hard-headed and
stubborn in refusing to allow certain hymns or worship
material from various special-interest groups for festive services. Perhaps, they might think, it is his personality: The
pastor is just a closed-minded, behind-the-times, ultra-conservative party-pooper.
Perhaps. But there may be another explanation. It may be
that the pastor is not just evaluating such requests by a different taste in music, but by an altogether different standard. As
long as this standard remains invisible to those to whom the
pastor is speaking, however, the people may think that the pastor is denying their requests merely on the basis of his personal
whims and fancies.

 
Some guiding thoughts and questions along the way
might be helpful. Consider the following:
) The Proper Distinction Between Law and Gospel. The law
commands what man is obligated to do. It always condemns
and accuses us sharply by showing our failures and inabilities. The gospel pronounces what God has done in Jesus
Christ and continues to do through his presence in word
and sacrament.
Questions to ask of the material: How is the Lord bringing
about his work among us? Who is doing the verbs? If the subject of most of the verbs is man, then the material probably
originates from a Reformed-Evangelical view of sanctification
and is not appropriate for use among us.
) Theology of Glory versus Theology of the Cross. The theology of glory is terribly one-sided and unbalanced. It tends to
look only at the beautiful and sweet things of creation and
ignore the harsh and heavy aspects of life. It tends to fulfill the
Marxist dictum of religion as the opiate of the people—it
makes people feel good by thinking good thoughts. It can also
see suffering as though it were sinful—as though people are
faithless who aren’t always living a happy, joyful, triumphant,
and victorious life.
The theology of the cross sees God’s beauty and glory in
the despised, rejected and scorned things of this world for
Christ’s sake (Is ). It even may consider the beautiful things
of life as garbage when they are not in service to the gospel in
Christ (Phil :). The cross is scandalous to those who are
seeking to make the world a better place to live. The Christian
does not expect glorious living as the cross is borne and as the
flesh is crucified daily, but the heart is buoyant, calling to mind
what Christ has accomplished on his cross even as that is
sealed to the Christian in Baptism and communicated to the
Christian in Holy Communion.
Questions to ask of the material: Are words like “praise,” “glorious,” “amazing,” “wondrous,” “beauty,” or “sweet” used overabundantly? Are they used to heighten a person’s emotional
level to a fevered religious pitch? Are they treated as being
attainable ideals to be constantly maintained in a Christian’s
life? Is success treated as the blessing of God while suffering
and hardshipare regarded as the abandonment of God?
) Natural Revelation versus Special Revelation. Natural revelation tells us some things about God, but it is woefully incomplete. We cannot be certain of how God is toward us by looking at the world around us. We can be too easily confused by
trying to interpret the signs of the times. Dependence on natural revelation subtly introduces itself where there is a predominance of talking about God without specific reference to
Jesus Christ. While we acknowledge Jesus to be true God and

true man, it is possible to fall into a generic way of talking
about God which loses touch with the incarnate Christ, God
for us. Generic God-talk leads to speculation about his invisible qualities which lead us into uncertainties.
To speak of God merely by his attributes without being
centered in the grace which is revealed to us only in Christ, we
can get a god who does things directly to us apart from the
God who instituted the means of grace as the word made flesh.
Special revelation makes known through the Word and Spirit
what is otherwise unavailable and unachievable to mortal eyes
and minds ( Cor :).
Questions to ask of the material: How is it that we find out how
God is toward us? How are we assured and comforted? Is it by
looking at the things of creation or is it by seeing him in Christ
alone? Where is Jesus in the hymn’s speaking about God? Is He
merely a moral teacher or a helper?
With copies of the Instrument for Evaluating Service
Material in hand, select a hymn such as “In the Garden,” “The
Old Rugged Cross” or “Blessed Assurance.” Analyze each of
them according to the specified criteria and mark on the scale
whether the text of these hymns falls on the left side or the
right. Then subject hymns like “A Mighty Fortress,” “Dear
Christians, One and All, Rejoice” and “Salvation Unto Us Has
Come” to the same standards. What do you notice?
There are some inherent dangers and shortcomings in utilizing this instrument. First of all, it might suggest that the two
positions run along the same spectrum or sliding scale. This,
most certainly, is not intended. There is a mutual exclusiveness
about them when speaking about matters of justification and
sanctification.
Second, it might suggest a misguided religiosity wherein
emotions are seen as something to be neutered or that appreciation of the beauties of God’s creation is materialistic adulteration of pure spirituality. Such positions are wholeheartedly
rejected. The reservation arises when emotions, beauty, praise
and glory attempt to accomplish what can be achieved by
Christ’s divinely instituted means alone.
The intent of this instrument is simply that we might
more readily recognize the hymns and liturgies which extol the
means of grace and the theology of the cross most clearly. The
gift for displaying this Christ-centeredness is what has made
the hymns of Luther, Gerhardt, Franzmann and others so dear
to our hearts. They speak Christ into us rather than falling
subject to the gauche or maudlin.
“Sir, we would see Jesus,” the Greeks said to Philip (Jn
:). So we say to those who would select hymns and liturgies: “Sir, we would see Jesus—not as One who moves our
emotions nor as One whom we can make beautiful by our own
imaginations, but One who is really present in his word and
grace, who forgives us, renews us, and draws us to himself
without our effort or merit.”


AN INSTRUMENT FOR EVALUATING SERVICE MATERIAL
MAN-CENTERED
I am the one doing most of the action in this
hymn: my feelings, my thoughts, my personal
sacrifice or dedication.
THEOLOGY OF GLORY
The hymn emphasizes a success, triumph, victory in this world which persons can experience if
only they will practice Christianity with a strong
personal faith and determination and obedience.
NATURAL REVELATION
God is seen as being good or great in terms of his
works and creation; God is beautiful and strong
because his creation shows beauty and power.
Friendliness, sharing and caring are the evidences of God’s grace and love.
WITHOUT MEANS
God does his working through quiet whispers in
a person’s heart or mind. He moves people
through life’s decisions by feelings and notions
which are gained by contemplation as though
walking through a garden.
EMOTIONS
The emphasis is on good feelings as evidence of
salvation and a strong faith. A person is led to
forget the cares of the world for a moment by a
happy song. Rejoicing is the result of personal,
repeatable and demonstrable life experiences.
MYTHICAL
Founded on imaginary thoughts, wishes and
desires of one’s personal dream world of what
Christianity would be like if it were ideal. Hope
is viewed in terms of wishful thinking.
CHRIST-CENTERED
Christ is the one doing the action in this hymn,
through his Holy Absolution, Holy Baptism and
Holy Communion.
THEOLOGY OF THE CROSS
The hymn acknowledges that weakness and suffering are the crosses which are borne, not by personal strength, but by grace and the gift of faith which
is confident in Christ despite external appearances
of failure.
SPECIAL REVELATION
One cannot look at beautiful rainbows and sunsets
without also looking at devastating earthquakes
and floods. God’s promises are not seen; they are
believed by faith as spoken to us in his Holy Absolution, Holy Baptism and Holy Communion.
MEANS OF GRACE
God does his work via the Spirit’s bringing Christ
through his Absolution, and Holy Communion.
The God who is everywhere is incarnationally
somewhere for his people in his Holy Absolution,
Holy Baptism and Holy Communion.
FAITH
One trusts in God’s mercy in Christ even when it
doesn’t feel like He is present or active. All hell
may be breaking loose with emotional or psychological suffering, but faith clings to what is
promised, not what is seen or felt. Rejoicing is the
result of trust in spite of personal experiences.
INCARNATIONAL
Rooted in the historical revelation of God’s actions
in Scripture and directing people to Christ’s presence in Holy Absolution, Holy Baptism and Holy
Communion. Hope is understood as faithful trust.
 

DEMAND AND DELIGHT
TOO MUCH TO READ?
In his sermon on Matthew :–, Luther has a magnificent middle section distinguishing between law and gospel
(Lenker edition, I:–). There Luther makes three points:
To the Christian Nobility, (), AE :.
) The law is beneficial not when it forces us to do right or
leads us in the right way, but only when it drives us to despair.
Now he must be a poor, miserable and humiliated
spirit whose conscience is burdened and in anguish
because of the law, commanding and demanding payment in full when he does not possess even a farthing
with which to pay. Only to such persons is the law
beneficial, because it has been given for the purpose of
working such knowledge and humiliation; that is its
real mission. . . . For the law gives and helps us in no
way whatever; it only demands and drives and shows
us our misery and depravity. (, )
) The gospel motivates or compels us to nothing; it simply
gives what it promises.
The other word of God is neither law nor commandments, and demands nothing of us. But when that has
been done by the first word, namely, the law, and has
worked deep despair and wretchedness in our hearts,
then God comes and offers us his blessed and life-giving word and promises. . . . Therefore, works do not
belong to the gospel, as it is not a law; only faith
belongs to it, as it is altogether a promise and an offer
of divine grace. ()
) When the gospel is given, it does not motivate or lead us to
keep the law; rather, it creates what was not there—a love and
delight for the law. And in thanksgiving, then, the law is kept; a
thanksgiving and rejoicing for having received the gospel,
which thanksgiving would never come about had the gospel
not created it.
. . . and in addition to this [the work of the gospel
is] to create in us love and delight in keeping his
law. . . . Whosoever now believes the gospel will
receive grace and the Holy Spirit. This will cause the
heart to rejoice and find delight in God, and will
enable the believer to keep the law cheerfully, without
expecting reward, without fear of punishment, without seeking compensation, as the heart is perfectly
satisfied with God’s grace, by which the law has been
fulfilled.
The Rev. John Fenton
Immanuel and Zion Lutheran Churches
Hannover and Center, Wisconsin
The number of books on theology must be reduced and
only the best ones published. It is not many books that make
men learned, nor even reading. But it is a good book frequently read, no matter how small it is, that makes a man learned in
the Scriptures and godly. Indeed, the writings of all the holy
fathers should be read only for a time so that through them we
may be led into the Scriptures. As it is, however, we only read
them these days to avoid going any further and getting into the
Bible. We are like men who read the sign posts and never travel the road they indicate. Our dear fathers wanted to lead us to
the Scriptures by their writings, but we use their works to get
away from the Scriptures. Nevertheless, the Scripture alone is
our vineyard in which we must labor and toil.
THE COMMON PRIESTHOOD
The following paragraphs form the conclusion for the STM Thesis
of the Rev. Tom Winger, pastor of Grace Lutheran Church, St.
Catherines, Ontario, Canada. This -page work entitled The
Priesthood of all the Baptized: An Exegetical and Theological
Investigation was presented in May of  to the faculty of Concordia Seminary, St. Louis. Interested parties may inquire
through the Concordia Seminary Library.
Much of the present misuse of the common priesthood is
perpetrated in the name of Luther. For this reason, we turned
from our exegetical investigation to a consideration of Luther’s
use of the teaching. We found that the common priesthood
always served a specific role in each theological writing. At
each turn the gospel was at stake. In the debate with Rome,
Luther found himself facing a stratification of Christianity
which placed clergy on a higher level of spirituality than ordinary Christians. This spirituality was used to justify temporal
lordship, the reservation of absolution, private masses, and
other such abuses. Luther argued that to create such levels
within the church was to deny the grace of Baptism. Through
Baptism all are holy and priestly. The distinction between clergy and laity is one of office and function, not character. Faithful to the Scriptures, Luther used the common priesthood to
affirm the holy and Spirit-enlivened character of all those
washed with Baptism, and so justified.
Because priesthood is created by the sacraments, Luther
used it to call for the right of reception. Because they were
priests, Christians could not be denied the comfort of absolution, as the papists did. Nor could they be denied the preaching of the gospel and administration of the sacraments. The
priesthood needs its ministers (see also Tractate –). This
leads Luther to speak of the priestly sacrifice as faith, for that is
what is engendered by reception.

When he was unencumbered by his opponents’ errors,
Luther placed the priesthood into the divine service. The
priesthood is created through Holy Baptism. The priesthood
receives the word of God as it is preached by the office bearers.
Having thus received, they respond in prayer, praise and
thanksgiving. If there is a Zweipoligkeit in Luther, it involves
the poles of sacrament and sacrifice. Without sacrament there
is no priesthood. First they receive. Then the sacrifice flows out
back to God. Only with this distinction does Luther finally
come to clarity on the relationship of the preaching of the
word to the common priesthood.
One conclusion which can be proffered is that perhaps too
much has been said on the basis of common priesthood. At the
same time, the magnificent use to which the Scriptures put this
metaphor has been ignored. It is a rich application of the
gospel which too often is turned into rights, privileges, obligations, and thus, law. This occurs when the role of the priesthood is confused with the exercise of the office of the keys.
What can be said uniquely of the priesthood is also lost when it
is constantly measured against the office of the ministry. When
priesthood is given its proper place, the gracious action of God
in creating for himself a holy people is proclaimed. This is to
accord the proper dignity to Holy Baptism.
We have repeatedly come to the liturgy to understand the
priesthood. In the liturgy law and gospel, sacrament and sacrifice, are most clearly distinguished. In the liturgy the people of
God have their life. Luther cannot be said to be unfaithful to
Scripture when he uses the priesthood as Peter does. And Peter
is only being faithful to the Old Testament. The priesthood of
the baptized describes the church of the liturgy, the holy people of Yahweh, his treasured possession, whom he bought with
the price of his Son to worship him.
FEARFUL PROOF
What critic could display more candor than Friedrich Nietzsche?
His antitheses to Christianity may seem refreshing to those apologists who would avoid a defense of the faith centered on something
other than the cross—a mistake into which many of our age have
fallen. The following excerpt is taken from The Will to Power,
edited and translated by Walter Kaufman with assistance from
R.J. Hollingdale, New York: Vintage Books, , pp. –.
Even granted that the Christian faith might not be disprovable, Pascal thinks nonetheless that, in view of a fearful possibility
that it is true, it is in the highest degree prudent to be a Christian.
Today one finds, as a sign of how much Christianity has
declined in fearfulness, that other attempts to justify it by saying
that even if it were in error, one might yet have during one’s life
the great advantage and enjoyment of this error: it therefore
seems that this faith ought to be maintained precisely for the sake
of its tranquilizing effect, not therefore, from fear of a threatening possibility, rather, from a fear of a life that has lost its charm.
This hedonistic turn, the proof from pleasure, is a symptom of decline: it replaces the proof from strength, from that

which overpowers us in the Christian idea, from fear. In fact,
with this reinterpretation, Christianity is approaching exhaustion: one is content with an opiate Christianity because one
has the strength neither to seek, to struggle, to dare, to wish to
stand alone, nor for Pascalism, for this brooding self-contempt, for faith in human unworthiness, for the anguished
feeling that one is perhaps damned.
But a Christianity intended above all to soothe diseased
nerves has really no need of that fearful solution of a God on
the cross: which is why Buddhism is silently gaining ground
everywhere in Europe.
UPPSALA COLLOQUY + 400
This past year, the Church of Sweden celebrated the quattrocentennial of the Uppsala Colloquy, the official adoption of
the Augsburg Confession by the Church of Sweden in .
The peak of the jubilee was a major ecumenical celebration in
Uppsala Cathedral in which three sermons were delivered: one
by his Holiness Gunnar Weman, the Lutheran Archbishop of
Sweden; one by his Eminence Edward Idris Cardinal Cassidy
from the Vatican; and one by his All-Holiness Bartholomew,
the Ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinople.
The sermon delivered by the Ecumenical Patriarch was
doubtless the best of them, stressing the significance of the
communication of attributes in the God-Man for our salvation
as well as the circumincession or interpenetration (pericwvrhsi"), between the divine and the human nature in Christ
working out the salvation of mankind.
The other two sermons were only a kind of ecumenical flirtation between a Lutheran and a Roman Catholic position. This
celebration in Uppsala Cathedral was, as said above, only the
peak of the celebration of the Uppsala Colloquy. Prior to that,
almost every household in Sweden was given a small booklet
named The Little Book about Christian Faith, which indeed is little both in size as well as in content. Everything that echoed
Lutheran was of course removed from the book.
The Church of Sweden has for some time flirted with the
Roman Church. This was expressed in the celebration of the
canonization of St. Bridget of Sweden which took place in
St. Peter’s in Rome last fall in which three clergymen officiated:
Pope John Paul II and the Archbishops of Sweden and Finland. The undersigned has as a colleague a female pastor who
sits in the Doctrinal Committee of the Church of Sweden who
told me that they intend to throw out most of the Book of
Concord, especially the Formula of Concord, but even the
Apology of the Augsburg Confession.
In that case, a fitting word for the Church of Sweden
would be St. John’s word to the church in Ephesus: Remember
the height from which you have fallen! Repent and do the
thing you did at first. If you do not repent, I will come to you
and remove your lampstand from its place (Rv : ). It seems
that the lampstand is already removed.
Dr. Lars Koen
Uppsala, Sweden
 
THE ONCE AND FUTURE CHURCH
At our urging, Dr. Edwin S. Suelflow, president of the South Wisconsin District, is permitting us to reprint his review of Loren B.
Mead’s book, The Once and Future Church. Mead, former president of the Alban Institute, sets forth in this work a model which is
highly regarded by several of the LCMS’ leading administrators and
consultants such as Robert Scudieri, John Schuelke and Alan Klaas.
Copies of the book were sent to all participants in the meeting
of the seminary faculties and Council of Presidents held in August
. The book is about congregations and the purpose for their
existence. It is about the way congregations follow the Great Commission and make disciples for Jesus. It is about a paradigm of missions. Dr. Suelflow offers some constructive criticism and caution.
In the early church, the apostles simply went out to preach the
gospel. Dr. Mead calls this the Apostolic paradigm. The book of
Acts details how it played out. A new paradigm began to emerge
with the conversion of Emperor Constantine, when the church
became identified with the empire or the state. This is the Christendom paradigm as explained by Dr. Mead.
As this paradigm developed, some noticeable changes
occurred: Religious education was carried on by the state, and, for
the sake of unity in certain areas, a religion was declared to be the
official religion. As part of the Christendom paradigm in the United States, the Constitution guaranteed a diversity in the freedom of
religion. Many of us are familiar with the era where the government tried to control righteousness, to some extent, with the passage of blue laws; stores were not open on Sunday; professional
baseball games did not start on Sunday until  P.M.; liquor was not
sold on Sunday.
Slowly changes began to take place. Starting in the s and
s, the Christendom paradigm began to fall apart. With these
changes, according to Dr. Mead, came a misunderstanding or lack
of understanding or a confusion of the mission and the purpose
for the existence of the church. Clergy and laity seemed to be at
odds with one another. The people who feel the changes most of
all, according to the Alban Institute, are the denominational executives, for they have, as St. Paul says, the care of all the churches.
Three reasons are advanced by Dr. Mead to explain this confusion: ) There is a fundamental change in how people understand the mission of the church; ) Local congregations are moving from a progressive responding role in support of mission in
far-off places to support of the mission at their own doorstep; and
) Institutional structures are collapsing.
Denominational offices, area judicatory offices and local
congregations are aware of this, but they do not know what to do
about it. As a response, some denominations are almost frantic
in their efforts to keep the ship afloat. New programs are developed, so compelling, that the hope is to re-attract all the eroded
support. But with new programs resources still continue to
decline. Also, churches do large-scale restructuring (like LCMS
did at its Pittsburgh Convention); there is a re-alignment of staff
and departments; there is consolidation. Dr. Mead claims most
of this is like fibrillation in which the heart under stress pumps
more and more rapidly but without coordination, thus actually
working against itself, pumping less and less blood to the body.

Another sign of desperation, according to the Alban Institute, is the periodic infusion of capital through major gift drives
and major mission funding efforts. Dr. Mead says it is past time
for developing a new paradigm of missions. The problem here
is that to reach a consensus on what that new paradigm should
be will take a long time, actually several generations. He is
rather harsh in his assessment of denominations and judicatory
offices, calling them antiquarian relics, who hold on to collapsing structures even after they have lost their possibility for new
life. He claims the judicatory office continues to provide help to
many organizations that drew their last unassisted breath a
decade ago.
Here are some of the pressure points enumerated as they
apply to denominational executives: Friction in congregations
which executives or reconcilers are asked to address and
resolve; districts must deal with almost annual reductions in
resources for their regional budget; congregations are seeing a
greater need to fund the mission at their local level rather then
at the national level. All of this makes the district office less
important, even an impediment, as far too many in the local
congregation are concerned.
Dr. Mead suggests that district leaders must discover a central role in mission leadership. What will save district programs
at least for a while are the tradition and loyalty of the past. The
prognosis, however, is that congregations will see little connection between the district program and what they identify as mission on the local level. For that reason, fewer and fewer congregations will feel compelled to support district staff and budgets,
which the congregations feel to be less than marginal as far as
their value to them is concerned. In fact, congregations will feel
that the mission of the district should be to help support them at
the local level as they carry out their own mission.
Dr. Mead suggests that denominations and/or judicatories
must get away from the idea that they can develop programs
which fit every situation and every congregation as if all were
the same, as if all lived by the same schedule. That approach is
outdated. He suggests districts and congregations become
attuned to what he calls learning points. These are times in a
congregation when it’s not business as usual; when the normal
pattern of church life is upset; times which will make the congregation open to learning to operate or at least willing to look
at another paradigm.
Learning points could be such things as a change in the
pastoral office or sociological change in the community or the
destruction of a building by fire or the closing of a Christian
day school. At those times the district staff must be ready to
help congregations adjust to new situations. Dr. Mead writes:
“The most important function of the judicatory is to provide
oversight.” He talks about offering a wide menu of resources,
claiming that a judicatory which does this well does not need
to mount independent programming efforts. His suggestion is
to put all energy into congregations that are at learning points.
The others? Leave them alone.
Two important factors to this process are trust and
accountability. Do the leaders of our congregations trust synod
and district leaders enough to accept the help they offer? Do
they believe that their best interest will be served?

I don’t suppose all of us agree with the Alban Institute
assessments and I’m not sure whether it makes much difference
if we do or not. One point, however, gives great cause for concern. In the entire discussion on the future paradigm of mission, nothing was stated by the author about theology and how
it directs and controls and dictates practice for the church. In
fact, Dr. Mead suggests that we will have to rethink some of our
practices such as infant baptism. (It is not clear whether he
thinks this is a practice or a doctrine.) He talks about the age
when people are baptized as a practical matter and the age for
admitting people to the communion rail as relating to church
growth. He says nothing about the understanding from Scripture that the sacraments are the means of grace God has given
to his church to convey and impart the forgiveness Christ
earned through his death and resurrection.
Further, he claims that the primary theologians in the
church will need to be the laity because they are on the mission
frontier. Clergy and seminary faculties will need to be retrained, he says, to become resource persons for the lay theologians. There is no mention of any training for these lay theologians outside of the real-life situations they encounter where
they live. He advocates the use of cell groups or meta-church
models where the laity can develop a theology from experience. Scripture tells a pastor to equip the saints, assuming that
this equipping is done on the basis of God’s word, not real-life
experiences. Where does this leave the office of the ministry as
ordained by God and explained in the Lutheran Confessions?
Perhaps the gravest concern is centered in this statement:
Transformation is occurring because of the persistent call of God
that our work be made new and the church’s mission in that world
be transformed itself in new patterns of reconciling the world to
God. I thought that point was perfectly clear in the Scriptures. God
reconciled the world unto himself through Jesus Christ.
Here is another point of real tension. Does the new mission paradigm include also a change in theology? We may
agree that methods change by which the gospel is brought to
the world, but the message of the gospel does not change. As
confessional Lutherans we will continue to be concerned about
changes in theology. We will remind folks that changes in worship style do reflect changes in theology more then they reflect
outward forms of worship.
What the Alban Institute is saying sort of coincides with the
recent Church Membership Initiative project. An outline
appeared in the Milwaukee Sentinel on July , . The headline in the paper said, “Variety Fills Pews, Study Shows.” It is
rather difficult not to become facetious and ask, “Does this
mean there are also a variety of ways to fill heaven?” A statement
in the article said, “For some people the method of presenting
theology is equivalent to theology.” We would like to suggest
that this is a matter of communication, not a matter of theology.
Perhaps a lot of LCMS people agree with this. But it is a
point of real tension. When you advertise a program in the
church as Potty Training With Jesus and say it is a good way to
start teaching Christian discipline, this is a bit beyond this
writer’s idea of how to teach the faith.
It is obvious that also we in the LCMS are struggling with
the new paradigm of missions. We need to be careful that we

do not become so involved and so enamored of new and creative ways of doing the mission our Lord gave us that we make
the sacred appear commonplace. Eternal salvation is involved.
The church is still the dispenser of the means of grace which
Christ has given us as the assurance that his suffering and death
was meant for us personally as the only way to eternal life.
Are we in danger of losing this emphasis in our desire to
become relevant to meeting the needs and desires of people?
The greatest need people have is the forgiveness of sins. What
assurance do we have that this need is addressed when we subject people, as the Church Membership Initiative report says,
to a Whoopi Goldberg twist on traditional hymns?
The Rev. Dr. Edwin S. Suelflow
President, South Wisconsin District LCMS
PROFILES IN MINISTRY
FROM: Jordan Management Consultants
TO: Jesus Christ, Carpenter
Dear Sir:
Thank you for submitting resumés of the twelve men you
have chosen for management positions in your new organization. All of them have taken our battery of tests, and we have
not only run all the tests through our computer, but we have
arranged interviews for each of them with our psychologist
and our company vocational aptitude consultant.
The profiles of all the tests are included, and you will want
to study each of them carefully. It is the staff’s opinion that
most of your nominees are lacking in background, education,
and vocational aptitude for the type of world-wide enterprise
you are undertaking.
They do not have the team concept. We would like to recommend that you continue your search for persons of greater
experience in managerial ability and proven capability.
Simon Peter is quite emotionally unstable and given to fits
of temper. Andrew, his brother, has absolutely no required
qualities of leadership. The two other brothers, James and
John, obviously place their own personal ambition far above
any company loyalty. Thomas demonstrates a questioning attitude that would tend to undermine morale. We feel it is our
ethical duty to inform you that Matthew, the tax-collector, has
been blacklisted by the greater Jerusalem Better Business
Bureau. Thaddeus and Simon, of the Zealot Party, have radical
leanings.
One of your chosen candidates, however, shows great
potential. He is a man of proven ability and resourcefulness.
He has a keen business mind and has maintained important
contacts in high places. He is highly motivated, ambitious, and
responsible. We highly recommend him as your comptroller
and right-hand man. His name is Judas Iscariot. All the other
profiles are self-explanatory.
Sincerely yours,
The Jordan Management Company
 
This little anecdote probably seemed clever to many of the
parishioners who read it. But that perception might change when
we find that the truth is uncomfortably close to the fiction.
Students at the seminaries of the LCMS are now being subjected to a sociological testing instrument entitled Profiles in Ministry, produced by the Association of Theological Schools in the
United States and Canada,  Summit Park Drive, Pittsburgh, PA
–, and authored by Milo L. Brekke, David S. Schuller and
Dorothy Williams, revised by Daniel Aleshire in .
Composed primarily of situational vignettes, the casebook
questionnaire prompts seminarians to select from a set of predetermined responses which would most closely fit his mostlikely reaction.
Respect for the wishes of the authors of this instrument
preclude us from giving samples of the situations. To divulge
the samples might skew the results of the test, biasing the reaction of students who would take the test. In other words, they
don’t want the respondents to think too deeply before taking
the test, preferring immediate responses. Nevertheless, clergy
and laypeople ought to be aware of the analytical methods used
by our seminaries today in discerning the needs and character
of seminarians who are being equipped for the pastoral office.
The casebook claims to be a kind of values clarification for
the seminarians. It claims to create the opportunity “for you to
identify your attitudes, characteristic approaches and perceptions of ministry. It is not designed to identify good and bad
ministry. Most of the printed responses to the case situations
are present because ministers have identified that response or
rationale as one they would use. Your responses to these items
will be summarized with profile scores which will indicate the
tendencies and perceptions you have about ministry.”
So then, this tool is not merely used to help seminarians to
identify what lives within themselves; it is also used by the
administrators to determine whether these young men have
the right character to serve Christ’s body with the means of
grace. Paul and Luther had to do without the kind of psychosociological testing instrument represented by Profiles in Ministry when they instructed that pastors be called in every place.
Perhaps the implication is that we have become more sophisticated and better able to judge whether or not a man ought to
be ordained now that we have such casebooks.

It may be simple to categorize respondents according to
their answers but will that give an accurate picture from which
an overall judgment may be made? To be sure, such surveys
are not used in isolation. Interviews and faculty assessments
will also play their part. The question remains, however,
whether this method is trustworthy in determining any facet of
a candidate’s true character. Can one general survey, covering
every theological bent from the Religious Society of Friends to
the Greek Orthodox Church in America, be expected to serve
well for confessional Lutheran candidates? Perhaps you can
imagine the frustration of seminarians who are forced to select
an answer from among those given when none of the selections reflects an evangelical Lutheran confession of law and
gospel.
If you have experienced some of the casuistry that takes
place at circuit pastoral conferences, you may well wonder if a
casuistic instrument such as this is likely to render accurate
readings from young men who have but a year or two of seminary classes under their belts. Besides that, such testing programs are usually very expensive, all the more so when we consider that the peanut butter can be spread pretty thin on the
seminary sandwich budgets.
Does this evaluation, Profiles in Ministry, faithfully portray
the true character of these young men or does it merely create a
caricature? Is it worth the hundreds of dollars being poured
into it or have we once again bought into the latest Veg-O-Matic methodologies of religious Home Shopping Club hucksters?
Such questions might be viewed as taking cheap shots at
those who are entrusted with the work of evaluating men fit
for the ministry. It is not by any means, however, our intention merely to cast dubious aspersions upon others. Our concern is grounded in experiences which have shown that we are
too often prone to accept interdisciplinary techniques which
are founded upon something other than Christ. A certain utilitarianism lurks within our human natures. We may easily
become enamored with the latest instruments which come in
neat packages. We then tend to want to baptize them somehow
as Lutheran when in fact we ought to realize that certain things
are not redeemable. Where this is recognized, no one ought to
be faulted for asking the questions. And no one ought to be so
affronted as to refuse to offer some answers.

SYNOD X AND SYNOD Y
In his keynote speech presented to the Growing Church
Conference in Albuquerque (July , ), Charles Mueller,
Sr., voiced his assessment of the LCMS today with what he
called “a deceptively innocent-looking assertion.” Representing Wheat Ridge Ministries, he opined that, “The Lutheran
Church in which I was baptized in , the Lutheran Church
whose clergy roster I signed in  and the Lutheran Church
from whose full-time ministerium I stepped down in  have
many things in common, but in truth they are three very different churches.” He buttressed this assertion by attempting to
show how the seminaries in each age were training future pastors on the basis of outmoded experiences. “I believe they honestly didn’t see the signs of our changing times.”
From there Mueller leaps into the statistics of the last forty
years. Looking at the one thousand larger churches (after all, this
was a conference of and for large churches), he attempts to
induce certain conclusions about the LCMS as a whole. In point
of fact, over the past forty years, the big in the LCMS have
become more plentiful and have gotten larger. Matching that
fact is another from the other end of the size spectrum: The
small, too, have multiplied, and, sad to say, appear to have gotten smaller. That’s a tragic truth, if for no other reason than that
size is directly related to expanding the financial base of a parish.
Based on statistics demonstrating the trends in congregational size, Mueller proclaims that the . million-member
synod is not united: “We are clearly two synods. Oh, no, we
are not divided theologically. Even suggesting that is nonsense.
Any testing of Lutherans evidences such a uniformity of theology especially within the LCMS that to talk of large-scale theological differences is laughable. Such talk only keeps us from
facing the truth. Our real LCMS dilemma is another kind of
division, one whose reality was so tragically shrouded in and
by our s interlude. It has to do with our parish sizes
[emphasis added], our pastor/parish attitudes about growth,
and how we handle change.” Mueller identifies the major divisions in the LCMS as Synod X and Synod Y.
“Church life in Synod X bubbles with parish activities,
program offerings and a rich assortment of opportunities for
serving God and man. Synod X has most of our day schools
and youth workers and DCE-led adult education programs
and large mission efforts and all kinds of music and family
enrichment at every level of need. In Synod X it’s AA and Boy
Scouts and libraries and brass choirs with something going
on every hour of every day in almost every room of their
church buildings.
“Iwon’t try to characterize Synod Y life except to say that
for most who live there, life is a struggle. Some great pastors
and people are fighting for their very existence in Synod Y circumstances. . . . I did not come to talk with you about Synod Y and wouldn’t even have mentioned they exist except, by
virtue of their sheer mass, I must. You see, Synod Y dominates
and controls most of our institutional initiatives, our publishing decisions and our synodical energies. They do that
because Synod Y is in control. It has the votes, the political
clout in the synod.”

Thus for Mueller, bigger is better. The lilliputian Synod Y
parishes are bogging down what otherwise would be a glorious
and triumphant day for the meta-churches in the LCMS. Still,
Mueller instructs the Synod X churches gathered at that conference to be positive in at least three main areas: ) Begin by
encouraging the one-thousandor so LCMS parishes of Synod
X and more particularly the  congregations within that
number with five-hundred or more worshippers in church
each week; ) Recognize that you [Synod X churches] are our
hope—you and a like-minded minority in the clergy the
church over; and ) Do not believe deliverance will come from
somewhere else either in a theological or institutional sense.
Mueller is not surprised by the “so-far-sniffy reception
with which last year’s AAL Church Membership Initiative, the
study of the Lutheran congregations and pastors, was received.
Saddened, yes. But not surprised. What other response should
we expect from the % of our pastors/parishes who find nice
ways of saying that growth is of little/no particular concern to
them? Or from another % who grant that growth may have
its importance, and they intend to get around to it any day
now? . . . Which leaves a lonely, but lively % who not only
have the conviction in this matter but a will to move on it.
That’s you. It’s got to be you. Your spirit and track record isolate you as leaders among the people of faith and action in the
LCMS. The % aren’t. Yet.”
By now, you readers who represent the % called Synod
Y may be wondering what it is that your portion of the money
pie for Wheat Ridge seals and AAL benevolences is actually
being spent on. You may be all too predictably aghast at
Mueller’s dictums like “I doubt that Jesus at his coming will be
pleased with a report of spending most of our time and our
best energies in defense of his truth.” You may even be tempted to use your overwhelming political clout to heap more disgrace and infamy upon yourselves in the face of the glorious
Synod X congregations. But don’t you do it. That would be
small of you.
On one hand, you might: approach pastors and members
of Synod X congregations at conferences, rallies and conventions, and beg their forgiveness for being small-minded; let
your district or congregational representatives be instructed by
the largest congregations as to how they should vote; or even
pray fervently that one day your congregation will be able to
have a three-octave handbell choir and a personal satellite
link-up with the three missionary families you have sponsored
in addition to the  million in offerings that you are already
sending to district and synod. But then again, maybe not.
On the other hand, you might be influenced by someone
who sounded like a Synod Y guy in the late s who wrote:
“For wherever you see a small group that has the true word
and the sacraments, there the church is if only the pulpit and
the baptismal font are pure, or Do not look at the crowd, at
wealth, but where the gospel is to be found.” These shams are
to be removed from sight, and regard is to be had only for the
word, even though the despised people who have it are not
sharp. Though they are poor and ride on mules or travel afoot,
nevertheless, they are the church. No wealth and no poverty
make the church, but the word does.”
 
Yes, it is Luther who says, “The appearance of the church
is not that which is drawn by artists, who picture her as an
attractive maiden or as a well-fortified and beautiful city. To be
sure, the picture is true, but not according to the eyes of the
flesh. Spiritual eyes do see the fine form and elegance supreme
of the church because Christ is her Spouse, has begotten her
for himself through the Holy Spirit and beautified her with his
blood, his merits, and his righteousness. Of these matters, the
flesh is unable to see or judge anything. . . . If, then, a person
desires to draw the church as he sees her, he will picture her as
a deformed and poor girl sitting in an unsafe forest in the
midst of hungry lions, bears, wolves, and boars, nay, deadly
serpents; in the midst of infuriated men who set sword, fire,
and water in motion in order to kill her and wipe her from the
face of the earth.”
GLADLY IN THE MIDST
The following comes from Luther’s Admonition Concerning the
Sacrament of , AE :.
If I cannot or must not preach, I still want to listen; whoever listens also assists in thanking and honoring God, since,
where there are no listeners, there can be no preacher. If I cannot listen, I nevertheless want to be present among the listeners; at least I want to be present there, with my body and its
members, where God is praised and glorified. Even if I could
do no more, I still desire to receive the sacrament for this reason, that by such reception I might confess and bear witness
that I also am one who would praise and thank God, and
therefore desire to receive the sacrament to the glory of God.
Such reception shall be my remembrance with which I think of
and thank him for his grace shown me in Christ.
For it is not a small thing when someone is gladly in the
midst of the multitude among whom God is praised and
thanked; it is something for which the ancient fathers longed
with deep sighs, as Psalm  says: I would gladly go with the
multitude and go with them to the house of God, with the
sound of praise and thanks among the multitude keeping festival. . . . For whoever belongs to the multitude, if he is not
insincere, has a part in all the honor and thanks which are rendered to God there. Since you can render service to God and
can show him such great honor, which costs you neither money nor great effort, and which you can accomplish by listening
willingly or by receiving communion with a thankful heart,
you would have to be a desperate knave if you did not want to
do this for your God. In fact, you should be quite willing to
walk to the end of the world if you knew you would find there
such a multitiude among whom God is praised and glorified
and you could thus share in the sacred fellowship.

RESOURCING THE RESOURCE
The Rev. Paul T. McCain, assistant to the president of the LCMS,
St. Louis, Missouri, wrote an open letter to Mr. David Anderson,
principal editor of the Worship Leader’s Resource newsletter.
That letter has been edited for inclusion in this section of the
LOGIA Forum.
In the Summer  issue of Worship Leader’s Resource (Vol.
, No. ) prominence was given to a quotation from the Book of
Concord: We believe, teach, and confess that the community of
God in every locality and every age has authority to change such
ceremonies according to circumstances, as it may be most profitable and edifying to the community of God (FC Ep X).
Any effort to grapple with the teaching of the Lutheran
Confessions on worship and liturgy is commendable. To quote
only that select portion of Article X, however, is misleading.
Taken out of context, some readers might conclude from this
citation that they are justified in incorporating anything they
desire into Lutheran worship services. This would be a most
unfortunate assumption to make.
First of all, from a simple linguistic point of view, the
word “churches” here does not refer to individual congregations but to church bodies, usually territorial churches. This is
so in virtually every instance of the use of the word churches in
the Book of Concord. Individual congregations are not as free
as some would suppose to tinker with the liturgy, rather they
must in unity with other congregations preserve to the greatest
extent a uniform liturgy for the good of the gospel in our
midst. This is clearly affirmed in numerous places in the
Lutheran Confessions.
For instance, consider printing these quotations from the
Book of Concord:
Those usages are to be observed which may be
observed without sin and which contribute to peace
and good order in the church, among them being certain holy days, festivals, and the like. (AC VII)
The Mass is observed among us with greater devotion
and more earnestness than among our opponents
. . . no conspicuous changes have been made in the
public ceremonies of the Mass. . . . (AC XXIV)
No novelty has been introduced which did not exist
in the church from the ancient times. (AC XXIV:)
We gladly keep the old traditions set up in the church
because they are useful and promote tranquility, and
we interpret them in an evangelical way, excluding
the opinion that they justify. . . . We can truthfully
claim that in our churches the public liturgy is more
decent than in theirs. (Ap XV:–)


We do not abolish the Mass but religiously keep and
defend it. In our churches Mass is celebrated every
Sunday and on other festivals, when the sacrament is
offered to those who wish for it after they have been
examined and absolved. We keep traditional liturgical
forms, such as the order of the lessons, prayers, vestments, etc. (Ap XXIV:)
The principle of adiaphora which occasioned the tenth article
of the Formula was precisely to defend the historic liturgy
against the charge that it was a hindrance or obstacle to growth.
It is puzzling that, from those who call for contemporary and
creative worship, one rarely if ever hears a call for a renewal in
our appreciation for, and a more intricate and beautiful use of,
historic liturgical structures. Why is this? Why would we be
willing, for example, to encourage congregations to engage in
hand waving and clapping for the Lord in the Divine Service
but are silent about encouraging historic physical gestures such
as kneeling and making the sign of the holy cross? What does
this say about where our true sensibilities lie?
So much of what passes these days for creative worship is
little more than a poor imitation of what one could receive
from the local Assemblies of God or any number of Reformed
Protestant worship centers. That certainly is far from creative.
In fact, one could very well argue that the best way to destroy
the Lutheran Church is to force our scriptural and confessional theological substance into an alien style. Does the scriptural
theology of the means of grace produce a distinct style of worship to support, affirm, and increase the word and sacraments
among us? I believe the answer is a resounding “Yes!”
Surrounded in this nation as we are by sects of all kinds
and descriptions, one would think that it would be necessary
to retain with great care the historic worship forms, as Article X
further advises:
We believe, teach, and confess that at a time of confession, as when enemies of the word of God desire to
suppress the pure doctrine of the holy gospel, the
entire community of God, yes, every individual Christian, and especially the ministers of the word as the
leaders of the community of God, are obligated to confess openly, not only by words but also through their
deeds and actions, the true doctrine and all that pertain
to it, according to the word of God. In such a case we
should not yield to adversaries even in matters of indifference, or should we tolerate the imposition of such
ceremonies on us by adversaries in order to undermine
the genuine worship of God . . . (FC SD x:)
C.F.W. Walther developed quite a penetrating defense of the
liturgy on the basis of these words. He said in a convention essay:
We refuse to be guided by those who are offended by
our church customs. We adhere to them all the more
firmly when someone wants to cause us to have a
guilty conscience on account of them. . . . It is truly
distressing that many of our fellow Christians find the
difference between Lutheranism and Papism in outward things. It is a pity and dreadful cowardice when
one sacrifices the good ancient church customs to
please the deluded American sects, lest they accuse us
of being papistic!
Indeed! Am I to be afraid of a Methodist, who perverts the saving word, or be ashamed in the matter of
my good cause, and not rather rejoice that the sects can
tell by our ceremonies that I do not belong to them?
. . . We are not insisting that there be uniformity of
perception or feeling or of taste among all believing
Christians neither dare anyone demand that all be
minded as he. Nevertheless it remains true that the
Lutheran liturgy distinguishes Lutheran worship from
the worship of other churches to such an extent that the
latter look like lecture halls in which the hearers are
merely addressed or instructed [or entertained?], while
our churches are in truth houses of prayer in which the
Christians serve the great God publicly before the world.
The objection: What would be the use of uniformity
of ceremonies? was answered with the counter: What
is the use of a flag on the battlefield? Even though a
soldier cannot defeat the enemy with it, he nevertheless sees by the flag where he belongs. We ought not
to refuse to walk in the footsteps of our fathers. They
were so far removed from being ashamed of the good
ceremonies that they publicly confess in the passage
quoted: It is not true that we do away with all such
external ornaments . . . (Walther, Essays for the
Church, Volume I:).
Walther was keenly aware of the American experience and all
that it meant for Lutheran identity as expressed in the worship
forms used by the Lutheran Church here in America. Again,
commenting on the portion of Article X of the Formula of
Concord quoted above, Walther says:
For at a time of confession the Formula of Concord
says quite correctly, one dare not yield. Now, however,
that time is for us always, because we are everywhere
surrounded by Reformed and other sects (Ibid, p. ).
These observations need to be given every serious consideration. I challenge the editors, patrons and readers of Worship
Leader’s Resource to grapple earnestly with Walther’s observations. Concordia Publishing House will soon be releasing a wonderful book on these sorts of issues entitled Lutheran Worship:
History and Practice. Perhaps as we approach these issues from an
 
informed theological basis, instead of doing whatever happens to
appeal to the emotions of our parishioners, we will reach a much
more satisfying solution to the challenges posed by the materials
one sees prominently featured in your publication.
How can ELCA Lutherans and LCMS Lutherans join
together to mimic Assemblies of God and quasi-Pentecostal or
evangelical worship forms with no consideration whatsoever
for the most serious doctrinal divisions which tragically divide
our church bodies? Are these of no consequence? Do we not
care that the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America has surrendered virtually every major historical dogma of the church
and has permitted skepticism and doubt to be cast on them?
One suspects that doctrinal indifference accompanies a desire
to abandon Lutheran distinctives in worship and ceremonies.
Having rambled on for some length here, I will conclude
by repeating that I found it troubling that this periodical
would so prominently feature a snippet from the Lutheran
Confessions without any consideration of its history and
meaning, other than to use it to support what is an obvious
attempt to move the Lutheran Church away from the historic
liturgical structures by which our identity has been shaped and
our theology expressed.
If we embrace forms which are poor imitations of that
kind of praise worship which is done with unequalled exuberance in other church bodies, do we really think we shall remain
Lutheran in any meaningful sense of that word? Do we think
we can satisfy the tastes of persons who have become inclined
to the more emotional and charismatic worship forms (which
do indeed entertain and might make for fun during a Sunday
morning worship experience)? Won’t such people just move
on to those sects which provide most completely for these lustful passions for enthusiasm like that which is found among the
denominations of the holiness bodies congregations? Or are
we just disinterested enough in being Lutheran that we are
willing to overlook these serious questions? I certainly pray
that this will not be so among us.
Although I have been most candid and frank in these
observations, I assume that we all are supportive of and committed to the growth of the church, the increase and spread of
the gospel, and the salvation of all for whom our Lord and
Savior Jesus Christ suffered and died. I do feel however that a
great chasm divides those who are enamored with the likes of
Worship Leaders’ Resource and those who are not. These are
not simply matters of taste or style but are matters of profound
theological and soteriological significance in light of the gifts
which our Lord Jesus Christ has commended to us. These gifts
do not raise us to him through uplifting praise, but are rather
those in which He himself comes to us for life and peace.

CONFESSIONAL STEWARDSHIP
Echoes of autumn stewardship programs and drives have
probably trailed off by now. Other programs may be pressing
for volunteers and donors in our congregations during the
Epiphany and Lent seasons. Now, however, may be as good a
time as any to consider stewardship from a confessional
Lutheran perspective.
“Stewardship” occurs in the Book of Concord in inverse
proportion to the number of times it is found in many current
church publications. The only occurrence appears in the last
article of the Apology of the Augsburg Confession dealing with
Ecclesiastical Power. The complaint cited there is that church
leaders have grown quite wealthy while congregations and
people suffer poverty. God undoubtedly sees and hears them,
and it is to him that you will some day have to give account of
your stewardship (XXVIII, Tappert p.  f.).
The word stewardship might not have made it into the
Book of Concord at all if the Papists had not misunderstood
article XXVIII of the Augsburg Confession. The question about
good stewardship was not really germane to the issue at hand
(for in this article we have been arguing about something different). Melanchthon digresses, saying in effect, “We weren’t
really talking about stewardship, but now that you mention it,
you haven’t been such good stewards.” Then he quickly goes
on to discuss the real concern.
Was stewardship so insignificant in the sixteenth century
that it received so little attention when the Lutheran Confessions were penned? Was stewardship only conceived of in
terms of indulgence trafficking and state funding or was there
another view quietly maintained among the faithful? Has the
Christian Church ever in its history seen the likes of the stewardship programs, campaigns and emphases which are pressed
upon us today from every corner? If not, why not?
Perhaps such materials thrive in our century and culture in
a way which would not be appropriate in any other. Is the stewardship with which most of us are familiar the necessary form
shaped by a Western democracy in the late twentieth century?
In any case, these materials are urged upon us presumably
because there are so few good stewards. Judge by the statistics
apparent in many congregations: –% of the members give
less than two dollars per week. They spend twice as much for a
single trip to McDonald’s as they do on a weekly visit to the
Lord’s house.
Our synod’s problems often seem to be measured in the
shortage of dollars. Fundraising phone-a-thons from our colleges and seminaries smell so very much like manipulative techniques with heavy doses of air freshener, sprayed in hopes of
squeezing more cash from members. But even when there are
attempts to see self-management in terms of something other
than dollers, i.e., in terms of talents and time, the figures are not
much better: % of the members seem to do % of the work.
What procedure could turn these tragic figures around? In
the current program-minded approach to stewardship, the
Lutheran Confessions seem to have nothing to offer. There are
no special worship services, no clever fundraising suggestions,
and no well-produced audio-visual materials. In spite of that,


however, the Book of Concord remains one of the best textbooks on stewardship available.
A program approach to stewardship often begins with the
assumption that what we need is a better biblical understanding about stewardship. If people understand stewardship better, they will become better stewards. The Confessions do not
speculate thus about people. What the Confessions do best for
stewardship is when stewardship is not mentioned at all. One
does not effect good works by talking about good works. Good
works are the consequent fruits of faith.
Broadly speaking, we might say that the Confessions speak
in a way that bears stewardship fruits in three ways when it:
) Removes obligation as a response to gospel gifts, ) Rejects a
partnership understanding of God’s relationship with us, and
) Remands us to the theology of grace as opposed to a theology of success and glory.
First of all, the obligation of good works is removed from
the saving gospel. In our own day, we sometimes get a take-off
on the familiar John F. Kennedy quotation: Ask not what Jesus
can do for you, but ask what you can do for Jesus. The idea is
that Jesus has done so much for you, you ought to be doing
something (i.e., giving something) for him. What a commingling of law and gospel in one fell swoop! Now that the gospel
has been used to urge obligation, what is left for comfort and
joy? That which is to be for peace of mind has been turned into
something that incites guilt. What is left to do the work of the
gospel when the gospel is doing the work of the law?
Such insidious ideas have slipped into our hymnals. For
example, in the hymn “I Gave My Life for Thee” (TLH ),
these words are put into Jesus’ mouth by Frances Havergal:
I gave My life for thee,
My precious blood I shed,
That thou might’st ransomed be
And quickened from the dead.
I gave My life for thee;
What hast thou giv’n for Me?
I suffered much for thee,
More than My tongue can tell,
Of bitt’rest agony,
To rescue thee from hell.
I suffered much for thee;
What canst thou bear for Me?
Here, even what Christ has done for us seems to have strings
attached to it. Perhaps this hymn would work well as a strong
dosage of law, but how can any gospel be proclaimed since the
Savior who has done all and given all seems to be expecting all
in response?
In this way God’s gospel gifts in Christ are made to seem
like the times when we get an unexpected Christmas gift from
someone. But I didn’t get you anything. The guilt which ensues
may prompt us to exit quickly and return with a gift of near or
equal value. We don’t like being given to when we have nothing to offer in return. We feel under obligation to repay the
love shown to us even though we don’t like it if those positions
are reversed. We particularly resent the thought that someone’s just doing it because they felt they had to. You wouldn’t
have gotten me this gift if I hadn’t given you one first.
In Christ, however, we are simply given to. God is completely satisfied with the obedient faithfulness He has received
from his Son, Jesus Christ. In forgiveness, we have the gift of
forgiveness, Jesus Christ himself for us. That gift is not something static—it is life itself! What He gives by grace is a new
heart and life. It is not up to us whether or not we will choose
to do something for God in response to his love. Even our will
and abilities are the result of his gifts in Christ (Phil :).
Works follow faith as we note in the Apology, Articles IV and
XX, in the Large Catechism on the Creed, and in the Formula
of Concord, Articles IV and VI.
Secondly, the Lutheran Confessions dismiss a partempartem view of our relationship with God. That is to say, in no
area of life can we mete things out as if this part is God’s part
and what remains is our part. Pelagianism divvies up responsibilities with regard to our justification: God does his part for
our salvation, now we must do our part.
Similarly, with regard to our sanctification, we do not suggest that God is doing his part in assisting us whenever we feel
like we need some help doing our part. It is not as though we
as Christians can now act on our own, calling on God only
when we need a little divine assistance. Our entire life and salvation depends on the Lord being gracious through his gifts
via the means of grace.
When AC VI [The New Obedience] states that such faith
should produce good fruits and good works and that we must
do all such good works as God has commanded, we ask, From
whence comes the will and the ability to do what we must? Is it
not the working of God through faith rather than an act of the
human will apart from faith? This point was a stumbling block
to the likes of George Major and Nicolaus von Amsdorf as
handled in FC IV.
Furthermore, the question of whether sanctification is monergistic or synergistic comes into play here as well. If we view
stewardship synergistically, we easily take God’s part for granted
and our programs become efforts to get us to do our part. While
the Confessions do speak at times of cooperation (FC Ep, II, ,
), other portions describe more clearly what is meant: Holy
Scriptures ascribe conversion, faith in Christ, regeneration,
renewal, and everything that belongs to its real beginning and
completion in no way to the human powers of the natural free
will, be it entirely or one-half or the least and tiniest part, but
altogether and alone to the divine operation and the Holy Spirit
(FC SD, II ; see also: LC, The Third Article of the Apostles
Creed, paragraph , ; FC SD, III, ; FC SD, III, ).
As Adolf Koeberle states in his Quest for Holiness, p. ,
The other and more important result is the fact that sanctification must also be understood as an exclusive act of God. Just as
forgiveness is exclusively God’s work and every cooperation or
conditioning activity on man’s part is completely excluded, so
regeneration is an energy that comes simply out of Christ’s victory and does not require our supplementary efforts. It is not
fitting to teach justification evangelically and then in the doctrine of sanctification to turn synergistic.
 
Possession of time and material goods is not exclusive:
“For all things are yours, whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas or
the world or life or death or things present or things to come
all are yours, and you are of Christ and Christ is of God”
( Cor :–). We cannot divide between God’s portion and
our portion. The earth is the Lord’s and all that dwells therein.
In Christ, we have the blessed communion with the Lord God
Almighty, even though it is only seen in this life by faith and
not by sight. We cannot think of time as though one day a
week were set aside for God while the rest of the week is for
ourselves to do with as we please. We must not think of our
income in terms of % is God’s and % is mine. We are
Christ’s and He is ours.
God is no “Indian giver.” He doesn’t give us what we have
and then ask for some of it back while we keep the rest to
spend as we please. By his Holy Spirit at work through word
and sacrament, all that we are, all that we have, and all that we
do serves the vocation into which He has been pleased to call
us in Christ.
Where the gospel is living and active, there stewardship
will be living and active. Where the gospel is not taught purely
and the sacraments not administered rightly, stewardship also
will be on shaky ground. Copious offerings and numerous volunteers may be solicited by artificial means and by the
promptings of the law. One must not mistake this, however,
for the stewardship which is the result of the gospel.
Thirdly, a theology of success and glory is nowhere apparent in the Confessions. Where faith by God’s grace is living
and active, stewardship will be happening even though it be
unnoticed. The widow’s last two mites were not especially
noteworthy to any but the eyes of Christ who gave his disciples
eyes to see what he had seen. Our successes are not measured
in terms of dollars and cents, days and hours, or numbers of
people. Our successes are measured in Christ and his cross.
In times of plenty and in times of want we know what it
means to be satisfied and content, both as individuals and as
congregations. We simply rejoice by faith which does not look at
statistics and things that are seen, but that the Lord is at work.
If we can be happy to build a large administration, we can
also be happy to disassemble a large administration. If we
acquire a large worship facility and many automated gadgets, we
will also be happy to lose them all as long as word and sacrament are not taken from us. This is not to say that there is something inherently wrong about large administrations, buildings,
and gadgets. Sometimes they can serve the gospel well. At other
times they can distract us and rob us of time and freedom to be
students of the word and servants of one another. In the end,
however, the gospel is what moves Christians—not budgets,
programs, or motivational seminars.
Stewardship is not talking people into doing what they don’t
want to do. It is not coercing people to give what they don’t want
to give. Stewardship is simply a fruit of the gospel. Stewardship
will be found wherever the church and faith are found—and the
Church and faith will be found wherever the word is purely
preached and the sacraments rightly administered.
This can be stultified and stifled by turning stewardship
over to a program mentality. It happens easily enough. Since

our congregations have Boards of Stewardship, the pastors
have to find something for them to do. Why not a program?
Since we are paying men to be stewardship executives at the
synod and district levels, it is only reasonable that they earn
their keep by developing stewardship programs.
What the Lutheran Confessions do for stewardship is to
provide for pure preaching and right administering of God’s
gospel gifts in Christ. Therein our hearts rejoice—new life is
ours—and stewardship commences like heart beating and
lungs breathing. And He who provides seed for the sower and
bread for food will supply and multiply the seed you have
sown and increase the fruits of your righteousness, while you
are enriched in everything for all liberality, which causes
thanksgiving through us to God ( Cor :, ).
In our day, we may never know what the Christian life was
like before programs. We may never know what the Christian
life would be like if stewardship were mentioned as rarely in
our church publications as in the Confessions, but our confessional symbols do point to a time when something else was
esteemed—something to which a quiet few still cling today.
A HOUSE DIVIDING?
REFLECTIONS ON GCC ’
As the sectional crisis intensified in nineteenth-century
America, Abraham Lincoln, on June , , delivered his
famous “House Divided” speech, in which he said:
“A house divided against itself cannot stand.” I
believe this government cannot endure, permanently half slave and half free. . . . It will
become all one thing, or all the other. Either the
opponents of slavery will arrest the further
spread of it, and place it where the public mind
shall rest in the belief that it is in course of ultimate extinction, or its advocates will push it forward, till it shall become lawful in all States, old
as well as new—North as well as South. Have we
no tendency in the latter condition?
As approximately , people (mainly members of the
Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod) gathered in Minneapolis
this past October – for the Great Commission Convocation,
division seemed the last thing on most people’s minds. Indeed,
the promoters felt that the event was an opportunity that would
“enable participants as partners in the gospel to share their faith
and to involve their congregations in the task of teaching,
reaching and caring for all people in our changing world.”
The people who attended the convocation seemingly
caught this vision as they stated their reasons for attending: “I
want to move to a greater depth of spiritual growth and get
motivated for mission”; “I . . . want to make a spiritual connection with other people”; “[I want] to learn more about
music in the church—to see if we can liven it up”; “I came for
my faith and walk with the Lord. As you give the gospel away,
it comes back to you.”


But divergence over the best way to attain and implement
these goals quickly became evident within the convocation
atmosphere. The convocation speakers consistently brought
before the participants the specter of change—changes in the
demographic and ideological character of the United States,
the need for change in the church. The task for participants
was clear: The church, particularly the LCMS, must alter its
way of “doing ministry” in response to society or it will
decline. As David Mahsman said in a recent edition of the
Reporter:
The message brought to participants in many of the
addresses before the full contingent was that while the
Missouri Synod must not change its Bible-based theology, it needs to recognize changes in the world that
call for new approaches to ministry and outreach.
Dr. Dwayne Mau (Executive for Mission and Education
Services, Atlantic District, LCMS) underscored the need for
change forcefully and clearly. And he stressed it with regard to
the ministry of the church, saying:
There is a popular phrase that we use to describe our
ministry in the church. That phrase is “word and
sacraments.” I wonder if those terms have become a
cliché for us; an easy motto lacking content. Now
please understand that I am all for the means of grace
including word and sacrament. But I want us to consider these phrases. Because often we state them without stating the verbs that go with them.
He went on to say that the use of the verbs “preach” and
“administer” indicate that the ministry is solely the work of the
pastor. “We are basically limiting the ministry to what the pastor does. This loses the emphasis on the universal priesthood
of all believers.” Mau expressed a desire to see a new emphasis
on the ministry of laypeople. But in so doing he implicitly
opened the door to nearly full-fledged lay-pastoral care.
The actions of preaching the word and administering the
sacraments are usually done in the church building as part of
the public worship. People must come to the church building.
This worked very well when we were still in a churched culture
society and people had the built-in audience of people being
born into the church. The understood conclusion in his discussion was that the ministry of word and sacrament must be
taken from the exclusive confines of the divine service and into
the community.
The ministry, therefore, is no longer the purview of the
divinely called and ordained clergy. Ministry will take place
primarily when lay-priests build relationships that will enable
them to share the word with the unchurched. Once the
unchurched are converted people, they are then brought to the
church for external admission into the church through baptism and attendance at the altar. The fundamental place of
ministry, then, is not in the divine service, but in the daily relationships established by lay-priests with the unchurched.
Change was also the dominant theme of Friday morning’s
plenary session, “A View of the Lutheran Church—Missouri
Synod”(subtitled “What Kind of Congregation Do You Want
to Be?”). Alan Klaas (chair, LCMS Research Advisory Group)
and Cheryl Brown outlined their work as compiled in the
Church Membership Initiative (CMI), and Lyle Muller (executive director of the synod’s Board for Evangelism) added some
comments on the implications of Klaas and Brown’s findings.
This session stressed the fact that the United States has shifted
dramatically from a churched to an unchurched culture;
somewhere between % and % of the population does not
hold church membership.
The repercussions for the church are significant. If Lutheran congregations desire to grow, they must take this fact into
account and shift their perspective of ministry. Klaas asserted
that the vast majority of congregations making up the LCMS
(%) had failed to own up to this fact. He described these
non-growing or declining churches as internally focused, having relatively few long-term leaders, “and generally not
involved in their ‘context.’” Growing churches (% of LCMS
congregations), on the other hand, have a primary purpose of
ministering primarily outside their current membership.
Common characteristics of these congregations are: a
strong sense of vision, which is created by the pastor and successfully delivered to and shared by the laity; a variety of ways
to deliver mission primarily in their communities, including
contemporary worship and community programs as other
“entry points” into the church; a focus on meeting needs,
hopes and hurts, not on budget and structure; and a focus on
mission, not membership.
In an “Insight Session” called “Tools to Help Congregations Find Mission,” the framers of CMI maintained that worship “style” is the key area in which Lutheranism should
accommodate to the present. Klaas strongly advocated the
adoption of contemporary worship forms to reach the
unchurched more effectively. “If you are trying to communicate effectively it might require you to use different language or
different forms of music. Things that are comfortable to them.”
Still, Klaas carefully made it clear that, while traditional
worship is generally ineffective in reaching the unchurched, he
did not advocate giving traditional worship up completely.
Rather, he stressed the need to have both traditional and contemporary forms of worship offered within the single congregation. “We are talking about traditional and, not versus, contemporary.” He and Brown drew this out even further in their
published findings.
Growing congregations accept both points of view.
Growing congregations celebrate and utilize the rich
heritage of more traditional Lutheran worship for
that portion of their community that finds deep
meaning in traditional forms. . . . Growing congregations do not use an “either/or” practice of communication. They use a “both/and” approach.
It is at precisely this point that the greatest danger for division lies. Klaas advocated founding “churches within a church”
on the basis of the both/and approach to worship. Congrega-
 
tions should offer traditional worship for older and lifelong
Lutherans who appreciate that kind of style. However, in order
for the church to reach those outside, it is imperative that contemporary styles be used. The unspoken assumption was that
traditional Lutheran worship forms and hymnody cannot, generally, be effective in reaching the unchurched. Once “hooked”
by contemporary worship, unchurched people can be instructed in the tenets of the faith and brought to membership.
So, in effect, Klaas argued for two different congregations
using the same church facilities. Many of the participants with
whom this writer spoke found the work of Klaas and Brown
compelling. Yet they dismissed CMI as a mere sociological
study. While they agreed that the LCMS must change, they
hoped that LCMS doctrine would be maintained, much as
President A.L. Barry has recently written:
The convocation devoted a lot of attention to
“change” in the church. As we move into the years
ahead there are undoubtedly a variety of changes that
will expand and improve our efforts for the sake of
the gospel. But the laypeople I spoke with were very
concerned that “change” not occur in our doctrine
nor in our doctrinal practices.
The options for change offered at GCC ’ are neither theologically neutral, nor simply a matter of style versus substance.
For when one examines carefully what the authors of CMI propose, ones sees a general shift away from the theology of
Lutheranism as expressed in the symbols, to one driven by the
perceived “needs” of unchurched people. Church Membership
Initiative is not a neutral document, as its title clearly indicates.
It has a purpose that is explicitly spelled out by its authors: “The
overall objective of the Church Membership Initiative is: To set
in motion forces that will result in annual increases in the number of members of Lutheran congregations.”
Shifts in practice are justified as being simply changes in
emphasis or style, not substance. But a closer examination
reveals subtle shifts away from confessional Lutheranism as
expressed by the LCMS from its founding. For example, while
speaking of the hurt and anger that some ex-Lutherans harbor
against the church, Klaas recounted the following story:
[There was] a Minnesota Lutheran in the Garrison Keillor sense of the term: A Lutheran all his life but not really a member of a church anywhere. Well, [he] takes his
nine-year-old son to church; he’s now responsible for
this boy as a single parent. And they come to the communion rail, and the pastor says, “Are you a member of
our congregation?” He says, “No.” The pastor says, “I’m
sorry I can’t give you communion.” And on the way out
of the church that day the nine-year-old looks up and
says, “Daddy, does this mean that we can’t have supper
with Jesus?” And he says, “Not in this church we can’t.”
The hint was clear: Closed communion is detrimental to
the growth of the church because denial of the sacrament, even
to one who professes no doctrine and is not a member of a con-

gregation, causes deep hurt. The implicit message was that it
should be discontinued for the sake of growth. But to open the
altars of the church to those who do not join in her confession
is no minor shift in practice or simple matter of style. The practice of our synod is clearly predicated on its biblical theology.
Another instance of the integral relationship between substance and style, form and function, became apparent when
Klaas treated the content of two pieces of music. He stated that
the contemporary song with the lyrics, “Great and mighty is
the Lord our God, Great and mighty is he,” expresses the same
theology as “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.” But how can one
say that the Christ-centered message of Luther’s great hymn,
with its theology of the cross, is the “same” as the trite “Great
and Mighty” with its Calvinistic stress on the sovereignty of
God, and its theology of glory?
Clearly we are dealing at this very point with an issue of
substance, not style. Continually chanting the chorus, “Great
and mighty is the Lord, our God, Great and mighty is he,”
does not communicate the doctrine of the atonement of
Christ, namely that “He holds the field victorious” through the
cross. On the one hand, Luther stresses that our God is our
fortress because of the work of Christ. On the other hand, the
chorus simply testifies to the power of the divine being—a sentiment that most faiths would be comfortable making. Is the
chorus heretical? Of course not! But it does not say substantially the same things as Luther’s great hymn. Thus worship is
a matter of substance and not mere style.
The changes proposed for the LCMS at GCC ’, if adopted,
would move the denomination away from the Lutheran theological emphasis on word and sacraments as the place where God
acts for and speaks to his people, and they respond with thanksgiving and praise for his work of redemption. At GCC ’, prayer
was stressed as the chief means through which God speaks to his
people. Further, if the advice to form churches within the
church based on worship style is adopted, the church will soon
find itself at war among its member congregations.
This too-brief, and perhaps overly negative, assessment of
GCC ’ does not do justice to the gathering as a whole.
Indeed, this writer encountered several useful “Insight Sessions” (as well as several unhelpful). The point is that in the
overall experience of the convocation there was a decided push
for the adoption of practices that run contrary to confessional
Lutheran theology. If these practices continue to make their
inroads into the LCMS, the doctrine of that body will be compromised and forced to change. And that would be a profound
change for the worse for Lutheranism in America.
Still, we have not reached that point. There is evidence
that we may be dividing, but we are not yet fully divided. We
seem to be separating, but we are not yet split. Yet if things
continue the way they are, difficult times face the LCMS, for,
as history has shown us, and as Lincoln noted in his “House
Divided” speech: “I do not expect the Union to be dissolved—
I do not expect the house to fall—but I do expect it will cease
to be divided. It will become all one thing, or all the other.”
The Rev. Lawrence R. Rast, Jr.
Madison, Tennessee

NOTES
. Roy P. Basler, ed., The Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln, vol.  (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press,
) pp. , .
. “Mission Statement for GCC ’,” Convocation News
(October , ) .
. “Why Did You Come? Some Attendees Share Their Expectations of GCC ’,” Convocation News (October , ) pp. , .
. David L. Mahsman, “GCC Told to Change Methods,
Not Theology,” Reporter (November ) p. .
. Dwayne Mau, “What is Happening in Society Today
and How it Affects the Church Today,” Great Commission
Convocation Plenary Session, Saturday, October , .
. “U.S. No Longer ‘Churched,’” Convocation News (October , ) pp. , .
. Alan Klaas and Cheryl Brown, “Tools to Help Congregations Find Mission,” Great Commission Convocation
Insight Session SA, Saturday, October , .
. Church Membership Initiative: Narrative Summary of
Findings, , p. .
. A.L. Barry, “Convocation Reminds Us That Our Doctrine
Is Stability During Times of Change,” The Lutheran Church—
Missouri Synod President’s Newsletter (November ) p. .
. Church Membership Initiative: Narrative Summary of
Findings, , . Clearly having CMI in mind, Barry offers the
following caveat (Barry, “Convocation,” p. ): “A recent study
concerning the decline in church membership has been featured prominently in many forums throughout our synod. It is
an interesting study which raises a number of very important
questions. However, in this connection a word of caution is
also in order. Analysis of data and research results is always
very subjective in nature. As we draw conclusions from studies
like these, we must be extremely careful in the kinds of conclusions and generalizations we reach. For to do otherwise could
not support but rather take away from our desire to remain
faithfully Lutheran and to reach out with the gospel.”
. Alan Klaas and Cheryl Brown, “Tools.” Dwayne Mau
also spoke of the relationship of music and the future of the
church when he discussed the impact of the modern age on
youth, and the Lutheran Church’s failure to adapt to it (Mau,
“What is Happening”): “Technology has especially had an
impact on young people in this country. Today’s young people
function in a multi-stimuli environment of sound, music, and
visual image. A lot of the music is music that is not common in
the church. You see, the church tries to communicate often
just using one form of media, usually print media. In 
Newsweek reported on a Canadian city where the playing of
music by Bach and Mozart in the city parks caused all the drug
dealers and youth gangs to leave those parks. Now that’s nothing new. The Lutheran Church, using the same music, has had
the same effect: all the young people have left.”
. In growing congregations, Brown argued, prayer
receives the greatest emphasis (Klaas and Brown, “Tools”):
“Their total ministry revolves around prayer.”
. Basler, ed., pp. , .

DOCTRINE & PRACTICE
Not since Gutenberg’s invention have printing ventures blossomed in such geometric proportions. Another journal some of
our readers might be interested in is Doctrine & Practice. Those
interested may receive this brief quarterly for a donation by writing to Subscriptions, Doctrine & Practice, c/o The Rev. Todd
Wilken,  Muskopf, Dupo, IL, . What follows is a selfdescription and excerpts from the premier January  issue.
Pastors dare not delegate their responsibility to help each
other think and write carefully about the gospel. Fads in church
methodologies come and go, but the issues of faith and life, of
right teaching and right doing, of what the church confesses
and how she receives and lives by God’s gifts, namely, issues of
doctrine and practice, remain vital to the pastor’s work of proclaiming the word and administering the sacraments.
If AC VII Were Normative
by the Rev. Randy Asburry
“The issue of AC VII is not one of seeking church unity, but
rather defining wherein the church’s God-given unity lies. The
sixteenth century Roman Catholic claim was that the confessors were abolishing too many observances, or marks, of the
church, and thus disrupting the true unity of the church. The
confessors, on the other hand, responded that they were not
disrupting the church’s true unity. Rather, they were omitting
certain abuses and highlighting the actual, scriptural bases for
the church and her unity.”
Listening to the “Voice of Our Church”
by the Rev. Todd Wilken
“The Winkel serves not only as the proper place for discussion
of the questions of church and ministry in light of our synod’s
doctrine, but it is also the proper place for the expression of dissent from that doctrine. For instance, a pastor who holds a differing definition of the office, or of the call would come in
humility to his brothers saying, ‘Dear brothers, I am not convinced that we are right on this or that, please show me where I
have misunderstood, or correct me if I am wrong.’ Then his circuit brothers can gently try to lead him to an understanding of
the truth using Scripture and the Confessions.”
 
SHARED VOICES /DIFFERENT VISION
On October  and  at Concordia Lutheran Church in Kirkwood, Missouri, the third national Different Voices/Shared
Vision (DV/SV) conference was held. The list of registered participants and speakers included  names ( women,  men, and
two district presidents). This report and review is offered by the
Rev. Timothy C.J. Quill who attended the conference.
The theme of the third national Different Voices/Shared
Vision (DV/SV) conference was Being the Church. In some
respects a more appropriate theme would have been Being the
Church Without a Pastor. It is not that the organizers reject the
office of the holy ministry, but the conference was an attempt
to discuss what it means to be the church without reference to
the pastoral office. At worst the approach is hypocritical, at
best naive—in reality it turned out to be futile.
In a pre-conference promotional article titled “Why a
Conference on the Church?” Marie Meyer wrote: “You are
invited to attend and participate in this conference. It will be an
opportunity for open and frank hearing and learning—not
‘business as usual.’ We pray that lay people and clergy will
come together for an honest discussion of what it means to
be—and to function as—holy believers who recognize the voice
of their Head.” Meyer’s article includes two Scripture references,  Corinthians  and  Timothy :. She opines, “The
idea of men only exercising authority remained unquestioned
for generations.  Timothy : was quoted to prove that men
only may teach God’s Word. Without examining the particular
word Paul uses to tell women they are not to exercise selfappointed authority, church leaders decided that God prohibits
women from functioning with authority in the church” (Voices
Vision, No. , Summer, , pp. , ). The promotional
brochure for the conference iterates, “The LCMS is much concerned about women in the church. This conference asks, ‘Are
women the church?’ If so, why is  Timothy : used to prohibit women from acting with authority in the church?”
In her opening remarks prior to the first session on Friday
night, conference organizer Marie Meyer instructed the conference participants that it was not the purpose of the conference to address the question of the ordination of women but
to discuss what it means to be the church. “An opportunity for
open and frank hearing and learning”? “Honest discussion”?
Any theological discourse on the doctrine of the church that
prohibits reference to the holy ministry lacks theological
integrity. It also leaves the leadership of the DV/SV movement
open to being perceived as disingenuous. The DV/SV group is
attempting to address important and timely issues which are
facing the church. What is the future of the DV/SV within the
broader synodical context? If it is to become more than an
eccentric rump group it will have to clarify its position on the
ordination of women. The credibility of the DV/SV organization depends on an honest, straightforward answer to the
question, “Are you for or against the ordination of women?”
A constant refrain in DV/SV materials is to lament the fact
that “Presently, the issue is defined by men, who then select
some women to deal with what men perceive to be the prob-

lem. . . . Currently, what women say publicly about being the
church is subject to the judgment of men. Thus men protest
against women proposing any personal or hidden ‘agendas’”
(Voices Vision, no. , Summer , p. ). Ironically, of the six
presenters and reactors selected by the women of DV/SV to
deal with the problem of women’s role in the church, only one
was a woman.
The first presenter was Pastor Anthony Steinbronn whose
presentation, “Biblical Images of the Church,” consisted of a
rather innocuous discussion of discipleship, priesthood and
being a Christian. The reactor was the the Rev. Paul McCain,
assistant to the synodical president. The Rev. McCain began,
“My assignment, as I understand it, is to serve as a ‘reactor’ to
Pastor Steinbronn’s presentation. I appreciate Pastor Steinbronn’s very clear emphasis on the priesthood of all believers,
Christian discipleship and the notion of the masks of God.
Simply put, I agree with what Pastor Steinbronn has presented.
That makes my task as a ‘reactor’ a bit more challenging. I
thought that I could build on Pastor Steinbronn’s remarks in
the time allotted to me. I will offer some observations about
the priesthood of all believers, the office of the holy ministry,
the Lutheran concept of vocation and station in life, and then
apply these concepts to some contemporary questions about
these important gifts which Christ has given to us. My presentation has as its theme: Receiving the Gifts of Christ with Thankfulness and Faithfulness.”
Rather than exclude the holy ministry from the discussion, McCain took the inclusive approach. “The church,” said
McCain, “dare not sneer at God’s gift of the priesthood of all
believers nor dare she denigrate God’s gift of the office of the
ministry. She receives both with thanksgiving and praise to
God for his wisdom in giving these gifts.”
The pre-conference registration brochure included five
quotes from Luther concerning the priesthood. Participants
were asked to consider these words from Luther in preparation
for the conference. Unfortunately no references were included
along with the quotations. The final quotation can be found in
Luther’s  treatise to the Bohemians entitled “Concerning
the ministry” and reads: “So when women baptize, they exercise the function of the priesthood legitimately, and do it not
as a private act, but as a part of the public ministry of the
church which belongs only to the priesthood. . . .”
McCain correctly noted that Luther’s writings need to be
understood within the context in which they were written. For
example, early treatises ( and ) were written in defense
of the laity against the papal hierarchy which denied the
gospel. These works were unfortunately misunderstood by the
leaders of the Radical Reformation. Luther later clarified his
position on the relationship between the priesthood of all
believers and the holy ministry (e.g., “Infiltrating and Clandestine Preachers” of , AE :–; “Lectures on Titus” of
, AE :, ). McCain drew upon Luther’s  “Sermon
on Psalm ” to expand the discussion of what it means to be
the church into the broader area of vocation and station.
“Even though not everybody has the public office and calling,
every Christian has the right and duty to teach, instruct,
admonish, comfort, and rebuke his neighbor with the Word of

God at every opportunity and whenever necessary. For example, father and mother should do this for their children and
household; a brother, neighbor, citizen, or peasant for the other” (AE :).
McCain continued, “As Luther indicates so often in his
writing, the priesthood of all believers has a wonderful diversity of vocations in this life. It is precisely in these various vocations that the royal priesthood exercises the duties and responsibilities Christ has entrusted to it. I appreciate how Pastor
Steinbronn noted this important concept in Luther’s theology.
It is a terribly harmful error to imply that it is only when a
member of the royal priesthood is involved in some sort of
‘church’ work that he or she is truly ‘living up to’ his or her
calling in Christ. No, nothing could be further from the truth.
What a delusion we will inflict upon our synod if we reinstitute a sort of monasticism by which the function and duties of
our ‘secular’ life are of lesser degree, value, worth or merit in
Christ’s church than the service one renders in a ‘church’ job.
Service within the four walls of a church building is not to be
viewed as being of greater worth or value than the duties and
responsibilities Christ has given us in our callings in life. No,
we dare not slip into a new monasticism with this kind of
thinking. We serve where we have been called and placed by
God, not demanding what has not been given to us by him.”
The Rev. McCain later made the important observation,
“I would now like to apply the foregoing remarks to a particular situation and issue which I believe and am convinced lies
behind much of the other discussion we hear these days about
the priesthood of all believers, the service of women in the
church and the office of the holy ministry. The issue really
takes the form of a very simple question: May a woman, surely
as much a member of the royal priesthood as any man and
certainly given gifts by the Holy Spirit, serve in the ordained
ministry of word and sacrament in the church? It is not sufficient for any of us to say, ‘That is not our concern’ or ‘That is
not our issue’ or to say, ‘I do not have an opinion on that matter.’ Nor dare we suggest that this is an ‘open question.’ Rather
we must ask, ‘Are we willing as the royal priesthood, as members of the bride of Christ, the church, to receive with thanksgiving our Lord’s will for his bride?”
The Rev. McCain then points out that the Lord’s will for
his bride is clearly revealed through God’s Word, “given to the
church through Christ’s apostle St. Paul, specifically in
 Corinthians :;  Timothy :, ;  Timothy :,” which
specify that “the responsibility for public, authoritative preaching and teaching of the Gospel in the church is to be entrusted
to capable and qualified men. . . . This is the teaching of the
Holy Scriptures and the Lutheran Confessions; it is not possible for the evangelical, orthodox church of the Lutheran Confession to recognize the legitimacy or validity of female pastors. . . . To those church bodies which would alter or otherwise distort these gifts we must, for the sake of the gospel itself,
understand that a church which ordains women to the office
of word and sacrament ministry thereby indicates publicly that
it does not wish to conform itself to the word of the apostles.”
The assistant to the synodical president addressed the issues
raised by the DV/SV agenda squarely, honestly and dispassion-

ately. He positively connected what it means to “be the church,”
to both the pastoral ministry and to the wider context of serving
God according to one’s vocation and station in life. The reaction
of many of the participants to the Rev. McCain’s comments was
very negative. Dr. Marva Dawn, rose and demanded that the
Rev. McCain ask the community for forgiveness. His sin? He
apparently was not aware that the previous night Marie Meyer
had instructed the conference participants that they were not
here to discuss the office of the ministry. Dr. Dawn also chastised the Rev. McCain for not being sensitive to the pain
expressed in the personal journeys of the panelist the previous
evening. The fact that the Rev. McCain was unable to attend the
Friday session was overlooked. The fact that numerous other
people (presenters, reactors, audience participants) addressed
the issue of the ordination of women and were not called to
repent could not have gone unnoticed. Indeed, the very next
presenter, the Rev. Stanley Abraham, attempted to build a case
for the ordination of women on the basis of Luther’s writings.
The title of the second presentation was “The Priesthood
of all Believers.” In his opening remarks, the reactor, Dr.
William Weinrich, noted that “Pastor Abraham focused more
directly on the question of the ordination of women than was,
as I understand it, intended by the broader agenda of this
meeting which wishes to consider the common priesthood as a
way of considering the life in the church, that is, life as a Christian.” Pastor Abraham was not chastised by the DV/SV group
for focusing on the question of the ordination of women. To
quote Professor Weinrich, “With dizzying rapidity, Stanley
Abraham has taken us from a notion of the common priesthood in which all possess an equality of authority and function
to the assertion that were it not for lack of education and the
threat of Anabaptist disorder even Luther would have surely
opted for the ordination of women in the public ministry of
word and sacrament.” Weinrich added, “Indeed, so egalitarian
does Pastor Abraham render the sixteeth-century Martin
Luther that he next argues that Luther ‘equates the priesthood
of all believers with the ordained ministry.’”
Weinrich went beyond merely reacting to Pastor Abraham’s promotion of women’s ordination. He also dealt constructively with what it means to be a priest. He reminded the
conference that Luther never used the term “priesthood of all
believers” or for that matter the term “universal priesthood.”
He used instead “spiritual priesthood” or the “common priesthood.” Weinrich pointed out that “Luther does not begin with
a general notion of the priesthood, but derives an understanding of the priesthood from that which gives and bestows
priesthood. There is one baptism which gives the Holy Spirit,
and therefore in relation to God there is but one, undifferentiated spiritual priesthood. What denotes the priest is faith, and
precisely because faith is essentially reception, to ‘possess’ baptism is to have received it.
“Rather than the distinct office of the public ministry disappearing into a commonly possessed priesthood, being derived
from the common priesthood, or being equated with the common priesthood, Luther’s understanding of the common priesthood presupposes a distinct ministry within the church for the
purpose of faith, on behalf of faith, that is, in order that there
 
might be a priesthood and that priesthood might be served with
the gospel through preaching and the sacraments. Here we are
simply nonplussed how our good friend, Stan Abraham, could
maintain that Luther equated the common priesthood with the
ordained ministry. Here the statements of Luther which speak of
the public office being instituted by Christ through his will and
command are really too numerous to mention. Luther with
some frequency makes the point that priests are born (that is,
through baptism) while pastors are made (that is, through call
and ordination)” (see AE :).
By far, the most popular person at the conference among
the loyal DV/SV followers was Dr. Marva Dawn. In keeping
with the purpose of the conference, her paper, “Romans  and
How to Be the Church,” did not address the office of the holy
ministry. However, the question of teaching was alluded to.
One is led to wonder if Dawn’s indignation over McCain’s
open and honest statements on the holy ministry (such as, “It
is not possible for the evangelical, orthodox church of the
Lutheran Confession to recognize the legitimacy or validity of
female pastors”) is not in some way residue from being denied
the position on the faculty of Concordia College, St. Paul, to
teach theology.
Dr. Dawn is without question an engaging speaker and
gifted communicator. She regularly departed from her written
text on detours that were both entertaining and instructive.
Dr. Dawn began, “If we are considering in this conference what
it means to be women and men together in the church, then it
is necessary that we look at one of the most important descriptions in the Scriptures of how the church should function. In
this presentation I will sketch briefly ten key points from
Romans  that describe for us what it is like to have the mind
of Christ.” Point one is that “Grace is the basis.” Dawn correctly drew this point from the opening verse, “Therefore, I urge
you, brothers and sisters, because of the mercies of God. . . .”
Drawing on verse two, Dawn concluded, “At this conference we desire for God’s Word to be renewing our minds, to
reshape our thinking about what it means to be women and
men together in the church. We dare never think that the
process of new thinking has been completed.”
From Romans :, , “Then you will be able to test and
approve what God’s will is . . .” Dawn stressed that this testing and discovery of God’s will is not a singular activity, but
rather something “done together as a community.” She then
concluded that “Grace requires that each of us participate in
the thinking processes which renew the church.” Dawn placed
Romans  into the context of Roman house churches (of
chapter ) which included “women and men leaders, including the deacon Phoebe, Paul’s fellow-worker Priscilla, the
woman apostle Junia, and the leaders Mary, Julia and
Tryphosa, among others.” At the same time Dawn insists on
the universality of Romans . “Paul,” said Dawn, “does not
limit the thinking or the gifting in any way—not by social
class, race or gender. Rather, he is writing in the book of
Romans to each member of the Body of Christ. His exhortations are for all—and each.”
Dawn stressed that everyone in the church has received
gifts, and that the lists found in the Bible are a representative

sampling—categorical lists. “There are skillions of them
[gifts],” and Paul “puts no limitations on who might receive
different ones because he simply uses the names of the functions and exhorts each person to be faithful to the function
with the gift.” “How do we know our gifts? The community
tells us . . . perhaps our gifts are specifically needed by our
local community; perhaps by the larger church.” Dawn
stressed repeatedly that “There is no hierarchical listing of the
gifts” in Romans . “We dare not limit each other… . We
must never . . . stifle the gifts of others. For example, our
churches do that frequently when we don’t hear the Spirit’s
teaching through our children/teenagers or the elderly or the
handicapped in our congregations.”
The reactor to Dr. Dawn was Dr. James Voelz who began
by saying “There is so much to be agreed to in her presentation,” especially “Marva’s emphasis on ‘therefore’ at the beginning of chapter , as the hinge of the epistle, on the grace of
God as fundamental to everything Paul says. . . .” Voelz,
however, continued, “But I cannot, I am sad to say, agree completely with what Marva has proposed.” Dr. Voelz raised questions over Dawn’s thoroughness of interpretation of verse two
and over her “limitation of the evidence” in restricting herself
almost exclusively to Romans chapter . He added that his
“reasons for disagreement with Marva’s paper are hermeneutical, in the end, especially as related to her central thought of
‘egalitarian giftedness.’”
Dr. Voelz’s primary disagreement with Dr. Dawn was over
her use of a “delimited canon.” He noted, “Now, Lutherans are
not unfamiliar with this charge, that we work with a delimited
Scripture canon of Pauline justification texts, a ‘canon within a
canon,’ as it were. In a way this charge is true, and in a way the
charge is not. If certain passages form our ‘touchstones’ for
interpretation, the keystone of the matrix of passages to be
interpreted, then everything is fine—this is not ‘canon within a
canon’—this is how interpretation works. But if certain passages form our touchstone in such a way that other passages
disappear from view, or that other passages are rejected or
judged as out of bounds, then we do truly have a ‘canon within
a canon,’ and that is incorrect. In my judgment, Marva has
done this second thing, considering, as she does, only  Thessalonians  outside of Romans . (This it seems to me, is a serious matter, because the texts excluded [from other Pauline letters] are homologoumena and not antilegomena, i.e., from the
books whose authority is basic for the church.)
“With such a limited canon, how does one test one’s view
of Romans ? But, it may be claimed, Marva’s paper is much
too brief; it assumes much that is not said. Her articulation, it
might be argued, does not actually reject other portions of the
New Testament; it simply reinterprets them, or, interprets
them in the light of Romans . Marie Meyer’s cover letter for
this conference, which alludes to exegesis of  Timothy  (p.),
does suggest as much. And so do Marva’s comments concerning Phoebe, Priscilla, and Junia and other women in the
Roman world. But this then raised a third and further
point. . . . Why do authors—many authors—make sweeping
statements of a general nature concerning freedom, oneness
and egalitarianism on the one hand, but on the other hand in

specifics, in actual, incarnated cases, or in controversial situations, put restrictions on what they say? I phrase the problem
thus, because St. Paul is not the only one who exhibits this
phenomenon. Martin Luther, quoted often at this conference
and in its promotional literature, does so frequently, as well.”
Voelz mentioned five common explanations for why we
run into this “problem” with authors. “The author—whether
Luther or Paul—is inconsistent; he is accommodating himself
to backward thinking; he himself is bound to older ways; his
advice is situational and context-bound (this corresponds to
Marva’s type C text in her essay on hermeneutical considerations) [see Dawn’s essay, “Hermeneutical Considerations for
Biblical Texts” in Different Voices/Shared Vision: Male and
Female In The Trinitarian Community, p.]; the passage is
not written by Luther or St. Paul, but there is a sixth explanation to be given:. that the sweeping generalizations are not
really so sweeping, so all-encompassing, so general, after all.
They, too, are contextual, spoken within real-life situations,
in the end.
“Thus, for example, when Martin Luther extols the priesthood of all believers, its value, its freedom, its authority and its
rights, is he not perhaps, in his given situation, extolling that
priesthood in the face of . . . a Roman Catholic insistence that
the church is really the clergy, that the laity cannot judge doctrine (as did the believers in Berea), and that the Reformation
movement was actually quite illegitimate, at its very core? And
when St. Paul speaks of our oneness in Christ, no difference
between Jew and Greek, slave and free, male and female, might
he not be addressing a Jewish context in which barriers for
people were common and in which access to and worthiness
before God was severely limited by laws of every kind? But in a
different context, when different concerns arise—in the two
cases I have presented, when confronted not by external devaluation but by internal anarchy, or, differently conceived, when
confronted, not by a problem of worth but by a problem of
organization or of order—talk of men like Luther and St. Paul
is significantly less egalitarian, indeed! In other words, Marva
Dawn has not been radical enough in her assessment of various
kinds of texts! What I mean is this. Conservative exegetes tend
to see virtually no texts as context-bound. Marva Dawn sees
some texts as context-bound (her type C texts). I see all texts as
context-bound.”
Professor Voelz continued, “Consider Romans  from this
point of view. Is Paul uttering timeless generalities in the first

thirteen verses or so? I think not. In verse  he tells the people
not to think more highly of themselves then they ought, but to
be sensible. In verse  he notes that the one church as Christ’s
body has many members but that all members do not have the
same function. What is going on here? Marva notes that in
chapter  Paul deals with divisions regarding weak and strong.
It seems to me that this is the context of Romans  and the
context of these verses. Paul is telling his readers: Be satisfied
with what you have and/or do not despise others, for (if I may
use  Corinthians :) the Holy Spirit distributes gifts when
and as he wills. In other words, this is not an abstract discussion
of everyone having a gift and it might appear in anyone, by any
means. Which means that, in verse , when Paul speaks of
approving the will of God, he is probably referring, not to
God’s will in general or in the abstract, as Marva would suggest
(“How he can use us for his purpose in the world?” [p. ]) but
to his own admonitions as God’s will, attempting to convince
his readers that what he says is right (i.e., God’s will specifically
in this matter of gifts of grace).”
The modus operandi of the DV/SV group is adroit yet
transparent to any who take the time to peruse their literature
(Voices Vision newsletter; Different Voices/Shared Vision: Male
and Female in the Trinitarian Community). DV/SV repeatedly
denies that it is furtively working for the ordination of women.
The group is annoyed by the accusations of its “detractors”
(their words) who repeatedly bring the discussion back to the
office of the ministry. On the other hand, DV/SV literature is
permeated with implicit and explicit references supportive of
women pastors. One searches in vain for a single, articulate,
apologetic in support of synod’s position.
DV/SV envisions itself as a serious theological movement
which is “open and frank,” and in favor of “honest discussion.”
The organizers of the DV/SV conference in St. Louis are to be
complimented for inviting the teachers of the church from our
synodical seminaries and the assistant to the synodical president. But as long as the DV/SV agenda is to explore what it
means to be the church, theological integrity demands that the
office of the ministry be included in the discussion. Church and
ministry go together. Questions concerning the role of the laity,
both men and women, in the church will continue to be frontburner issues shared by many throughout the entire church.
But if DV/SV is to be taken seriously, it will have to come clean
on the question of the ordination of women. To do less is
unfair to those who endeavor to offer an honest critique.
The Rev. Timothy C. J. Quill
Affton, Missouri