CONCORDIA JOURNAL

Volume 28 October 2002 Number 4

CONTENTS

EDITORIALS

Theological Observer ...... 358

ARTICLES

The Church in the Public Square in a Pluralistic Society David L. Adams ...... 364 Preaching Like the Prophets: Using Rhetorical Criticism in the Appropriation of Old Testament Prophetic Literature Reed Lessing ...... 391

REVIEW ESSAY

Schweitzer’s Quests for Jesus and Paul Matthew L. Becker ...... 409

SHORT STUDIES

Ordination Is Not Other Than ... Norman E. Nagel ...... 431 A Female Apostle?: A Note Re-examining the Work of Burer and Wallace Concerning ¦B4FZ:@H with ¦< and the Dative Heath R. Curtis ...... 437

HOMILETICAL HELPS ...... 441

BOOK REVIEWS ...... 466

BOOKS RECEIVED ...... 478

INDEX ...... 479

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 357 Theological Observer

Contemporary Americans Make Poor Confessional Lutherans

Our Synod doesn’t seem to be “walking together.” Our people cannot agree on practice even though they might be able to agree on underlying theology. Fellowship and close communion principles are under heavy discussion and, in any case, have no commonly held understanding of application. The worship wars continue unabated, again, with principles of worship under heavy discussion and little common understanding in the area of application. Congregational peace is at a premium too. Almost daily one hears of accusations that pastors are high-handed, having “Herr Pastor,” uncaring attitudes while the laity, one also hears, have a “hire and fire,” “give us what we want” mentality. And the list goes on. Why are these things so? Some suppose that it is a matter of lax doctrinal discipline. Others believe that our theology as a Synod has turned liberal (again). I take a different view. I think the problem is, in large measure, if not principally, Americanism. That is to say, in my view, our characteristics as contemporary Americans contribute most heavily to our current dilemma. I would like to address this issue in two parts, the first in this present issue, the second in a succeeding issue of Concordia Journal.

Part 1

Even though, surprisingly, it has no actual status as a legal document in our country (it is not part of the Constitution), the Declaration of Independence exerts the most profound influence upon the thinking of us as American citizens. Key is the following well-known set of thoughts: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these rights are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” In popular thinking, this is the cornerstone not only of Jeffersonian democracy but also and especially of what we are as the American people. So far, not so bad—though, it must be admitted, the notions of equality and unalienable rights are certainly not embraced by most people in the world, not to mention the notion that these truths are “self-evident” (more of that next time). But now the problem. Over the years, especially in the twentieth century, the second of the unalienable rights, viz., liberty, became exalted The “Theological Observer” serves as a forum for comment on, assessment of, and reactions to developments and events in the church at large, as well as in the wold of theology generally, Since areas of expertise, interest, and perceptions often vary, the views presented in this section will not always reflect the opinion of the editorial committee.

358 over the others (see the ACLU) so that now liberty has become supreme, relegating all other rights to second place. Indeed, unbridled liberty has become specifically the rampant liberty of individuals, so that, e.g., the right to life of an unborn child is now subordinated directly to the right of an individual woman to have the liberty to terminate that life. And this rampant liberty of individuals has a very specific two-sided characteristic: there are, in fact, no rules or restrictions; therefore, any rules or restrictions which seem to exist may be broken at any time. I do not exaggerate in my description. Consider the following advertising slogans: “No rules, just right” (a popular steak house). “No boundaries” (a major American car manufacturer). “Have it your way” (a popular fast-food chain). And perhaps most bold of all, “Drive outside the lines” (a major foreign car manufacturer). This rampant liberty of the individual is exacerbated by American free- enterprise commercialism, which is built upon it and shamelessly panders to it (see the examples above). Now the point of all of this is that we are bombarded constantly by the philosophy of rampant individual liberty. It is in the political background of the United States; it is part of contemporary American self-understanding, and, perhaps most important of all, it is a constant theme in contemporary American commercial advertising. This is the way we, and our people, are encouraged and are being trained to think. It is in the very social/political air we breath. And it affects virtually every aspect of our lives, including those that are religious. Is it any wonder, then, that our contemporary Synod has trouble when it seeks to “walk together”? Is it any wonder that our people cannot agree on practices even if they might be able to agree on underlying theology? Is it any wonder, e.g., that people refuse to be told that they cannot commune at another altar when they personally wish to do so or that their friends cannot commune at their altar when they would like their friends to do so? Is it any wonder that pastors, not to mention members of congregations, refuse to be bound to using “approved” worship materials when they personally would like to use something else (especially something they have made)? Is it any wonder that pastors want congregations to be obedient to their desires liturgically or organizationally or that congregational members want the pastor to do their wedding in a way unique for them when both parties have heard on a daily basis, “Have it your way”? It is, in my view, a problem being an American and being part of a doctrinal, confessional, and historically liturgical church. All of the factors involved in such a church, viz., doctrinal formulations, confessional statements, and uniform liturgical practices, are restrictive and non- libertarian. They rub against the grain of every contemporary American. Which means that to embrace them is to be truly counter-cultural. But, can we be counter-cultural in these newly patriotic times? James Voelz

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 359 Holy Scripture Speaks Clearly to Unclear Situations

The participation of Lutheran pastors in prayer assemblies with leaders of other religions is a subject currently being addressed in theological convocations across The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod. Pastoral discretion in regard to such participation was a primary topic at the first such convocation held in August of this year in Phoenix. The assumption is that frequently the Scriptures do not speak clearly to circumstances like those at A Prayer for America, Yankee Stadium, 2001, making it difficult for pastors to form judgments, make decisions, or take actions which are consistent with the fellowship principles of the Synod. A tacit inference, something of a corollary, suggests: any attempt to apply Scripture directly to the “right” or “wrong” of Christian prayer and testimony in pluralistic settings is taking a great hermeneutical risk. The critical issue in these discussions is how the Word of God may be addressed in situations to which the Scriptures, it is assumed, do not speak clearly. If the application of Holy Scripture to a situation like that at Yankee Stadium risks hermeneutical or exegetical hazards, where does this leave us? We caution that such a notion appears at first glance to be similar to a situational hermeneutic, which is commonplace beyond the boundaries of interpretation guided by sound Lutheran confessional principles. Peculiar to this alternate hermeneutic and many of its variations is the notion that a designated situation itself should have a major role in determining how Scripture is to be understood when applied to pastoral and ecclesial practice. What happens to the authority of Scripture and to both the sufficiency and the clarity of Scripture when situational hermeneutics are engaged? When situations are complex, even ambiguous, it has been said that the church, the people we are by Baptism into Christ, will be significant in determining proper responses. We should be guarded at this point. Seeking direction from something of an existential ecclesiology steers close to Rome’s position that the Church is needed to make Scripture clear. Also inadequate is the sentiment that while the Scriptures may not speak clearly or directly to a situation, the Gospel is clear. The inference here is that one or the other is lacking. Three decades ago, the Synod explored that tension between Gospel and Scripture. The two are complementary in every respect. True, the Gospel of the love of Christ constrains us, but Lutheran theology looks to the Holy Spirit speaking through the Word of God to guide the execution of love in action. The Lutheran confessors of the sixteenth century consistently appealed to Scripture. In this regard, they are a model for church leaders threading their way with delicate moves through the present controversy. For the confessors, the Gospel of Jesus Christ was paramount. Both the Augustana and the Apology demonstrate that any discussion of differences with the doctrine and practice of the Romanists was always for the sake of the Gospel. The confessors argue the case for the Gospel, making their appeal

360 to the teaching of Holy Scripture. They had confidence that Scripture, both sufficient and clear in revealing to sinful man the joy of salvation in Christ Jesus and urging faith in Him, also teaches rightly regarding preaching and practice in their churches (cf. The Augsburg Confession, conclusion). Therefore, the present serious discussions about sensitive issues should articulate more clearly and assertively what Scripture actually says rather than focusing on the silence of Scripture vis-à-vis certain situations. How may this be done? When the Word of God does not speak about a situation with laser-like directness, Lutheran pastors move back a step or two into the immediate circle of clear speaking, i.e., the doctrine or teaching from Scripture which applies to aspects of the situation in question. For instance, within such a perimeter surrounding the Yankee Stadium event are clear teachings, e.g., the Gospel as the one and only Gospel according to the Apostolic Word; Jesus Christ, both the subject of divine revelation and the object of faith; His saving Name, the heart of proclamation and mission; particularity of Christ the Way, the Truth, and the Life, etc. Furthermore, within this immediate near circle of Scripture’s clear teaching will be found the norms and principles yielding sound theological judgments, responsible decisions, and right actions. The tension here is between the explicit speaking of Scripture and the implicit application of the same. We emphasize that, in both instances, the implicit as well as the explicit, Scripture speaks clearly! And pastoral discretion in unusual and difficult circumstances properly honors with integrity the doctrines clearly enunciated by Scripture within an immediate perimeter such as that described above. This approach leaves intact confidence that Scripture is sufficient to speak clearly about salvation in Jesus Christ and other matters of faith and life. It also encourages theologians to refrain from dwelling on what the Bible “does not say.” The church is not helped by lingering on the silence of Scripture. Rather, let the church hear from the theologians a clarion call, “Thus saith the Lord!” Richard H. Warneck

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 361 Missouri Synod, Not Missouri Sect

Over the years discussions have taken place regarding the name “The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod.” Both positive and negative perspectives are easily understandable. In a time when the world is increasingly “globalizing,” the image suggested by a name is receiving more attention. Fully realizing the historical nature of the name “Missouri Synod,” I feel that it is high time to alter it. Several months ago I received a serious, though sincerely naive, inquiry from an inquisitive young Lutheran from Korea, asking me:

Professor, what kind of Christians are The Lutheran Church— Missouri Sect [sic] of which I have so often heard and have most recently read about in the newspapers after the “Yankee Stadium” event?

Evidently he didn’t know, first of all, the difference between “Synod” (“an ecclesiastical council,” which he read in a dictionary) and “Sect” (also read, “a religious group having a distinctive doctrine” and “a religious party dissenting from an established church”). The young man might have thought that the Lutheran Church is worldwide and the “Missouri Synod” a small branch of the main body, mostly situated in the state of Missouri in the United States of America. His three-line message caused me to reply in three pages with a bit of history, people, doctrines, church body, etc. I, too, understand and even sympathize with the fellow Lutherans who came from Europe and first settled in Missouri and the Midwest. However, no longer does the locally oriented name, or a sentimental attitude toward its history hold what we want to have, nor do they guarantee what we ought to believe. True, it is significant to remember Saxony in Germany and Missouri in North America. But now we should turn our eyes to the world and the most precious core of our concern, the saving Gospel of Jesus Christ, which certainly transcends Europe and America, not to mention Missouri or other states in America. A name and its image are important in showing our true identity. Isn’t it even, from a practical standpoint, odd and confusing to say and hear, for example, Michigan or Texas Districts of the Missouri Synod; or even more confusing, Missouri District of the Missouri Synod? To our conventional ears it may sound normal and clear, but it is very unreasonable and perplexing to people outside of our small community of believers known as “Missouri Lutherans.” In the long run, it may be no small hindrance to mission and evangelism efforts in the world. A parochial or sectarian connotation of the name of a church body can be by no means conducive to the effort of the proclamation. Wouldn’t it be preferable to give more attention to the ecumenical (worldwide) relevance of the saving message of God’s grace on account of

362 Jesus Christ, the true Reformation message and heritage of Dr. Luther than limiting it to or abiding in the tradition of ecclesiastical or ethnic tradition of only 160 years of history? What would be a viable alternative for the name of the church, one may ask? Some possibilities may be “Lutheran Church in the United States (LCUS),” “The Lutheran Church in America (TLCA),” etc. This is something to think about seriously and without long delay! Won Yong JI

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 363 Articles

The Church in the Public Square in a Pluralistic Society

David L. Adams

Introduction

The topic, “The Church in the Public Square in a Pluralistic Society,” is divisible into at least four significantly different aspects. These may be expressed in the form of questions as follows:

1. How do individual believers relate to persons of other faiths (and persons of no faith) in the public square in a pluralistic society? 2. How does the church corporately address public policy issues in the public square in a pluralistic society? 3. How does the church relate to other churches and faith communities in the public square in a pluralistic society? 4. How does the church relate to American Civil Religion in the public square?

Given the context of our discussions today, we will focus on the last of these four questions. Two reasons compel this:

1. Historic Christian confessions in America have not paid sufficient attention to civil religion as an aspect of the culture in which we live and serve and, as a consequence, have failed to recognize the force it exerts on our national religious consciousness. 2. Second, a proper understanding of what American Civil Religion has become is crucial for correctly positioning the public posture of the church in American society today.

Before addressing this question in whatever detail the time allows, I would like to spend a few minutes on each of the first three questions.

Dr. David L. Adams is Associate Professor of Exegetical Theology and Director of Educational Technology at Concordia Seminary in St. Louis, MO. This article is a longer version of a paper that was originally presented at a meeting of the Council of Presidents and the faculties of the two seminaries of The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod on March 1, 2002.

364 I. How Do Individual Believers Relate to Persons of Other Faiths in the Public Square in a Pluralistic Society?

I don’t know that I have any special insight on this question, for it is one that every person of faith must address within his own personal context. However, in the almost five years that I served the Synod as its representative in Washington, D.C., I had regular (weekly) contact with a wide variety of individuals representing the spectrum of faith traditions found in our country. Not only did I work on a regular basis with the Washington representatives of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, but also with Catholic clergy and lay leaders, with Baptists (Southern and American), Presbyterians, Episcopalians, Methodists, Evangelicals of all types, and the various Orthodox traditions. Moreover, my work put me in regular contact with orthodox, conservative, and liberal elements of the Jewish tradition, with Muslims (fundamentalist and otherwise), Hindus, Buddhists, Sikhs, Scientologists, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Mormons, radical feminists (which, by the way, is a religion for some), outright materialists (in the strictly philosophical sense), and Wyccans. For what it is worth, I found that it is possible to work in a friendly and cooperative way with persons from all of these religious traditions if one practices three basic virtues:

1. A genuine desire to contribute to the common good. 2. A willingness to listen and learn as well as to speak and teach. 3. Personal integrity.

That is not to say that the practice of these three virtues leads to agreement on all the issues. It most emphatically does not. It does, however, at least allow individuals of different faith communities to relate together in the public square in a pluralistic society with some reasonable degree of amity even when they disagree on issues of substance. So I commend these three principles to you as at least a proven starting point for an answer to the question of how do individual believers relate to persons of other faiths in the public square in a pluralistic society.

II. How Does the Church Corporately Address Public Policy Issues in the Public Square in a Pluralistic Society?

This question, if easier to address from an academic perspective, is much more difficult to put into practice. Like most of life’s really difficult matters, addressing public policy issues is a question of balancing the claims of competing goods. I have a three-hour presentation on this topic that I have used to introduce these issues to pastors’ conferences and lay Christians and a fifteen-hour presentation that explores some of the more specific issues in greater detail. Here, I will simply say that even for a

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 365 church body that has a relatively well-articulated theological perspective on this question–I am thinking here primarily of Catholics and Lutherans– working through the practical problems of deciding when and how to speak to issues in the public square reveals that, as is so often the case, practical churchmanship is more of an art than a science. We recognize that the Word of God does not give us specific guidance for how, when, or even if the corporate church should speak to public policy issues in a modern western democracy. We have carefully distinguished between the appropriate role of individual Christians and the appropriate role of the corporate church within the public square. Even so, Christians of good conscience seeking to follow the teachings of Scripture often genuinely disagree over when the church should speak on a public issue. Within The Lutheran Church–Missouri Synod I have heard pastors, lay members, and theologians offer the following range of answers to the question of when the church should address issues in the public square:

When Should the Church Speak in the Public Square?

Increasing frequency of speaking

Never Gospel State Does State Fails to Do at Stake Evil Enough Good Institutional Moral Any Time Issues Issues

In this graphic, as we move along the arrow from left to right, the church would find itself speaking to issues in the public square with increasing frequency.

1. Some in our Synod hold that the mission of the church is so exclusively the preaching of the Gospel that the church should never corporately address civil issues in the public square but should leave all concern for such “secular” issues in the hands of individual Christians. 2. Others have suggested that the mission of the church to preach the Gospel compels the church to address civil issues that might limit or restrict the preaching of that Gospel. Examples of this might be the persecution of Christians, restrictions on public (or even private) religious activities, and explicit efforts of the civil authority to control the church. 3. Still others hold that the church, as an agency within the kingdom of the left hand, has a legitimate right to address issues that effect

366 its operation within the kingdom of the left hand. Examples of this might include tax issues, retirement plan regulation, business licensure, and so forth. 4. Since the Word of God teaches that the civil authority is God’s minister for the punishment of evil and the promotion of good, some would hold that the church has both the right and the responsibility to address civil authority when the state acts in a way that is contrary to the purpose for which God created it and actively engages in the promotion of evil. The promotion of abortion and the legalization of same-sex marriages might be examples of civic actions that constitute the state promotion of evil. 5. Many have argued for the broader and slightly more ambiguous position that the church ought to address any moral issue that arises in the public square on the basis of the teachings of the Word of God. Here, social policy on divorce and gambling might be some examples. 6. Still others hold that since God requires us to work for the welfare of our neighbor, the church ought to work for the welfare of those in need by encouraging the state to do as much good as possible. Pursuit of this position would have the church address the level of development aid to nations in need, the level of domestic welfare spending, and so forth. 7. Finally, though I have never actually heard anyone in the Synod argue this position, for completeness I suppose that we ought to include the position that since Christ has sent the church into the world, it is appropriate for the church to address any issue that arises in the public square.

As I said, this graphic illustrates some of the positions that people within our Synod have taken on the question of when the church should speak in the public square. My purpose in presenting this is not to attempt to answer the question thus raised but merely to document the range of opinion that exists within our own church body. Recognizing that such a diversity of opinion exists raises an even more difficult practical question for church leaders: how ought we to go about deciding whether to speak to any specific issue? Lutherans have a distinctive theological perspective that informs our practice in these matters that we commonly refer to by the shorthand term of the two kingdom theology. Our “two kingdom” theology provides us with what we might call the terms of engagement between the church and the civil authority. It establishes, on the basis of the Scripture, the working principle that the church and the civil authority each have a divinely appointed purpose, mission, and means, and it furthermore affirms that each of these realms, the civil and the ecclesiastical, should respect and honor the other and refrain from interfering with affairs outside its

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 367 divinely appointed realm. This principle does not, however, answer all the practical questions for us. It is not, properly speaking, an answer to the question; it is the confessional framework in which we seek an answer in each specific situation. To arrive at an answer to the question of if, when, and how the church should address any particular issue requires us to weigh the answers to other questions. We might think of this process as an ecclesiastical and theological calculus that can be most easily visualized as a balance scale in which positive answers to some questions would lead us toward speaking to an issue while positive answers to other questions might lead us toward remaining silent.

Potential for Schism

Relationship to mission Appearance of social engineering Clarity of Scripture Distract the church Church speaks Church is silent

Examples of such questions might be:

1. Does the Scripture speak clearly to this issue? As a church committed to the principle of Sola Scriptura, we are more likely to address an issue that the Scripture clearly addresses than one that is not so clearly addressed by God in His Word. 2. How closely related is this issue to the primary mission of the church to make disciples of all nations? The more closely tied the issue is to the mission of the church, the more likely the church will be willing to address it. 3. Is it likely that focusing on this issue will distract the church from its mission of making disciples? By contrast, the church will be less likely to address issues that distract it from its proper function. 4. Is it likely that speaking on this issue will give non-Christians an impression that the church is merely interested in social engineering? While not driven by public opinion, the church will want to avoid giving the impression that it is just another agency seeking to impose its vision of a good society upon the public. We are not merely seeking a “seat at the table” among the other social engineers. 5. And perhaps most crucially, How likely is it that speaking on this issue will divide the church over an issue not directly related to the Gospel? We have to recognize that the public square is a highly politicized space. While they may agree on the goals, confessing Lutherans may legitimately disagree on the best means to accomplish those goals and so may have different political allegiances

368 in the civic arena. The unity of the church in the Gospel is of such importance that the church may, and should, choose to restrict its freedom to speak to a public issue when doing so runs the risk of identifying the interests of the church with one or another political party and so alienating its own members over issues tangential to the mission for which Christ has sent us into the world.

This is just a brief summary of the kinds of issues that the leadership of the church must carefully weigh before determining whether it is appropriate for the church to address public policy issues in the public square.

III. How Does the Church Relate to Other Churches and Faith Communities in the Public Square in a Pluralistic Society?

This aspect of the life of the church in the world is what we probably think of as the classical question of ecumenism. Since there are a number of others in this room who are far better qualified than I am to address this question, I will pass it by with one brief observation. It has become commonplace over the last two or three decades to observe that American Christians are losing, or perhaps already have lost, their sense of denominational identity. I would not dispute that this is true even among Missouri Synod Lutherans. But to acknowledge that this is true does not, in and of itself, explain why this has come about, nor does it help us to know how to respond to it. In discussions of this phenomenon it is generally presumed that there is something inherent in late twentieth and early twenty-first-century American culture that has shaped our members in such a way that they are unwilling or unable to identify with the denomination and confession to which they outwardly adhere. It is true that American Civil Religion does exert such an influence in such a direction, but the influence of American Civil Religion is not sufficient in and of itself to explain the trend. The loss of denominational identity among American Christians reflects the extent of the victory of the liberal promotion of personal truth over the historic Christian claim that the Bible teaches propositional truth. As the focus of religious identity has shifted from highly valued external and propositional truths to highly valued individual and personal experience, it is only natural that the institutions that were once the brokers of those external propositional truths should be devalued along with the religious identities they represent. The position of the Bible remains high because it can be used to define personal truth as well as be seen as a source of propositional truth. This realization can help us understand how to respond to this aspect of American religious culture. The proper response to this development is not, as some would have us believe, to surrender to the inevitable but rather to internalize the

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 369 confession of the church, to move from being a confessional church to being a confessing church. In other words, we must teach our members how to locate and to define and secure their personal religious identity in the community of faith in which they have made a commitment. If American Christians have lost their denominational identity it is primarily because American church leaders have become more preoccupied with gaining members than with making disciples. Indeed, in those church bodies that have maintained a strong sense of distinctive theological identity there tends to be a correspondingly strong sense of denominational identity among their members. Part, then, of how churches relate to one another in the public square in a pluralistic society must be to recapture and reinternalize the confession to which we adhere so that the propositional truth that we confess are not seen as objects external to us but rather so that our confession becomes the central element of our personal religious identity.

IV. How Does the Church Relate to American Civil Religion in the Public Square?

I suspect that for many of us the concept of American Civil Religion is not a topic of immediate and ongoing reflection. It is nonetheless a key element of the cultural context in which we daily operate. As I indicated at the outset of this presentation, it is to our own detriment, and to the detriment of our ministries, that historic Christian confessions in America have not paid sufficient attention to civil religion as an aspect of the culture in which we live and serve and, as a consequence, have failed to recognize the force it exerts on our national religious consciousness. In the hope of stimulating our reflection on the subject of American Civil Religion, I offer the following theses for discussion.

Thesis 1: American Civil Religion Is the State Religion of the United States of America.

If asked, most Americans would say that we have no state religion, even that the First Amendment of the Constitution prohibits it. While this may be technically, legally, and constitutionally correct, it ignores the fact that here in America we have developed a national religious ideology that performs every function for our society that a formally recognized state religion serves in other nations.1 1Historically, these functions are fourfold: (1) to secure the blessings of god for the state and/or society; (2) to contribute to the coherence of the society by establishing a fundamental aspect of the identity that connects the individual to the community; (3) to provide the society with a unifying rallying point in times of national crisis; and (4) to provide a least common denominator for the national ideological and moral discourse. Of these four, American Civil Religion performs the first two only to a limited degree and the second two rather more fully. The frequent quotation of 2 Chronicles 7:14 by evangelical Christians is a clear reflection of the first of these goals in the minds of that group but

370 Specifically, American Civil Religion supplies the “god” element of the traditional American trinity of “god, mother, and apple pie.” It defines that “god” in whom our money trusts and to whom we appeal in song and slogan to “bless America.” And as we saw so powerfully demonstrated last September, American Civil Religion serves the interests of the state by providing our nation with a socially unifying rallying point in times of national crisis and a presumed least common denominator for our national social discourse. American Civil Religion differs from other state religions in only two significant respects: first, that it is not vested in an external institution and, second, that it lacks a formal clergy, canon, and corpus doctrinae. Each of these shortcomings is, in fact, an essential element of our national religious faith. It is a part of the genius of American Civil Religion that it is not vested in an institution. Institutions provide definition and control. American Civil Religion operates on consensus and social pressure rather than institutional power and is all the more forceful because of it. Moreover, one may oppose institutions on the grounds of conscience. Opposing American Civil Religion is rather like shadow-boxing: you can take your best shot, but you can never quite make contact. Similarly, the lack of a formal clergy, canon, and body of doctrine are essential elements of our national faith. The clergy of American Civil Religion are rather like the judges of the Old Testament; they are charismatic leaders (usually in our case politicians or entertainers) who arise in time of national crisis and serve pro tempore before returning to their “day jobs” when the crisis is past. And just as our Constitution says whatever the nine justices of the Supreme Court say that it says in any given moment, so the canons and doctrines of American Civil Religion are defined afresh moment-by-moment in the councils of our public consciousness: at one moment Christian, at another deistic, at yet another new-age personal spirituality, always becoming whatever it needs to be to maintain its function as our socially unifying rallying point in times of national crisis and a presumed least common denominator for our national social discourse.

Thesis 2: American Civil Religion Is Now Irreducibly Polytheistic.

The great religion of the ancient world was that of the Sumerians. Sumerian religion provided the foundation of all that we today think of as the mythology of the ancient world. Moving westward from its roots in what is today southeastern Iran, Sumerian religion was borrowed and modified in turn by the Akkadians, the Babylonians, the Assyrians, the

probably does not reflect the common expectation within American Civil Religion generally. A clearer example of the first function is reflected by the impulse to sing “God Bless America” in response to civil crises.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 371 Arameans, the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Greeks, and the Romans.2 The names of the gods changed and the details of the myths were modified over time, but the essentials remained the same. Moving eastward, Sumerian religion provided the ancient background for what eventually developed into Hinduism. Wherever it went in the ancient world, it spread through its chief operational principle: inclusion.3 All the gods of all the nations were simply incorporated into its pantheon and equated with the gods already there. Enlil becomes El becomes Zeus becomes Jupiter. I am not suggesting that there is really a direct link between Sumerian religion and American Civil Religion, but they do share a common material principle: the principle of inclusion. At various times and places in our past, American Civil Religion has been in turn Calvinistic, Anglican, Methodistic, or deistic. As America has become more culturally diverse, more pluralistic, American Civil Religion has in turn become increasingly polytheistic. Today and in the future, barring some tidal shift that would make America more culturally uniform, American Civil Religion is and will continue to be increasingly polytheistic to the point that we must recognize that the “god” in whom our money trusts and to whom we appeal to “bless America” will be defined by each speaker and heard by each listener in his own way. This stands in stark contrast to the scandal of particularity that shapes the historic Christian confession. Historic Christianity, with its insistence that there is but one God and one way through Jesus Christ alone that a fallen humanity may be restored to God, is out of sync with American Civil Religion and will be increasingly so. We ignore this fact at the peril of our witness to the divine truth. Only the most utterly naive Christian can invoke god in the public square with the assumption that everyone else means the same thing by that term as we do. Indeed, we must go one step further and recognize that in American Civil Religion today the same is virtually true of the name Jesus also. At the risk of seeming impious, we must recognize that even the Doobie Brothers can confess that “Jesus is just alright with me.” When we use the term God and the name Jesus, we invest those terms with all the proper historic Biblical content. Those around us in our culture do not. We are foolish if we believe that we are giving a Christian witness just because we use the terms god and Jesus in an orthodox way. When speaking in the public square we must explicitly express the particularity of the Gospel 2The exact nature of the relationship between Mesopotamian (i.e., Sumerian) religion and that of ancient Egypt remains a matter of scholarly debate, but most experts in the field would at the very least acknowledge some measure of influence by Mesopotamian religion upon the development of Egyptian religion. 3The two chief theological principles of Mesopotamian religion were (1) the continuity of the divine realm and the material realm, and (2) the circularity of time. These two fundamental theological elements are apparent in all of the progeny of the Mesopotamian faith. As it spread, however, the chief operational principle of inclusion allowed Sumerian/ Mesopotamian religion to embrace and incorporate the different religious ideas and local deities that it encountered within the various cultures with which it came into contact.

372 message in such a way that it continues to scandalize American civil religion.

Thesis 3: American Civil Religious Events Bridge the Gap Between Worship and Civic Events.

Much of the recent discussion among us has proceeded with the frightfully simplistic presupposition that any given event can be characterized as either a civic event in which it is acceptable for an LCMS clergyman to participate or as a heterodox or polydox4 worship service in which it is not acceptable for a member of the LCMS clergy to participate. This facile distinction ignores the fact that these are not the only alternatives. Between the worship service (which we recognize by the elements of invocation, confession and absolution, proclamation, celebration, intercession, and benediction), and the civic event (the inauguration of a president, the meeting of a school board, and so forth) there stands another kind of event, a civil religious event. The civil religious event is neither fish nor fowl. It has some aspects of a worship service and other aspects of a civic event. Perhaps it will be useful to compare these types of events on the basis of the following criteria: the community that participates in the event, the substance of the event (i.e., what actually takes place there), the goal of the event (i.e., what is the intention or expectation of either the organizers or the majority of the participants of the event), and the realm into which this belongs.

The Worship Service

We begin with what we know very well: the worship service.

Worship Services

Community: Confessing Body

Substance: Prayer, Praise, Adoration, etc.

Goal: Receive Divine Gifts, Proclaim the Gospel, etc.

Realm: The Church

4Throughout this presentation we employ the term heterodox to refer to those activities that involve different confessions within the broader Christian faith (i.e., Lutherans, Catholics, and Baptists) worshiping together and the term polydox to refer to those activities that involve different faith groups (i.e., Christians, Muslims, and Hindus) worshiping a variety of gods together.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 373 Here the community of participants is primarily that of the confessing body, the people of faith engaged in worshiping a god or gods. There may, in many instances, be visitors or outsiders among the confessing body, but they are not the primary community engaged in conducting the event.5 The substance, the activities that comprise the event, of religious worship includes such activities as prayer, praise, adoration, thanksgiving, and so forth. Lutherans would emphasize other elements as well, especially the reception of the Sacraments and the proclamation of the Word. While all of these elements comprise corporate worship among Christians, they need not all be present for there to be a worship service. Just as important to the definition of a worship service is the intention (or goal) of those engaged in it. For Christians, the intention of receiving and acknowledging the gifts of God and teaching His Word to believers and proclaiming the Gospel to unbelievers are key goals of worship. Not all of these goals are present in every worship service, and other goals may be more important in other religious traditions. Finally, the realm to which the worship service belongs is that of the church.6

The Civic Event

In addition to the worship service, we readily recognize the civic event.

Worship Services Civic Event

Community: Confessing Body The Public

Substance: Prayer, Praise, Community Adoration, etc. Business

Goal: Receive Divine Advancing the Gifts, Proclaim Community Good the Gospel, etc.

Realm: The Church The State

5This fact should help us sort out our own worship issues, as too often today we are inclined to focus on the outsider or the visitor as though he were the primary community of the event. 6Realm, in this case, is defined in terms of the traditional Lutheran understanding of the doctrine of the two kingdoms: civil and religious.

374 The community engaged in the civic event is the entire public of the community (at least potentially). Civic events, by their very nature, are intended to engage the entire community, and while it is hardly ever the case that the entire community is actually present, even those physically absent are in some way included (morally or by representation) in the event. The substance of the community event is the conduct of community business. This may be the coronation of a king or the inauguration of a president, or it may be the meeting of a parliament, town council, school board, or any other corporate communal activity (such as a sporting event). The goal of the civic event is the promotion of the community good. This is necessarily vague, and communities conceive of what constitutes their good in many different ways. The key here is that the goal of the event is self-referential, i.e., to meet the needs of the community however those needs are defined by the community itself. Finally, the realm of the event is the state rather than the church.

The Civil Religious Event

As long as these two realms, the church and the state, were related to one another through the mechanism of the established (or state) church, these two categories were sufficient to help us sort through the issues that arose. By prohibiting the establishment of a national church, the American constitution has unwittingly introduced something new into this picture. While it prohibits the establishment of a legally favored, or state, church, the U. S. Constitution cannot eliminate—and most certainly has not eliminated—the confluence of social and spiritual forces that give rise to state churches in the first place. To fill this void and provide for those socially and psychologically necessary roles of a unifying rallying point in times of national crisis and a presumed least common denominator for our national social discourse, American society has generated a form of civil religion. The outward public expression of this civil religion is an event that is part religious service and part civic event: the civil religious event.

Civil Worship Services Religious Event Civic Event

Community: Confessing Body The Public The Public

Substance: Prayer, Praise, Discourse Community Adoration, etc. from, to, or Business about God

Goal: Receive Divine Advancing the Advancing the Gifts, Proclaim Community Good Community Good the Gospel, etc. Realm: The Church Civil Religion The State

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 375 The civil religious event is, like the civic event, aimed at the entire community. In some communities, this entire community may be predominantly Christian, even predominantly members of a single denomination or church, but the event itself is consciously defined as an event for the whole community rather than for any particular religious community that is a part of the whole. The substance of the civil religious event is any form of discourse from, to, or about the gods. Such events are commonly promoted as memorial services, prayer services, thanksgiving services. They lack the more formal structure associated with traditional worship services and may blend elements from a variety of religious traditions. American civil religious events are not, strictly speaking, worship services. Nor are they, strictly speaking, civic events. They are clearly religious events, for they deal with the divine realm, even if from a civil perspective. Whenever people gather in the public square for the purpose of discourse with or about God, there is a civil religious event and not simply a civic event. The goal of a civil religious event is to advance the community good however the community good is defined by the community. Most often this takes the form of promoting corporate unity and/or cooperation in times of disaster, expressing a corporate sympathy in time of loss, promoting a corporate psychological or spiritual healing, or seeking some community good from the gods. Such events are a part of the expression of American Civil Religion and perform the same function in our society that public services of the state religion perform in other societies. The question of the realm of the civil religious event is particularly problematic. It is neither the church, properly speaking (for its community and goals are civic ones), nor is it the state, properly speaking (for its activities are undeniably religious in nature). We are forced to conclude that the existence of civil religion and its external expression in the civil religious event force us to acknowledge an additional realm, that of civil religion.

Thesis 4: American Civil Religious Events Are Themselves a Spectrum of Activities.

In the preceding section we have identified a “third category” of event, the civil religious event and its corresponding realm. We must recognize, however, that this category is not monolithic. It is a way-point on a spectrum of activities between civil events and worship services. More to the point, it is itself a spectrum of events, some more religious and others more civil. Indeed, all civil religious events operate on more than one level simultaneously. On one level they exist to serve the needs of the community and are therefore always civil. On another level they are expressions of the beliefs of the participants and are therefore always religious. As the

376 balance between these two aspects changes and as the religious content shifts from more homogeneous to more diverse, depending upon the faith of the organizers and participants within the community, the exact nature of the civil religious event can change dramatically. This is apparent when we examine the criteria described above in more detail.

The Community

With respect to the community engaged in these events, we must recognize that “the public” that engages in a civil religious event is seldom co-extensive with “the public” that engages in other civic events. We see this tendency at work even within civic events. For example, a school board meeting is quite likely to have a higher percentage of attendees with children in school than the general public, for the parents of school- age children are generally more interested in the operation of the schools than those who do not have children in the schools. With civil religious events, people of faith are likely to be represented in higher percentages than they comprise in the general population.

Worship Service Civil Religious Event Civic Event

Confessing Body The Public The Public

The more circumscribed and, especially, the more homogeneous the participating public is, the more a civil religious event becomes like a worship service.

The Substance

Here, too, there is a spectrum of activity. The number of different elements common to worship services and the more prominent these elements are in the event, the less a civil religious event becomes like a civic event and more like a worship service. Here, there is scope for a variety of activities that further shape the nature of the event. For example, the incorporation of a number of activities specifically associated with one particular religious group would move the event in the direction of a worship service of a particular confession.

Worship Service Civil Religious Event Civic Event

Prayer, Praise, Discourse Community Adoration, etc. from, to, or Business

about God

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 377 The increasingly polytheistic nature of American Civil Religion has produced two tendencies: either the limiting of expressions and activities in civil religious services to some least common denominator that is thought to be inoffensive to all the participants or the incorporation of increasingly polydox practices that might not be acceptable to any of the groups within their own circles but are accepted in civil religious events under the compelling social rubric of tolerance. Where the expectation is that the participants will limit their expressions to those that will be inoffensive to all participants, this stricture is sometimes explicitly placed on the participants but is more often an unexpressed expectation, unexpressed because it is assumed that the general social principle of tolerance will make the expectation obvious to everyone.

The Goal

As with the aspects of community and the substance, civil religious events reflect a range of possible goals between the strictly civic event and the worship service. Like the civic event, the overall goal of the civil religious event is the advancement of some community good.

Worship Service Civil Religious Event Civic Event

Receive Divine Advancing the Advancing the Gifts, Proclaim Community Good Community Good the Gospel, etc.

Generally, the community good promoted by civil religious events is defined in relation to one of functions of a state religion: the securing of divine blessing, the promotion of civil unity, the provision of a unifying rallying point in times of national crisis, or the promotion of a least-common- denominator for the national ideological and moral discourse. These goals are expressly civil goals, and it is inevitable that the state will use the expressions of faith articulated within civil religious events to promote its own ends rather than for those ends that faith itself would seek.

The Realm

In the past, faithful articulation of the teachings of the Scripture and the Lutheran Confessions has required us to define the criteria by which the Synod and its members may and should interact with the state, on one hand, and with other churches on the other. The appreciation of the role of civil religion in contemporary American culture adds an additional layer of complexity and forces the church to articulate a new set of relationships, that with the realm of civil religion.

378 Worship Service Civil Religious Event Civic Event

The Church Civil Religion The State

Civil religion is not, however, a monolithic entity. It is a range of possibilities from the nearly civil, or secular, on one hand to the clearly religious, even ecclesiastical, on the other. In certain contexts civil religion may take on a more explicitly Christian, even Lutheran, form. In other contexts it may be more non-Christian, even aggressively anti-Christian. Civil religious events thus constitute a spectrum that operates in more than one plane simultaneously: the plane of religious diversity and the plane that represents the spectrum between the strictly civic and strictly religious events. To evaluate such events, the church must think on two planes at the same time.

Polydox

OrthodoxHeterodox

Civil Religious

In this diagram, the horizontal scale represents the degree to which the event is religious in nature. The vertical scale represents the degree of religious diversity in the event.7 The location of the event within the matrix thus created depends upon the relative position of the event in each of these planes. The point of origin in the matrix represents the point

7One could generalize this chart by placing the term homogeneous at the bottom of the scale and heterogeneous at the top of the scale. However, because religious diversity includes both diversity within the Christian faith and diversity between different faith groups, I have employed a more specific standard of measure. Here, from the Lutheran perspective, orthodox specifically means in agreement with the Lutheran Confessions, and heterodox and polydox are used as previously defined.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 379 at which one scale makes the other irrelevant. If an event is purely civil, it does not matter how diverse the religious views of the participants is. If the participants are entirely orthodox Lutherans, it does not matter how civil or religious the event. As one moves outward in either direction from the point of origin, the nature of the event changes and participation in the event becomes increasingly problematic for the pastor or church leader. From the discussion thus far, it should be apparent that the diverse, often conflicting, interests and agendas of those who organize and/or participate in civil religious events are likely to create problems for the pastor or church official who must evaluate whether or not to participate in them. Participation in civil religious events is likely to place the pastor or church official in a situation in which he must either risk offending other participants or compromising his own confession. However, the wide range of possibilities within the spectrum of civil religious events makes it impossible to specify one simple answer that will suffice in every circumstance. In such an environment we may, however, provide some guidance for the pastor or church leader by indicating the kind of issues involved in making a decision whether or not to participate, depending on where the event falls in the matrix described above. We may also provide some boundaries beyond which one may not go without transgressing. The following theses attempt to provide such guidance. Having established the existence and nature of the spectrum of activities that we might refer to under the rubric of the term civil religious event, the question arises of whether, and how, the church is to relate to such events. Before answering that question more fully, it is necessary to understand the need for the church to be engaged with the culture in which it is planted and the nature of the engagement to which the Gospel compels us. The next two theses address this issue.

Thesis 5: Both the Mission of the Church and the Obligation to Work for the Welfare of Our Neighbor Require the Church to Be Engaged with the Broader Society.

In sending the church into the world with the mission of making disciples, Jesus thrusts His people into an engagement with the cultures and states “to the ends of the earth.” To proclaim the Gospel to those who do not know the revelation of God in Jesus Christ, the church must be among unbelievers. To witness to truth in the midst of falsehood, the faithful must interact with misbelievers. The Great Commission obligates the church to be in the world without becoming of the world in order to witness to the world. The love of Christ for the lost compels us to aggressively seek out every opportunity to bear witness to the truth of God in Jesus Christ. Withdrawal into a safe corner can never be an option for the people of God. Moreover, as Christians live in the world, they are compelled by both

380 the positive implications of the commandments of the second table of the Law and the example of Christ to care for their neighbor in need. The church’s engagement with the world can never be conceived of in such a way that separates witness to the Gospel from genuine care for those in need. The love of God in Christ compels us to care for both our fellow Christians and those who do not know Him, even those who would persecute Him and His people, just as He cares and provides for us daily according to our needs. This, too, drives us into engagement with society.

Thesis 6: The Limits and Forms of the Church’s Engagement with the World Are Shaped by the Mission Imperative and the Necessity of Faithfulness to the Teachings of the Word of God.

The recognition that being sent by Christ into the world compels the church to be engaged with the societies within which it is planted does not mean that engagement is an end unto itself. For the church, engagement with society is always a means to serve the end of faithfulness in and to the Gospel. The engagement of the church with the surrounding culture is always undertaken for the sake of the mission of disciple-making and the living of discipled lives. Thus the evangelical mission of the church and the call to be faithful unto death to the Word of God and the way of the cross shape the interaction between the church and the culture. Just as we err if we believe that the “spiritual” mission of the church (i.e., the redemption of lost souls) relieves us of the need to interact with the culture in which we live and work, so also do we err if we allow the desire to interact with the culture to become the driving force that shapes the activity and message of the church. Thus we understand the compulsion to engagement as a kind of general policy statement. This does not mean that every Christian or pastor must engage with every aspect of society at every point. There are always limits to every general policy. The general policy of the commandments of the second table of the Law is that Christians should do good. But the command to do good is not without limitation. We may not violate one commandment in order to fulfill another. The first ethical requirement is to do no evil and then to do as much good as possible without violating another commandment in the process, otherwise the end of doing good would justify every means. Similarly, our first obligation is to remain faithful to the teachings of Christ and His Word. The mission and ministry of the people of God compel our engagement with the world in ways that are consistent with the prior obligation to faithfulness. This is not to suggest that the church and the society in which it exists may not share some common interests and needs and may therefore become “fellow-travelers” for a time. Indeed, the Christian ethic of service to the neighbor will frequently engage individual believers, if not the whole church, in activities that serve the interests of society. In the United States, for

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 381 example, Christian pastors regularly perform wedding ceremonies. On the one hand, these ceremonies are worship services in which we give thanks to God for the blessings of marriage and pray His blessing upon the couple being joined in this divine institution. On the other hand, the pastor, at the same time, acts as a civil magistrate in performing an entirely civil function, that of certifying that the marriage relationship is established within the laws framed by the society and registering this civil act with the state according to its regulations. Pastors may perform this dual, ecclesiastical and civil, function without compromise to faith because in this instance the mission and the need of the state to promote the common good of marriage in an orderly manner correspond with the interests and the mission of the church to make disciples by nurturing families within God’s order for human relationships. If these two interests did not correspond, as for example in the case of performing same-sex marriages, the Christian pastor would be obligated to refuse to function as an agent of the state in performing such acts and registering such relationships. The fundamental principle is that the church must manage its interaction with the culture in such a way that this interaction primarily serves the needs and mission of the church and secondarily serves the needs and mission of society insofar as these do not conflict with the needs and mission of the church. In the light of our obligation to faithful engagement, we must consider what principles should guide a pastor or church leader in determining whether or not to participate in a given civil religious event? This largely depends on the exact nature of the specific event. As we have shown above, such events vary on two scales at the same time and thus may differ widely from one another. In general however, most events will fall into one of three major categories: events that primarily involve Christians interacting with other Christians; events that involve Christians interacting with other religions; and events that are almost entirely civic in nature. The next three theses explore the principles we follow in evaluating these three broad categories of events.

Thesis 7: To the Extent That a Civil Religious Event Is an Event Involving Christians of Different Confessions, Participation in the Event Must Be Governed by the Same Principles That Govern Our Interaction with Other Christian Church Bodies.

We have recognized (Thesis 4) that within the broad category of civil religious events there is a considerable spectrum of activities, some more civil and others more explicitly religious. In some communities and in some instances, a particular civil religious event may be little different in practice from a Christian worship service involving members of a variety of churches within the community. In other instances civil religious events may be polytheistic in nature, involving worship acts by a variety of faith-

382 groups directed toward the worship of different gods. Still other civil religious events may be little more than public rallies with a thin coating of ill-defined religious veneer. The criteria that the Christian pastor employs to evaluate the possibility of participating in these activities is determined in large measure by the exact nature of the individual event. Where a civil religious event is most like a worship service involving Christians from different confessions, the participation of LCMS clergy in such a civil religious event must be governed by the principles that guide our participation in other heterodox religious activities. We have agreed together and sworn an oath before one another and God that, as a condition of our membership in the Synod, we would renounce unionism and syncretism of every distinction.8 While, as I have said before in this presentation, I am not an expert in such matters, I believe that I am stating the common understanding of the pastors of the Synod when I say that we have agreed to this because we understand two things:

First, our commitment to the principle of Sola Scriptura entails the view that the proclamation of the Gospel cannot stand on obscurity or intentional deception with regard to teaching.

If we genuinely believe that God has revealed His teaching in His Word for the guidance of faith and life in His church, then we are obligated to seek to find that truth and, having found it, to live by it. At the same time Christ compels us to love and to work for the true unity of the church. But we cannot achieve the latter at the expense of the former. While we do understand that life in a fallen world has ragged edges and gray areas, we may not take comfort in, nor seek out ambiguity as a cover for disagreement. To do so is to deceive ourselves and to lie to the world. God is not the father of such deeds.

Second, we believe on the basis of the Scripture that coming together as a community to worship God and to receive His gifts in the Sacraments is the highest expression of the unity of Christian confession, not an instrument to be used to achieve such unity.

It is commonplace today, both within the liberal ecumenical movement and within more conservative evangelicalism to treat worship as a means to achieve unity rather than as a fruit of unity. Such a view reflects an overly individualistic understanding of the relationship between the believer and the community of faith as it stands before God in worship. We believe that such an understanding is at odds with both the Scriptural teaching and historic Christian practice regarding worship. 8Article VI “Conditions of Membership” of the constitution of The Lutheran Church– Missouri Synod, which all members of the Synod (rostered church workers and congregations) pledge by oath to uphold.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 383 We further recognize that perfect unity may never be achievable in a fallen world, and confessing Lutherans have not required perfect agreement as a condition of joint worship. The question then arises, “Where do we draw the line? How much agreement is enough?” We have answered that question by assembling in the Book of Concord those documents that we believe articulate the appropriate boundaries for agreement before joint worship is appropriate.

We also recognize that Christians interact in many ways besides corporate worship. Many of those interactions do not employ ambiguity to compromise the truth and do not obligate us to confess a degree of unity in worship that does not exist in fact. Where it is possible for Christians to work together in Christ toward a common end without giving such false impressions, we ought to do so. To the extent that participation by church leaders and pastors in civil events does not employ ambiguity to disguise differences in teaching and does not create a situation in which participants or observers are likely to be led to believe that a false degree of unity exists, such participation may be appropriate.

Thesis 8: To the Extent That a Civil Religious Event Is an Event Involving Participants from Non-Christian Faith Groups, Participation in the Event Must Be Shaped by the Requirements of the First Commandment.

We have recognized above that as the United States has become increasingly culturally diverse and pluralistic, American Civil Religion has become increasingly polytheistic. Because civil religious events are a fundamental expression of American Civil Religion, they have become increasingly polydox in nature. Insofar as such events involve participants engaged in worshipping different gods, the participation of the Christian pastor or church leader must be guided by the First Commandment. I take it as a given that we are all agreed that a Christian who engages in the direct worship of a God other than Yahweh, whether in a private devotions or in a civil religious event, violates the First Commandment. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego understood this clearly (Dan. 3), and I believe that we do also. If any Christian performs such an act in the context of a civil religious event, he is clearly violating the First Commandment. It is a much more subtle question to ask whether a Christian who worships the true God in the context of those engaged in worshiping other gods also violates the First Commandment. In this respect we often fail to appreciate the full import of the First Commandment by translating the text (Ex. 20:2) as, “You shall have no other gods before me.” The wording of the Hebrew text is rather more precise. God says that we must not have other gods “before my [i.e., His] face” or “in my [i.e., His] presence.” The point here is that Yahweh is not claiming the right to be first in our affections (as “before” can easily be misunderstood to mean), He is prohibiting us

384 from allowing any other god into His presence. Yahweh does not want to be our first god or to be first in our life; He must be our only god. The First Commandment is a demand for a radical and absolute exclusivity in our relationship with the realm of divine beings. We can see the effects of failing to keep this commandment by tolerating other gods in Yahweh’s presence in the example of Solomon. 1 Kings 11 tells us that Solomon was guilty of unfaithfulness in his relationship with Yahweh in the latter years of his life. How did Solomon sin? He began by tolerating the worship of other gods by his foreign wives. Over time his wives influenced him so that he himself turned away from Yahweh and worshiped the false gods. He began by violating the First Commandment indirectly and ended by violating it directly. Indeed, the repeated judgment against the kings of Judah that followed Solomon was not that so many of them worshiped false gods themselves, but that nearly all of them tolerated the worship of false gods by failing to tear down the high places, etc. Their toleration of the worship of other gods in the presence of Yahweh was itself a sin. Today our American cultural conditioning toward tolerance flies in the face of God’s demand for a radically exclusive relationship with us whenever that cultural conditioning leads us to tolerate the worship of false gods in the presence of Yahweh. As Americans we may (and do) have to tolerate the worship of other gods within civil society; as Christians we violate the First Commandment any time we tolerate or encourage the worship of other gods in the presence of Yahweh. The only possible conclusion upon reading the Word of God is that the people of God must not be a party to any activity that encourages or promotes the worship of other gods. Thus, it is possible to sin against the First Commandment through the toleration of the worship of other gods in the context of the worship of Yahweh. The most common way in which we violate the First Commandment in this regard is to engage in the worship of Yahweh in the context of the worship of other gods in such a way that the worship of the false god and the worship of Yahweh may be confused or mixed. We recognize that a speaker cannot control the way that a hearer interprets his words. Nonetheless, in situations where it is likely that an audience, by virtue of its religiously diverse composition, may equate or confuse the worship of Yahweh with the worship of another god, the speaker has an obligation to articulate the scandal of particularity with unremitting clarity. As civil religious events become increasingly polydox, the Christian pastor or church leader is obligated to do everything within his power to prevent those who may hear his words from thinking that the worship of Yahweh is the same as the worship of other gods. In this respect it is not sufficient to begin with a statement such as, “We Christians believe that...” or any other form of words that could suggest to the hearer that what the speaker is articulating is simply the “Christian version” of religious truth and that there may be other equally valid non-

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 385 Christian perspectives. This is the most common mistake that Christian speakers make when talking about God in the public square. Insofar as the assumption that Christian teaching is but one of many equally valid religious perspectives has become a common view among the non- Christians in American society, we must be especially careful to avoid this type of error, which seems on the surface to be an orthodox expression of faith but which can easily lead the hearer to a false conclusion. Also arising in this context is the distinction between praying “with” some group and praying “among” some group. There is clearly a difference between these two. Praying “with” those who believe in other gods (i.e., joining with them as they pray to other gods) is, as we have said, a clear and direct violation of the First Commandment. Praying to the true God in the midst (i.e., “among”) those praying to false gods may or may not be a violation of the First Commandment, depending upon how it is done. However, even praying an otherwise orthodox prayer “among” believers in other gods can violate the First Commandment if it is done in such a way as to confuse the worship of Yahweh with the worship of another god. In other words, the distinction between praying “with” and praying “among” is useful but cannot be the sole determining factor. The determining factor is whether the worship of Yahweh is confused or mixed with the worship of other gods. Consider a parallel case from the Old Testament: Elijah at Mt. Carmel (1 Kings 18). Here at a time of national crisis and within the confines of a single event, the prophets of Baal pray to their god, and Elijah prays to Yahweh. Elijah prays “among” the prophets of Baal. He does not sin in this instance because he does not allow the worship of Yahweh to be confused with the worship of Baal but distinguishes the two by demonstrating that Yahweh alone is the true God and praying for the defeat of Baal and his prophets. The only certain way to avoid violating the First Commandment in a polydox civil religious event is to do as Elijah did: distinguish clearly the worship of Yahweh from the worship of all other gods so that there can be no reasonable room for doubt among the hearers that we proclaim that Yahweh alone is God and that we are restored to Him only by the death and resurrection of Yahweh incarnate: Jesus Christ. Any message that lacks this degree of clarity is likely to give the impression that the worship of Yahweh and the worship of other gods is the same thing. As a practical matter, the Christian pastor or church leader is faced with one of three options when asked to participate in civil religious events in which the public worship of or prayer to other gods is involved: (1) offend the others present by witnessing to the exclusive claims of Yahweh and the Christian faith; (2) offend God by participating in an event in which we bear false witness regarding who the true God is; or (3) decline to participate. To summarize, then, in relation to polydox civil religious events we may violate the First Commandment in one of two ways: directly when we

386 ourselves engage in the worship of other gods or indirectly when we allow the worship of Yahweh to be confused or mixed with the worship of other gods. In civic religious services, which are by nature increasingly polytheistic in the modern American context, the Christian pastor will always run the risk of either offending his hearers by proclaiming the scandal of particularity or of violating the First Commandment through contributing by his lack of clarity to the confusion or mixture of the worship of Yahweh with that of other gods.

Thesis 9: To the Extent That a Civil Religious Event Is Primarily Civil in Nature, Participation in the Event Must Be Shaped by an Appreciation of the Tension Between the Interests of the Church and the State.

In addition to the kinds of civil religious events described above (events that are essentially or predominantly religious in nature, whether heterodox or polydox) there are those civil religious events that are predominantly civil in nature. While these have some religious content, that content is typically either so ambiguous as to be meaningless or so minor as to not give a false impression as to the degree of unity among people of faith or to confuse the worship of Yahweh with that of another god.9 When considering whether he ought to participate in such an event, a Christian pastor or church leader still has to consider the extent to which he is being used by the civil realm to promote interests other than those of the Gospel. In the public square everyone has an agenda. Those who organize civil religious events seldom do so for the sake of the Gospel or to advance the ministry of the church.10 They organize them to serve some civic need. This by itself does not necessarily preclude a Christian pastor or church leader from participating in such an event, unless the civic need conflicts with the need of the church.11 As a practical matter, the Christian pastor or church leader needs to

9The singing of “God Bless America” by an assembly might be an example that meets both of these criteria. 10Indeed for a government official or governmental entity to organize a civil religious event for such purposes would likely be held by the courts to be an action in violation of the First Amendment. 11As an example, a church or a group of pastors may be asked to participate in a rally in support of a blood drive. Even though the blood drive does not promote the cause of the Gospel, encouraging people to give blood to help their neighbors is consistent with Christian teaching and should generally be encouraged. Since this does not conflict with the mission of the church, one may participate without giving offense. By contrast, consider a rally in support of marriage. If a pastor were to agree to participate without finding out who is sponsoring the event and who the other participants were, he might find himself on the podium with a gay or lesbian group promoting same-sex marriage. In this case, while marriage is a civic good that is consistent with the teachings of Christ, the union of same- sex couples in a form of marriage is not. In such a case the pastor might discover that he is being used to promote an issue or position that is in conflict with the mission of the church.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 387 be particularly careful about participating in civic events (whether civil religious events or purely civic events) that would tend to identify the interests of the church with the interests of one particular political party or candidate. While it frequently happens that one party or candidate promotes a policy that is more consistent with Christian teaching than that of another, any public expression of support for a political party or candidate is likely to be problematic. There are three reasons for this:

1. The American tax code prohibits churches and other tax-exempt organizations from directly supporting candidates. 2. More importantly, politics is a hard business that frequently requires compromise. It sometimes happens that churches support candidates, parties, or (especially) legislation on the grounds that it reflects a Christian perspective on an issue, only to find later that the situation, and hence the position of the party or candidate or the nature of the legislation, changes in an undesirable direction as the political process advances. Alternately, churches may support one party or candidate because of a stance on one particular issue only to find later that their stance on another issue conflicts with Christian teaching. 3. Most important of all, direct engagement in the political process by supporting (or giving the impression of support for) a candidate or party always runs the risk of politicizing the church, of distracting it from its primary mission, and of dividing the church over an issue that is not directly related to the Gospel.

Thus, while Christian pastors and church leaders may be free to participate in civic events and even civil religious events that are primarily civic in nature, they ought not to do so without carefully examining the motivations and intentions of the organizers and other participants and especially considering whether the participating in the event is likely to place them in a compromising position or run the risk of creating controversy in the church or congregation over an issue not directly related to the Gospel. Our final thesis addresses the question of how we relate to one another when we disagree over whether it is appropriate to participate in a given civil religious event. Here we emphasize that each party has an obligation to the whole church and its mission.

Thesis 10: Sometimes It Is Necessary to Restrict Our Own Freedom as Christians for the Sake of Others and at Other Times to Forgive Those Who Err and to Do Both for the Sake of the Unity of the Church and the Mission of the Gospel.

Given the complex factors involved, Christians of sincere faith and

388 good intention will from time to time disagree in their evaluation of these events. While there are some events in which a pastor or church leader may participate in good conscience, either because they are clearly civil in nature or because they involve only orthodox participation, there are also clearly other events that the pastor or church leader must avoid because of their polydox religious nature.12 On the borders of these clear cases there will inevitably be disagreements. While Christians will understand that life in a fallen world has ragged edges and gray areas, we may not take comfort in nor seek out ambiguity. We have recognized that our belief in the objective truth of the revealed Word of God compels us to seek the truth, and having found it, to make it the basis of our practice. At the same time, the recognition that difficult areas exist compels us to two other principles: the willing self-limitation of Christian freedom for the sake of the Gospel and the willing forgiveness of those with whom we disagree in Christ. In Romans 14 and again in 1 Corinthians 8, the apostle Paul discusses the proper attitude of the Christian in those situations in which brothers disagree over how to apply the Word of God in difficult real-life issues.13 In each instance he reaches the same conclusion: those who believe that they are free to act more broadly are encouraged to restrict their freedom for the sake of the Gospel, the brother, and the church. Applying this teaching to the question of participation in civil religious events, we can only conclude that when an event falls into the gray area, a pastor or church official would be well-advised to abstain from participating in the event if there is any significant likelihood that his participation would produce conflict or schism within the body of Christ. We have come together as a Synod in order to confess Christ with a single voice to the world while we work together to fulfill Christ’s commission to go and make disciples to the ends of the earth. One can only justify endangering the unity of the Synod in this mission when the alternative would be to compromise the Gospel itself. Thus, our commitment to the common mission of the Synod and to one another as brothers and sisters in Christ should move us to exercise restraint even when we believe that our case falls into one of life’s gray areas. This is the mature, spiritual course of action to which God, through the apostle Paul, calls us. These same motivations, our commitment to the common mission of the Synod and to one another as brothers and sisters in Christ, should move us to be generous in forgiving one another when we believe that someone has erred in this regard. We must reprove and correct one another when we believe that our brother has erred (2 Tim. 4:2), and yet we must also reaffirm our love for our brother who errs and forgive him (2 Cor. 2:7-8). 12Unless, like Elijah on Mt. Carmel, he chose to participate by proclaiming the Gospel’s scandal of particularity with such clarity and power that the other participants would clearly be offended. 13Each of these cases involves the freedom of the Christian to enjoy the good cre- ation of God by eating meat when other Christians might be scandalized by his actions.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 389 Both our willingness to limit our freedom in Christ and our willingness to forgive our brother who errs ought to be rooted in the awareness that Satan uses divisions within the church to impede the preaching of Jesus Christ. Schism is a bad thing not because we ought to all try to get along with one another as a good social principle but because schism is almost always to Satan’s advantage. As J. R. R. Tolkien once wrote in The Lord of the Rings–in a line they unfortunately omitted from the movie: “Indeed in nothing is the power of the Dark Lord more clearly shown than in the estrangement that divides all those who still oppose him.”14 St. Paul says much the same thing, if with less poetic force, with the added authority of the Holy Spirit (2 Cor. 2:10-11): “For if indeed I have forgiven anything, I have forgiven that one for your sakes in the presence of Christ, lest Satan should take advantage of us; for we are not ignorant of his devices.”

Conclusion

The mission for which Christ sends His church into the world compels the church to engage both the society in which we live and other faiths, both on the personal and corporate levels. As we live in mission in a pluralistic (and increasingly polytheistic) world, we must become savvy enough to recognize that not all religious activity around us will fall into the neat categories that we have generated in the past. We must address these new developments with a zeal for right teaching and witness tempered by love for one another in Christ and genuine care for our neighbor. Too often we have allowed language to divide us. I sometimes think that if John Gray were to write a book about the LCMS he would name it Evangelists Are from Venus, Confessionalists Are from Mars. We sometimes speak and act in such a way that we give the impression among ourselves and to others that confessional faithfulness and evangelical mission are mutually exclusive propositions and that we must choose one or the other to be confessional and put orthodoxy first or to be evangelical and put Jesus first. As a corrective to this misrepresentation, we must always remember that Christ gave His church one mission: to make disciples to the end of the earth. This disciple-making entails both the proclamation of the Gospel (i.e., baptizing them) and confession of the right teachings of the Word of God (i.e., teaching them to obey all that I have commanded them). If we are to faithfully fulfill our calling to be the church in the world, we cannot allow these two (evangelization and confession) to be depicted as if they were in conflict with one another. There is no fulfilling our mission without both. And to be the church in the public square in the pluralistic and polytheistic culture we must embrace both aspects of this one Christ-given mission.

14Haldir to the fellowship, in the chapter “Lothlorien” in The Fellowship of the Ring.

390 Preaching Like the Prophets: Using Rhetorical Criticism in the Appropriation of Old Testament Prophetic Literature

Reed Lessing

The Old Testament (hereafter OT) prophets were not primarily concerned with writing a record of historical events, charting eschatology for the future, or systematically presenting their theology. Albeit, their writings assist in these theological endeavors, yet fundamentally the prophets were preachers and heralds of Yahweh’s Word. As such, their sermons are unsurpassed in visionary scope, moral insight, and imaginative impact. This is so because, to a great extent, the prophets used rhetorical strategies in highly effective ways.1 This article explores the use of rhetorical criticism as a way to appropriate prophetic texts for the pastoral task of faithfully proclaiming Yahweh’s word of Law and Gospel. Let us consider how the understanding of a sample text, Isaiah 5:1-7, is amplified by means of rhetorical criticism. This text, from the NRSV, is as follows:

1Let me sing for my beloved my love-song concerning his vineyard: My beloved had a vineyard on a very fertile hill. 2He dug it and cleared it of stones, and planted it with choice vines; he built a watchtower in the midst of it, and hewed out a wine vat in it; he expected it to yield grapes, but it yielded wild grapes. 3And now, inhabitants of Jerusalem and people of Judah, judge between me and my vineyard. 4What more was there to do for my vineyard that I have not done in it? When I expected it to yield grapes, why did it yield wild grapes? 5And now I will tell you what I will do to my vineyard. I will remove its hedge, and it shall be devoured; I will break down its wall, and it shall be trampled down. 6I will make it a waste; it shall not be pruned or hoed, and it shall be overgrown with briers and thorns; I will also command the clouds that they rain no rain upon it.

1John Barton writes: “Prophets did not enunciate theological systems or lay down general principles but spoke rhetorically and with an awareness of the effect their words would be likely to have on their immediate audience” (“Ethics in Isaiah of Jerusalem,” in This Place Is Too Small for Us: The Israelite Prophets in Recent Scholarship, ed. D. J. A. Clines and J. C. Exum [Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1995], 94).

Dr. Reed Lessing is Assistant Professor of Exegetical Theology at Concordia Seminary, St. Louis, MO.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 391 7For the vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel, and the people of Judah are his pleasant planting; he expected justice, but saw bloodshed; righteousness, but heard a cry!

Interpretation Number One

Israel, as typified by Judah and Jerusalem (v. 3), is compared to a vineyard whose owner has lavished a great deal of care upon it only to discover that the vineyard does not produce good grapes. The husbandman went out of his way to prepare the best possible vineyard. Having chosen an exposed hillside, which gives every evidence of high fertility, he dug up the ground and carried away the stones. He then set the stones around the perimeter of the field as a wall to keep out marauding animals. Those stones left over from the wall were then used to build a watchtower. A vine was planted. Although the exact meaning of the term “choice vines” (8F9”) in verse 2 is not known, it is evident that this was one of the choicest vines in all Israel. Now that the vine has been planted, there would be a two-year wait before grapes would be produced. During this time vats are hewn out of the hillside in order to press the grapes for the expected abundance of wine. Yet, the expected harvest of plenty turns out to be bitter! The husbandman’s blood and sweat had yielded only shock over his disappointing harvest. The only response he has is not only to abandon the vineyard but also to assist in its destruction. So intense is the husbandman’s anger at the useless vine that he even commands the clouds from raining upon it. It is not until verse 7 that the prophet unveils and drives home the point of this parable. The vine is Israel and the fruit of their lives has been bloodshed and economic/societal injustice! A vine is therefore either good for fruit or good for nothing!

Interpretation Number Two

Isaiah is probably delivering this sermon at the Feast of Tabernacles (cf. Lev. 23:34-43; Deut. 16:13-15). At this time Israel celebrated her harvest and rejoiced before Yahweh for seven days. Joy was rampant! Expectations were high! The good grapes would usher in a new season of abundance! However, why would Isaiah begin with a love song when it is harvest time and the main gist of his sermon concerns a vineyard? Answer—as a preacher who is seeking to gain a hearing, this is a very clever way to begin. Everyone is interested in a love story, especially one that turns sour! In verse 1 the phrase 0G/I–<0Gv 0G98GAv (literally, “on a horn, a son of oil”— but translated above as “very fertile hill”) is highly figurative and is used only here in the OT to describe a geological formation. Isaiah uses the

392 phrase because of the preponderance of the Hebrew vowel segol which dominates the word for vineyard—a segolate noun, .G9Gƒ. By his using 0G/I– <0v G 0 G98GAv the prophet is more original, memorable, and engaging. But the alliteration is just beginning! Intent upon his audience remembering the sermon, Isaiah uses alliteration again, this time coining his own word to bring it about! Parallel with the familiar .*"I E 1C3 (grapes) in verses 2 and 4, he adds .*–L E !AHv (wild grapes).2 The assonance may indicate that outwardly the grapes looked and “sound” the same. But inwardly, they were very different (cf. Is. 29:13). To further impact and persuade his audience Isaiah marshals the use of repetition. Three times he uses the Hebrew verb %&8 (“expected” in vv. 2, 4, and 7). Repetition at key stages of prophetic sermons is typical,3 as is the redundancy of thought.4 Then, suddenly and without warning, in verse 3 the preacher subtlety disappears and the owner of the vineyard begins to speak. Having been hooked with a “love song,” the audience is now curious as to why the love has soured. Also in this verse the adverb %I~H3 (now) identifies this turning point in the discussion. %I~H3 indicates that the owner of the vineyard is inviting the audience into his world, specifically by using the imperative of )5– (to judge) and through two rhetorical questions, “What more was there to do?” and “When I expected it to yield grapes, why did it yield wild grapes?”5 The second usage of %I~H3 in verse 5 signals that the sermon is going to move into still a different direction. Now the prophet declares what the owner will do with his vineyard—demolish it and turn it into (E*I–I& 9*/I E – (thorns and thistles). Keeping with his goal of a memorable message, Isaiah chooses (E*I–I& 9*/I E – because of their ability to provide more alliteration. Using an inclusio, just as he began the sermon, so Isaiah ends it with the word .G9G,. In doing so he reiterates what he wants his audience to

2The LXX translates •6V<2"H, “thorns”; the Vulgate labruscas, “wild grapes.” 3See Lawrence Boadt, “The Poetry of Prophetic Persuasion,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 59 (1997): 14. James Muilenburg states that repetition is “a prominent feature of Hebrew rhetoric and style. It centers thought, gives a sense of totality, provides continuity, signals the structure and limits of units, and so discloses the character of biblical thinking” (A Study in Hebrew Rhetoric: Repetition and Style VTSup I [Leiden: Brill, 1953], 97). 4Ivan Ball, commenting on the same feature in Zephaniah 2:10, calls the phenomenon a “grand synthesis” (A Rhetorical Study of Zephaniah, [Berkeley: BIBAL, 1988], 136). 5In speaking of Hebrew rhetoric, Roland Meynet writes: “Instead of developing its argumentation in a linear way, in the Graeco-Roman fashion, to a conclusion which is the point of resolution of the discourse, it is organized most of the time in an involutive manner around a center which is the focal point, the keystone, through which the rest finds cohesion. The center of a concentric construction most of the time presents certain specific characteristics: it is often of a different shape and genre than the rest of the text, it is very often a question, or at least something which is problematic, which in all cases is enigmatic” (Rhetorical Analysis: An Introduction to Biblical Rhetoric [Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998], 175). Note the central position of the question in the Song by the Sea in Exodus 15:11: “Who is like you, O Yahweh, among the gods? Who is like you majestic in holiness, terrible in glorious deeds, doing wonders?”

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 393 remember—it is all about Yahweh’s vineyard. Isaiah then ends with these short, staccato-like parallelisms so that the gist of the accusation leaves no one in doubt.

Yahweh expected )IA–E/ (justice), But instead got (IA–E/ (bloodshed); He expected %I8I$A7 (righteousness), But only received %I8I3A7 (a cry).

To drive this point home Isaiah coins his second term in the sermon (the first being .*–L E !AHv in vv. 2 and 4); the word is (IA”E/, similar to the Arabic safaha, “pour out, spill blood” but used only here in the OT. Just as he did in verses 2 and 4 with .*"I E 1C3 and .*–L E !AHv, Isaiah again uses paronomasia (the act of punning) as an attempt to engage his audience.6 The genre used in Isaiah 5:1-7 is often labeled a “judicial parable.”7 Parables of this type are designed to get listeners to pass judgment upon themselves by employing a rhetorical trick. The narrator crafts his story in such a way as to elicit his listeners’ outrage at some hypothetical injustice. These censures are then taken up and reapplied to a real situation involving the audience. Only then do they realize that the “bad guy(s)” in the story are, by their own admission, they themselves! To summarize—in contrast to the first interpretation that is more literarily orientated,8 this second one is more rhetorically focused. It highlights the Sitz im Leben of Isaiah’s Song of the Vineyard, as well as his initial means of gaining attention (a love song). This interpretation also brings out the prophet’s use of alliteration, paronomasia, inclusio, rhetorical questions, repetition, and. By being aware of these rhetorical devices the interpreter better appreciates how Isaiah ripens his audience for maximum interest and participation in his new word from Yahweh. The point of this comparison is not to underscore that one interpretation is right and the other one is wrong. Rather, the comparison is aimed at providing an entrée into how rhetorical criticism enhances the interpretation and appropriation of Israel’s prophetic texts.

6“The prophets use paronomasia especially in vivid and impassioned passages, in which the whirl of similar sounds is meant to reflect the inner excitement and impress their hearer with the certainty and magnitude of an event” (Immanuel Casanowicz, Paronomasia in the Old Testament [Boston: J. S. Cushing, 1894], 41). 7Cf. David Arthur, A Smooth Stone: Biblical Prophecy in Historical Perspective (New York: University of America Press, 2001), 62. Other examples of judicial parables include 2 Sam. 12:1ff. (Nathan and David); 2 Sam. 14:4ff. (the woman from Tekoa and David), 1 Kings 20:38-42 (a prophet and Ahab). 8Yehoshua Gitay details how exclusive literary and book concerns tend to eclipse the rhetorical nature of Israel’s prophets (“Prophetic Criticism—‘What Are They Doing?’: The Case of Isaiah—A Methodological Approach,” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament [2001]: 101-127). In general, Gitray demonstrates how the concerns of form and redaction criticism influence the reading of prophetic texts as being complex literary structures based on numerous textual layers that have no original rhetorical elements.

394 Rhetorical Criticism

The term “rhetoric” is an ancient word that Biblical studies have rehabilitated in the last few decades.9 The work of George Kennedy broke significant new ground in the study of rhetoric in the New Testament (hereafter NT).10 The current rhetorical study of the OT has built upon Kennedy’s work with the result being a renaissance in the use of rhetorical criticism, especially in the study of Israel’s prophets.11 Kennedy writes:

Though the Jews of the pre-Christian era seem never to have conceptualized rhetoric to any significant degree, the importance of speech among them is everywhere evident in the Old Testament, and undoubtedly they learned its techniques by imitation.12

The rhetorical reading of prophetic texts, like the proverbial bride, brings things old, new, and borrowed. Ideas and methods initiated by earlier generations of scholars13 are expanded and refined, while new information, often based on newly discovered texts or artifacts, is added to the understanding of who the prophets were and what they were about.

9The rediscovery and reinvention of rhetoric has made a profound impact upon Biblical studies, as seen in the growth in the number of articles, monographs, Festschriften, and conferences addressing themselves to rhetorical analysis of Biblical texts. In the last twenty years more books and articles that focus on the rhetorical method and its application have appeared than in the previous century and a half. A look at M. Minor, Literary- Critical Approaches to the Bible: An Annotated Bibliography (West Cornwall, CT: Locust Hill, 1992), confirms this impression. Of its 2,254 entries, the vast majority date after 1980 and very few were written before 1970. 10His earlier works include, The Art of Persuasion in Greece (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1963) and Classical Rhetoric and Its Christian and Secular Tradition from Ancient to Modern Times (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1980). Kennedy’s main contribution in Biblical studies is his New Testament Interpretation through Rhetorical Criticism (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1984). In making the connection between classical rhetoric and that used in the Bible, Kennedy writes: “Though rhetoric is colored by the traditions and conventions of the society in which it is applied, it is also a universal phenomenon conditioned by basic workings of the human mind and by the nature of all human society. Aristotle’s objective in writing his Rhetoric was not to describe Greek rhetoric, but to describe the universal facet of human communication” (ibid., 10). 11See, e.g., Michael Fox, who states in his study of Ezekiel 37: “For in Israel we have a well-documented major rhetorical movement entirely independent of the classical tradition from which Western rhetoric and rhetorical criticism descend” (“The Rhetoric of Ezekiel’s Vision of the Valley of Bones,” Hebrew Union College Annual 51 [1980]: 5). For an older study that identifies classical rhetorical devices used in the Bible see, E. W. Bullinger, Figures of Speech Used in the Bible: Explained and Illustrated (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1968; reprint of an 1898 original). 12New Testament Interpretation through Rhetorical Criticism, 11. Kennedy discusses OT rhetoric in Classical Rhetoric and Its Christian and Secular Tradition from Ancient to Modern Times (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1980), 120-125. 13For example, Origen was interested in the rhetorical affects of the prophets. See the discussion by Lawrence Boadt, “The Poetry of Prophetic Persuasion: Preserving the Prophet’s Persona,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 59 (1997): 1-21, 1-2.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 395 Borrowing methods from literary studies also shines a helpful light that would not have been possible using only the traditional methods of Biblical studies. Martin Luther underscores the value of rhetoric in the proclamation of the Gospel.

I am persuaded that without knowledge of literature pure theology cannot at all endure, just as heretofore, when letters have declined and lain prostrate, theology too has wretchedly fallen and lain prostrate; nay, I see that there has never been a great revelation of the Word of God unless He has first prepared the way by the rise and prosperity of languages and letters, as though they were John the Baptists. Certainly it is my desire that there shall be as many poets and rhetoricians as possible, because I see that by these studies, as by no other means, people are wonderfully fitted for the grasping of sacred truth and for handling it skillfully and happily. Therefore I beg of you that at my request (if that has any weight) you will urge your young people to be diligent in the study of poetry and rhetoric.14

Indeed, the study of rhetoric supplies proclaimers of prophetic texts with added comprehension, insight, and appreciation. Such work is just beginning to contribute significantly to the interpretation of prophetic literature.

Historical Overview

Aristotle defined rhetoric as follows: “Rhetoric is the faculty (power) of discovering in the particular case what the available means of persuasion are.”15 He believed rhetoric brought persuasion through ethos, pathos, and logos. Ethos relates to the credibility of the person speaking, pathos

14Luther’s Correspondence II, ed. P. Smith and C. M. Jacobs (Philadelphia: United Lutheran Publishing House, 1918), 176-177; cf. D. Martin Luthers Werke: Kritische Gesamtausgabe, Briefwechsel, vol. 3: 49-50; Luther’s Works, ed. Jaroslav Pelikan and Helmut Lehmann [St. Louis: Concordia, 1972], vol. 49: 32-35). Soon after Luther outlined his theology in the 1518 Heidelberg Theses, he wrote to his old teacher Trutfetter, “I believe simply that it is impossible to reform the church if the canons, the decretals, the scholastic theology, the philosophy, the logic as they now are not uprooted and another study installed” (D. Martin Luthers Werke: Kritische Gesamtausgabe, Briefwechsel, vol. 1: no. 74). Luther’s “other study” would be that of renaissance humanism in which rhetoric was a major component; see Robert Rosin, “The Reformation, Humanism, and Education: The Wittenberg Model for Reform,” Concordia Journal 16 (October 1990): 301-318 and Ulrich Nembach, Predigt des Evangeliums: Luther als Prediger, Padagoge und Rhetor (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1972). For an overview of Luther’s approach to rhetoric, see Martin Buss, Biblical Form Criticism in Its Context, JSOTSup 27 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), 94-98. 15Scriptorium Classicorum Bibliotheca Oxoniensi—Aristotelis Ars Rhetorica, ed. W. D. Ross (Oxford: Clarendon, 1959), 1355: 25 (all translations are the author’s).

396 refers to the emotional appeal of the speaker, and logos concerns the logical nature of the argumentation. Aristotle writes: “It is not enough to know what we ought to say; we must also say it as we ought…the way in which the thing is said does affect its intelligibility.”16 Other ancient rhetoricians built upon this foundational work of Aristotle.17 Chaim Perelman and Luci Olbrechts-Tyteca state that these rhetors distinguished between three types of oratory; the deliberative, the forensic, and the epideictic.18 Forensic or judicial rhetoric had its Sitz im Leben in the courtroom. It sought to accuse or defend an audience. Deliberative rhetoric was at home in the forum. It sought to convince and move the audience to make the right decision for the future. Epideictic or demonstrative rhetoric was exercised in the marketplace or amphitheater, where the audience judged the oratory of the speaker in order to praise or blame him.19 Summarizing and evaluating the modern20 study of rhetorical criticism is a daunting task. Perhaps the most influential voice has been that of James Muilenburg in his 1969 Society of Biblical Literature presidential address “Form Criticism and Beyond.”21 In this work he criticizes form

16Ibid., 1362. For a useful anthology of readings from classical times to the present, see Patricia Bizzell and Bruce Herzberg, The Rhetorical Tradition (Boston: Bedford, 1990); Edward Corbett, Classical Rhetoric for the Modern Student (New York: Oxford University Press, 1971); and Brian Vickers, In Defense of Rhetoric (Oxford: Clarendon, 1988). 17Ancient precursors to the rhetorical study of OT prophets are mentioned by Tremper Longman, “Literary Approaches to Old Testament Study,” in The Face of Old Testament Studies: A Survey of Contemporary Approaches, ed. David Baker and Bill Arnold (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1999), 101-102. Kathy Eden traces the rhetorical tradition from Cicero, Quintilian, and Plutarch through Basil and Augustine to Erasmus, Melanchthon, and Flacius (Hermeneutics and the Rhetorical Tradition: Chapters in the Ancient Legacy and Its Humanist Reception [New Haven: Yale University Press, 1997]). 18The New Rhetoric: A Treatise on Argumentation (South Bend, IN: University of Notre Dame, 1969), 21. This work revived the old rhetoric of Aristotelian thought. 19That how (style, form) is as important as what (message, content) is an essential rhetorical premise. Style is the weapon that any speaker employs to reach an audience. For a classical presentation of style see, Demetrius, On Style, trans. W. Rhys Roberts, Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard, 1953), 76-90. 20For a detailed discussion on rhetorical criticism in light of Postmodernism, see I. Angus and L. Langsdorf, “Unsettled Boundaries,” in The Critical Turn: Rhetoric and Philosophy in Postmodern Discourse (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1993), 1-24. 21Journal of Biblical Literature 88 (1969): 1-18. Prior to Muilenburg’s 1968 address, modern Biblical scholars had not displayed much interest in rhetorical analysis. The exceptions are: L. Alonso Schökel, Estudios de Poetica Hebrea (Barcelona: Juan Flors, 1963); E. M. Good, Irony in the Old Testament (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1965); R. G. Moulton, The Literary Study of the Bible: An Account of the Leading Forms of Literature Represented in the Sacred Writings (Boston: Heath, 1899). Though published twelve years before his presidential address, Muilenburg’s commentary on “Isaiah 40-66” (The Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible, vol. 5 [New York: Abingdon, 1956]: 381-773) already exemplified many of the principles contained in the 1968 address. A few examples may suffice: sounds are used by means of onomatopoeia, paronomasia, alliteration,

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 397 criticism because of its tendency to ignore the artistry and particularity of a text’s literary features. Form criticism tends to “obscure the thought and intention of the writer or speaker.”22 According to Muilenburg, form criticism fixated on conventions, slighted historical commentary, and separated form from content while isolating small units. It neglected the individual, personal, unique, particular, distinctive, precise, versatile, and fluid features of texts. Whereas form critics looked for what is typical, Muilenburg argued for an investigation of the particularities of a given text. He believed in the possibility of large unified compositions where component genres are built together into a rhetorical whole. His interest was in the identification of formal devices such as parallelismus membrorum, strophic structure, and repetition. Hence, Muilenburg paved the way for a more holistic approach to literary units that began the current emphasis on the rhetorical nature of prophetic texts. Today, genetic links are strongly connected to Muilenburg, but there have been many new offspring.23 One major new offspring is that of Wilhelm Wuellner, who claims that rhetorical critics of the Muilenburg school are “victims of the fateful reduction of rhetorics to stylistics, and of stylistics in turn to the rhetorical tropes and figures.”24 In place of this “old” rhetoric, Wuellner calls for a “new rhetoric,” which goes back to the classical definition of rhetoric—the art of persuasion.

approximations to rhyme, repetition, dominance of a single sound throughout a line, two successive words with similar sounds, and lines beginning and ending with the same sound (ibid., 387). For a summary of Muilenburg’s views see Roy Melugin, “Muilenburg, Form Criticism, and Theological Exegesis,” in Encounter with the Text, ed. Martin Buss (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979), 92-96. 22“Form Criticism and Beyond,” 4-5. For Muilenburg the form criticism of Herman Gunkel endured. The “beyond” represented not the rejection of form criticism but its supplementation with rhetorical criticism. 23Phyllis Trible writes: “Classical rhetoric, literary critical theory, literary study of the Bible, and form criticism: even as these components constituted the background for the Muilenburg proposal, so they continue to provide the context in which biblical rhetorical criticism takes place” (Rhetorical Criticism [Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1994], 55). For a discussion on the trends in rhetorical criticism from the 1960s to the 1990s, see Trible, Rhetorical Criticism, 73-80, and Duane Watson and Alan Hauser, Rhetorical Criticism of the Bible: A Comprehensive Bibliography with Notes on History and Method (New York: E. J. Brill, 1994). 24“Where Is Rhetorical Criticism Taking Us?” Catholic Biblical Quarterly (1987) 49: 452-453. Walter Brueggemann also finds Muilenburg’s type of rhetorical criticism “too enamored of style to notice speech as a means and source of power” (“At the Mercy of Babylon: A Subversive Rereading of the Empire,” Journal of Biblical Literature 101 [1991]: 17-19).

398 A Definition of Rhetorical Criticism

Persuasion

Persuasion is the key component that delineates the current use of rhetorical criticism from that of the Muilenburg School.25 According to Terry Eagleton this method of rhetorical criticism examines the way discourses are constructed in order to achieve certain effects.26 It sees speaking and writing not merely as textual objects to be aesthetically contemplated but as forms of activity inseparable from the wider social relations between writers and readers, orators and audiences, and as largely unintelligible outside the social purposes and conditions in which they were embedded. In this move beyond Muilenburg, rhetorical critics highlight not only the stylistic features of prophetic texts but the persuasive aspects as well. Yehoshua Gitay has been the major force in bringing the idea of rhetoric as persuasion to the study of the OT prophetic corpus.27 He outlines the structure of texts in classical rhetorical terms: thesis, argument for it and against alternatives, ethos, and pathos. Dale Patrick and Allen Scult articulate this method of rhetorical criticism that focuses upon both stylistics and persuasion: We believe rhetorical criticism does indeed hold the key to realizing Muilenburg’s vision, but not if it is unnecessarily confined to an analysis of stylistic devices. In order to lead to a deeper penetration into the particularity and concreteness of the text, the “rhetoric” in rhetorical criticism must be broadened to its fullest range in the classical tradition, namely, as the means by which a text establishes and manages its relationship to its audience in order to achieve a particular effect. This, of course, includes stylistic devices, but goes beyond style to encompass the whole range of linguistic instrumentalities by which a discourse constructs

25See C. C. Black, “Keeping Up with Recent Studies XVI. Rhetorical Criticism and Biblical Interpretation,” ExpTim 100 (1988-1989): 252-258. Black’s contrast between the approach of Muilenburg and that of George Kennedy is helpful: “For Muilenburg ‘rhetoric’ is virtually synonymous with ‘literary analysis’; for Kennedy, the term refers to the disciplined art of persuasion, as conceptualized and practiced by Greeks and Romans of the classical and Hellenistic periods” (254). 26Literary Theory: An Introduction (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1983), 205-206. 27Gitay adopts classical nomenclature and definitions for his study of prophetic discourse. He admits one could devise a new scheme but considers the Greco-Roman one to be sufficiently universal to apply to prophecy. He, therefore, adopts the tripartite division of the rhetorical situation: forensic (argumentation and judicial cases), deliberative (debating over policy), and epideictic (praising and blaming). Isaiah, according to his analysis, falls under deliberative and epideictic; see Isaiah and His Audience: The Structure and Meaning of Isaiah 1-12, Studia Semitica Neerlandica (The Netherlands: Van Gorcum, Assen/Masstricht, 1991).

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 399 a particular relationship with an audience in order to communicate a message.28 Both stylistics and persuasion are important to the rhetorical task, which assumes a single prophet intentionally set forth his message and that to do so he would often employ different perspectives, genres, themes, and styles.29 Although it is hardly possible and perhaps not desirable to distinguish strictly between rhetorical factors and stylistic-aesthetic factors, emphasis on persuasion is the sine qua non of rhetorical criticism as used in contemporary approaches to prophetic literature. This assumption leads to two basic beliefs. First, the prophets played a role similar to that of the political orator of ancient Greece, that is, they sought to persuade a group of hearers.30 Second, they generally did not speak in short, enigmatic, self-contained sayings. It follows that in the construction of a speech, a prophet devised appeals to the audience’s reason and emotions and thereby established personal credibility. In classical rhetoric these devices are called modes of invention.31 The discourse needed to be structured to prepare the audience to hear the thesis, to refute opposing views, and then to wrap the address up with the main points and application. The prophet employed literary formulas and figures to make the speech persuasive. Whatever analytical model is applied to prophetic rhetoric, it must be appropriate for the analysis of persuasive appeals operating at highly symbolic levels and finely tuned to the particularity of the audience. L. J. deRegt, L. deWard and J. P. Fokkelman write:

28Rhetoric and Biblical Interpretation (Sheffield: The Almond Press, 1990), 12. Likewise, Wilhelm Wuellner states, “The Babylonian captivity of rhetoric occurs when it is reduced to stylistics” (“Where Is Rhetorical Criticism Taking Us?”, 457). He also writes: “Rhetorical criticism has lost its power and its reason for being, if it is reduced to, or equated with literary criticism, hermeneutical criticism, or structuralist criticism, regardless what vintage or variety” (“Hermeneutics and Rhetorics,” Scriptura 3 [1988]: 43). 29This approach could take a number of other names, like “pragmatic criticism” or “communication analysis.” Indeed, a different designation might help to distinguish it from the Muilenburg school. The contributors to the Muilenburg Festschrift frequently use “stylistic or rhetorical-critical examination” interchangeably (Rhetorical Criticism, ed. J. J. Jackson and M. Kessler [Pittsburgh: Pickwick, 1974], 99, 112, etc.). 30For a discussion on how classical rhetoric is involved in this rhetorical approach, see Trible, Rhetorical Criticism, 5-13. Demosthenes says, “But for what is he [the orator] responsible? To discern events in their beginnings, to foresee what is coming, and to forewarn others. These things I have done. Again it is his duty to reduce to the smallest possible compass, wherever he finds them, the slowness, the hesitation, the ignorance, the contentiousness, which are the errors inseparably connected with the constitution of all city-states; while on the other hand, he must stimulate men to unity, friendship, and eagerness to perform their duty” (De Corona, para. 246, as noted by Charles Shaw, The Speeches of Micah: A Rhetorical-Historical Analysis [Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993], 21). Shaw uses this approach, as do John Hayes and S. A. Irvine, Isaiah the Eighth Century Prophet: His Times and His Preaching (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1987). Others have also compared the prophetic role to that of the political orators of ancient Greece. Noteworthy is Edward Strachey, Jewish History and Politics, (London: W. Isbister, 1874), 3-4, who uses the same words of Demosthenes to describe the work of the prophets. 31This section is dependent upon Gitay, Isaiah and His Audience, 6-7.

400 Whereas it is hardly to be doubted that ancient Israelites also cultivated this art in order to put their case in most persuasive manners and to couch their inner experiences, thoughts and emotions in outwardly attractive and appealing forms, they have not left behind any treatise laying down rules of rhetoric and containing discussions or expositions of them, as theoreticians and practitioners of the art of the classical world did. This means that rules of ancient Hebrew rhetoric need to be identified and ferreted out through a close study of the texts.32 The office of prophet was unlike the other positions of power and responsibility in Israel. Kings, priests, and judges carried institutional authority. As long as they acted within their institutional competence, the community recognized their actions. On the other hand, prophets had to persuade their audience of their divine origin.

Historical Setting

Not only is persuasion an important element in defining the rhetorical task, but so is the component of historical setting.33 It is important to capture the original “rhetorical situation” between the speaker and audience within the domain of the historical paradigm. Gitay writes: “The prophetic language is a reflection of both the rhetorical situation and the prophet’s goal, and has to be studied accordingly.”34 John Hayes and S. A. Irvine write: “A rhetorical situation involves an audience, a speaker, a topic or issue of mutual concern, a shared world of meaning, and an occasion for communicating.”35 This idea concurs with the words of Elisabeth Fiorenza: “Rhetorical criticism focuses on the persuasive power and literary strategies of a text that have a communicative function in a concrete historical situation.”36 Indeed, rhetorical criticism attempts to “render a satisfactory account of how the text functioned in the life-situation which gave it its original form.”37

32Literary Structure and Rhetorical Strategies in the Hebrew Bible (The Netherlands: Van Gorcum, 1996), ix. 33Some advocates of the rhetorical approach refrain from discussing the historical dimension of the texts they study (the classic work in Reader Response Criticism is by Stanley Fish, Is There a Text in This Class?: The Authority of Interpretive Communities [Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1980], esp. 197-245). Indeed, some are very careful to distinguish their work from that of historical reconstruction (see, e.g., Dale Patrick, The Rhetoric of Revelation in the Hebrew Bible [Minneapolis: Fortress, 1999]. Patrick brackets out the original audience and focuses upon what the rhetorical effect is for the reader. 34“Reflections on the Study of Prophetic Discourse: The Question of Isaiah 2-20,” Prooftexts 3 (1983): 223. Gitay also writes: “A major problem in the analysis of any speech is the need to understand it in its proper context. In fact, the audience’s understanding depends on the type of the discourse” (ibid., 225). 35Isaiah the Eighth Century Prophet, 61. 36Rhetoric and Ethic: The Politics of Biblical Studies (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1999), 108. 37Rhetoric and Biblical Interpretation, 25.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 401 To summarize the discussion up to this point, the current state of OT rhetorical criticism of the prophets is rhetorical to the extent that it assumes that the texts are literary artistries, composed for oral delivery in a specific historical situation and that the author/speaker had specific persuasive goals in mind. W. M. W. Roth’s definition of rhetorical criticism offers a helpful summary of the method developed to this point: (1) Determine the extent of the unit; (2) identify the rhetorical situation; (3) determine the rhetorical strategy, that is, what the speaker is attempting to accomplish; (4) identify the rhetorical technique; (5) analyze the unit as a whole, understanding that is it more than the sum of its individual parts.38

Pragmatics

With its emphasis on the persuasive and historical nature of texts, rhetorical criticism is assisted by “pragmatics.”39 Pragmatics deals with “the function of a discourse as a whole—that finally a speaker/writer wants actually to accomplish things with words.”40 What pragmatic theories hold in common is the recognition that language is not mere talk about something; it actually does something.41 Pragmatics arises in reaction to what John Austin calls the descriptive fallacy, the view that a declarative sentence is always used to describe some state of affairs.42 His investigation was spurred by the phenomenon

38“Rhetorical Criticism, Hebrew Bible,” in Dictionary of Biblical Interpretation, ed. John Hayes, vol. 2, (Nashville: Abingdon, 1999), 398. Roth’s method is similar to that of Douglas Miller, (“What the Preacher Forgot: The Rhetoric of Ecclesiastes,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly [2000]: 215-235). Miller states that rhetorical criticism is concerned to determine: “1. The limits of the rhetorical unit to be studied; 2. The rhetorical situation of the unit, involving persons, events, objects, and relations; 3. The particular problem or issue that is addressed; 4. The arrangement of the material; 5. The devices of style employed and their function in the process of persuading the unit’s audience” (216). 39The modern usage of the term is attributed to the philosopher Charles Morris (1938) who was concerned to outline the general shape of a science of signs, or semiotics. For a full discussion see Stephen Levinson, Pragmatics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983). 40James Voelz, What Does This Mean?: Principles of Biblical Interpretation in the Post-Modern World, 2nd ed. (St. Louis: Concordia, 1997), 277-278 (author’s emphasis). 41The classic work is by Austin, How To Do Things with Words, 2nd ed., ed. J. O. Urmson and M. Sbisa (Oxford: Clarendon, 1975). The basic features of the speech act philosophy of Austin are summarized by Hugh White, “Introduction: Speech Act Theory and Literary Criticism,” in Speech Act Theory and Biblical Criticism, ed. Hugh White (Scholars Press: Decatur, GA, 1988), 1-25. White explains the ways Austin’s philosophy has been applied to literary criticism in Biblical studies. The focus is not on what literature means but rather on what literature does. Linguists believe the concerns of pragmatics are dealt with by exploring the attitudes of producers (“intentionality”), receivers (“acceptability”) and the communicative settings (“situationality”). For a study that integrates pragmatics and the OT see Christopher Mitchell, The Meaning of BRK, “To Bless” in the Old Testament (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1987). 42How to Do Things with Words, 3. This practical Anglo-American approach to language is at odds with the skeptical approach of French deconstruction. See, e.g., Jacques Derrida, “Signature Event Context,” in Limited Inc, trans. Samuel Weber and Jeffrey Mehlman (Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1988), 1-23.

402 of performative language—a statement that does not describe, but “is, or is part of, the doing of an action.”43 To utter sentences in the appropriate circumstance is not to describe what you are doing. It is doing it, and Austin calls such utterances performatives or performative utterances. He distinguishes them from constatives or constative utterances that are used to state a fact or describe a state of affairs. With such sayings, speakers do not state facts; instead, given appropriate circumstances, speakers actually perform conventional actions with their words.44 The study of pragmatics has been taken up by linguists45 as well as by rhetorical scholars.46 In order to demonstrate how pragmatics is integrated into the rhetorical criticism of Israel’s prophets, two concepts need further delineation, the first being the definition of an utterance’s illocutionary force. The illocutionary force of a statement is what a speaker is doing in speaking. For example, an illocutionary utterance may state, promise, or warn. These descriptions refer not to the causal effect of the words but to their significance as viewed by convention, or rather, to their meaning in the situation.47 The situation and societal conventions determine the illocutionary force. The proper person must speak the words in the socially accepted situation and in the proper form or else the utterance is invalid. Only a person standing in the appropriate institutional or relational position can make such a declarative act.48 The words themselves do not have power.49 But when the speech is properly performed in the appropriate

43How to Do Things with Words, 5. 44It may be decided whether something is or is not a performative by testing whether “saying so makes it so.” For example, if I say “I promise,” I thereby promise. Whereas if I say “I walk,” I do not thereby walk. Again, performative verbs name actions that are performed, wholly or partly, by saying something (state, promise); non-performative verbs name other types of action, types of action that are independent of speech (walk, sleep). 45See, e.g., G. N. Leech, Principles of Pragmatics (New York: Longman, 1983). 46Jan Botha makes this connection between rhetorical criticism and pragmatics: “Rhetorical criticism can get us into contact with texts as power once again, and not just with texts as embodiments of content” (“On the Reinvention of Rhetoric,” Scriptura 31 [1989],14). 47Cf. J. R. Searle and D. Vanderveken, Foundations of Illocutionary Logic (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), 51ff. 48Houston writes: “As we have decided to treat prophetic oracles on their own terms as words proclaimed on the authority of God to his people, this aspect is taken care of” (“What Did the Prophets Think They Were Doing?: Speech Acts and Prophetic Discourse in the Old Testament,” Biblical Interpretation 1, 2 [1993]: 182). Concerning Isaiah’s appropriate institutional role, Hayes and Irvine write: “Whether he [Isaiah] was a priest or other cultic authority, court official, or member of the royal family remains unknown, but he clearly seems to have assumed and to have been granted authoritative standing both in the community at large and at the royal court in particular” (Isaiah: The Eighth- Century Prophet, 62). 49Proverbs 27:14 is a good example. When a greeting blessing is spoken in a loud voice too early in the morning (an inappropriate form and context), people will respond to it as if it were a curse. Clearly, the blessing words themselves are not self-fulfilling, i.e., ex opere operato.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 403 context, society accepts the illocutionary utterance as an accomplished act.50 The second area needing delineation is the text’s perlocutionary force. Austin and his followers use the word perlocutionary to denote the effect the illocutionary act has on the hearer. This includes persuading, deterring, surprising, misleading, or convincing. Perlocutionary acts are performed by saying something rather than in saying it. For example, the prophets describe themselves as weapons and tools in the hand of Yahweh, as in Hosea 6:5: “Therefore I have hewn them by the prophets, I have slain them by the words of my mouth.”51

Poetry

The pragmatic nature of prophetic literature (i.e., its illocutionary and perlocutionary forces) moves the discussion toward the relationship between rhetoric and poetry.52 Poetry here is understood not in terms of the

50Isaac’s testamental blessing in Genesis 27 is a prime example of such an illocutionary speech act. Moreover, verses in Genesis 1, Jeremiah 1:9-10, and Isaiah 55:10-11 refer to words spoken by Yahweh. These verses illustrate how performative speech is only valid when spoken by the proper person. 51An earlier generation of OT scholars understood the prophetic word not in terms of pragmatics but rather as part of the larger phenomenon of ancient Near Eastern language. This viewpoint is set forth by Gerhard von Rad, Theologie des Alten Testaments, vol. 1 & 2, 2nd ed. (Munich, 1961)—English editions trans. D. M. G. Stalker (London: Oliver and Boyd, 1965), 80ff. His thesis was that the OT reflects the ancient Near Eastern understanding of words having a certain “magical” power. Bruce Vawter echoes this understanding when he states:

What lies behind this particular formulation is the common Semitic conception of the built-in efficacy of the uttered word. In the Old Testament “word” and “deed” are, or frequently are, one and the same: blessings, curses, prophetic pronouncements all obtain their efficacy from their very assertion and from then on lead a life of their own. They were, rather, in a society where written documents and instruments were few, testifying to the dynamic effect which perforce had to be attributed to the spoken word” (On Genesis: A New Reading [Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1977], 41-42).

Countering this idea is, among others, Walter Houston, “What Did the Prophets Think They Were Doing?” 52For an overview of the history of the discipline of OT poetry, see Andrew H. Bartelt, The Book Around Immanuel: Style and Structure in Isaiah 2-12 (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1996), 1-4; Lawrence Boadt, “Reflections on the Study of Hebrew Poetry Today,” Concordia Journal 24 (April 1998): 156-163. Stephen Geller, “Were the Prophets Poets?” in This Place Is Too Small for Us, The Israelite Prophets in Recent Scholarship, eds. D. J. A. Clines and J. C. Exum (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1995), 154-165, states the problem is as follows: “A prophet is a forth-speaker, the mouthpiece of a god. A poet is a ‘maker,’ a craftsman in words. The former is a medium, the latter, an artist. A prophet who consciously molded his prophecy would be false. A poet whose verse did not reflect his personality would be no true artist” (154). He goes on to write: “Israel also felt the tension between prophecy and poetry. It may be perceived in Ezekiel’s touchy complaint that the people view him as a mere maker of parables, a singer of love songs (Ezek. 21:5; 33:32)” (155).

404 distinction between prose and poetry but rather in the use of artistic rhetoric. Classical theorists, basing themselves on Aristotle’s Rhetoric, argue for the “poetic” not in the distinction between prose and poetry but in the use of artistic rhetoric to move the emotions, to delight and instruct through imaginative vision.53 This suggests that poetic language has various grades, all the way from strict meter up to narrative prose, and that even prose can have a high number of poetic elements and devices constituting what are often referred to in classical studies as Kunstprosa.54 In his explanation of the form and meaning of poetic texts Robert Alter raises the question: What does poetry say or express that prose cannot?55 He answers: “It is by means of poetry that the prophet’s historical audiences were immediately involved with the word of Yahweh.”56 Alter calls this, “the indeterminacy of the language of poetry” that engaged the audience.57 The form of prophetic discourse was a “means of making a public address more emphatic and—both literally and figuratively—more memorable.”58 Upon asking the same question, Murray Lichtenstein states more succinctly than what is found in Alter. Lichtenstein claims that the “why” of Biblical poetry lies in its “particular genius for effecting the direct, immediate involvement of its audience in a kind of emotional dialogue with both its form and content.”59 Poetry was popular with the prophets due to its persuasive voice in an initial situation of proclamation where Yahweh’s message was most likely delivered publicly; thus it “spoke more eloquently to the issue.”60 David Noel Freedman writes: The form and style, the selection and order of words, all play a vital role in conveying content, meaning and feeling. In poetry, the medium and message are inseparably intertwined to produce multiple effects at different levels of discourse and evoke a whole range of response: intellectual, emotional and spiritual.61 Therefore, if a major function of prophetic poetry is persuasive in nature, then the poetic mode of prophetic speech is not accidental to the prophetic

53Boadt, “The Poetry of Prophetic Persuasion,” 5. 54See Eduard Norden, Die antike Kunstprose von VI. Jahrhundert vor Chr. Bis in die Zeit der Renaissance, 2 vols. (Leipzig/Berlin: Teubner, 1898); Friedrich Blass, Die Rhythmen der asianischen und romischen Kunstprosa (Leipzig: Deichert, 1905). 55“The Characteristics of Ancient Hebrew Poetry,” The Literary Guide to the Bible, ed. Robert Alter and Frank Kermode [Cambridge: Belknap, 1987], 620). 56Ibid., 621. 57The Art of Biblical Poetry (New York: Basic Books, 1985), 141. 58“The Characteristics of Ancient Hebrew Poetry,” 621. 59“Biblical Poetry,” in Back to the Sources, ed. Barry W. Holtz (New York: Summit Books, 1984), 120. 59“Biblical Poetry,” in Back to the Sources, ed. Barry W. Holtz (New York: Summit Books, 1984), 120. 60Grant R. Osborn, The Hermeneutical Spiral: A Comprehensive Introduction to Biblical Interpretation (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1991), 216. 61Pottery, Poetry, and Prophecy: Studies in Early Hebrew Poetry (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1980), 1.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 405 office but rather “part of the strategy for letting the word make a difference in historical reality.”62 Walter Brueggemann states:

The shattering and forming of worlds is not done as a potter molds clay or as a factory makes products. It is done as a poet redescribes the world, reconfigures public perception, and causes people to re- experience their experience. To do that requires that speech must not be conventional, reasonable or predictable: it must shock sen- sitivity, call attention to what is not noticed, break the routine, cause people to redescribe things that have long since seem settled, bear surpluses of power before routine assessments.63

Conclusions

In light of these components that make up rhetorical criticism (persuasion—historical setting—pragmatics—poetry), the rhetorical analysis of Isaiah’s Song of the Vineyard offered at the beginning of this investigation is now better understood. The riveting introduction (“let me sing for my beloved my love-song”), along with his puns, rhymes, inclusio, and repetition are all stellar examples of persuasive rhetoric. The historical understanding (Sitz im Leben) of the text—harvest time—adds power to the parable. Imagine holding a cluster of grapes in your hand and celebrating with your friends when all of a sudden you are accused of being like wild, stinking, useless grapes! Such irony is typical in prophetic sermons.64 More than simply imparting information, the discipline of pragmatics indicates that the prophet’s illocutionary thrust is to promise the people of Jerusalem Yahweh’s certain judgment; in so doing Isaiah’s perlocutionary thrust brings about this actual and objective condemnation. Yahweh said it, and that settles it! Finally, the use of poetry assists Isaiah in making his sermon more lively and memorable as well as giving him the ability to actually create his own words to parallel those already in his listeners’ vocabulary. A fine sermon, indeed! So much so that the greatest Prophet and Preacher of them all, Jesus our Lord, couldn’t help but use Isaiah’s Song of Vineyard as a model for one of his most memorable sermons (cf. Matt. 21:33-46; Mark 12:1-12; Luke 20:9-19).

62“The Book of Jeremiah: Portrait of the Prophet,” Interpretation 37 (1983), 135. 63Ibid., 138. 64The classic study is by E. M. Good, Irony in the Old Testament (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1981). The favorite victim of irony is the alazon, the one who pretends to have more knowledge, more power, or more privilege than he really has. As D. C. Muecke writes: “It is not especially ironic when a man dives into an empty swimming pool thinking it to be full; but when the man is the diving instructor, the irony is wonderful” (The Compass of Irony [London: Methuen, 1969], 28). Wayne Booth states: “Irony demands that we look down on other men’s follies or sins, it accuses other men not only of wrong beliefs but of being wrong at their very foundations and blind to what these foundations imply” (A Rhetoric of Irony [Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1974], 44).

406 To be sure, the Greeks became intellectually conscious of the art of rhetoric. Yet, as they applied their knowledge to the art of political discourse, Israel’s prophets applied it to their sermons. However, unlike the Greeks, the prophets did not reflect on rhetoric theoretically, for such reflection was foreign to the modes of discourse in which they were engaged. But just as the system of classical rhetoric can legitimately be used to analyze prophetic literature, there is a need for caution. The approach cannot simply be to determine how prophetic discourse conforms to the observations of classical rhetoric. Rather, it must also describe how prophetic discourse differs (perhaps in significant ways). Thomas Renz writes:

We do not know much about the training of scribes, priests, and prophets at that time, and in any case our own training in Hebrew language and in rhetorical analysis derives from sources different from theirs. Nevertheless, I attempt to show that we are able to grasp the nature of their arguments, as we are able to grasp the nature of their language to a sufficient degree to call it “understanding.”65

Therefore, the best approach is to proceed inductively, neither identifying prophetic texts with one of Aristotle’s three species of rhetoric nor analyzing the text’s rhetorical techniques and strategies according to the traditionally prescribed list. Those in prophetic studies who use the model outlined in this study seek to understand a text’s persuasive elements, historical situation, pragmatics, and poetry by drawing on whatever analogies and resources seem appropriate.66 That is to say, the best way to approach a specific prophetic text is as one would approach the interpretation of a portrait. For a portrait is both art and history; it is an artistic creation serving a referential end. On the one hand, in appreciating a portrait, one may admire its artistry, the consummate brushwork, the well-conceived composition, and the judicious selection of detail. Failure, however, to recognize that all of this artistry is marshaled to serve a historical purpose—to capture a true and telling likeness of a historical person—will miss the main point. This failure is comparable to the ahistorical rhetorical approaches that are encountered in some Biblical studies today.67

65The Rhetorical Function of the Book of Ezekiel (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 8. Additionally, James Crenshaw, “Education in Ancient Israel,” Journal of Biblical Literature 104 (1985): 601-615, cites evidence of schools in Israel during that more than likely taught rhetoric. For a more complete discussion, see also Crenshaw, Education in Ancient Israel: Across the Deadening Silence (New York: Doubleday, 1998), 85-114. 66Edwin Black comments: “We have not evolved any system of rhetorical criticism, but only, at best, an orientation to it. An orientation, together with taste and intelligence, is all that the critic needs. If his criticism is fruitful, he may end with a system, but he should not, in our present state of knowledge, begin with one. We simply do not know enough yet about rhetorical discourse to place our faith in systems” (Rhetorical Criticism [Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1978], 177).

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 407 Approaching a portrait fully aware of its referential/historical intent but with little understanding of the artistic medium in which it is rendered also misses the point. The danger in such cases is that a lack of awareness of how the medium communicates may lead to misunderstandings of just what the medium communicates. This failure is comparable to the first interpretation rendered on Isaiah 5:1-7; seeking to mine a Biblical text for historical and cultural information while not approaching it with sufficient rhetorical sensitivity. Just as the best way to “read” a portrait and to grasp its significance is to combine historical interest with competent appreciation of the artistic medium employed, so the best way to appropriate prophetic texts for pastoral ministry is to combine historical interest with a competent appreciation of the rhetorical medium employed. In short, the better the understanding is of the artistic workings of a portrait or Biblical text, the better is the grasp of the historical subject depicted. As D. Levin observed more then three decades ago in a different context: “One of the first contributions that the critic of history can make is to serve as an intelligent reader who is willing to understand and discuss the rhetoric in which history is written.”68 Prophets could not be effective if they were tied to a stereotyped non- rhetorical language because stereotypical language is a language of cliché. The immediate danger of cliché is the audience’s passive response. This is what Homer meant when he spoke about the poet’s creativity: “For men praise that song the most which comes the newest to their ears.”69 By using rhetorical criticism in the study of Israel’s prophets, pastors will see their preaching become more prophetic—that is, their sermons will become more memorable and persuasive as they herald Yahweh’s ultimate Word made flesh for us and for our salvation.

67For discussions on these interpretive strategies see D. J. A. Clines and J. C. Exum, “The New Literary Criticism,” in The New Literary Criticism and the Hebrew Bible. D. J. A. Clines and J. C. Exum, eds. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement 143. (Sheffield: Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Press, 1993), 11-25. 68In Defense of Historical Literature: Essays on American History, Autobiography, Drama and Fiction (New York: Hill and Wang, 1967), 23. 69As noted by Gitay, “Reflections on the Study of Prophetic Discourse,” 213.

408 Review Essay

Schweitzer’s Quests for Jesus and Paul

Matthew L. Becker

THE MYSTERY OF THE KINGDOM OF GOD: The Secret of Jesus’ Messiahship and Passion. By Albert Schweitzer. Translated by Walter Lowrie. Foreword by Jackson Lee Ice. Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books, 1985. 174 pages. Paper. $21.95.

THE QUEST OF THE HISTORICAL JESUS: A Critical Study of Its Progress from Reimarus to Wrede. By Albert Schweitzer. First edition. Translated by William Montgomery. Preface by F. C. Burkitt. Foreword by Delbert Hillers. Baltimore and London: The Johns Hopkins University Press in association with The Albert Schweitzer Institute, 1998. 413 pages. Paper. $18.95.

THE QUEST OF THE HISTORICAL JESUS. By Albert Schweitzer. First complete edition. Translated by William Montgomery, J. R. Coates, Susan Cupitt, and John Bowden. Edited by John Bowden. Foreword by Dennis Nineham. Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress Press, 2001. 562 pages. Paper. $33.00.

PAUL AND HIS INTERPRETERS. By Albert Schweitzer. Translated by William Montgomery. New York: Schocken Books, 1964. 255 pages. Paper. No price given.

THE MYSTICISM OF PAUL THE APOSTLE. By Albert Schweitzer. Translated by William Montgomery. Foreword by Jaroslav Pelikan. Baltimore and London: The Johns Hopkins University Press in association with the Albert Schweitzer Institute, 1998. 411 pages. Paper. $18.95.

The writings on Jesus and Paul by Albert Schweitzer (1875-1965) may collectively be considered one of the most influential theology projects of the twentieth century. Since the projects of Karl Barth (1886-1968), Rudolf Bultmann (1884-1976), and Wolfhart Pannenberg (1928-) reflect, in their respective ways, engagement with the methodology and conclusions of Schweitzer and his religionsgeschichtlichen comrades, Schweitzer’s

Dr. Matthew L. Becker is Associate Professor of Theology and Director of Pastoral Studies Program at Concordia University in Portland, OR.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 409 masterpieces may turn out to be the most significant theology texts of the past century. Even though Schweitzer’s understandings of Jesus and Paul have been severely criticized, his analysis discloses in a superior fashion the inner connection that existed among the various individuals who sought to understand Jesus and Paul in purely historical terms. Schweitzer shows at which point(s) a scholar contributed to or detracted from the clarification of the problems and their solution, as defined by Schweitzer according to his presuppositions and rational inquiry. Schweitzer’s conclusions are, of course, classics in their own right. Thus Schweitzer’s works on Jesus and Paul call for periodic restudy. Now that Fortress Press has made available for the first time an English translation of the complete edition of The Quest for the Historical Jesus, English-speaking readers may actually examine the revised version that Schweitzer considered his final position on the topic. In addition, the recent Johns Hopkins reprints of the first edition and of Schweitzer’s second book on Paul make for a reasonable excuse to reexamine Schweitzer’s theological project as a whole. (Perhaps Fortress or some other press will soon provide new, updated translations of the other three texts which, together with Quest, form his project in toto.)

Schweitzer’s Achievements

Before turning to this project, however, a brief summary of the main achievements of this uncommon man is in order. Son of a Lutheran pastor, from a family that contained several Lutheran pastors, Schweitzer grew up in an idyllic Alsatian village. He was a precocious child. By the time he was twenty-five he had completed a doctorate in philosophy (with a dissertation on Kant’s philosophy of religion) and a doctorate in theology (with a dissertation on the relation of the Last Supper to Jesus and to the history of primitive Christianity). He then served as a university professor, parish pastor, organist, and director of the Protestant seminary in Strasbourg. During these early years of his professional life, he wrote his most well-known theology text, a seminal analysis of what has come to be called—as a result of William Montgomery’s selection of a Schweitzer phrase for the title of his translation—“the first quest” for the historical Jesus. Schweitzer’s revision of the first edition took place while he was completing his third doctorate (in medicine) and while he was finishing the first part of his “quest” for the historical Paul. The doctorate in medicine prepared him to fulfill his firm decision, made when he was twenty-one, to give his life in service to humanity from the age of thirty onward. During the years when he served as a university lecturer in theology and philosophy, as a pastor, as an organist, and as a medical intern, Schweitzer also earned the equivalent of a fourth doctorate, in music. His two-volume study of J. S. Bach (1905) is a classic in its own right. From childhood into old age, Schweitzer continued to perfect his masterful skills as church organist,

410 Bach scholar, renowned concert performer, and advisor to organ builders. Even after 1913, when he departed for French Equatorial Africa (now Gabon) to serve as a physician and hospital administrator in Lambaréné, he continued to find solace in music and in the writings of Goethe. While working late into the evenings in Africa or while he traveled to and from Europe, Schweitzer completed the second part of his study of Paul and began to write a multi-volume philosophy of civilization. In 1952 Schweitzer was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, which he received in 1953. By that time his fame had spread around the world. His mature ethical philosophy, conveniently summarized by the phrase, “Reverence for Life,” is a deceptively simple moral philosophy to grasp, if not actually to practice.

The First Edition of The Quest for the Historical Jesus

Schweitzer’s history of the critical investigations of Jesus appeared in 1906 under the dull and dry title, Von Reimarus zu Wrede (more forthrightly subtitled, Geschichte der Leben-Jesu-Forschung), and was translated into English in 1910 by Montgomery, long before Schweitzer acquired the fame that he did. Since then Montgomery’s translation has been the text that English-speaking readers have had available to them. The 1998 Johns Hopkins’ edition is merely the latest reprint of the Montgomery version, a translation that reflects a late-nineteenth-century British style. Montgomery, it should be noted, often exaggerated the style of Schweitzer and sometimes distorted his content. Even though the new, complete edition of Quest, edited by long-time German translator, John Bowden, grew from the Montgomery translation, it corrects many of these errors. The Johns Hopkins’ edition begins with the ominous assertion that “the greatest achievement of German theology is the critical investigation of the life of Jesus…. We are here dealing with the most vital thing in the world’s history” (1-2). For Schweitzer, this “most vital thing” ran a course from H. S. Reimarus (1694-1768) through the work of William Wrede (1859- 1907) to Schweitzer’s own work. Reimarus, whose Apologie was partly published first by Gotthold Lessing (1729-1781) as Fragments by an Unknown Author (1774-1778), was the first to apply the historical method to the Gospels and to Jesus. Through a combination of historical and literary methods Reimarus argued that Jesus was thoroughly oriented to the eschatological expectations of His contemporaries and should be understood completely in these terms. Wrede, on the other hand, held that Jesus did not think or act eschatologically at all, and that we can actually know very little about the historical Jesus. Schweitzer’s own position, which is similar to Wrede’s anti-Liberal view but closer still to that of Reimarus, was built upon the thesis of Johannes Weiss (1863-1914), who held that the central element in Jesus’ ministry was His proclamation of the imminence of the end of the world and the coming kingdom of God. Along the way from Reimarus to Schweitzer, the reader of the latter’s Quest meets all the

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 411 other significant investigators and many lesser-known figures whose interpretations of Jesus fall somewhere between the poles established by Reimarus/Weiss and Wrede. All thinkers in this history are judged on the basis of how well they contributed to the clarification of the problem that Schweitzer thought he had solved by means of his thesis of “consistent” eschatology (konsequente Eschatologie). Thus, all figures are judged by how well they contributed to the liberation of the historical method from supernaturalism, to the recognition that the Synoptics are more valuable as historical sources than John, and to the triumph of the eschatological view of Jesus over against the non-eschatological view. This cluster of issues forms the problem of the historical Jesus, as Schweitzer understood it. According to his autobiography, Schweitzer began this work by putting on the floor of his apartment all of the critical studies of Jesus that had so far been produced. Schweitzer then attempted to classify them and to group them into piles. These piles then were formed into a line of development that traversed his room. Among all the piles, there were only two texts that lay positively by themselves: Reimarus’ Fragments, which was placed at the beginning of the line, and the Leben Jesu of David Friedrich Strauss (1808-1874), published in 1835 (4th rev. ed., 1840; Eng. trans., The Life of Jesus, 1846), which was placed at its center. Wrede’s work, Das Messiasgeheimnis in den Evangelien (“The Messianic Secret in the Gospels”) and that of Schweitzer himself, Das Messianitäts- und Leidensgeheimnis (Eng. trans., The Mystery of the Kingdom of God, 1914), both of which appeared in 1901, formed the last pile.

Reimarus, Rationalism, and the Rise of the Historical Method

Schweitzer’s description of the development of the historical method for investigating the Gospels is anything but dull and dry. His analysis is careful, perceptive, and often epigrammatic. The chapter on Reimarus, for example, offers a helpful summary of this thinker’s spirit and main ideas. Reimarus understood Jesus to have been a political leader who failed in his mission of social reform. According to Reimarus, Jesus’ disciples were responsible for inventing the story of Jesus’ resurrection from the dead in the wake of their failed social and political hopes. The disciples stole Jesus’ body from the tomb and then transformed their Messianic ideas into the hope of the Lord’s “second coming.” Although Schweitzer held Reimarus in high esteem, he criticized him for not really understanding the nature of Jewish apocalyptic and for allowing his polemic against Christian theology to get in the way of objective historical understanding. Still, Reimarus was important since he set in motion a way of investigating the Scriptures that would shake the foundations of orthodox understandings. His passionate desire for truth was coupled with his assumption that such truth could only stand on reason and history.

412 While Schweitzer acknowledged that the use of the historical method was inconsistent among those who used it, especially among the rationalists, who tended not to have a real sense for the historical, the goal of the method was to understand the life of Jesus according to the strict canons of historical investigation, apart from dogmatic or supernaturalist concerns. Those who used the method sought to examine critically the sources of the life of Jesus as if they were no different from any other ancient text. Over time, the method itself underwent modification by New Testament scholars, particularly with regard to the role of the historian’s presuppositions, something Schweitzer helped to expose, but generally speaking, the initial “questers” sought to understand Jesus in purely historical-rational-naturalistic terms over against traditional dogmatic understandings. These latter understandings, thought by orthodox theologians to be grounded in the divinely inspired (and thus completely harmonious) canonical Gospels and defined in the Creeds and dogmatic tradition of the church, came to be criticized by eighteenth and nineteenth- century thinkers as unhistorical, unnatural, unquestioned, and uncritical. Thus, for Schweitzer, the greatest “Lives” of Jesus were those that did more than the others to separate the historical method from the traditional, dogmatic understandings of Jesus. Not surprising, Schweitzer held that the best of these “Lives,” those of Reimarus, Strauss, and Bruno Bauer (1809-1882), were written with hate toward orthodox Christian dogma and theology. “But for the offense they gave, the science of historical theology would not have stood where it does today” (4-5). The first to respond to Reimarus’ criticisms were representatives of rationalism, and their response was more or less a failure as far as Schweitzer was concerned. In various, often inventive, ways the rationalist “Lives” attempted to explain all or most supernatural elements in the Gospels in terms of natural, secondary causes. Heinrich Paulus (1761-1851), for example, thought the Gospel writers were simply ignorant when it came to understanding natural laws. While Schweitzer had no problem with the attempt to understand Jesus in rational terms, he faulted the rationalists, such as Paulus, Karl Bahrdt (1741-1792), and Karl Venturini (1768-1849), for not being sufficiently historical in their approach. In most of these early rationalist portraits, Jesus was understood as a social reformer, who overthrew the superstitions of His day and sought “to bring religion within the domain of reason” so that “the religion of humankind” could become “ethical, intelligible, and spiritual” (33). Jesus was the great teacher of enlightened virtue and reason, and He was used as an ally in the fight against established dogma. De-mystify the Gospels to rid them of their supernaturalistic elements and modernize Jesus along rationalist lines, and one is left with the real Jesus, or so the rationalists thought. But the problem of the historical Jesus is more complicated than merely the supposed opposition between “history” (or “reason”) and “dogma,” since

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 413 nearly all the questers that Schweitzer examined, not merely the rationalist ones, had sought “to present the historic Jesus in a form intelligible to [their] own time” (4). “Each successive epoch of theology found its own thoughts in Jesus; that was, indeed, the only way in which it could make him alive” (ibid.). Therein lies the main reason for the multiplicity of conflicting portraits of Jesus among those who used the historical method: Nearly every quester, attempting to be rational and historical, discovered a Jesus that reflected the quester’s own values and ideals.

The Centrality of Strauss in the Quest for Jesus

Strauss’s literary work, which Schweitzer called “one of the most perfect things in the range of learned literature” (78), undid all previous attempts to understand the Jesus of history, though it really does not present a “Life” of Jesus per se. Strauss attacked both rationalists and traditionalists with such wit and exhaustive criticism that he was the most feared and the most reviled theologian of the nineteenth century. More talked about than carefully studied, Strauss’s work not only faulted the traditionalists for what Strauss thought were their illogical and unhistorical dogmatic constructions; he was particularly disdainful toward the rationalists for providing naturalistic explanations to Jesus’ miracles that were more fantastic and artificial than the traditional explanations (e.g., Jesus jumped from one submerged rock to another to give the impression he was walking on water; the 5,000 secretly brought their own food; and so on). Strauss was especially critical of “rational supernaturalism,” evident in the lectures on Jesus by Friedrich Schleiermacher (1768-1834) and in the works by Karl von Hase (1800-1890). Strauss criticized Schleiermacher for his attempt to rationalize most miracles while still holding on to other so-called “inexplicable” elements in the Gospels (e.g., leaving open the question as to whether the resurrection of Jesus was a supernatural event or merely a recovery from an apparent death). For Strauss, “the inexplicable elements” in the Gospels were perfectly explicable as “myth.” According to Schweitzer’s description of Strauss’s thesis, “Even though the earthly life of the Lord falls within historical times, and even if only a generation be assumed to have elapsed between his death and the composition of the Gospels, such a period would be sufficient to allow the historical material to become intermixed with myth. No sooner is a great man dead than legend is busy with his life” (79). The mythical approach of Strauss, influenced by the idealist philosophy of Georg Hegel (1770-1831), assumes that the Gospels contain elements that appear to be “history” but are really non-historical religious ideas that have been “shaped by the unconsciously inventive power of legend, and embodied in a historic personality” (ibid.). In other words, according to Strauss, the Gospels contain narratives that look like historical reports but are really religious ideas that have been imaginatively clothed in the form of history.

414 Neither supernatural explanation nor rational explanation is capable of correctly understanding the Gospels since they are not really about nature or history; they are the product of religious imaginations that have concretized the concept of the God-man. Whereas a few pre-Strauss critics utilized a “mythical” approach with regard to certain elements in the Gospels (e.g., Jesus’ coming into the world and His departure from it) and understood most of the other elements naturalistically, Strauss applied his notion of myth consistently to all elements of the Gospels. Strauss moved through each of the pericopes in order to differentiate the historical from the mythical and thereby remove the supernatural entirely from the historical understanding of Jesus. Thus Strauss forced scholars to reckon with the first “great alternative which the study of the life of Jesus had to meet…either purely historical or purely supernatural” (238). Schweitzer judged that Strauss had made the right choice, i.e., the purely historical, but he criticized Strauss for extending the concept of myth to matters that really were historical and not imaginative. That Strauss’s anti-supernaturalism led to Strauss’s vilification and to his being denied a teaching position in the German university system made him all the more a tragic hero for Schweitzer, whose lively and insightful analysis is still among the best available. (Schweitzer’s account could have been strengthened had he paid attention to Ferdinand Christian Baur’s [1792-1860] criticism of Strauss’s lack of attention to the theological Tendenz [“tendency”] and coherence of each Gospel. Likewise, Schweitzer could have paid more attention to those who attacked Strauss’s artificial and imprecise notion of myth.)

The Jesus of Liberal Theology

Nonetheless, Strauss does not escape unscathed from Schweitzer’s narrative. Thirty years after the publication of the first edition of Leben- Jesu, Strauss tried to do for the German people what Ernst Renan (1823- 1892) had done for the French, viz., to write a definitive, harmonious portrait of Jesus that made Him fit neatly into the cultural situation of the day. (In Schweitzer’s judgment, Renan had “to perfume” the New Testament “with sentimentality in order to feel himself at home in it” [192]). Strauss’s attempt to do the same was unsuccessful in many respects, not least because Strauss lacked the aesthetic flair of Renan, who did more than anyone else in the nineteenth century to popularize German ideas about Jesus. More significantly, Strauss had adopted the major goal of Liberal theology, which was to make Jesus a contemporary. Thereby Strauss had compromised the purer form of criticism evident in the work of 1835. His new “Life” was no different in kind from the Jesus found in the works of Hase and in the lectures of Schleiermacher. Schleiermacher’s Jesus, who had been hidden since 1819, could now (1864) show his face since Strauss

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 415 was at one with a dominant goal of academic theology. Schweitzer was appalled at this betrayal by Strauss, and it saddened him that he had to consign this work of his hero to the pile of Liberal “Lives.” In this large pile one also finds such now-forgotten scholars as Daniel Schenkel (1813-1885), Carl Weizsäcker (1822-1899), and Theodor Keim (1825-1878); and they are all attacked for portraying in their works a Jesus after their own hearts and minds. They sought to distinguish the universal Jesus of Christianity from His nonessential Jewish particularity, including its eschatology. For these Liberal theologians, Jesus set out to found an ideal, progressive, ethical kingdom of God on earth that Christians are called to “build” or “extend.” Such a notion, however, is far from Schweitzer’s understanding of the kingdom. Still, according to Schweitzer, Liberal historical theology did assist the progress of the quest by framing and answering the second “alternative” which the study of the life of Jesus had to address, namely, “either Synoptic or Johannine.” This alternative was worked out by the Tübingen school (i.e., Baur and his students, including Strauss) and Heinrich Julius Holtzmann (1832-1910), who was Schweitzer’s Doktorvater for the Th. Degree. These individuals demonstrated for the majority of German New Testament scholars the untenable character of John as a historical source for the life of Jesus. (Unfortunately, Baur is one of the few scholars who deserved much more treatment in Schweitzer’s account than he was given.) Likewise, Holtzmann and Christian Weisse (1801-1866) offered persuasive arguments for Marcan priority, arguments that are still dominant today. These arguments, which discerned more history than “myth” in the Gospels, put limits on Strauss’s approach. In addition, Holtzmann developed Hase’s theory of a psychological development in Jesus’ self-consciousness over the course of two periods in Jesus’ life, that of “success” (climaxing with Peter’s confession at Caesarea Philippi) and a subsequent period of “failure” (defined by the concept of the suffering Messiah). Among those interested in the historical Jesus at this time (ca. 1860s through the 1880s), the focus shifted to the question of Jesus’ originality and to His personality. The rationalist concern for reinterpreting the miracles was left behind. In a certain sense, historical investigation gave way to methodical literary investigation of the Gospels. Pushed to the center of these discussions were the concepts (e.g., “the kingdom of God”) and the titles (e.g., “Son of Man”) that occur in the Gospels. “The first step towards further progress was the simple one of marshalling the passages in such a way as to gain a single consistent impression from them” (243). A consistent theme in the work of Weisse and Holtzmann was the reinterpretation of eschatology in order to make the kingdom a present, ethical, and spiritual reality.

416 The Resurrection of Reimarus by Weiss

But this Liberal approach to reconstructing the public ministry of Jesus was undone in principle in 1892 when Weiss resurrected Reimarus and firmly situated Jesus as a first century Jewish apocalyptic preacher who announced the coming of God’s kingdom and the imminent destruction of the world. Weisse’s book, Die Predigt Jesu vom Reiche Gottes (Eng. trans., Jesus’ Proclamation of the Kingdom, 1971), is a mere sixty-seven pages, but it articulated for the first time an interpretation of the Gospels that is radically and consistently eschatological, that is, “world-denying.” Ironically, Weiss was the son-in-law of Albrecht Ritschl (1822-1889), whose ideas, though not always explicitly identified as such by Schweitzer, were the primary target of Schweitzer’s criticism against Liberal historical theology, since Ritschl and his students attempted “to modernize” Jesus and to reinterpret the eschatological elements in Jesus’ preaching along ethical- modern and not religious-historical lines. Schweitzer held that Weiss’s little work, which must have caused Ritschl to turn over in his grave, “has an importance equal to that of Strauss’s first Life of Jesus. He lays down the third great alternative which the study of the life of Jesus had to meet… either eschatological or non-eschatological!” (238). Weiss’s work was the undoing of Weisse’s work. (In the second edition of his classic Weiss qualified his earlier understanding of “world-denying” eschatology and moved in the direction of Liberal theology by also emphasizing the kingdom as an inner and present reality. Needless to say, Schweitzer deemed this shift to be a false move and thus he summoned Weiss to reconsider.)

A Non-eschatological Jesus and the Work of Wrede

From Weiss’s time to the present, works on the historical Jesus tended to be short and to the point and no longer the elaborate tomes as at the beginning and middle of the nineteenth century. Two factors contributed to this brevity: scholarly consensus regarding the rejection of John as a source for the historical Jesus and scholarly consensus regarding the plausibility of the two-source hypothesis for solving the Synoptic Problem. The main questions then became: Did Jesus think of Himself as the Messiah? And did He think and act eschatologically? Liberal theologians continued to try to answer “yes” to the first question and either “no” or “it no longer matters” to the second. Near the conclusion to his critical survey, Schweitzer analyzed the works of those who opposed the early Weiss’s purely eschatological reading of the Gospels. Wilhelm Bousset (1865-1920), for example, agreed with Weiss that Jesus needed to be firmly and totally understood in His own time and place, but he argued that there was more to the Jewish Jesus than mere eschatology. “Realistic and transcendental elements stand side by side” in Late Judaism, “unreconciled” (ibid.), and so also in Jesus. What

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 417 was needed now, according to Bousset, is a kind of spiritualizing and de- temporalizing of the eschatological elements. For Bousset, the modern situation necessitated the need to allow Jesus’ non-eschatological, world- affirming “personality and character” (e.g., His “joy in the world”) to have an impact on one’s own personality and character. In their own ways, other non-eschatological interpreters of the Gospels at the end of the nineteenth century, which included all of the prominent Ritschlians (e.g., Wilhelm Herrmann [1846-1922] and Adolf von Harnack [1851-1930]), did what others had done before; they also wanted to fit Jesus into the modern world view. Schweitzer’s primary task in relation to these attempts was to show how such projects are fatally flawed from the start. For Schweitzer, the topic of Harnack’s most famous lecture series, Das Wesen des Christentums (“The Essence of Christianity,” 1899-1900), must center on the Jewish eschatology of Jesus, not on its reinterpretation or its dismissal, as had occurred in Harnack’s lectures. (For his part, Harnack responded to Schweitzer’s criticism by saying, “If anyone finds it impossible to accept the antinomy ‘the Kingdom is future and yet present,’ argument with him is useless.”) For Schweitzer, another nail was hammered into the coffin of the Liberal understanding of Jesus through the work of Wrede, who had put forth the most skeptical of positions on the questions about Jesus’ eschatology and His self-consciousness. Wrede held that Jesus did not regard Himself as the Messiah and that He was proclaimed as such by His disciples only after their experience of His death and “resurrection.” (All religionsgeschichtliche theologians, including Wrede and Schweitzer himself, must put quotation marks around this latter term since they do not accept an actual resurrection of Jesus as reported in the Gospels.) Wrede’s book on “the Messianic secret” developed the thesis of Bauer, who held that even Mark is primarily a literary and theological construct that does not give much, if any, historical information about Jesus. The author of that Gospel is responsible for the so-called “Messianic secret” of Jesus, not Jesus. Mark had supposedly invented this secret to explain why most people did not recognize or acclaim Jesus to be the Messiah during His life. Jesus was acclaimed the Messiah only after the disciples’ experience of His “resurrection.” So the early church is responsible for eschatologizing Jesus, not Jesus. Thus, for Wrede, the whole outline of Mark, including its ordering of pericopes, is a literary construct that has no real basis in the history of Jesus. If this theory is correct, and Schweitzer thought it partly was, “the historicity of the hitherto accepted view of the life of Jesus, based upon the Marcan narrative, is called into question” (330). All Liberal attempts to defend a development of the Messianic consciousness of Jesus were thereby undermined.

418 Schweitzer’s Eschatological Solution

Scholars thus had a choice to make: either they could accept the literary solution of Wrede, which attributes the eschatological and inconsistent dogmatic elements to the Evangelist Mark (and from him to the other Synoptics), or they could adopt the eschatological solution, which “at one stroke raises the Marcan narrative as it stands, with all its disconnectedness and inconsistencies, into genuine history” (337). Schweitzer’s own position, of course, was the latter. His solution provides the lens by which he brought all the other studies into focus. Since Schweitzer had already presented his thesis of consistent eschatology in his 1901 book on Jesus, he did not repeat all the facets of that theory in Quest, but he did summarize enough of it to criticize Wrede’s literary/non- historical approach, while also accepting Wrede’s debunking of “the modern Jesus.”

The Jesus of Nazareth who came forward publicly as the Messiah, who preached the ethic of the Kingdom of God, who founded the Kingdom of Heaven upon earth, and died to give His work its final consecration, never had any existence. He is a figure designed by rationalism, endowed with life by liberalism, and clothed by modern theology in an historical garb (398).

But Schweitzer rejected Wrede’s skepticism with regard to the historical character of the Gospel witness. Whereas Wrede viewed Mark only as a collection of some “faded remnants” of an historical representation of Christ that had “been taken over into a supra-historical religious view” (339), and that thereby Mark was understood by Wrede to be a part of the history of dogma, Schweitzer held that early Christian understanding of Jesus had not interfered with the basic elements in the public life of Jesus. Against Wrede Schweitzer asked why the disciples would have wanted to pre-date the Messianic character of Jesus. Why should they want to acclaim Him Messiah, even after their experience of His death and “resurrection,” if He was no more than an ethical teacher during His earthly life and that His real dignity was kept a secret from even His closest followers? More pointedly, how could one refuse to understand the teachings of Jesus in the context of Jewish apocalyptic while at the same time accepting that context for one’s understanding of the disciples’ and Paul’s teaching? In Schweitzer’s judgment, Wrede could not give reasoned, adequate answers to these questions. The starting point of Schweitzer’s understanding of Jesus, put forth more fully in the 1901 work, is Jesus’ preaching of the nearness the kingdom. (The parenthetical references that follow are from the 1914 translation by Walter Lowrie, reprinted in 1985 by Prometheus Books.) The kingdom would come when the Son of Man came in His glory. Indeed, the kingdom

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 419 was so near that Jesus told the twelve, “Truly, I say to you, you will not have gone through all the towns of Israel before the Son of Man comes” (Matt. 10:23). Schweitzer understood these words to mean that Jesus promised that the kingdom would come cataclysmically before the twelve were finished with this specific mission. Furthermore, Schweitzer held that the kingdom that Jesus announced could not have been a spiritualized, present kingdom but only a cosmic, totally future kingdom in accordance with Jewish apocalyptic. All modern ideas (e.g., the gradual “development” of the kingdom; its “inner,” “spiritual” character) must be eliminated from Jesus’ idea of the kingdom of God. But the kingdom and the Son of Man did not come as Jesus had predicted. The twelve returned and things looked pretty much the same as before they had left. Thus Jesus was forced to change the focus of His ministry. He reminded them about the violent men who, since the days of John the Baptist, had been forcing the coming of the kingdom (Matt. 11:12). He told them that He would act to force the coming kingdom and do so by atoning for the sins of Israel, which must have been the reason the kingdom did not come as expected. Jesus would become the suffering Servant of Isaiah to make possible the coming of the Messianic Age in which the supernatural eschatological course of history would break through into the natural course (169-170). While Jesus knew that one of His own would betray His future messiahship to the authorities and that this would lead to His death (134-135, 172), He also told His disciples that they should not fear since “[s]ome are standing here who will not taste death before they have seen the Son of Man coming in His kingdom” (Matt. 16:28). “Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place” (Matt. 24:34). Yet only a few would receive this message favorably, and as a result live new lives in the expectancy of the kingdom’s/ Son of Man’s imminent arrival (67). While the baptism of Jesus “signified the inception of Jesus’ messianic consciousness” (75), He did not reveal this consciousness to His disciples until Caesarea Philippi, and even then He bid them to keep it a secret. For Jesus and His disciples, if the kingdom had not yet come, neither had the Messiah (114). When the kingdom came, then Jesus would appear as Messiah,

then shall his messiahship be revealed in glory. Such was the secret which he solemnly made known to his disciples.… In its very nature [his messiahship] was a secret, inasmuch as it could be realized only at a definite time in the future…for with the coming of the Kingdom his messiahship would be manifest (115).

Thus, in this reading, Jesus was not Messiah in His earthly life; rather, for the disciples, the secret of Jesus’ Messiahship meant that “their Lord and Master was the one who in the messianic age would be revealed as Messiah”

420 (116). His passion and suffering were viewed thereby as necessary means to His glorification as Messiah. Only before the High Priest did Jesus first “openly” make “profession of his messianic office” (75). This profession led the High Priest to pronounce his judgment against Jesus. Jesus was guilty of blasphemy and condemned to death. In the first edition of the Quest, Schweitzer summarized the outcome of Jesus’ plan:

[I]n the knowledge that He is the coming Son of Man [Jesus] lays hold of the wheel of the world to set it moving on that last revolution which is to bring all ordinary history to a close. It refuses to turn, and He throws Himself upon it. Then it does turn; and crushes Him. Instead of bringing in the eschatological conditions, He has destroyed them. The wheel rolls onward, and the mangled body of the one immeasurably great Man, who was strong enough to think of Himself as the spiritual ruler of mankind and to bend history to His purpose, is hanging upon it still. That is His victory and His reign (370-371).

The 1901 study ends with these simple words, “On the afternoon of the fourteenth of Nisan, as they ate the Paschal lamb at even, he uttered a loud cry and died” (173). For Schweitzer, Jesus’ death changed everything, but not in the way Jesus intended. What Jesus expected as a cataclysmic ending of the world had to become spiritualized by His followers after His death since the kingdom did not come as Jesus predicted. The church had to move beyond Jewish eschatology to develop an already-present, spiritualized kingdom, a de-apocalypticized eschatology. According to the 1901 study:

The Messiah was the Son of Man in the moment of his manifestation upon the clouds of heaven to reign in judgment over the world. Jesus thought exclusively of that moment, since only from that moment on was he for men the Messiah. The primitive church, however, seeing that a transitional period intervened, beheld Jesus as the Messiah in heaven above at the right hand of God. He was already the Messiah and did not have to become such at the moment of the appearing of the Son of Man. Because the perspective was shifted here also, one used the general expression “Messiah” instead of the title “Son of Man” which pointed to a particular scene. Jesus would have expressed himself inaccurately had he said, I am the Messiah—for that he was to be only when he appeared in glory as the Son of Man. The primitive Church would have expressed itself inaccurately had it said, Jesus is the Son of Man,—for after the Resurrection he was the Messiah at the right hand of God, whose coming as the Son of Man the Church expected (124-125).

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 421 For early Christians, Jesus’ resurrection was understood as the dawn of the Messianic era. “Jesus was the Messiah before the Messianic age! That is the fateful shifting of the perspective. Therein lies the tragical element— but magnificent as well—in the whole phenomenon of Christianity” (132). According to the first edition of Quest, Jesus will thus be “to our time a stranger and an enigma” (399). “He passes by our time and returns to His own” (ibid.). Schweitzer’s final paragraph in Quest, repeated in all editions, is perhaps the most frequently quoted portion of his theological project:

[Jesus] comes to us as One unknown, without a name, as of old, by the lake-side, He came to those men who knew Him not. He speaks to us the same word: “Follow thou me!” and sets us to the tasks which He has to fulfill for our time. He commands. And to those who obey Him, whether they be wise or simple, He will reveal Himself in the toils, the conflicts, the sufferings which they shall pass through in His fellowship, and, as an ineffable mystery, they shall learn in their own experience Who He is (403).

The Second Edition of The Quest for the Historical Jesus

Even though Schweitzer expanded and revised the second edition of Quest by some 241 pages to reflect developments from 1906 through the year before Schweitzer left for Africa (1912), he did not alter his commitment to consistent eschatology. While the second edition, published in 1913, is indeed “virtually a new book,” as Dennis Nineham’s “foreward” indicates, its conclusion, though expanded to account for criticisms from others, is totally consistent with that of the first edition. (The Fortress revision of the Montgomery translation is actually based on the ninth German edition, published in 1984, but editions three through nine only offered cosmetic adjustments to the second edition.) Aside from strengthening his position on consistent, thorough-going eschatology over against modern, Liberal theology, which Schweitzer asserted “attaches very little significance to the real Jesus and even now does not know the right way to come to terms with him” (410), Schweitzer turned his attention to the debates about the historicity of Jesus that had captivated public attention in Europe during the first decade of the twentieth century and to the work of scholars that were not discussed in the first edition, such as Alfred Loisy (1857-1940). Delbert Hillers’s “foreword” to the Johns Hopkins’ edition indicates that he apparently is unaware that Schweitzer spent over eighty pages in the second edition on the question of whether or not Jesus actually existed, a question that had been raised and answered negatively already by Bauer. Schweitzer would have had no need to discuss this question since German scholarship had already dealt with it effectively against Bauer’s views, but several German and British apologists for anti-Christianity, notably Arthur

422 Drews (1865-1935), had challenged the historical existence of Jesus and had created a series of media “events” that “aimed at cheap sensation” (394). And so Schweitzer could not avoid their arguments. “[U]nder present- day cultural and press conditions the importance of a subject is usually in inverse proportion to the degree of external excitement it arouses” (ibid.). After detailing the intricacies needed for such a seemingly preposterous theory that Jesus never lived, Schweitzer’s analysis of the arguments demonstrates that despite the ingenuity of some, the figure of Jesus is not fictional. The problem with most of the mythological interpretations of Jesus had to do with their inability to consider “that early Christianity could have come out of late Judaism” and not out of Gnosticism or Hellenism (418). Though it might be difficult to demonstrate that Jesus actually lived— and here Schweitzer’s argument could have been strengthened had he given more weight to the witness of Josephus, who continues to be the most important extra-Biblical witness to the historical Jesus—it is simply impossible to demonstrate that Jesus was a purely mythological creation. The mixture of rabbinic, apocalyptic, and ethical thinking evident in Jesus’ message is not to be found elsewhere in late Judaism. “Thus investigations which have been carried out by individuals substantiate the general and immediate impression that the teaching of Jesus must somehow go back to a historical personality of late Judaism” (434).

Post-Schweitzer Quests for Jesus

After 1905, few works on the historical Jesus were published in Germany. This was due to the criticism by Wrede and to Schweitzer’s own works on Jesus. While a good many scholars reacted passionately against Schweitzer’s Jewish-apocalyptic Jesus, which they labeled an unhistorical distortion of reality, only a minority undertook to articulate an alternative understanding of the historical Jesus. None of these was able to gain a consensus, and in just over thirty pages Schweitzer’s analysis demonstrates that, aside from Loisy’s work, which paralleled that of Weiss in its understanding of Jesus’ Messianic consciousness and eschatological behavior, scholars in this period offered nothing persuasive beyond the options set by Wrede and Schweitzer himself. Since most scholars were uncomfortable with Schweitzer’s cosmic eschatology and non-modern Jesus, he had few followers. Wrede’s skeptical view toward the historical Jesus, essentially repeated later by Bultmann, generally prevailed. Scholarly interest in the historical Jesus was not renewed until mid- century, when a few former students of Bultmann, notably Ernst Käsemann (1906-1998), focused attention on the eschatological kerygma of and about Jesus as a clue to the historical Jesus. Contrary to Wrede’s and Bultmann’s view that people cannot know much about the historical Jesus, these mid- century questers argued that one may encounter the historical Jesus through His authentic words.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 423 Those in the recent, so-called “third” quest agree that the historical Jesus may be found through His sayings, but they think most of the earliest, authentic sayings are found in the non-eschatological sayings source (“Q”) and in noncanonical texts, such as Thomas. It is interesting to note, however, that some today are offering Schweitzer’s basic position (often with important modifications) as an argument against those who hold that Jesus was non- eschatological. Of course, Schweitzer rejected Bultmann’s radical skepticism as well as all non-eschatological interpretations. Schweitzer’s preface to the sixth German edition of Quest (see pp. xxxv-xlv in the Fortress edition), published when he was seventy-five, indicates that he had kept up-to-date with regard to New Testament studies. For example, he knew well the work of Bultmann and his students and the work of C. H. Dodd (1884-1973), but he still thought consistent eschatology was the best solution to the problem of the historical Jesus. Schweitzer was especially critical of Dodd’s notion of “realized eschatology,” and he found Dodd’s defense of the historical reliability of the fourth Gospel unpersuasive.

Who Is Jesus according to Schweitzer?

But what does Schweitzer’s view mean finally for present faith? What significance does the historical Jesus have for present faith if His message and ministry ended in failure on the wheel of the world? Schweitzer’s second German edition of Quest offers the same answers to these questions as his first edition. Even though “the historical foundation of Christianity as built up by rationalistic, by liberal and by modern theology no longer exists,” Schweitzer asserted that Christianity has not lost “its historical foundation…. Jesus means something to our world because a mighty spiritual force streams forth from Him and flows through our time also. This fact can neither be shaken nor confirmed by any historical discovery” (479). For Schweitzer, Jesus still has a role for modern Christians when they seek to follow “the Master” and adopt for themselves a kind of mystical-ethical life that is grounded not in the historical Jesus but in a common bond between the ethical-rational will of Jesus and their own ethical will (485). “All that is required is that we think of realizing the kingdom by moral effort with the same passion as that with which he expected it to be realized by divine intervention, and that we know among ourselves that we must be prepared to sacrifice everything for it” (ibid.). “If we only allow the compelling force of his personality and his preaching of the kingdom their full expression, the alien and offensive elements can be quite calmly recognized” (ibid.) and left in the first century. Finally, for Schweitzer, the historical Jesus has a tenuous relation to the modern Christian because the modern Christian is caught between two contradictory forces. On the one hand the modern Christian lives in tension with the world-negating, eschatological message of Jesus. On the

424 other hand, the modern Christian lives in tension with the “world-affirming” “spirit of the world” and its “material and intellectual goods” (402). The problem with modern historical theology was its effort “to adjust [Jesus’] denial of the world to our acceptance of it” (480). According to Schweitzer, instead of misunderstanding Jesus people today ought to acknowledge that Jesus thought differently from modern people, reject as inconceivable Jesus’ supernaturally grounded eschatology, and replace it with what Schweitzer elsewhere called a kind of “practical” or “ethical” eschatology. He used this phrase, for example, to describe what he was doing through his mission work in Africa.

From Jesus to Paul

Schweitzer’s two-part quest for the historical Jesus led naturally to a two-part quest for the historical Paul. While Schweitzer was revising Quest (and preparing an edition of Bach’s Preludes and Fugues), he began his second quest. Due to the First World War and to complications in Schweitzer’s life, he was only able to publish the first part before he left for Africa. This first part, Geschichte der Paulinischen Forschung (1911; Eng. trans., Paul and His Interpreters, 1912), could just as easily be titled “The Quest for the Historical Paul,” since it sets forth the main problems in the history of Pauline scholarship. Just as in his earlier Quest, Schweitzer here attempted to demonstrate the unsatisfactory character of all previous scholarly solutions. The narrative history thus runs a course from Hugo Grotius (1583-1645), who was the first to study Paul’s writings using critical- philological analysis (as opposed to dogmatic interpretation), through Baur’s work, which argued for a distinction between the supposed authentic letters and the inauthentic and consequently opened the way for his thesis on the origin of Christian dogma. The narrative ends with analysis of the other scholars who continued the historical work of Baur in the second half of the nineteenth century (e.g., Holtzmann; Harnack, Jr.). Schweitzer then raised a question that he thought had been left unanswered in the history of this scholarship: Was Paul’s thought completely rooted in Jewish eschatology, as Jesus’ had been, or not? Schweitzer’s affirmative answer to this question set him apart from all previous scholarship. For Schweitzer the Hellenization of Christianity, the basic problem in the history of Christian dogma, only began with the Gospel of John and the Greek fathers. Thus Schweitzer also rejected the “both- and” solution of trying to find a middle ground between understanding Paul solely in terms of Hellenistic Judaism and understanding Paul solely in terms of Jewish apocalyptic. (As Pelikan also notes in his “foreword” to the second part of the work on Paul, Schweitzer’s analysis in that second part “relies so heavily upon the details of [Paul and His Interpreters] that a reader who does not know the earlier work will almost certainly miss at least some of the point of the argumentation” [xvii], and thus we can hope

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 425 that a reprint or, better, a new translation of this first part will soon be forthcoming.) When Schweitzer was finally able to publish the second part, Die Mystik des Apostles Paulus (1930; Eng. trans., The Mysticism of Paul the Apostle, 1931), which he had nearly completed already in 1911, the scholarly climate was more favorable toward his thesis. Both Bultmann and Martin Dibelius (1883-1947), for example, agreed that Schweitzer had correctly identified the nature of the problem, though they disagreed with Schweitzer’s rejection of Hellenistic influences on Paul. (One thing the form critics and Schweitzer agreed upon was Paul’s disinterest in the life of Jesus; cf. 2 Cor. 5:16.)

Paul: The Eschatological Mystic

Was it not a coincidence that Die Mystik appeared in the same year that Harnack died? For Schweitzer asserted, contrary to Harnack, that the heart of Paul’s theology is found not in Hellenistic Judaism nor in “justification by faith” but solely in Jewish eschatology, in terms of the mystical communion of the baptized with the risen Christ. According to Schweitzer, Paul’s eschatological mysticism expresses the union of the elect with the Messiah, an idea of “cosmic redemption” that is found in many apocalyptic sources and which could later be Hellenized by Christian thinkers like John and the Greek fathers. As Schweitzer put it in his autobiography, “By raising the eschatological belief in Jesus and the kingdom of God to the mysticism of fellowship with Christ, Paul has endowed it with a force that enables it to outlast the decline of the eschatological expectation and to be recognized by and integrated into various systems of thought as an ethical Christ-mysticism” (Out of My Life and Thought, trans. Antje Bultmann Lemke [New York: Henry Holt, 1990], 220). Schweitzer thus legitimated as authentically Pauline a prominent element in the theology of the Hellenistic church, though he concluded that the Greek theologians, too, had subordinated and transformed Paul’s eschatology. It was precisely this Jewish eschatological understanding that Hellenistic Christianity had shed in the process. Likewise, Luther’s central insight into Paul’s theology, the doctrine of justification by faith alone, was for Schweitzer only “a subsidiary crater, which has formed within the rim of the main crater—the mystical doctrine of redemption through the being-in-Christ” (225). Schweitzer thus rejected the traditional Protestant exegesis of Paul’s theology, which Schweitzer thought to be a form of “modernizing” Paul. Paul was not principally concerned with the troubled consciences of individuals, nor was he concerned with Christian “self-understanding,” as Bultmann would argue in the 1940s and 50s; Paul was mostly concerned with the transformation of the Kosmos that would be completed at the Eschaton. According to such statements as 1 Thessalonians 4:15 and 1 Corinthians 15:51-52 Paul fully expected that Eschaton to occur prior to the ending of his earthly life.

426 Nonetheless, by becoming incorporated into Christ through Baptism (e.g., Rom. 6), one participated in the promised redemption of the Kosmos. This mystical incorporation into Christ is the basis for the Christian life. So the second part of the study on Paul ends where Quest also ends, namely, in an ethical “Christ-mysticism.” Although Schweitzer’s lasting contribution to Pauline studies was his recognition of the eschatological tenor of Paul’s thought and his recognition (against Harnack) that the history of dogma began with Paul and not with a later stage of development, Schweitzer’s strict separation between Jewish apocalyptic and Hellenistic Judaism has been largely rejected by more recent scholarship. Scholars such as W. D. Davies (1911- ; see Paul and Rabbinic Judaism, 1948), Käsemann, and Krister Stendahl (1921- ) have demonstrated in convincing fashion that the distinction between Semitic Judaism and Hellenistic Judaism was not so clear-cut as Schweitzer thought and that Paul’s theology had been significantly informed by rabbinic ideas that go beyond Jewish apocalyptic (e.g., the Dead Sea Scrolls, which Schweitzer never took into account, even in the second editions of his Pauline studies, are proof positive that rabbinic devotion to Torah and eschatological expectation could exist side-by-side with each other). As Davies stated in a 1964 Society of Biblical Literature presentation, “The fact is that Schweitzer’s Paul is so exclusively eschatological that he cannot participate in the full richness of Judaism.” Much of Pauline scholarship during the second half of the twentieth century has focused on a deeper understanding of the relation of rabbinic Judaism to the thought of Paul, but this research was itself largely sparked by Schweitzer’s own work to situate Paul totally within first-century Jewish apocalyptic.

Critical Analysis of Schweitzer’s Quests

So what is one to make of Schweitzer’s massive four-part project on Jesus and Paul? While the orthodox, evangelical Christian will finally have to part with Schweitzer at the most basic of points, Schweitzer’s works on Jesus and Paul cannot be avoided. Indeed, in many respects they continue to be helpful tools for recognizing the limitations of historical and literary methods in the study of the New Testament. Schweitzer’s analysis properly frames even recent investigations into Jesus and Paul. Among the more obvious theological concerns one ought to have about Schweitzer’s historical positivism is his rejection of the central kerygmatic point of the Gospels, the witness to the resurrection of Jesus from the dead. That Schweitzer spent countless hours of his life studying and playing the chorales and Passions of Bach makes this rejection even more remarkable, perhaps even finally unbelievable. Schweitzer was likely the greatest humanitarian of the twentieth century, and he never tired of saying that all he ever did was done as a follower of his Master, Jesus, but the Gospel of Jesus, crucified and risen for the forgiveness of sins, is tragically missing from his theology.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 427 The works of Martin Kähler (1835-1912) and Adolf Schlatter (1852- 1938), magisterial scholars whom Schweitzer essentially disregarded, remind us that the Gospels are not really historical sources that will give us a “life” (much less a “biography”) of the historical Jesus. That is not their purpose. Though Kähler would have agreed with Schweitzer’s statement that Christian faith and life do not depend finally on the vagaries of historical science, he would not have agreed with Schweitzer’s own reasons for this statement. For Kähler, the Gospels—from beginning to end—are not merely concerned with Jesus as He was in His historical time, but with Jesus as He is, namely, the real and living, risen Christ (Der sogenannte historische Jesus und der geschichtliche, biblische Christus, 1892; Eng. trans., The So-called Historical Jesus and the Historic Biblical Christ, 1964). The Gospels then are expansions of the apostolic kerygma into a narrative form whose goal is the creation and sustenance of faith in the living Christ. This point was made even earlier by another scholar whom Schweitzer panned, Johann von Hofmann (1810-1877). Hofmann, who had taught Kähler much, argued that historical criticism in this positivistic framework does not allow the interpreter of the church’s (!) Scriptures to be open to the present experience of faith in the living, risen Christ, as confessed by the apostles, as formed in the divine liturgy, and as clarified in the dogmatic history of the church. In this regard, the Gospels share Peter’s and Paul’s kerygmatic goals and have as their presupposition an experience that goes beyond the bounds of the principles of historical positivism. This experience is itself the precondition for understanding the continuity between Jesus’ preaching, the apostles’ preaching of Jesus, the divine liturgy, and the development of Christological dogma in the history of the church. Schweitzer’s understanding of eschatology is therefore deficient at the most crucial of points. Jesus was an apocalyptic Jew, who announced the coming kingdom of God through His preaching, teaching, and activities, and through them He did “force the wheel of the world.” Though He ended up a failure and dead on this “wheel,” the wheel itself became broken and transformed through His resurrection. The event of His death and resurrection mark the beginning of the end of the old age, though obviously this “ending” has not immediately led to the temporal, physical ending of creation as expected in Jewish apocalyptic. It should be noted that the eschatological theologians (e.g., Pannenberg and Jürgen Moltmann [1926- ]) have appropriated and transformed Schweitzer’s eschatology at precisely this point. (These theologians do not put the word resurrection in quotation marks!) In the wake of the resurrection of Jesus, the church was led to conclude that the kingdom of God has come and it is still to come. Many have noted, therefore, that Schweitzer was himself unable to escape his own criticism. He, too, was guilty of fitting Jesus and Paul into his own cultural values. One senses here more than a little of Kant’s mature moral philosophy and Nietzsche’s notion of heroism that have become

428 attached to a radically eschatological, world-negating understanding of Jesus and Paul. The Jesus who emerges in the 1901 work and in the final pages of Quest is one that fits within the limits of Schweitzer’s reason alone, a Jesus that bears a striking similarity to Schweitzer’s own life, wonderful life that it was. That having been said, one also needs to underscore the relevance of Schweitzer’s four-part project for today. Mention has already been made of Schweitzer’s importance in the history of Pauline studies. The same could be said for Schweitzer’s contribution to the history of Christian mysticism. Schweitzer’s criticism of the Liberal, non-eschatological “Lives” of Jesus is also certainly relevant today in light of those who want to understand Jesus mostly in light of reconstructions of “Q” and the wisdom sayings in Thomas. The questions Schweitzer leveled against Wrede could be leveled today against many third questers. His eschatological position is perhaps then a welcome ally against the non-eschatological reading of the Gospels, if not finally satisfactory on its own. Schweitzer’s criticism of Bauer and the apologists of anti-Christianity also fits our contemporary scene, wherein popularizers attempt to destroy the faith of the faithful with views that are themselves incapable of withstanding careful, rigorous criticism. One of the great achievements of Schweitzer’s second edition of Quest is to show how previous errors that had been addressed effectively in the past often reappeared in new, more public forms. Pastors and educated laypeople who are unfamiliar with the history of Gospel criticism put themselves at risk of being duped by recent and often inferior imitations of earlier, misguided, or outdated positions. Schweitzer’s study leads one to be cautious about faddish understandings of Jesus that attempt to make Jesus palatable to our age. Schweitzer’s historical approach and its criticism of a purely literary approach to the Gospels are also appropriate to our situation. Schweitzer’s analysis of Strauss’s criticism and its development in Bauer’s and Wrede’s purely literary approaches to the Gospels, which led Bauer and Wrede to conclude in their respective ways that the Gospels and their central characters are mostly fictional, should be a warning to those who want to adopt similar non- or anti-historical approaches to the Gospels. Does not a purely or a mostly literary approach to the Gospels, or an approach which is unwilling or unable to address historical questions, lead necessarily to consistent skepticism about Jesus? Schweitzer’s text indicates that that has typically been the case. The living Jesus of the Kerygma always escapes the grasp of the person who would attempt to understand Jesus purely historically or purely literarily, but in our day it seems that the emphasis has shifted toward the literary end of the spectrum and thus there is the need to be reminded that the Gospels are witnesses to events that the disciples “saw and heard” (Acts 4:20). While everything in the Gospels was shaped by the disciples’ experience of the resurrection, not everything in the texts is the result of

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 429 that experience. Their experience of the risen Christ did not do away with their memories of Jesus prior to His crucifixion. It is a huge stretch to conclude that their memories were faulty or that their motives for speaking and acting were deceptive, especially when one considers the risks that the disciples took for such speaking and acting. Schweitzer’s account demonstrates that in the history of investigating the Gospels many have been overconfident in the use of their reason. Perhaps contrary to Schweitzer’s own ideals, his narrative discloses that the truth of the Gospel is of a different character than the truths that human reason is capable of discovering on its own. While the correct responses to Enlightenment rationalism and historical positivism cannot be irrationalism or anti-rationalism or anti-historical inquiry, one’s rational investigation of Holy Scripture ought to be humble and self-critical in the face of facts and realities that go beyond the domain of the sciences. While the principles of the Enlightenment ought not to be rejected in toto, their limitations ought to be recognized. Finally, no English translation can reproduce Schweitzer’s style, which is among the best in the modern German language, approaching close to the benchmarks of Goethe and Nietzsche. Schweitzer’s blending of elegance, simplicity, wit, and humor make him fun to read in his own language. Montgomery, who died in 1930, did an admirable job of translating three of the four parts of Schweitzer’s theological project, though his own style often gets in the way. Lowrie’s translation of the 1901 work, on the other hand, is better in this regard, though it too is dated. Even though the Fortress edition will now become the standard edition of Schweitzer’s Quest in English, it also has some faults. There are numerous typographical errors that often impede one’s reading (e.g., pp. xlv, 11, 70, 79, 126 [should read “Bauer” and not “Barth”], 146, 197, 198, 208, 271, 274, 297, 320, 338, 357 [The first full sentence should read “symbolic” for “mythical”], 381, 382, 385, 481, 487), and there are several inconsistencies within the translation itself (e.g., konsequent is sometimes rendered “consistent” and sometimes “thorough-going”). While the errors of the Fortress edition are a nuisance, this new edition is an advance over the Johns Hopkins’ reprint and provides an introduction to historical and theological matters that are not as settled as Schweitzer thought, nor as settled as many presently think. Present-day questers in search of adequate historical understandings of Jesus and Paul must still get their bearings from Schweitzer, even if they must also finally attempt to set off in directions different from his.

430 Short Studies

Ordination Is Not Other Than ...

Norman E. Nagel

“This is not other than the first day of spring.” Or a little more naturally, “This is none other than the first day of spring.” Which is to say that is just what it actually is. Similarly then Paragraph 70 of the Tractate: “...nec aliud fuit ordinatio nisi talis comprobatio,” “...die Ordination nichts anders gewest dann solche Bestätigung.”1 The latest translation by R. Kolb and T. Wengert has, “Ordination was nothing other than such confirmation.”2 This does better than Tappert who quite shamelessly refuses to translate aliud/anderst and instead inserts ‘more,’ thus introducing comparative size and quantity. “Nor was ordination anything more than such confirmation.”3 The Triglotta is innocent of such misdoing: “Ordination was nothing else than such ratification.”4 Similarly Jacobs: “Neither was ordination anything else than such a ratification.”5 Henkel: “Ordination was nothing else but this approbation.”6 Here comprobatio is translated. KW declined to attempt to translate comprobatio and instead repeated confirmatio slipping in the German text—as if words are ever entirely equationable. Talis likens, not equates. What does comprobatio then do that has not already been done by confirmatio? While “ratification” is not a particularly lovely word, it does make clear that something is not operative until ratified. You may have a passport in perfectly good order, but you may not proceed until the border guard has ratified/stamped it as authentic. A will may be in order, but it is not operative until probated. A stronger term would be comprobated, stronger too than approbated. That would give us an utterly defensible translation. Dr. Johnson (the lexicographer,

1Die Bekenntnisschriften der evangelisch-lutherischen Kirche (Göttingen, V & R, 1956), 492, 2. Hereafter BKS. 2The Book of Concord, ed. R. Kolb and T. Wengert (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2000), 341. Hereafter KW. 3The Book of Concord, T. Tappert (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1959), 332. Hereafter Tappert. A similar misdeed occurs at Tractate 11 which says the church is more than the ministers— both. Tappert has instead: “the church is over the ministers.” KW does even worse: “The church is superior to its ministers.” Triglotta and Jacobs guilty: “above.” Henkel innocent: “greater than.” See “How ‘valid’ is it to trust translators?” Concordia Journal 17 (1991), 380. Pieper’s German has it right. 4Triglot Concordia (St. Louis: Concordia, 1921), 524. Hereafter Triglotta. 5The Book of Concord ed. H. Jacobs (Philadelphia: Board of Publications of General Council, 1908), 350. 6The Christian Book of Concord (Newmarket: Henkel Bros, 1851), 321. See KW, vii. Dr. Norman E. Nagel is Graduate Professor of Systematic Theology at Concordia Seminary in St. Louis, MO.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 431 not the theologian) might be expected to approve,7 but perhaps not Dr. Luther considering his “that’s no natural German way to speak.”8 Can we settle for Latinate “ratification”? Best we try another run up to it. Paragraph 69 speaks of two things the doing of which make a minister: election and ordination. Paragraph 67 spoke of three: call, election, and ordination. Paragraph 69 says the church may not be robbed of these, in support of which 1 Peter 2:9 is quoted (the only time this text appears in the Book of Concord). The one they were threatened with robbery of was ordination. Any such robbery would hardly try to take all three away at once. Better one at a time, but to do that you have to first pull them apart and play them off against each other. This is one we can do without; the others will suffice. And if we can dispose of one, why not then the others? Until all three may appear dispensable, and then we can do things as we best think of it. Usually, however, at least one is retained to do the whole job as we may insist. The bishops loyal to the pope were refusing ordination to evangelical candidates. The need for ministers increased as those ordained died out. The evangelicals did not say, “Well then, we’ll do without ordination.” They said we’ll not be robbed of it. We’ll not be deprived of ministers. The royal priesthood, the church, has been given the right to elect and ordain ministers, and this we do as has always been done from as early as we know of. The people elect, the clergy ordain (70). The Tractate spends a good deal of time showing that Peter was one among the apostles who were not subordinated to Paul but were together with him in the same office “as equals” (8). Within the same office apostles, presbyters, bishops, and ministers may be variously assigned. If you want your child baptized, don’t ask Pastor Paul; he’s off to Rome tomorrow. Ordination came to be assigned to bishops, but this distinction was not by divine right, as is the ordination done by a pastor in his church (65). What is at stake is the Gospel. Where there is the right to administer the Gospel,

7A Dictionary of the English Language, vol. 1 (Reprint of 1755 Heidelberg: Engelmann, 1828), 205. OED (1989), 3, 635 tells of comprobatio in English since 1390. It registers what is beyond doubt trustworthy. In 1646 Sir Thomas Brown: “That is only esteemed...a legal testimony, which receives comprobation from the mouths of at least two witnesses.” Weightier is the Biblical usage. Deut. 17:6; 10:15 and 29:28 sicut hodie conprobatur; 19:4. Num. 35:24 hoc audiente populo fuerit conprobatum. 2 Cor. 8:8 vestrae caritatis ingenitum bonum conprobant. Job 9:20 pravum me conprobabit. Josh. 19:4 comprobent innocentem. Henry VIII comprobated himself. The computer has found only one instance of comprobatio in Luther. WA 30.202:28. It is the matter of what leaves no room for doubt. Melanchthon awaits computerization. Ordination in the Saxon Agenda of 1580 has: “I ordain, confirm and comprobate (bestetige) you by God’s mandate and institution to be a minister and Seelsorger of this congregation.” E. Sehling. Die evangelischen Kirchenordnungen des XVI. Jahrhunderts (Leipzig: Reisland, 1902), 1, 382. 8WA 26.493:2; AE 37, 356. WA 41.240:35: Quanquam predig ampt und beruff auch halten tamen etiam in die deudsch sprach bringen. WA 38.17:16: gewis verdeudscht. WA 38.13:19: also der Ebreischen sprach raum lassen, wo sie es besser macht, denn unser Deudsch thun kan.

432 there is the church. This the church cannot live without. “Therefore it is necessary for the church to hold on to the right of calling, electing, and ordaining ministers” (67). In cases of necessity (in a few minutes they’ll both be drowned) Christians do what they otherwise would not do (67). Emergency ordination was Dr. Luther’s advice to the senate at Prague. After the emergency was done with, then back to the ordinary ordentlich way of the people electing and the ministers ordaining. Either way no loss of ordination. “The public ministry of the word, I say, by which the mysteries of God are dispensed, is to be established (institui debet) by holy ordination.”9 “So it was that the people elected pastors and bishops. Thereupon a bishop of that church or a neighboring one came and confirmed the man elected with the laying on of hands. Ordination was then nothing other than such a ratification/comprobation. Later on new ceremonies were added” (70). In Paragraph 72 comes the conclusion that when bishops wrongly refuse to ordain, the right to elect and ordain ministers remains in the church which cannot not have these done. The making of a minister is not done until these are done. Ordination completes the job. If not by those papal bishops, then their pastors are there for doing it. This last adhibitis suis pastoribus is left out by KW, Tappert, the Triglotta, Jacobs, Henkel, and Muller (the text Walther used).10 There isn’t an ordination unless some one does it, as the Tractate makes quite clear. It cannot be done abstractly or by fraction. Clear also that ordination is the final thing done in making a minister, putting the one elected into the office by those already in the office with no room left for uncertainty, comprobatedly done. Mandatedly done, is done by the Lord. Thus Dr. Luther: “The laying on of hands is not a human tradition, it is God who ordains and makes ministers.”11 Here the laying on of hands is synecdoche for the whole completed job of making and ordaining ministers. There is precious little mention of the laying on of hands in the Tractate. Election, call, and ordination do the job. In Paragraph 72 the hands identify without any doubt who the man elected is who is being ordained. The “what” is vital; the “how” is not. What the hands do could be done some other way, so long as the essential specification is done, the gesture with the hands is replaceable. Ordination, the making of ministers, can be done without that gesture with the hands. When our Lord made apostles we are not told anything of His hands. He named

9WA 12.191:16; 173:2. AE 40, 37 & 11. 10BKS 492, 23. E. Schlink. Theology of the Lutheran Confessions (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1961), 249, n. 19. 11WA 43.600:25; AE 5, 249. As synecdoche also in Apology 13:11. “If ordination is understood in this way, we will not object to calling the laying on of hands a sacrament. The church has the mandate to constitute/ordain ministers. Mandatum de constituendis ministris...scimus Deum approbate ministerium illud et adesse in ministerio.” For probing grounds for hesitation regarding the hands see “The Laying on of Hands” in the Scaer Festschrift, All Theology Is Christology, ed. D. Wenthe et al. (Fort Wayne: Concordia Theological Seminary Press, 2000), 243-257.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 433 them “apostle.” He put them into that office leaving no doubt to whom He did this. Their names are listed (Luke 6:12-16). When Matthias was put into “the place in this ministry and apostleship from which Judas turned aside,” his name was added to the list, “numbered among us” as Peter had previously said of Judas. There is no mention here of the laying on of hands (Acts 1:15-26). We hear of that with regard to the seven who were to relieve the Twelve by taking over the responsibility for the daily distribution. There was an election; those already in the office laid hands on those elected as in Tractate 72. From Acts 6:6 and 13:3 we have ¦B4J\20:4 J•H PgÃD"H and then at ordination in the Pastoral Epistles. With Pg4D@J@<\" it is not always clear whether the hands went up, out, or on. That they settled on “on” is not surprising as this was a well-known way of bestowing a blessing, with the context indicating what blessing. In 1 Timothy 4:14 the blessing was the charisma that goes with the office, Amtscharisma.12 Bradshaw tells how Pg4D@J@<\" came to be synecdoche for the whole making of a minister, of which ¦B\2gF4H Jä< Pg4Dä< was then a part, and always with prayer which recognized the Lord as the doer and giver.13 This rings through in Wittenberg and the Tractate which then helps us recognize what is a synecdoche for the whole. Does the laying on of hands refer to the whole, or is it spoken of as a distinct part within the whole, and then indeed not as an indispensable one? In Baier’s Compendium, which Walther edited and augmented for a doctrine textbook, we find three things which make a minister: election, ordination, and call. The same three as in Tractate 67 in a different sequence. The heading is that of AC 5, De Ministerio Ecclesiastico. We observe here how “call” may also be used as a synecdoche for the whole: ad vocationem ministrorum, as well as the specifying call, one of the three the doing of which make a minister.14 Things are not made any clearer when Walther equates ordination with the laying on of hands and so proceeds to the following logic:

The laying on of hands is what ordination is. The laying on of hands is an adiaphoron. Therefore ordination is an adiaphoron.

He claims to draw this conclusion from Gerhard, who is in fact giving reasons for recognizing ordinations in other Christian churches.15 More

12TDNT 9, 406. J. Kelly, The Pastoral Epistles (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1960), 108. N. Brox, Die Pastoralbriefe (Regensburg: Pustet, 1969), 180. Then there is Hebrews 6:2. 13P. Bradshaw. Ordination Rites of the Ancient Churches of East and West (New York: Pueblo, 1990), 34. G. Kretschmar, Leiturgia, 5, 102. 14J. Baier, Compendium Theologiae Positivae (St. Louis: Concordia, 1879), 3, 699. 15Kirche und Amt (Erlangen: Deichert, 1875), 305. Compare Church and Ministry (St. Louis: Concordia, 1987), 262. Compare “The Doctrine of the Office of the Holy Ministry

434 clarifying is what he says in The Proper Form which he wrote ten years after Church and Office to expound what he had there set out for discussion with a rich array of resources. We may regard Walther as his own best interpreter. And he might even wish to add that he is best interpreted in harmony with Scripture and the Confessions, as in the unalterable Article 2 of the Constitution of The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod. In The Proper Form the things done which make a minister are election, call, examination (if not already done), whereupon the official ordination (Sperrdruck the clincher) puts into the task and confirms the man called, elected, and examined as rite vocatus. The “translator” cuts out the connection between ordination and AC 14 (als einen rechtmäßigen Berufenen). Erklären, verpflichten, und bestätigen run with Tractate 72’s confirmation and comprobation. Thereupon 1 Timothy 4:14 is quoted, and Canon 4 of Nicaea is noted, as also in Tractate 13.16 There may not then be an ordination except of the man elected, who is designated iuxta vocationem (AC 28, 8) to a specific place and task within the office who has been examined as to his fitness. Nor may the forward steps stop short of ordination as the Tractate makes abundantly clear along with AC 14, which was added to deny Eck’s charge that there were laymen acting among the evangelicals as if they were ordained.17 In line with this the convention of the Western District in 1855 condemned the case of an unordained man acting in a congregation as if he were its pastor.18 No “as if” Dr. Luther hits home with “No one should be in any doubt who is his pastor,” and “Doubt is inimical to the Gospel.”19 The glory of comprobatio is that it leaves no doubt. It excludes the possibility of what is only piecemeal, a fraction, and not the whole sure thing. in the Confessions and in Walther’s Kirche und Amt,” Concordia Journal 15, (1989), 442, n. 1. For more on adiaphoron see “Adiaphora” in G. Zweck’s Festschrift Teach Me Thy Way, 0 Lord, ed. J. Bart Day and A. D. Smith (Chelsea, MI: Sheridan, 2000), 13 7-148. 16Die rechte Gestalt einer vom Staate unabhängigen Evangelisch-Lutherischen Ortsgemeinde (St. Louis: Wiebusch, 1864), 71. For the complete title see “The Divine Call in Die rechte Gestalt of C. F. W. Walther,” Concordia Theological Quarterly 59 (1995), 161. ET The Form of a Christian Congregation (St. Louis: Concordia, 1963), 65. 17BKS 69, n. 1. Sources and Contents of the Book of Concord ed. R. Kolb & J. Nestingen (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2001), 65. 18Verhandlung der ersten Jahresversammlung des Western Districts (1855), 17-18: sinful, divisive, and contrary to AC 14. C. F. W. Walther’s Third Sermon for the beginning of the Synodical Convention on Eph. 4:11-14, Western District, May 15, 1867 Lutherische Brosamen, Predigten, und Reden (St. Louis: Barthel, 1876), 421: “The distinction between preachers and hearers is certainly not something arbitrarily set up by church or men. It is rather an institution of the Son of God himself. It is therefore undoubtedly a transgression against what is ordered by God, and nothing other (nichts anderes) than a rebellion in the kingdom of Jesus Christ if Christians, who have neither proper call nor ordination into this holy office, yet have the arrogance to practice its exercise as if they had.” The sermon ends with a Luther quotation referring to the Amtscharisma. 19Small Catechism 5,27; BKS 519,16; KW 361,27. Tappert 351, 27 omits “my.” WA 1.596:8; AE 31, 195. WA 302. 480:25; AE 40, 344. WA 41.240:6. WA 303.518:17; AE 40, 384.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 435 Comprobatio: not stopped short of the whole job being done:

job completed the clincher all clear carry on Now go to it iuxta vocationem.

Dynamic equivalent in almost obsolete New England yankee-ese: “Bob’s your uncle.” Or from our almost gone German heritage: “Streu’ Sand darauf.” You have been made a minister, put into the Office/Amt/Ordo, JV>4H, J`B@H, •D42:`H. So go on then confident in the doneness of the Lord’s mandate, in His doing it, in His Holy Ministry. It is easier to paraphrase than to translate. How would you translate, dear reader?

436 A Female Apostle?: A Note Re-examining the Work of Burer and Wallace Concerning ¦B4FZ:@H with ¦< and the Dative

Heath R. Curtis

As modern churches continue to argue over the role of women in the church, and especially the possibility of women’s ordination, certain Scripture passages come up again and again: Galatians 3:28, 1 Corinthians 11 and 14, 1 Timothy 2, and so on. One such passage that has received a considerable amount of discussion in recent years is Romans 16:7, where it is claimed we find a female apostle, Junia. The implications of a female apostle sanctioned by Paul are obvious, and the contemporary commentators on Romans have spilled considerable ink over the issue. Douglas Moo admits that Paul calls Junia an apostle but then demurs that “Paul often uses the title ‘apostle’ in a ‘looser’ sense.”1 James G. Dunn, however, is content to allow the full force of “apostle” to stand. After reviewing the evidence for Junia’s apostleship he contends, “We may firmly conclude, however, that one of the foundation apostles of Christianity was a woman and wife.”2 Joseph Fitzmeyer in the Anchor Bible reaches similar conclusions noting that in Romans 16:7 Paul is “sending greetings to a male and a female apostle.”3 In their article “Was Junia Really an Apostle?: A Re-examination of Rom. 16:7,”4 Drs. Michael Burer and Daniel Wallace attempt to address this now popular exegesis of Romans 16:7 by asking the question “Was Junia really an apostle?” The text of the verse under consideration reads,

•FBVF"F2g z!<*D`<46@< 6"Â z3@L<4"< J@×H FL((g

Greet Andronikos and [Iounias or Iounia], my siblings and fellow captives, who are well-known [among or to] the apostles, and who were in Christ before me.

1Douglas Moo, The Epistle to the Romans (Grand Rapids: Eerdmanns, 1996), 923. 2James G. Dunn, Word Biblical Commentary, vol. 38b: Romans 9-16 (Dallas: Word Publisher, 1988), 895. 3Joseph Fitzmyer, The Anchor Bible, vol. 33: Romans, (New York: Doubleday, 1993), 739. 4New Testament Studies 47 (January 2001): 79-91. Heath R. Curtis is a student at Concordia Seminary in St. Louis, MO, and is serving his vicarage at St. Peter Lutheran Church in Waterford, WI.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 437 As can be seen from the translation, the interpretation of this verse hangs on two exegetical questions. First, should 3?K;3!; receive a circumflex accent on the ultima (as it has in NA27) thus reading the masculine name “Iounias,” or an acute accent on the penult thus reading the feminine name “Iounia”? Burer and Wallace (76-78) note that the consensus among both the early church and modern scholarship is that the text should read z3@L<\"<, the feminine name. The second question deals with the phrase ¦B\F0:@4 ¦< J@ÃH •B@FJ`8@4H and whether it should be interpreted inclusively, “well-known among the apostles,” or exclusively, “well-known to the apostles.” In other words, was Junia one of the apostles (inclusive) or someone well-know to the apostolic band (exclusive)? Burer and Wallace spend the rest of their article investigating this question. The method Burer and Wallace use is straightforward: they simply searched Thesaurus Linguae Graecae5 and the standard collections of papyri for every occurrence of ¦B4FZ:@H with ¦< and the dative. The results of this study were nearly unanimous. Every time ¦B4FZ:@H occurred with ¦< and the personal dative the sense was obviously exclusive: “well-known to X”— every time, that is, except once. Burer and Wallace found that the second century A.D. rhetorician, humorist, and philosopher Lucian6 used ¦B4FZ:@H with ¦< and the dative in an inclusive sense:

Lucianus thus shows the same patterns that we saw earlier, viz., an exclusive notion with ¦< plus the dative and an inclusive notion with a genitive modifier. But he is not consistent in this. On at least one occasion his words unmistakably have an inclusive force for ¦< plus the dative. In his work On Salaried Posts in Great Houses, he offers advice to servants: “...you must raise your thirsty voice like a stranded frog, taking pains to be conspicuous among the claque and to lead the chorus” (¦B4FZ:@H §F® ¦< J@ÃH ¦B"4<@ØF4... Mere. Cond 2.8 [sic]). This is the first parallel to Rom. 16.7 we have seen that could offer real comfort to inclusivists. It is unmistakable, it is personal, and it is rare (89).

While Burer and Wallace find this passage (actually Merc. Cond. 28, they misquote it as 2.8) and its grammatical usage to be unmistakable, personal, and rare, I believe that Burer and Wallace are indeed mistaken. A closer examination of the context will show that far from being an exception to the rule, Merc. Cond. 28 agrees with the rest of the Greek corpus in its usage of ¦B4FZ:@H with ¦< and the dative as exclusive.

5Thesaurus Linguae Graecae, a CD-ROM textual database that hopes to include all Greek literature from Homer to AD 1453. When Burer and Wallace conducted their study the latest disc was CD ROM D, comprising some 57 million Greek words (Los Altos, CA: Packard Humanities Institute, 1993). 6Burer and Wallace refer to Lucian by his Romanized name Lucianus, no doubt reflecting how TLG refers to him.

438 It appears that Burer and Wallace may have been misled by the Loeb Classical Library (hereafter LCL) translation of this passage, which they quote. Here is the text under question in its context followed by the LCL translation:

´< :¥< (•D 6"Jg\B® F@Ø J4H R42LDÎH @Æ6gJ0H, ñH :`<@H @Û6 ¦B¯

If a whispering servant accuse you of being the only one who did not praise the mistress’s page when he danced or played, there is no little risk in the thing. So you must raise your thirsty voice like a stranded frog, taking pains to be conspicuous among the claque and to lead the chorus; and often when the others are silent you must independently let drop a well-considered word of praise that will convey great flattery.7

In general, this is a fine, if somewhat outdated, translation of Lucian. I believe, however, the precise text under question has been misinterpreted. The context shows that Lucian is warning his reader about the way that other household slaves will view one’s conduct: one does not want some busybody slave to notice one’s lack of enthusiasm and report it to the mistress. However, the LCL translation misconstrues Lucian’s meaning with the translation “conspicuous among the claque.” This would imply that Lucian’s reader should worry about how some third party will interpret the praise of all the household slaves: “take pains that, among all those praising, you be conspicuous [to those listening].” But we know from the context that Lucian is warning his reader of the importance of what the other slaves will think because it is they who might report one’s behavior to higher authority. Therefore, one must “take pains to be conspicuous to the folks [slaves] who are praising and to be the chorus director [not a member of the claque]. “Lucian’s point is that one should be conspicuous to the slaves and be seen by them to stand apart from them so much as to become the director and not a mere member of the chorus of flatterers. This points to an exclusive understanding of ¦B4FZ:@H with ¦< and the dative just as Burer and Wallace demonstrated in the rest of Greek literature. Compare the following translation, based on this exegesis, with the LCL translation that Burer and Wallace follow cited above:

7Lucian III, ed. and trans. by A. M. Harmon. New York: Putnam, 1921.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 439 If some whispering house-slave should make an accusation against you such that you alone did not praise the mistress’ lad as he danced and played the flute, the danger from the matter would not be small. Therefore it is necessary that you cry out with the thirsty plea of a frog on land, taking care that you be noticed by those praising and be the chorus director; and in addition, very often when the others are silent you yourself should deliberately speak a certain word of praise displaying great flattery.

Certainly Dr. A. M. Harmon (the late translator for the Loeb edition of Lucian) might well have contended that his translation could also be acceptable. Indeed a case can be made for it and Burer and Wallace seemed to have accepted it wholeheartedly. I believe, however, the better case is for an exclusivist reading. Consider the following: (1) it would seem an odd departure for Lucian to use ¦< and the dative to express an inclusive sense when the genitive, which obviously denotes inclusivity, was easily available to him and used by him elsewhere; (2) Lucian stands in the tradition of Atticism8 and would have been loathe to depart from standard grammar and display the inconsistency of which Burer and Wallace accuse him; and (3) the very work of Burer and Wallace is so comprehensive that if an exclusivist reading for ¦B4FZ:@H with ¦< and the dative is possible and reasonable then it should be given the benefit of the doubt even if an inclusivist reading is also possible. At any rate, if this brief re-examination of Lucian has not proven that at Merc. Cond. 28 ¦B4FZ:@H with ¦< and the dative is used in the exclusive sense, it has, at the very least, certainly shown that it cannot be said that Merc. Cond. 28 contains an “unmistakable” use of ¦< and the dative for the inclusive sense. Therefore, the conclusion that Burer and Wallace reached regarding Romans 16:7 is only strengthened: “Thus Junia, along with Andronicus, is recognized by Paul as well known to the apostles, not as an outstanding member of the apostolic band” (90).

8See the entry for Lucian in The Oxford Classical Dictionary, 3d Edition, ed. Simon Hornblower and Antony Spawforth (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996).

440 Homiletical Helps on LW Series A —Epistles

All Saints’ Day Revelation 21:9-11, 22-27; 22:1-5 November 3, 2002

The Best of All Possible Worlds

(What is provided below is the full sermon manuscript for this festival day. I submit it to provide the preacher with homiletical ideas for his own unique sermon that will addreess his own distinctive context.)

There is a little children’s chant that is familiar to all of us. We know it by heart, but do we really understand its meaning? It goes like this: “Ring around the roses,\ Pocket full of posies;\ Ashes, ashes,\ We all fall down. Right now I would venture to guess that this chant has engendered cheerful pictures in your mind. Beautiful flowering gardens full of brilliant colors and fragrant scents. Perhaps you envision gleeful children in pastels and lace dancing around a maypole. This cheery poem seems to capture a perfect carefree world of which we all dream. But actually the chant was born in a world of pain and death. Over three hundred years ago a horrific bubonic plague swept through London. By the time it had run its course, over 150,000 people had died. It was called the “Black Death” because of the black blotches it left upon the body. In their ignorance, the people of London believed the disease was caused by the polluted air in their city, although today we know it was transmitted by fleas from infected rats. Because this “Black Death” was blamed upon the city’s polluted air, the citizens underwent a strange ritual to bring a cure to the plague. Victims were taken to an open air garden where they stood around a bed of roses. By breathing in the fragrance of the flowers, they thought, the bad air could be replaced by good air. For those too sick to go outside, the physicians took petals of posies and roses in their pockets and sprinkled them around the sick patients’ rooms. Finally, if a patient was almost dead, the doctor burned the petals and brought the ashes to the dying person’s nostrils, all the while hoping to flush out the bad air. Yet in every case the victim died. It was during this time of the “Black Death” that birth was given to our children’s chant. It was the chant of those men given the gruesome task of pushing the carts piled with corpses through the city streets: “Ring around the roses,\ Pocket full of posies;\ Ashes, ashes,\ We all fall down.” It is strange that a poem arising under such morbid circumstances would survive to this day. Although the plague which devastated London in the seventeenth century is no longer with us, we nonetheless continue to live in a world of great suffering and pain. We can dream of worlds of laughing children who dance in flower gardens, but ours is one of deteriorating bodies and hurting souls. Although the bubonic plague of three hundred years ago does not threaten us today, we inevitably face black death. The last line of that children’s chant is as relevant today as ever: “We all fall down.”

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 441 Throughout history people have envisioned the day when this world would become a paradise. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries philosophers and scientists, politicians and theologians, became convinced that humanity’s future was radiantly optimistic. With the rapid advance in knowledge, industry, and science, they believed that man could soon control his environment and shape the world to his own choosing. Catastrophes, wars, and diseases would be eliminated. In line with Darwin’s theory, they believed that humankind was evolving into perfection. The French philosopher Voltaire caricatured the prevailing attitude in his work entitled Candide, which means “the optimist.” That prevailing attitude claimed: “In this best of all possible worlds...all is for the best.” But then the twentieth century arrived and along with it two devastating world wars. In this “best of all possible worlds,” man was shown to be at his worst. Science and technology became man’s accomplices in terror. Millions were subjected to battle, firing squads, gas chambers, starvation, and disease. The blackness of death hung not only over London, but all of Europe and Asia and Africa and the Pacific. Now here we are at the beginning of the twenty-first century, and few would subscribe to the illusion that this is the best of all possible worlds. Adolph Hitler may be gone, but Osama bin Laden and Saddam Hussein remain. Society lives under the fear of the attacks of terrorists and the effects of retaliation. Corruption is revealed in corporate America, and Wall Street shutters. The lives of a million- plus unborn babies a year in this country alone are snuffed out before they take their first breath. The potential for complete annihilation by nuclear weapons exists at the very touch of a button. Then there is the more personal evidence that this is not the best of all possible worlds. Families experience the turmoil of domestic conflicts and even breakups. Bitterness, resentment, greed, jealousy, arrogance, and other ugliness resides within us. We see our bodies weaken as we age. Disease, cancer, and injury become our uninvited companions. Finally, we too shall meet black death—we too shall “all fall down.” The existence of pain, suffering, and death in this far-less-than-perfect world has caused many to reject Christianity. Philosophers such as Bertrand Russell regard the reality of hurt and sorrow in the world as the supreme argument against Christianity. But the Bible itself does not deny or ignore the messy reality of our world. Nowhere in God’s Word will you find a “pollyannaish” illusion that this is the best of all possible worlds. Indeed, the Bible declares that this is a fallen world, a stained planet. This world was once the best of all possible worlds. God created the world perfect and free of evil and death. Our first parents truly lived in paradise. But deceived into believing that they could make their best of possible worlds even better for themselves, Adam and Eve introduced a corruption that poisoned themselves and their planet. The apostle Paul describes it this way: “Therefore sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, and in this way death came to all men, because all sinned.... And death reigned...even over those who did not sin in the same way that Adam did” (Rom. 5:12, 14). Thus the Bible tells us that ultimately the problem is not pain and suffering and death. The problem ultimately is not the crime and illness and catastrophes that plague this life. Those are only symptoms of a deeper problem that has infected all of humanity. That problem is sin.

442 But God has not abandoned us. He has come to deal once and for all with that problem of sin. God the Son left the perfect paradise of heaven and came down to this world and experienced its imperfection, its ugliness, its cruelty. He, more than anyone else, tasted the curse which was brought about by our first father, Adam. But He also brought about a reversal of that curse. He did so by taking that curse upon Himself. Paul writes: “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the Law by becoming a curse for us, for it is written: ‘Cursed is everyone who is hung on a tree’” (Gal. 3:13). As Jesus hung on the tree of the cross, the enormity of the world’s sin was laid upon Him. Every evil, every iniquity, every insult that had ever occurred He bore. The shame of our wickedness and corruption was placed on Him. The insult that we caused God by our sin injured Jesus. The black death that should have consumed us all consumed Him. In exchange He has credited to our account His own righteousness, holiness, and perfection. The result is that we are viewed by God as truly perfect—oh, not perfect by our own behavior but perfect by Christ’s life and righteousness ascribed to us. We are perfect in God’s eyes because God sees His own holy Son’s holiness attributed to us. We are His “holy ones.” There is another word for “holy ones.” That word is “saints.” Today is All Saints’ Day. Most people think a saint is some super-hero from church history who now is ensconced as a plaster statue in a stained-glass chapel. But a saint is simply one who has been made holy by Christ. All believers in Christ, alive and dead, are saints. Through faith in Christ, you are a saint. So All Saints’ Day is about you. But it is also about those faithful believers who have departed this broken world for a far better home. And that home truly is “the best of all possible worlds.” It is a world that is perfect because it is a world that is holy—free from sin and sin’s effects. The saints have entered that world because they were made holy through the sin-cleansing blood of Jesus. And we who are forgiven by Christ and made holy by His grace will one day join them. Even though we face “black death” and even though we will “all fall down,” yet, for the sake of Christ, we will all rise up to live anew in what truly is “the best of all possible worlds.” Our text from Revelation 21 describes these saints. And it describes the perfect home in which they live. They are portrayed as inhabitants of a city—a holy city— which comes down out of heaven from God (v. 10). The city shines with the glory of God, and its brilliance is as clear as crystal (v. 11). Throughout the Bible holiness is pictured as brilliant light, and so the saints shine brilliantly because they are holy and pure. But it is not their own holiness; it is the purity and glory of God that causes them to shine so. The apostle John continues his description: “The city does not need the sun or the moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and the Lamb is its lamp. The nations will walk by its light...” (vv. 23-24a). God’s glory and purity are no longer hidden from the saints. Instead, they walk in the light of His glorious presence. Revelation 22 goes on to describe the home in which the glorified saints live as a new Eden. The paradise that once was lost, that “best of all possible worlds,” is now restored (read Rev. 22:1-5). This is what will be in this “best of all possible worlds,” that has become even better. But notice what our text says will not be there. Revelation 21:27 says, “Nothing impure will ever enter it, nor will anyone who does what is shameful or deceitful.” The bottom line is that sin and its horrific effects will not be present in this paradise, nor will sinners. But where does that leave us who are presently

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 443 sinful? It leaves us standing on the only means by which we are made sinless saints before God—the blood of Jesus Christ that cleanses us from all sin. Revelation 22:3 states, “No longer will there be any curse.” Why? Because Christ has borne the curse for us. And “there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Rom. 8:1). Thus, without sin and the curse, our eternity will be one of bliss, as Revelation 21:4 describes it: “There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” All of these—sin, death, pain, and sorrow—will not be in this paradise. But Revelation emphasizes what—or rather who—will be there. God will be there. “The throne of God and of the Lamb will be in the city, and his servants [the saints]...will see his face” (Rev. 22:3-4). Even if we don’t know all the details of this world to come, this is all we need to know. God will be there, and He is all we need. What is truly amazing, however, is that we will be there—we who deserve not heaven but hell. We will be there because we are saints made holy by Christ who has borne our dark sin and black death. Recently the comic strip “B.C.” depicted two women sitting on a hill. One of them is reading a book, presumedly a Bible. As she is reading, she exclaims: “Oh, my goodness...says here...Jesus descended into hell!” The other woman reacts: “You’re kidding!” Then the first woman reassures her: “Oh, no...not to stay!... He just dropped in to cancel our reservations!” Jesus descended from heaven to this broken world filled with sorrow and sin. And on the cross He descended even further—to suffer the torment of hell for our sin. But He also descended to hell to cancel our reservations there as He triumphantly declared His victory over sin and death. Now, by grace, He has made reservations for us in paradise with Him. Although you and I will someday “all fall down,” we will also all rise up...to a new and perfect world in the presence of our Savior. There we will join with Him and all the saints in what is truly “the best of all possible worlds.” David Peter

Third-Last Sunday in the Church Year 1 Thessalonians 3:11-13 November 10, 2002

Context: This Sunday begins the three weeks that conclude the church year. Appropriately, it focuses on preparing for the parousia of Christ at the close of the age. The liturgical context is eschatological, looking to the close of history and the return of Jesus to judge the living and the dead. The appointed Old Testament reading (Job 14:1-6) addresses the reality that each person will face God’s judgment at the end of his life. The Gospel (Matt. 24:15-28) provides Jesus’ instructions for preparing for His arrival. Thus this lesson from 1 Thessalonians also concerns us with being prepared to stand before the holy Judge at the end of time. Paul had begun his ministry to the Thessalonians in the context of persecution, and he was forced to leave Thessalonica because of persecution (Acts 17:10-13). The apostle indicates that it is such opposition (ultimately from Satan) that has prevented him from returning to them (1 Thess. 2:17-3:8). Yet his deep desire is to revisit this church and strengthen the brothers and sisters there (1 Thess. 3:10). The Christians at Thessalonica had questions and misunderstandings about the second coming of Christ, and this is especially evident in Paul’s second letter to them. But even in his first letter he addresses issues related to the coming of the

444 Lord (3:12-13; 4:13-18; 5:1-11). Our text falls under one of these addresses. Exegetical notes: The optative mood is used throughout to express petitions in prayer, and so this text is a prayer to God. In verse 11 Paul prays that he might return to the Thessalonians. In verses 12-13 he prays that they might be prepared for Christ’s return. Verse 11: !ÛJÎH *¥ Ò 2gÎH emphasizes that it is God who will accomplish Paul’s wish, and not Paul himself or any other earthly power. The fact that God is the subject in all the clauses of verses 11-13 is significant. It is His work (Gospel) going on here, not ours (Law). 6"JgL2b<"4 means to “make straight” or to remove the obstacles (which Satan placed in the way; cf. 2:18). It is significant that the verb is in the singular, whereas the subject appears plural. This probably reflects that Paul regards the Father and Jesus as one. Verse 12: B8g@"4: The combination of the preposition and the aorist infinitive with an article conveys purpose. God’s superabundant blessing described in verse 12 serves to strengthen His people to be blameless in holiness, thereby preparing them for Christ’s return. •:X:BJ@LH ¦< •(4TFb<®: This condition is the only hope we have on the day of judgment when we face the holy God. Thankfully, the text is clear that it is God who works this condition in us, not we ourselves (cf. Rom. 8:1). B"D@LF\‘: Originally this referred to the visit of a dignitary of extremely high standing (such as a king). In the New Testament it becomes the regular term for Christ’s return in glory. Focus statement: The Christian is prepared for Christ’s second coming by being made blameless and loving through the power of God. Function statement: That the hearer may be prepared for Christ’s return through the strength God provides. Suggested outline:

I. It is important to be prepared for the visits of others (3:11). A. Paul prepared the Thessalonian Christians for his visit. 1. Paul intends to return to them (2:17-3:10). 2. Paul prays that God would make possible his return to them (3:11). B. We prepare for the visits of others. 1. We organize our lives for their arrival. 2. We honor visitors by making things ready for their arrival. II. It is most important to be prepared for the final visitation of Christ (3:12-13). A. The goal of being prepared is to be blameless when Christ returns (3:13). 1. Only those who are holy and sinless will stand blameless before Christ the holy Judge. 2. By nature we are unholy and sinful and deserve to be condemned by

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 445 Christ the holy Judge. B. The means of being prepared is the strength that God provides (3:12-13). 1. Christ took our sin and bore our condemnation on the cross. 2. God declares us blameless and holy for the sake of Christ. C. The evidence of being prepared is God’s love that overflows through us to others (3:12). 1. The demands of God are summed up in one word: love. 2. God fulfills His demand by crediting Jesus’ perfect life of love to us. 3. God works His love through us to others, even our enemies, thus demonstrating that we are His sanctified people. David Peter

Second-Last Sunday in the Church Year 1 Thessalonians 1:3-10 November 17, 2002

This is a Sunday for Christians, not unbelievers. Its message is about the “exceedingly great and precious promises” which God has given “to those who believe.” Because of those promises the faithful are called to remain focused on our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ so that “our faith in (God’s) sight may never be reproved” (see the Collect of the Day). Today is about encouragement and strengthening for those who “have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb,” as the Gradual from Revelation 7:14 says. It is not for “seekers,” but it is for “wonderers and wanderers”— those faithful who wonder what their purpose is to be as they wander through this life in response to the Savior’s call in today’s Gospel lesson (Matt. 24:1-15, esp. v. 13) to “stand firm to the end.” “Look!” says the Lord Almighty through the prophet Jeremiah, “disaster is spreading from nation to nation; a mighty storm is rising from the ends of the earth” (Old Testament lesson, Jer. 25:30-32). But we really don’t have to look. We see it already: in the headlines of war and disaster, on the faces of the multitudes who feel terror on every side from terrorists, in our hospitals and funeral homes and cemeteries. Death reigns and that is a disaster for the kingdom is about life, wholeness, peace, and security. So, “What are we to do?,” we ask, and our God, through the apostle Paul, answers with the text for today. In this letter addressed to the believers in Thessalonica, Paul sets out to encourage this largely gentile congregation as they undergo various trials (3:4) by instructing them how to “live in order to please God” (4:1), and “win the respect of outsiders” (4:12). Of the end-times he says: “You know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night.… But you, brothers, are not in darkness so that this day should surprise you.… For God…appoint(ed) us to receive salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ” (5:2, 4, 9). That is his point from the very beginning; it is the point of our text and of this day; and so it must become the point of the message which we preach on this day. As we prepare to do this, we begin by looking at some of the important emphases of our text. The first thing that we note is that Paul’s oft-repeated formula for describing the Christian life is where he begins: faith, hope, and love (see Rom. 5:2- 5; 1 Cor. 13:13; Gal. 5:5-6; and Col. 1:4-5) (Heb. 6:10-12; 10:22-24; 1 Pet. 1:3-8 and 21-22 also use this “formula”). Here, however, these three are named to describe the faithful Christians’ work, labor, and endurance—the three things which the

446 world will see as faith, hope, and love abide. Faith produces action, not inactivity. The faithful are more than just “Sunday morning Christians”; theirs is a “24/7” life of faith. In the same way, love moves us to work for the good of the brothers (a major theme in this epistle) because we are “loved by God” (v. 4). And hope, the result of Christ’s life, death, and resurrection on our behalf, gives patient endurance, enabling us to wait for Christ’s promised return (see v. 10). The source of all of this is the message of the Gospel (“our Gospel,” says Paul in v. 5)—which is, according to Paul, the proclamation of the work of the entire triune God on our behalf. Accordingly, he calls it “the Gospel of God,” in 2:8, as a reminder that the Father (Yahweh) is the one who willed mankind’s salvation. In 3:2 he calls it “the Gospel of Jesus Christ,” because the Son is the one who became man in order to save man. And here (vv. 5 and 6) he tells us that “the message” comes with “power” and “joy” as a gift from the Holy Spirit. (I am reminded here of Luther’s explanation of the Third Article of the Apostles’ Creed in the Small Catechism, “I believe that I cannot, by my own reason or strength, believe in my Lord Jesus Christ, or come to Him,”—a wonderful topic on which to preach by itself.) The result is that in spite of the influence of the world around us—in spite of suffering or false teachings concerning the end of time and in spite of the many temptations to cave in to worldly living which we face daily—the Thessalonians, and we, are able to become imitators (v. 6) of the Lord (in faith, hope, and love) and a model (v. 7) for others whom our triune God will call to faith through our witness. And then this descriptive note about the marks of true conversion: it is (1) a turning to God from idols in order to (2) serve the true and living God as we (3) wait for Christ’s return from heaven (vv. 9-10). Always active (in terms of response), our faith is also always a gift (and in that sense always passive) of the same God who saves us (“For we know, brothers loved by God, that he has chosen you” [v. 4]). But, even more than that, He not only has saved us from past and present sins, in Jesus He “rescues us from the coming wrath.” What a promise! And what a hope we have to proclaim. In these days, nearly a year and a half after the events of 9/11/01, the books of Tim LaHay about “the Rapture,” continue to grow in popularity, and more and more people are talking about supposed signs of the end of time. Based upon our text, we have the opportunity to give a strong, clear, and unequivocal witness concerning the truth of “sola fide” and “sola gratia” based upon this very clear witness of “sola scriptura”. So this day isn’t just for believers, it carries with is the call for believers to reach out to unbelievers so that “your faith in God (may) become know everywhere,” as we live as “a model to all (other) believers” (vv. 8, & 7). A simple outline might be: He Has Chosen You

I. In the midst of a world that sees disaster on every hand we are called to remember who and what we are: A. People chosen by the Father, saved by the Son, and called by His Spirit. B. The church called to live in faith, hope, and love. C. Called to be a model for others. II. Our world knows the end is near. It knows that Satan stalks the land. But it responds wrongly:

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 447 A. Some, even fellow Christians, have a wrong view of “the end.” B. Others deny even the existence of God or of eternity. C. But we have been called to “wait for his Son…Jesus, who rescues us from the coming wrath” (v. 10). D. We await the Son whose death and resurrection has redeemed us from our sin. III. While we wait, as His chosen “models,” we work. A. It is more than simply “standing firm.” B. It is imitation of St. Paul, the Lord, and all other faithful Christians who lived lives of faith, hope, and love. C. So that “your faith (may) become known everywhere.” D. For His Son has been raised from the dead. David Wollenburg

Last Sunday in the Church Year Sunday of the Fulfillment 1 Corinthians 15:20-28 November 24, 2002

With St. Peter in the Introit for this morning we said, “We are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, the home of righteousness” (2 Pet. 3:13b). The apostle Paul in our text points out that we are able to look forward only because of the fulfillment that Jesus has already accomplished. Through faith in Christ and His resurrection from the dead we celebrate this Last Sunday in the Church Year as the Sunday of the Fulfillment. Ours is a fulfilled dream, a completed waiting. Ours is a faith for “now” even as we live in the “not yet” of the Christian faith. And yet it remains a waiting. With the Psalmist in today’s Psalm (130) we confess, “I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in His word I put my hope” (v. 5). We are the “virgins” of the Gospel lesson (Matt. 25:1-13). And foolish or wise, our lamps are with us as we heed the Savior’s call to, “Keep watch,” so that “we with all the redeemed may enter into (His) eternal kingdom” (Collect for the Day). The thing that struck me as I read the text for today is that this “watching” to which we are called isn’t as hard as we sometimes make it out to be. Indeed, the waiting that we experience now should be more a joyful anticipation (the attitude of those waiting for the wedding party) than any kind of anxious waiting (which the unwise virgins experienced because of being unprepared). Christ’s resurrection is the promise, and the kingship of our God is the assurance of the promised joy. When St. Paul points first to Christ as the “first fruit” of the promise, he has much more in mind than simply the fact that Jesus’ resurrection was a kind of “preview” of the resurrection of all believers, even though it surely is that also. And when he then promises that the “Son himself will be made subject to him who put everything under him, so that God may be all in all” (v. 28), we are made privy to the orderliness of our God who is indeed “the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End” (Rev. 22:13), as today’s Alleluia verse proclaims. Begin with verse 22, “For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive,” and remember that our Creator God never really planned for death! He created life; sin brings death. And Christ Jesus, by His death and resurrection has

448 now given us new life. This is no empty promise, for even while we live in a world of disease, death, and destruction, Christ as the “first fruits” enables us to know the fullness of life with God. Remember that Paul, as a student of Gamaliel, knew his Scriptures better than most of us. We call them the Old Testament, but for Paul they had the same force of revelation as the New Testament and the life of Christ have for us…and he knew them intimately. Thus, when he calls Christ, “the first fruits,” I believe that he has more in mind than a simple reference to the harvest festival of Leviticus 23. Certainly we need to emphasize the fact that this “first fruits” sacrifice served as a token and reminder that all of the harvest belonged to the Lord and should be dedicated to Him through dedicated lives. But there’s more. First note that this “wave offering” is to be done “on the day after the Sabbath” (Lev. 23:11). That is a Sunday. Secondly, this first fruits offering of grain is to be accompanied by the burnt offering of “a lamb a year old without defect.” Thirdly comes “an ephah of fine flour mixed with oil.” And lastly there is the requirement of a “drink offering” of wine. The fact is that as we “proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes” (1 Cor. 11:26) in the Lord’s Supper, He is uniting our waiting with the waiting of His people of old. The Lamb of God, sacrificed for us, gives us His body and blood “in, with, and under” the bread and wine not only “for the forgiveness of sins,” but also for our encouragement and strengthening while we wait. He tells us again and again that we are “those who belong to him.” I have no doubt that St. Paul (or, at least, the Holy Spirit) had all this and more in mind as the words of our text were written. As we proclaim this message we too must have it in mind for this is the “first fruits” of the Fulfillment. And then there’s Paul’s excursus concerning “dominion, authority, and power,” “kingdom” and “reign” and subjection of the Son to the Father. Again, this is no idle thought on the part of St. Paul. He needs us to understand that as he talks about Jesus, the Christ, and resurrection—authority, dominion, and power—he is pointing us not just to the Son of God but also to the Son of Man, hence this reference to Psalm 8:6b. It is all about a God who is involved in the lives of His faithful people. This is about a God who cares, so that our preaching may not be “useless” (see v. 14 of this chapter) but edifying and uplifting. This is about a God who never wants to leave “loose ends.” It is about a triune God who has revealed Himself to us as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, “And yet they are not three Gods but one God,” as we confess in the Athanasian Creed. And the purpose is clear, “So that in all things…the Unity in Trinity and the Trinity in Unity” might be worshiped. The Father has “put everything under (Christ’s) feet,” as even Jesus promised when He said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me” (Matt. 28:18). St. John says it this way: “The Father loves the Son and has placed everything in his hands” (John 3:35; see also Luke 10:22). That is for our assurance and encouragement, but in the end, when all things are fulfilled, we will see again that the Lord, our Lord, is one, the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. We get confused about these things. So do all the people of God. Sometimes we even wonder about the resurrection from the dead—or rather about what that will mean. Paul isn’t here answering the “how,” or the “what,” or even the “when,” but the “why.” “So that God may be all in all,” he says (v. 28c). And that must be our focus this day as well. The fact is that God always is “all in all,” but we forget it. We act as if the brief time-span of our lives is the “all in all,” but it isn’t. We want answers

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 449 where there is no more of an answer than the truth that “Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep” (v. 20). We have trouble while we wait. But the Holy Spirit through the apostle Paul, in our text, assures us that everything is under control. He wants us to hear what he says to the Corinthians (and us) in his next letter to them. “No matter how many promises God has made, they are ‘Yes’ in Christ. And so through him the ‘Amen’ is spoken by us to the glory of God. Now it is God who makes both us and you stand firm in Christ. He anointed us, set his seal of ownership on us, and put his Spirit in our hearts as a deposit guaranteeing what is to come” (2 Cor. 1:20-22). That’s what this Sunday of the Fulfillment is all about. God’s promises are “Yes” in Christ—and they will continue to be, “Yes!” No detail is too small for our God’s attention. In Christ we are His, and we will always be His. Tell that to the people of God “so that God may be all in all.” Suggested outline:

God: All in All

I. The apostle Paul in 2 Corinthians 1:20, says, “No matter how many promises God has made, they are ‘Yes’ in Christ.” In our text he points us to the end of time when God (the Father) will be “all in all.” A. These are complimentary statements as we live in the “now and not yet” of life. B. Jesus, as the “first fruits” of the kingdom, shows the promise, the power of God’s love. II. Ours is a fulfilled promise, and yet we wait. A. Christ has died for our sins; He has risen from the dead, but still we die. B. We wait for the end of time. C. We wait daily to see the Lord’s love and mercy in a world of sin. D. Paul’s reference to Christ as the “first fruits,” enables our waiting. 1. Leviticus 23 tells about the first fruit sacrifice of Levitical Law. 2. It was a “wave offering” done of “the day after the Sabbath”—Sunday. 3. It included the sacrifice of “a lamb a year old without defect” and a drink offering. 4. And so He points us to the strengthening gifts of His Holy Supper. III. Because of the promises of God’s love, because of His Word and the Sacraments, because Jesus is Lord, we are able to live end-time lives of fulfilled promise which proclaim to all the world that God is “all in all.” David Wollenburg

First Sunday in Advent Mark 11:1-10 December 1, 2002

The Palm Sunday story is the traditional Gospel for the First Sunday in Advent and is the optional Gospel reading for all three years of the three-year series— Matthew in Series A, Mark in B, Luke in C. Luke’s account appears in the one-year lectionary series. Since the Palm Sunday story is not listed as possible reading in the three-year series for Palm Sunday, Advent 1 becomes the only occurrence (though even here it’s option number two) of this story for congregations adhering

450 to the three-year series. Consequently, the preacher who plans out a long-term schedule has a choice to make. Will he bring in the Palm Sunday story on Palm Sunday? If so, should he also preach it on Advent 1 or use the other Gospel or one of the other lessons that day? If he won’t use it on Palm Sunday, should he preach it on Advent 1, and if so, should he preach it as if he were preaching on Palm Sunday or seek a unique Advent 1 message within it? This homiletical help is written from the viewpoint of one who breaks with the three-year series and preaches Palm Sunday on Palm Sunday and also sees distinctive Advent 1 messages in the Synoptic accounts. Thus this help will contain a brief sketch of an approach to preaching this story on Palm Sunday in order to differentiate the use of this story on Advent 1. Also, it will include some notes for differentiating the four (yes, four!) Gospel accounts of this event.

Preaching Palm Sunday on Palm Sunday

The one-year series offers Luke 19 or John 12 for use on Palm Sunday. Each has a unique mention of the reaction of the Pharisees to the shouts of “Hosanna.” Luke recounts how the Pharisees told Jesus to silence His followers, to which Jesus replies, “I tell you the truth, if these kept quiet the very stones would cry out.” John reports the Pharisees saying to each other, “You see that you are getting nowhere. Look, the whole world (6`F:@H) has gone after him.” In both cases we can see that the “problem” is that Jesus’ followers are reacting properly to Him, for once, and maybe for the only time ever during His thirty-three years on earth. The truth that Jesus is indeed the Savior, the Son of David, the Blessed One who comes in the name of the Lord is so fundamentally true that all creation rings with it, that even the rocks are just short of shouting it out. For only this once, this truth cannot be hidden from a large crowd, and Palm Sunday becomes a “cosmic” event in which a number of humans are in tune with the whole creation, crying out in praise and worship of the One who will save us and all creation from our groaning frustration (Rom. 8). Preaching the Palm Sunday story on Palm Sunday, then, could be a matter of involving the congregation in a “re-living” of the event, not by stirring emotions (it’s hard to get Lutherans to wave anything in a worship service, even Palm branches!), but by inviting them inside this truth of Holy Week, the week the Gospel actually occurred.

Preaching the Palm Sunday Story on Advent 1.

All three Synoptic accounts provide ample opportunity to accent the Advent theme of “coming,” even specifically advenio, “coming to.” The preacher would not be wandering away from these texts if he uses this sermon to introduce the Advent season and speak of three comings. Perhaps the most noticeable difference between the synoptic accounts is that of the report of the crowd’s words. One might, in these words alone, find enough variation to preach these in sequence through three years, without moving to the other possible Gospels or other readings. It seems that the crowd, like any crowd, contained many voices shouting related but not identical words, and we have at least three main variations of the cry reported. Central to the cry is gÛ8@(0:X<@H Ò ¦DP`:g<@H ¦< Ï<`:"J4 6LD\@L, words which occur in all three accounts. Mark alone reports not only “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, but gÛ8@(0:X<0 º ¦DP@:X<0 $"F48,\" J@Ø B"JDÎH º:ä<

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 451 )"L\*, “Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David.” This year, in Series B, the accent might be on the coming Messianic kingdom. Because Matthew includes Zechariah’s prophecy, Series A might accent the historical perspective and the long-term plan of God, while the fact that Luke reports voices crying, “Peace in heaven and glory in the highest” might suggest an accent in Series C on the direct connection between the Christmas and Passion stories as the Palm Sunday crowd picks up the song of the Christmas angels. A general flow for preaching Mark 11:1-10 on Advent 1 might be as follows:

I. What’s this story doing here? (Or, if preaching this story is part of a long-term plan using this story twice a year, “Here we are again to learn more from this familiar story.”) II. Advenio, “He comes to” us in these ways: A. He came, historically, to Bethlehem, as prophesied. B. He comes in Word and Sacrament. C. He is coming again. III. In every sense of coming, He comes as Messiah, as the descendant of David, A. Delivering from Goliath—Savior, B. Ruling as true King, C. Established forever. IV. More, His Messianic kingdom comes to us. A. We are saved from our sins; we have a Savior. B. We have a King—Leader, Protector, Shepherd-King. C. We are in His kingdom now and forever. Jeff Moore

Second Sunday in Advent Mark 1:1-8 December 8, 2002

There are so many things to say about John that the readings give us two opportunities in Advent–both the second and third Sunday’s Gospels concern him. If one doesn’t just do one “John” Sunday and avoid him on the other Sunday, one must pay attention to both texts. Next Sunday’s Gospel is John 1:6-8 and 19-28. It shares with this Sunday’s Gospel a number of elements, •B@FJX88T, the Isaiah quotation, the mention of John’s unworthiness to untie Jesus’ sandals, and the fact that John baptizes with water. Outside these shared elements, the key words of next week’s Gospel include sent from God, witness, light, “I am not the Christ,” “Why are you baptizing?,” and Pharisees. Steering clear of what one might preach on next week still leaves one free to divide up the shared elements and use some of them this week, plus one has a number of elements unique to Mark 1, namely, “beginning of the Gospel,” –((,88@H, “baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins,” John’s strange costume and diet, and “he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” Central to our understanding of John is his role as Baptizer, but with a baptism that is somehow distinct from Christian Baptism (the stories of Apollos in Acts 18:24ff. and of the beginning of Paul’s Ephesian ministry in Acts 19:1-6 show that there is such a distinction). The distinction is not found in the fact that John’s was “a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins,” for Peter proclaims the same concerning Christian Baptism on the day of Pentecost, in Acts 2:38 (with the

452 important addition of “in the name of Jesus”). Nor is the fact that John baptizes with water the distinction, water being essential to baptism. Rather, John points out the distinction in this text–the exalted person of Jesus and the addition of the Holy Spirit. If one includes the next three verses after our text, the story of the Baptism of Jesus, the Father is brought in as well. There is no indication that John’s baptism is Trinitarian, but when Jesus and the water come together, the whole Trinity is there. Consequently it appears that Christian Baptism adds to John’s baptism not the elements of water or of repentance/forgiveness—these are present already–but the element of the Name and all the Name brings. A direction for preaching this text (still leaving room for next Sunday’s Gospel) might be as follows: A very strange person comes to urge a radical change, which is the beginning of the Gospel. Suggested outline:

I. A very strange person. A. John’s origin, costume, chosen environment, and diet catch attention. He’s weird, so I look! B. I need my attention grabbed—I’m terribly distracted. If God has a message for me, it’ll take quite a messenger to get through! II. A radical change. A. Jesus is coming! If this is true, can I meet Him as I am? Do I dare? Do I want to? B. The opportunity to change/repent/turn around is always available. John had a word for everyone who came out to him, and even when that word was very accusatory, it allowed for, and called for, repentance. III. The beginning of the Gospel. A. Someone emerging from John’s baptism of repentance, standing there, dripping, was clean, his conscience eased, full of peace (true forgiveness was certainly available to Old Testament believers). B. John’s baptism, though complete in one sense, definitely pointed forward to Jesus, to a new life opening out from anything the Old Testament had revealed. The question of the past was settled through repentance, forgiveness, and faith. Now the future lay before the baptized one as a new, unexplored country—and John was pointing to a figure standing in that country, a figure not yet named. C. In my Baptism I have all this and more! His name is Jesus, and The Name is my name!

An entirely different sermon might be built around the phrase, “Unworthy to stoop to untie His sandal.” In one sense, considering the status of all humans compared to Jesus, we could say that we are all unable to reach high enough to untie His sandal! It’s almost surprising that John didn’t actually say it that way. John’s way of saying it is not only consistent with the metaphor, but it recognizes an incredible truth–we are all unable to get down low enough to wash the feet of the One who came, not to be served, but to serve. John has his priorities, his theology, his directions all straight. He, and we, are not worthy to serve like Jesus. A whole sermon might explore this metaphor, which could be connected to the Incarnation and preached in Advent, but probably only in a congregation expecting sermons of twenty-five plus minutes! Jeff Moore

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 453 Third Sunday in Advent John 1:6-8, 19-28 December 15, 2002

Preliminary considerations: The Gospel of Mark offers little for our season of Advent, and what there is was read last week. The lectionary turns to John for today’s Gospel. It employs a portion of John’s prologue (1:6-8) which recalls that he was to bear witness to the light and to point to the fulfilling of God’s promises in Christ. The other verses (19-28) show how he faithfully witnesses to the Messiah, who is about to begin His ministry. The Old Testament reading (Is. 61:1-3, 10-11) points to the “good tidings to the afflicted” and how God “will cause righteousness and praise to spring forth before all nations.” The “Psalm” is the Magnificat (Luke 1:46b-55). Its rejoicing in the Lord’s marvelous deeds is echoed in the Epistle (1 Thess. 5:16-24), which calls for us to rejoice and to always pray that we be ready in “spirit and soul and body” for Christ’s coming. The expectant joy of this day goes well beyond a set of parents who have waited patiently and now have the good news of a pregnancy. On this Sunday the season begins to turn toward the rejoicing which will reach its peak in the days of Christmas and Epiphany. Comments on the text: Verse 6: •B@FJV8:g<@H B"D• 2g@Ø. John was a man “sent from God.” This verb indicates especially the relation to a sender, for it makes John an official envoy, fully authorized for his mission. Verse 7: ¦4H :"DJbD4@<. John’s commission was to “bear witness to the light.” Such testimony in a court was the report of an eyewitness to what was seen and heard in order to establish the truth. Conjecture and embroidery are not useful; opinion and preference are to be avoided. The truth is something only an eyewitness can provide—or someone who carries a “living deposition” representing someone who is not present. Thus, Jesus foretells that His disciples will have “to bear testimony” about Him before governors and kings (Matt. 10:18; Luke 21:13). Verse 8: BgDÂ J@Ø NTJ`H. John “came to bear witness to the light.” Among all of God’s gifts light is one of the greatest for it brings order to the world (Ps. 43:3), curbs darkness (Ps. 139:11-12), points to life (Ps. 18:28; Job 33:30), and symbolizes the pleasures of life (gladness, Ps. 97:11; well-being, Is. 45:7; restoration, Micah 7:8-9; and new life in God, Ps. 34:5; Dan. 5:11). As a divine gift to the nations, Christ (The Light) illumines the Gentiles (Luke 2:32), fulfilling the promises of God to Abraham and Israel. Through Christ we become “sons of light” (John 12:36). John is not the light. He only points to it, and his testimony confirms God’s promises. Verse 19: Ë<" ¦DTJZFTF4< "ÛJ`<. There came a time and place and a special set of ears to hear John’s testimony. “The Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem” since they represented Israel’s Old Testament worship life and, with the Pharisees (v. 24), they carried the Word of God to the next generation. They questioned John whether he was the promised one. The experts had to identify him and hear his testimony. Verse 20: ñ:@8`(0Fg<. To “confess” is repeated twice in the same sentence— and it is stated in the negative for added emphasis. It makes clear just how well John fulfilled his purpose. He pointed to Jesus with absolute clarity. Ò PD4FJ`H. “The Anointed One” is “the Christ” (Greek), the “Messiah” (Hebrew). In the ancient secular world anointing was usually reserved for special occasions and was associated with gladness. The oil could carry a fragrance, which could be a daily

454 cosmetic only among the rich. Sometimes it was a medical treatment. In religious use it was smeared or poured on stones or pillars (Gen. 20:18; 31:13) or on an altar or utensils to consecrate them to the Lord. In Israel the high priest Aaron (Ex. 29:7), priests (1 Kings 1:39), some prophets like Elisha (1 Kings 19:16), and especially the king (1 Sam. 10:1), were anointed. This act conveyed the power to exercise royal authority. Hence, when it comes to being associated with Jesus, it shows Him to be fully authorized as God’s representative. Verse 21: Ò BD@NZJ0H. John was neither Elijah nor “the prophet.” Elijah was to be sent “before the coming of the great and terrible day of the Lord,” according to Malachi 4:5. John is a prophet (Mark 11:32; John 1:25) and more than a prophet, according to Jesus (Matt. 11:9) since he would usher in the time of eschatological salvation. Jesus is the promised prophet of the last time (Acts 3:22; 7:37; cf. Deut. 18:15) who Himself brings salvation. Verse 23: ¦< J± ¦DZ:å. This quotes Isaiah 40:3. The desert is an abandoned, empty, desolate place. As in 1 Kings 19:4, sometimes prophets could find theophany there. It can be seen as a lonely region visited as a place of retreat and prayer (John 6:31). The people came to such a place to hear the cry of John—unencumbered by the routines of home life. J¬< Ò*Î< 6LD\@L. The “way of the Lord” (Gen. 18:19; Ps. 18:21; 25:9) is the opposite of the way of evil (Prov. 2:12; 8:13; Ps. 1:1, 6). The prophet proclaims the coming of the way of peace (Luke 1:79), truth (2 Pet. 2:2), and salvation (Acts 16:17). Christ Himself is the “way” (John 14:4-6), and Christianity gets the name “the Way” (Acts 9:2; 19:9, 23; 22:4; 24:14, 22). Outline:

A Man Sent from God

I. John came to testify to the light. A. He is sent from God as a witness. B. He witnesses to the light. II. John’s testifies to Jerusalem’s representatives. A. He is not the Christ. B. He is not Elijah. C. He is not the prophet. D. He is the voice crying in the wilderness. III. John comes to baptize. A. He brings a water baptism. B. He is not worthy to untie the shoes of “He who comes.” IV. The Anointed One will soon be revealed. A. He will bring a Baptism of the Spirit (Advent 2 Gospel). B. He will bring liberty to the captives (Old Testament). James L. Brauer

Fourth Sunday in Advent Luke 1:26-38 December 22, 2002

Preliminary considerations: The “impossible” is about to unfold, so the Collect prays that God would come with His great might to deliver us from our sins. The Old Testament lesson (2 Sam. 7:(1-7) 8-11, 16) describes how David wanted to

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 455 build a house for God but how God planned to establish a “house” forever for David’s throne. The Epistle (Rom. 16:25-27) says that the mystery was disclosed through prophetic writings “to bring about the obedience of faith.” Indeed, the object of God’s plan is faith in Christ. The Gospel shows how God overcomes what seems impossible as it is announced to Mary that she will be “the mother of God.” Comments on the text: Verse 26. •BgFJV80<...•BÎ J@Ø 2g@Ø. The verb makes clear that the “messenger” is sent at the command and with the authority of someone else; the prepositional phrase expressly states that it is from God. Gabriel had first appeared to Daniel (chaps. 8 and 9) and revealed the impending Day of Judgment. In pseudepigraphical literature Gabriel had many roles. In the New Testament he announced the birth of John (Luke 1:11-20) and the birth of Jesus to Mary; Revelation 8:2 alludes to him as one who stands “before God.” He is one of a very few angels who has a name. Verse 27. ¦> @Ç6@L )"L\*. “From (the) house of David” refers to the family line and, in the case of David, to a kingly line (see 2 Sam. 7:1-16). This lineage is traced in Luke 3:23-28 and in Matthew 1:2-16. Indeed Joseph would travel to his hometown, Bethlehem, to be enrolled there. Note that his betrothal to Mary (almost tantamount to marriage) makes him the “legal father” of Jesus. Verse 28: 6gP"D4JT:X<0. Mary is the “favored one” in the sight of God. Ò 6bD4@H :gJ• F@Ø. “The Lord (is) with you” reminds us of the liturgical exchange “The Lord be with you” (Dominus vobiscum), the angel’s greeting in Judges 6:12, and Paul’s greeting in 2 Thessalonians 3:16. Verse 30: :¬ N@$@Ø. “Do not be afraid” suggests that she was distressed on seeing the angel. Fear has many emotional and theological shades of meaning (terror, distress, dread, awe, reverence), often somewhat mixed (cf. Zechariah’s reaction in Luke 1:12 and the same first words to him from the angel). Verse 31: 6"Â Æ*@×. “And behold.” The angel moves right to his message. She is not to fear; the Lord favors her—that favor and what is to happen to her are inextricably linked (she will be called highly favored among women). Like John the Baptist’s story, the name “Jesus” is given by God (the Father). Verse 32: LÊÎH ßR\FJ@L. It is not a name for Jesus we use very often in song or prayer but “Son of the Most High” is a wonderful description of who He is—though He takes on a fleshly form. Verse 33: @É6@< z3"6T$. “House of Jacob” is a reference to David’s line (cf. “throne of His father David” in v. 32) and a kind of poetic parallelism. Verse 34: BäH. “How?” is a natural question for humans and for an unmarried virgin. ¦B4F64VFg4 introduces the mystery of the incarnation: “the power of the Most High” will “overshadow”; the child will be called “holy” and “Son of God.” Jesus is both God and man. Verse 36: @Û6 •*L<"JZFg4. Note that the double negative is used for emphasis: “it will not be impossible” for God, that is, nothing will be impossible, or stated positively, everything is possible. The same construction is used regarding faith the size of a mustard seed (Matt. 17:20) and a similar one when God tells Abraham that at this time next year Sarah will have a son (Gen. 18:14). Nothing is too difficult for the Lord! He will fulfill every promise He has given. Outline: Nothing Impossible

I. It looked impossible. A. When Adam and Eve fell into sin (Gen. 3).

456 B. When Abraham at age ninety-nine had no son (Gen. 17). C. When Pharaoh said, “no” (Ex. 5). D. When Nebuchadnezzar destroyed Jerusalem and took the people to Babylon (2 Chron. 36). E. And it is easy to doubt that David would have a kingdom forever (2 Sam. 7). II. God’s plan was coming together when Gabriel appeared to Mary. A. Zechariah and Elizabeth were going to have a son who would make the hearts of people ready for the Lord (Luke 1:13-20). B. In Nazareth a virgin was betrothed to Joseph of the house of David. C. An angel came to tell Mary she would have a son, Jesus, and His kingdom would have no end. D. But there was no husband. E. By the power of the Most High, Jesus would be the Son of God. III. With God nothing will be impossible. A. God would keep all His promises: to Adam and Eve, to Abraham, to Moses, and to David and his descendants. B. God can deal with doubt, sin, and rebellion in Israel and in us. C. We hear of Jesus, His salvation, and His kingdom. 1. He destroys the power of fear, doubt, and sin. 2. It leads us to say, with Mary, “Let it be as you say.” James L. Brauer

First Sunday after Christmas Luke 2:25-40 December 29, 2002

Introduction: In this text we can see how Simeon celebrated Christmas when it first came, with a song of joy over the Child brought to the temple. He spoke of the peace which he had, and through our faith we too have such peace.

The Peace We Have

I. It is peace with God through the Babe born to Mary. A. Sinners are at war with God and desperately need peace. B. God promised comfort to His people (see Is. 40:11) and the coming of the Prince of Peace (Is. 9:6). Simeon waited longingly for this (v. 25). C. Simeon had a special Word of promise (v. 26) and obtained peace according to it when it came to fulfillment in his arms (vv. 28-29). We too can have this peace by means of the Gospel of Peace preached to us and the faith it creates in us (Rom. 10:15, 17). We too can see the salvation which comes in Christ, the Babe of Mary. As Simeon held Him in his arms, we can take hold of Him in hands and mouth in Holy Communion and appropriately sing the Song of Simeon in the service afterward, knowing that here is our peace; this is a “visible Word” indeed (Apology of the Ausburg Confession XIII, 5), full of Gospel! II. It is a lasting peace embracing the world. A. Simeon had everlasting assurance for his own future as he made ready to

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 457 depart in peace (v. 9). Through Christ we also have peace for our lifetime and beyond. B. In the Babe of Mary, Simeon saw the salvation of God (v. 30)—not only his own salvation, but one for all people (v. 31). The Messiah would not only be the glory of Simeon’s people Israel, but would beam blessed light upon the Gentiles everywhere. The joys of this world do not abide forever, and the old year passes away, but with eyes of faith like Simeon’s we see the salvation which lasts throughout history and into all eternity. May those who do not know the Bringer of Salvation, for whom this year or the coming one may be their last upon the earth, come to find His never-ending peace. Thomas Manteufel

Second Sunday after Christmas John 1:1-18 January 5, 2003

Introduction: The opening words of the Gospel of John have been said to be worthy to be written in letters of gold. Verse 14 could certainly be engraved on the cover of the new year now begun, especially the words “grace and truth,” which are indispensable for our peace and joy as we enter it with Christ our Lord.

A New Year of Grace and Truth

I. Christ brings grace to us. A. God’s grace is necessary for life (vv. 4-5). Sinners have lost eternal life by countless offenses and corrupted hearts, and their spiritual life has become deep darkness. But the Lord is a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, and abounding in love and faithfulness (Ex. 34:6). He wants to restore human beings to communion with Himself. B. Christ is the eternal Word of God (v. 1). As the Word of God He is the self- expression of the Father’s grace and love toward men. He manifests the divine will to create a world to glorify its Maker and the divine plan of redeeming the fallen world by becoming flesh in order to dwell among men and suffer and die for their sin in self-sacrificing love (v. 14). This Word is a person, and through Him grace and light are bestowed. C. The grace revealed in Christ is for all mankind. He brings the light which every man needs (v. 9). He makes His loving Father known to lost sinners and declares the divine will to be reconciled by His proclamation about Himself. II. Christ brings truth to us. A. The truth is rejected in the darkness of men’s hearts (vv. 5, 10-11). He told the truth about God and man, the wrath and hell deserved by sinners and the promise of God to pardon for His sake. But, sad to say, where the darkness has prevailed, the world He made has not recognized Him and His own people have not received Him in faith. B. But the truth about Christ is given to invite all its hearers to believe on His name. Where God regenerates hearts, they believe in Jesus as their Redeemer and receive the right to be children of God (vv. 12-13). Such

458 blessed people have seen His real glory as the only-begotten Son of God (v. 14). C. We are witnesses to the truth about Jesus. John the Baptist was sent as a witness to testify to the Incarnate Word. He pointed to Him as the Light every person needs for eternal life (vv. 6-9). Like John, all of us who have been reborn in Christ have a testimony to give to the glorious Savior. We have become the children of God for His sake (v. 12) and receive one blessing after another from the fullness of His grace (v. 16). We continue in the truth which He Himself brought (John 8:31-32), because we want those who are still in darkness to enjoy the blessings of the light.

Conclusion: An old tombstone in England still gives the witness: “Here lie the earthly remains of John Berridge, late vicar of Exeter, an itinerant servant of Jesus Christ, who loved his Master and His work and after running on His errands for many years was caught up to wait on Him above. Reader, art thou born again?” Shall we who are still alive be silent while a dead man gives witness to His grace and truth? Thomas Manteufel

The Baptism of Our Lord Mark 1:4-11 January 12, 2003

Epiphany brings us the revelation of God in Christ Jesus, and today we see His revelation in the waters of the Jordan River. Here in the waters God reveals that His Christ has not only come to be with sinners but Jesus also came to align Himself with us as He was anointed, not with the oil of joy but with the baptism of repentance. We know that even in a few weeks we will also remember that Christ not only aligned Himself with sinners but that He also went to the cross on Good Friday to die the sinner’s death in our place. The readings for today focus on that relationship Christ has with His people, not only that He is King, but that Jesus also comes to be in the trenches with His subjects. Liturgical context: The readings seem to have a couple of themes woven throughout them which the preacher could likewise use in the sermon. God is King and therefore deserves all praise and glory, for He has done marvelous things for His subjects, His people. Psalm 45 is pretty well used in its entirety between the Introit and the Psalm of the Day, which keys in on God’s eternal rule of justice and righteousness. The Old Testament reading (Is. 42:1-7) proclaims YHWH’s Servant and gives some clues to God’s people about what they should look for in identifying the Messiah. YHWH will place His Spirit upon Him. This Servant will bring peace and mend broken souls, yet He will be faithful and just in doing so. YHWH’s Servant will be a covenant to God’s people, and He will open the eyes of the spiritually blind and free us from the darkness of sin. Peter highlights this in his sermon recorded in the New Testament reading of the day (Acts 10:34-38). His sermon proclaims Jesus as the Lord’s Christ, beginning at Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan. The preacher could certainly develop a sermon for the day reflecting on all of these readings, which would involve an alternate outline from the one offered at the end of this homiletical help. He could begin with developing kingship and

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 459 power, glory and honor, might and majesty, as God alone is King. Once developing this theme, the preacher could move into Christ as King and ask the question, “What’s He doing down there in the river?” The answer is obvious. Christ Jesus is no ordinary king. He goes where He knows He must be. He goes into the trenches with His people and where His people need Him most. He’s there in the river with sinners. He will later die the sinner’s death on the cross. Exegetical notes and insights: What’s noticeably absent from Mark’s account is John’s brood of vipers speech to the approaching crowds of Pharisees, and Sadducees that is found in Matthew and Luke. You might recall that this is where John gives his fire and brimstone sermon about repentance and the fruit thereof. Mark’s account is void of this whole matter, and this is one of the unique things that the preacher can key in on as he prepares his proclamation for this Sunday. Now please don’t get me wrong. Repentance is very necessary and very Biblical. The Christian’s life is a life of repentance. What’s unique to this text, however, and hence worth emphasizing, is not the repentance we do but what God does for us in Christ Jesus. We listen to the “voices” of Scripture that speak to us this day through Mark. The reading for today begins at 1:4, which is a shame because the hearer is divorced from the first three verses. Those verses, however, are necessary to put today’s reading into context. Mark brings a message of joy as he announces the Gospel of salvation as recorded in Scripture in a distinctive, eschatological perspective. The Scripture references are a composite from Exodus 23:20, Malachi 3:1f., and Isaiah 40:3, which points God’s people to His angel/messenger that He would send to them. This one was to lead God’s people to a place God has prepared for them. God’s people were to listen and do all that His messenger said to do. The Isaiah 40:3 reference clues St. Mark’s hearers into who this angel of God would be. He would be the voice of one crying in the wilderness who would preach comfort to God’s people because their warfare now is over. The voice of Scripture would not only point us to who the messenger is but also to what the content and object of his ministry would be. He would show us the revealed glory of YHWH (Is. 40:5), which would bring comfort and peace to God’s people (Acts 10 reading). Scripture’s voice through the prophet Malachi further clarifies who this messenger of God would be. He would be the forerunner of YHWH, the Elijah that God’s people were to expect, and the messenger of God’s covenant. God’s people would delight in him. This messenger would also “prepare the way before Me,” says the Lord. The voice of Scripture points to the voice of God’s messenger who would in turn prepare the way and point to God Himself (Mal. 3:1f.). The context of this reference is the Day of Judgment. And isn’t it interesting that this is fulfilled in the baptismal waters of Christ in the Jordan? Indeed, we sinners can delight in the forerunner’s message because our judgment is in Christ who paid the penalty for our sin. Verses 4-6: The Baptist preaches a baptism of repentance for the purpose (gÆH) of the forgiveness of sins. The call is heard by God’s people, and they go out to him with forgiveness in mind. Nearly every English translation reflects the Greek in that the people “were baptized by him in the Jordan river, confessing their sins.” The “baptizing” precedes “confessing” in the translations. The NIV, for whatever reason, switches the order so that “Confessing their sins, they were baptized by him in the Jordan River.” The emphasis is on the person’s act of confessing rather than where it ought to be, namely, on baptism and Christ. Verses 7-8: The voice of Scripture in Malachi (3:1f. and 4:5f.) finds fulfillment

460 in the Baptist’s ministry and sermon. He points to the One who comes after him. John/Elijah prepares the way of God in the flesh. Verses 9-11: Most English translations include gÛ2×H, Mark’s characteristic “immediately,” except in the NIV. Malachi proclaims in 3:1 the suddenness of the Lord among His people, and there certainly are some sudden and unexpected events in this reading! The voice of God breaks through the heavens declaring this Jesus in the baptismal waters of the Jordan to be His Son, the Servant of YHWH from the day’s Old Testament reading (Is. 42:1-7). Suggested outline:

Listening to the Voices

Introduction: Describe what a scavenger hunt is all about: participants receive clues which take them to another clue and then another and another until finally the end is reached and the goal is obtained. If the clue, however, is misinterpreted along the way, the participant is misguided, gets off track, and loses the game.

Transition: God doesn’t want anyone to miss the forgiveness of sins, salvation, and eternal life that He has waiting for them. He wants to make things perfectly clear for all people. We are to listen to the “voices” provided by God.

I. The voice of Scripture: Key in on Mark 1:2-3, which points us to the Baptist. II. The voice of the Baptist: He points us to the Christ. III. The voice of reason: This serves as the malady. The preacher can apply this to his personal life as well as the life of the congregation. How does the voice of our reason get in the way our relationship with Christ? Does it have to do with repentance; I don’t see a need to do that? How about the member who thinks that the sin s/he did is so great that God cannot forgive it? What about the member who might be contemplating an abortion, divorce, affair, struggles in the family, health concerns, death, etc.? IV. The voice of God: God doesn’t want us to miss His gift to us. The Savior whose birth we celebrated a few weeks ago is YHWH’s Servant found in Isaiah 42. He is the Lord (Large Catechism, Article II), and look where the Lord is found. He is found serving God’s people in the waters. Michael J. Redeker

Second Sunday after the Epiphany John 1:43-51 January 19, 2003

The context: John very carefully crafts his Gospel account with an Epiphany intent, if you will. That intent is stated at the end of his work: “These things are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in His name” (20:31). Holding up His teaching and His actions, John is going to show us that Jesus of Nazareth is the divine, incarnate Logos, the very Christ of God, the only-begotten Son of the Father and Savior of the world. From the starting point of the prologue (1:1-18) John draws ever-widening circles as He shows us Jesus taking the initiative to reveal Himself and His mission to people, first to the Baptizer, and then on to His immediate disciples.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 461 The text: The appointed Gospel reading finds Jesus continuing to add to His followers as He intentionally takes the initiative to call them to discipleship. Verses 43-44: This is the last of four consecutive days noted in this first chapter. Jesus was still at Bethany-beyond-the-Jordan when He headed for Galilee. He was headed there on a mission—with firm resolve (aorist ²2X80Fg<). Philip was “in His sights,” so to speak. Note the economy of words John uses to report the calling of Philip. Surely there must have been more going on, more being said. What’s important, however, is the One who calls this man to faith and discipleship. His word does what it says. Faith in the Christ is worked, and following Him in discipleship meant expressing that faith. Where we would perhaps like more of a biographical sketch of Philip we have only the fact that, like Andrew and Peter, he was from the town of Bethsaida. And although John refers to this disciple several times thereafter in his Gospel, Philip always appears to be out of his league (6:7; 12:21ff.; 14:8ff.), a rather ordinary sort of guy. Nonetheless, he is the one Jesus took the initiative to find and call to faith. Verse 45: A “domino effect” occurs as Philip finds Nathanael. Discipleship involves mission. Philip intentionally seeks out Nathanael and takes the initiative to speak of Jesus as the object of Old Testament Messianic prophecy. Note how Philip identifies Jesus. The word order in the Greek text is instructive. gßDZ6":g< (“We have found”) occurs after what is far more important: “Him of whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote.” He is “the son of Joseph, the one from Nazareth.” Verse 46: Nathanael’s response was hardly enthusiastic. He got hung up on geography—the scandal of particularity, Nazareth! Even with Old Testament prophecy in view, would the Messiah of God—much less J4 •("2Î<—come from such an insignificant place as Nazareth? Philip’s response is direct and to-the- point. In the New International Critical Commentary series, Leon Morris suggests here that Philip’s response exhibits his lack of resourcefulness (probably when compared to his response to Jesus in the feeding of the multitude in 6:7). This writer, however, thinks otherwise. Philip places his friend—with his doubts—into the hands of Him who finds and calls His people. His response to Nathanael’s objection is simple but effective. Philip does not argue; he invites (see 1 Cor. 2:4-5). Verses 47-48: Note the surprise Nathanael registers (“How do you know me?) when he discovers that the One identified by Philip—the One about whom Moses and the prophets wrote, the One from Nazareth—has already taken the initiative to know him, and to know him so intimately (“I saw you while you were still under the fig tree before Philip called you.”). To be sure, Nathanael was not a false Israelite, a Jew by physical descent only. He was a true believer in the Messianic promise. He was longing for the fulfillment of Old Testament prophecy. Note also that Jesus answers Nathanael’s, “How do you know me?” with “I saw.” Though we cannot say for certain what the fig tree incident involved, the Christ of God saw—and knew— Nathanael when Nathanael thought he was alone. Quite possibly, the reference to Nathanael under the fig tree and his prayerful contemplation of Old Testament Messianic promise were connected. The point is that this One from Nazareth knew Nathanael before this face-to-face encounter. Jesus knew Nathanael before Nathanael ever had a “name and face” to connect with the promise! Verse 49: The first word from Nathanael’s mouth, D"$$\, begins a lifelong confession of faith and discipleship under the tutelage of Jesus (for other similar confessions of faith see Matt 14:33; 16:16; John 20:28). Nathanael declares this One from Nazareth to be the Son of God and King of Israel. In doing so he confesses

462 both the person and work of Christ, and this all at the initiative of the Lord. Jesus was making disciples. Verses 50-51: Jesus feeds Nathanael’s faith with grand encouragement. Faith in Christ is not static. It is always on the move, on the move with Christ, growing in Christ. Being seen and known by the Christ under the fig tree was only the beginning for Nathanael. Jesus promises, :g\.T J@bJT< ÐR®. With Him, there are always greater things. The advertising jingle for a major automaker includes a phrase that could well be the caption for Christian discipleship: “Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet, baby.” Just think what Nathanael had yet to see! The image Jesus paints for His new student and for all those within earshot (note the plural, ß:Ã< ), “the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man,” calls to mind Jacob’s dream (Gen. 28:10-22). On Genesis 28, Luther provides inspiring insight (Luther’s Works, Am. ed., 5:218). It is Jesus, however, who takes the place of the ladder, for God had sent forth from heaven above (Is. 64:1) the One who would, in Himself, bridge the gap between heaven and earth. Nathanael would see Jesus bridging the gap in Himself by His teaching and healing, His suffering and dying, His rising to life again on the third day. In Jesus Christ, heaven, indeed, is brought to earth. God and man are reconciled. Great things are these. And even greater things are to come. John concludes this section of his Gospel underscoring the Epiphany theme. Truly this Jesus of Nazareth is the Son of God come from heaven to earth to find and call lost sinners unto Himself that, in Him, they may see and know the greater things He alone makes possible. Homiletical considerations: Ordinary people—like Philip and Nathanael—are sought and found by Jesus. They do not find Him nor do we. In His time and in His way (Word and Sacrament) the Lord finds us, and He calls us to follow Him in a discipleship that in word and lifestyle invites others to “come and see” Jesus. In this discipleship we discover daily greater and greater things about His saving, sustaining love for us. And just when we think we’ve seen it all! Larry W. Rockemann

Third Sunday after the Epiphany Mark 1:14-20 January 26, 2003

The context: With his rather abrupt beginning Mark wastes no time launching us headlong into the good news of Jesus Christ. It is the good news that this One is the very Son of God, revealed early on with His victory over satanic temptation and His miraculous catch of disciples. In Mark’s account there is action from the start. The voice and work of the Baptizer herald the coming of the King. John baptizes Jesus in the Jordan. After descending upon Him like a dove, the Spirit sends Jesus into the wilderness. After forty days of being tried and tempted by Satan, He proved victorious and headed to Galilee. From the first verse of the appointed Gospel reading for the day (1:14) to (3:6), Mark describes the initial phase of Jesus’ Galilean ministry. The text: Verse 14: 9gJ• *¥ JÎ B"D"*@2-<"4 JÎ< z3TV<<0< identifies the time that Jesus begins His work in Galilee. The verb B"D"*\*T:4 refers not only to John’s being handed over but is used several times hereafter by Mark to recall the handing over of Jesus. The details of John’s arrest and execution are provided later (6:17-29; see also Matt. 4:12 and Luke 3:19-20). What had Jesus entered Galilee to

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 463 do? Mark gets right to the point: 60DbFFT< JÎ gÛ"((X84@< J@Ø 2g@Ø. In both word and work, this phrase describes the earthly ministry of Jesus. In verse 15 Mark summarizes the content of His preaching. Verse 15: BgB8ZDTJ"4 Ò 6"4DÎH. The position of the verb makes this emphatic, and the perfect tense, “has been fulfilled,” indicates that the time that God had appointed for the Messiah’s arrival had now fully come (see also Gal. 4:4 and Eph. 1:10). Note also the perfect tense verb (emphatic): 6"Â ³((46g< º $"F48g\" J@Ø 2g@Ø. Jesus proclaimed that the kingdom of God was at hand (in His own person and work this kingdom was now “in the midst of them” (Luke 17:21), and He invites hearers to enter into it: “Repent and believe the good news.” This was also the message heralded by the forerunner. Verse 16: Mark begins his narrative of the public ministry of Jesus with a vivid account of His call to four fishermen, two pairs of brothers, to be His disciples. 6"Â B"DV(T< B"D• J¬< 2V8"FF"< J-H '"848"\"H. Mark always refers to the lake of Galilee as 2V8"FF", a word which normally has the meaning “sea.” This was a place of work, of important industry. One is bound to meet those involved in making their living from this lake. Here Simon and his brother, Andrew, were “casting a net” (•:N4$V88@

464 and Andrew. Mark notes that whereas Simon and Andrew “left their nets” and followed Jesus, James and John “left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men”—a definite break with their former way of life to follow Jesus. Homiletical considerations: The Epiphany point is that Jesus is the very Son of God come to earth to rescue mankind from sin, death, and hell. This He does by catching people much the same as fish are caught: by total surprise and with miraculous success. With the net of His Word, Jesus captures lives held in bondage and releases them to live life in all its fullness “following Him.” In the Gospel reading last Sunday (Epiphany 2, John 1:43-51) and again in the reading for this Sunday, Jesus calls, “Follow Me,” and people the likes of Philip and Nathaniel, Simon and Andrew, James and John drop what they’re doing and follow Him. Why? Because the Lord chose them! The word of the Lord Christ is powerful. He is the God-Incarnate who speaks and accomplishes the will of the Father. What Jesus says, happens. (The point is not that these men left everything to follow Jesus. It is, rather, that by His powerful word, Christ released them from their former way of life to follow Him as He revealed Himself to them. See also John 15:16). Following Jesus means being part of the living net whereby He continues to catch people for life. Through us, wherever we live and work, He proclaims His Word and gathers others unto Himself. As with fishing, the joy is in the catch, seeing in others the new life they have in the powerful, life-changing call of Christ, “Follow Me.” Larry W. Rockemann

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 465 On the reading of many books...”

PIERRE BAYLE’S REFORMATION: Conscience and Criticism on the Eve of the Enlightenment. By Barbara Sher Tinsley. Selinsgrove: Susquehanna University Press, 2001. 476 pages. Cloth. $65.00.

Pierre Bayle (1647-1706) is a fascinating figure. Haled as a skeptic and herald of the Enlightenment’s rejection of the Christian tradition by earlier scholarship, he has fared somewhat differently at the hands of recent French and German interpreters of his work. They have placed him squarely in his actual historical context, the struggle of French Orthodox Calvinism to preserve itself in the midst of political persecution from King Louis XIV and the shifting ground of late seventeenth-century philosophical and theological discussion. Bayle’s greatest contribution to those discussions was his famous Dictionary, which indeed does not clearly reflect attitudes which we might associate with Protestant Orthodoxy; it is therefore understandable that later generations, influenced by the Enlightened minds that had put Bayle to use for their own cause, claimed him as a precursor of the great critics of the eighteenth century. They had no reason to attempt to discern how his Calvinist theology shaped his criticism of trends of his time and how his own suffering the tyranny of his Roman Catholic monarch’s determination to eliminate his kind of Christian determined his perspectives. Bayle wrote no study of the Reformation as such, but his Dictionary included many articles on Reformation figures. From these Reformation scholars Barbara Tinsley has created a bold sketch of Bayle’s understanding of the Reformation. Her imaginatively conceived study does not treat every biography of sixteenth century theologians in the work, for some, as she explains, are too short or too concentrated on biographical details to provide grist for a larger interpretation. She reflects the reading of Bayle that recognizes his place in Late Calvinist Orthodoxy: “It would be wrong to think that Bayle...had subtly positioned man for a leap into an Enlightened world of natural religion and natural science where all the old religious verities would be discredited.... Bayle’s God was the God of Providence and of Scripture” (179). Yet she ignores how deeply enmeshed the Sedan and Rotterdam professor was in Calvinist church life when she asserts that “Bayle (like Ochino) did not define genuine Christian belief according to any particular confession of faith” (284) although she often notes how he favored a Calvinist view of the Lord’s Supper against those of Roman Catholics and Lutherans. Similarly, a curious slippage in regard to Bayle’s alleged skepticism occasionally intrudes; from time to time the author cannot resist the temptation to fall back into descriptions of her subject such as “skeptic that he was” (197; cf. 286); or she questions whether Bayle’s protest against the “excessive rationalism [which] paved the way to religious skepticism, deism, and ultimately, to atheism” was not an instance of “Bayle reminding himself of this dangerous progression” (302) and not merely a critique of Faustus Socinus, whom Bayle was assessing as he warned against such rationalism. The answer to the question is: probably not, but rather a normal expression of theologians in the latter stages of Protestant Orthodoxy. The fourteen men she has selected, from Erasmus, Luther, and Melanchthon, through Calvin and Beza, to Bernardino Ochino, Francesco Stancaro, and Faustus Socinus, provide a basis for assessing how Bayle perceived the personalities that helped define his thought world and their continuing influence on his contemporaries.

466 She presents her subjects in great detail, recounting Bayle’s profiles of the reformers as well as his prejudices, sometimes with reference to twentieth-century scholarship, sometimes not. Thus, her evaluation of Bayle’s accuracy is somewhat uneven, but helpful when it is present. Certainly, this volume reaches her objective “of trying to capture Bayle’s view of the Reformation and its consequences or effect on European culture down to our own time” at the level of narrative, but the analysis could be much richer if the author had done more to assess Bayle’s presentation and argument in its historical context. Tinsley mentions Bayle’s study in Geneva, his teaching at the Calvinist Academy in Sedan, and his participation in the disputes that rent the Rotterdam community of French Calvinist exiles where he lived and worked in his later years, but she too seldom evaluates specific elements of Bayle’s treatment of his material within the context of his disagreements with his Calvinist colleague in Rotterdam Pierre Jurieau (cf. 295, where she mentions their disputes). Their differences provoked Bayle in specific ways and must have determined the interpretation Bayle formulated for most of his figures. The specific issues that divided the two would help illumine Bayle’s treatment of sixteenth-century debates and formulations. The author sketches the broader outlines of the persecution of Huguenots at the time, including Bayle and his family, but does not often employ in her analysis Bayle’s own views of royal power and how Calvinists should react to its abuse. Without the proper historical context in view, Tinsley’s insightful observations and assessment too often are not well focused; too often this failure blurs her conclusions. Small errors also mar the presentation. Luther’s view of the Lord’s Supper is labeled “consubstantiation” (15). In an interesting review of Bayle’s report on Luther’s attitude toward the epistle of James Tinsley reports on the dispute between the Jesuit Edmund Campion and the Anglican divine William Whitaker over Luther’s comment that the epistle is an “epistle of straw.” Whitaker denied that Luther had said such a thing, then later admitted he had. Bayle did not check whether that was true or not, though presumed it was “in some preface or other”; according to Tinsley, “the statement about straw (or rubble) was not contained in any preface, but in an examination” (61) (citing unfortunately the English translation of the disputation of Heinrich Schmedenstede but not the Latin of the Weimar Ausgabe, which she inexplicably never cites). In fact, of course, Luther used that expression in the preface to the New Testament composed in 1522. Bayle’s sketches of the learned and famous often sparkle with wit and penetrating analysis, and Tinsley’s summaries convey the liveliness of the writer of this Dictionary. An appendix of short biographical portrayals help readers unfamiliar with minor figures of the Reformation find their way through the thicket of Bayle’s historical descriptions. Tinsley rightly recognizes Bayle’s place within Calvinist theological discussion and his abhorrence of persecution. It is regrettable that her failure to refine her general observations about the historical context of his work and integrate them with her appraisal of its text keep the reader from understanding his use of history for his own concerns and causes. Robert Kolb

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 467 GODS, GODDESSES, AND IMAGES OF GOD IN ANCIENT ISRAEL. By Othmar Keel and Christoph Uehlinger. Trans. by Thomas H. Trapp. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1998. xiii + 466 pages. Cloth. $45.00.

The purpose of this book is to “supplement” text-oriented approaches to the study of ancient Israelite religion with iconography (ix). In taking this approach the authors intend to show a religious continuum in Syro-Palestine from MB IIB to IA III (17). They also address two questions. Was pre-exilic Israel polytheistic (2- 3)? Did Yahweh have a consort (1-2)? The authors’ methodology centers on iconographic artifacts diachronically and geographically. This approach arises from four factors. First, Ugaritic religious texts from 1800-1200 B.C. are too distant in time and space from IA Israel to illumine its religion (11). Second, biblical texts are too late and deuteronomically biased to be reliable for reconstructing Israelite religion (3, 373-74, 390). Thus, the only real primary sources available are the vast iconographic artifacts found in Syro-Palestine (3, 11). Mostly these are seal amulets but include any iconographic and extra-biblical inscriptional evidence (10). Third, Israelite religion did not exist in a vacuum. Political control and religious influences changed over time. The study of Israelite religion, then, must pay attention to chronological and geographical differences. Finally, by proposing a MB IIB to IA III continuum, the authors implicitly espouse the theory that Israel largely springs from Syro-Palestine rather than an Egyptian exodus. Based on this methodology, the book has seven chapters devoted to different time periods. In MB IIB (1750-1550 B.C.), the “Naked Goddess” in all her permutations (anthropomorphic, caprid, lion, tree, branch, dove, etc.) is prominent. She is sometimes shown together with the weather god emphasizing eroticism and fertility. In the LB Age (1550-1150 B.C.), Egypt’s colonization of Syro-Palestine influences those areas’ religious symbols. The male warrior deity rises to prominence and the goddess is “suppressed” in official religion (97). The popularity of goddesses in private piety can be seen from the large number of inexpensive terra-cotta plaques of the “Naked Goddess” and other images which emphasize eroticism, fertility, nursing, and motherhood. In IA I (1250-1000 B.C.), Egyptian colonialism wanes, and religious images are transformed. In Philistia the weather god, Baal-Seth, and other anthropomorphic male gods appear combative and triumphant. The “Naked Goddesses” and her fertility shift to images of a caprid beside a tree and the suckling mother animal. Little iconography exists for the Israelite hill country although there is a bronze bull from east of Dothan that may represent the weather god (Baal-Hadad or El). In IA IIA (1000-900 B.C.), the United Monarchy rises and anthropomorphic images of deities disappear in Israel. The Solomonic Temple borrows religious symbols from Egypt and Phoenicia, which focus on Yahweh’s presence and power of regeneration and fertility. Two terra-cotta stands from Taanach probably symbolize Asherah and Baal. Finally, iconography produced in Phoenicia and North Syria depict gods and goddesses by their animal or astral symbols. In IA IIB (925-720/700 B.C.), Israel and Judah split, and Israel falls to Assyria. Under Egyptian and Phoenician influence Israel adopts solar symbolism depicting Baal as a young, four-winged god of heaven. Later, Judah uses solar images of winged discs and winged scarabs on lmlk jar handles to depict Yahweh as the

468 “Lord of Heaven.” Inscriptional, and possibly iconographic, evidence for “Yahweh and his asherah” comes from Kuntillet ’Ajrud and Khirbet el-Qom. “Asherah” is not a goddess or Yahweh’s consort but a cult object in the form of a tree that mediates Yahweh’s blessings (240). Inscriptional evidence in Israel and Judah show names with “Yahweh” or “Baal” elements. These refer to Yahweh, who was also worshiped as Baal in Israel (205). This and other data point to Israel and Judah’s belief in “other deities” (asherahs, cherubs, uraei, etc.), making neither “strictly monolatrous” nor “monotheistic” (280). In IA IIC (720/700-600 B.C.), Samerina (former Israel), Philistia, and to a lesser degree, Judah are influenced by Assyrian and Aramean astral imagery. “Horse and rider” figures represent the “host of heaven,” and the moon god (Sin of Haran) merges with El. Hundreds of pillar figurines from Judahite homes show that personal and family piety include a nursing mother goddess. The Judahite “Queen of Heaven” is probably the Assyrian Ishtar identified with Asherah. During the Josianic reform, Judahite name seals become aniconic and are only adorned with plant symbolism, which might refer to images in the Temple. Finally, in IA III (600/587-450 B.C.), Judah falls to Babylon. Those remaining in Judah left a little iconography in which the lion dominates. This might refer to Judah or to Yahweh’s power. Judahite exiles in Elephantine worship Yahweh and other gods. The exiles who return become monotheistic and anti-goddess. This is based both on the Biblical text and the fact that post-exilic Judah has yielded no terra-cotta goddess figurines. Parts of this book are quite commendable. The authors analyze a vast amount of iconographic and inscriptional evidence that should be treated as primary sources for understanding the total picture of ancient Israelite religion. For instance, the prevalence of Baal worship in IA IIB Israel may be seen in the many depictions of a youthful, four-winged god. The book is sensitive to religious changes due to changes in political power and time. For instance, the rise of Assyrian power in IA IIC brings Aramean influences that change much of Syro-Palestine’s religious symbols and devotion. The primary symbol for the high god switches from solar (Baal) to lunar (Sin and El). The book also recognizes geographical differences in religious symbolism and practice. In IA III, the authors regionally separate Syro-Palestinian religion. Phoenicia has Isis as its dominant divine image, Edom has anthropomorphic and theriomorphic figures of gods and goddesses, Judahites in Elephantine worship Yahweh and other gods, Judahites in exile are monotheists, and those remaining in Judah might have preserved the religious practices of IA IIB. Still, there are weaknesses which detract from the book’s main purpose. First, the book is too inclusive in chronology and geography. The title, preface, and first two chapters indicate that the primary focus is ancient Israelite religion. But a good portion of the book addresses religious symbols that fall outside of Israel/ Judah proper. For example, MB IIB has little bearing on Israelite religion. No scholar places Israel in Palestine at this time. Also, even though Israel was in Syro-Palestine in the LB Age, discussing religious symbols from Egyptian controlled Beth-Shean sheds little light on Israelite religion (82-95). Second, the authors undervalue the Bible as a primary source. One reason is the proposed differences in time and belief between the Bible and popular Israelite religion. Another is the belief that “pictures are less arbitrary and artificial than language,” which rests “on convention and codes” (394-95). True, a picture of a woman communicates to people of every language while the word “woman” will not

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 469 for a non-English speaker. Still, art, like language, has its own conventions and codes that change over time and must be learned. Everyone can identify the Mona Lisa as a woman, but people still debate the interpretation and meaning of her “smile.” For this reason, it is unjustified to place “art” over “text.” Ironically, even the authors contradict this bias. They use the Bible as a primary source for IA III Judahite religion (389-91), note that Josiah’s reform has “similar values” to the religious beliefs expressed by aniconic name seals and bullae of the late IA IIB (358), and see IA I symbols of divine and human aggressiveness, superiority, and domination in Exodus, Judges, and 1 Samuel (130). Third, some iconographic interpretations are too subjective or unsubstantiated with reference to comparable artistic convention. The tree, for example, goes through many permutations that beg the question of support and “continuum.” The tree is the symbol of the goddess in the LB Age, blessing in IA I, world order in IA IIA, the king’s rule in IA IIB, and “asherah” or the medium of Yahweh’s blessing in IA IIB and IA IIC. In sum, this book provides an immense amount of primary iconographic sources and interpretations for the study of ancient Israelite religion. As a supplement to primary textual sources and by paying attention to chronology, geography, and comparable artistic convention, this book can be a useful resource. Scott A. Ashmon Cincinnati, OH

ISAIAH, Old Testament Library. By Brevard S. Childs. Louisville: Westminster/ John Knox, 2001. 750 pages. Cloth. $39.99.

John Watts (Isaiah 1-33, Isaiah 34-66 [Waco: Word, 1985, 1987]) was the first major modern critical interpreter to understand the book of Isaiah as a coherent, literary whole. Childs’s new commentary on Isaiah joins this growing number of interpretations that try to move beyond Bernard Duhm’s diachronic paradigm by which the book is understood as three separate parts (1-39, chs. 40-55, and chs. 56- 66). Childs writes, “The usual pattern of immediately dividing the book into at least two or three parts has had a deleterious effect on the interpretation of the whole” (xi). Much like Watts and others (e.g., Ronald Clements, Rolf Rendtorff, Jacques Vermeylen) Childs’s work is not a rejection of the diachronic methods of modern critical scholarship but rather an integrative approach between synchronic literary analysis and the diachronic emphasis. In committing himself to this methodology, Childs understands Isaiah to be a unified whole, but not in terms of a single authorship. He expects that original eighth century B.C. compositions had only one theme, one emphasis, one historical perspective and relevance, and one style. Hence, discontinuities in grammar, theme, theology, etc., indicate different redactional strata. The assumption is that source and form critics correctly identified the various strata and that any coherence they now have is due to the final redactor. Hence, Childs’s driving assumption is that Isaiah must be interpreted both as a single book and as the product of a long redactional process that may have lasted for four centuries or more. However, as much as Childs seeks to move beyond the Duhmian hypothesis, his understanding of the book appears to remain solidly in this tradition. For example, he breaks down Isaiah 1-39 into the sub-sections 1-12, 13-23, 24-27, 28- 35, and 36-39. In doing so Childs allows these sub-sections to interact only rarely

470 and superficially. In this and other places he bases his comments almost exclusively on diachronic grounds. It follows that for Childs the texts in Isaiah function as relatively autonomous entities, despite his commendable recognition in the prologue of this commentary on the importance of intertextuality in the book. Throughout his commentary Childs demonstrates the major prejudice of modern Biblical criticism, i.e., the assumption of original simplicity. A passage of complex structure or one containing repetition or skewing a previously used figure is, on these grounds, suspect of being a redactional addition. Another widespread prejudice equates authenticity with topical or thematic uniformity. A temporal vista that progresses from present to penultimate to ultimate time is considered an artificial result of successive additions to a single-time original oracle. For example, doom oracles that end with a glimpse of a better future are declared composites on the ground of redactional links (i.e., “in that day”). One reference will suffice. He describes the salvation oracle of Isaiah 19:16-25 as follows: “The concluding unit of the chapter consists of five prose oracles apparently once independent, each linked with the formula ‘in that day’” (144). Such prejudices are simply a prioris, an array of unproved (and unprovable) modern assumptions and conventions that confirm themselves through the results obtained by forcing them on texts and altering, reducing, and reordering them accordingly. However, it is precisely the nature of prophetic discourse to make sudden shifts on all levels of language, including style and imagery, and to juxtapose multiple, divergent, and even dissonant perspectives in much the same way as in the use of poetic parallelism. Hence, it is an anachronism to impose on Biblical texts the criteria applied to writings intended to be scientific or didactic—clear and distinct ideas, logically ordered. Another example of Duhm’s hold on Childs is that the latter believes Isaiah’s failure to appear again after chapter 39 calls for “a much more subtle and profound theological reflection” that “will do justice both to the unity and diversity of the biblical corpus” (4). However, both the Isaiah Qumran scroll (1QIsa-a) and many modern scholars contend that chapters 1-33 and 34-66 constitute the fundamental divisions of the book. In this understanding Isaiah the prophet does appear in both halves of the book with the second half envisioning a future beyond his own lifetime. This idea is evident in Isaiah 34:16-17 where the reader is commanded to read the book in order to discern its future fulfillment. However, Childs limits his reading of these verses only in reference to the fate of Edom rather than in reference to the claims of the book as a whole. It is commendable that Childs is opposed to those who understand Isaiah without a substance (res) beyond the text (i.e., agnostic interpreters). For Childs the res is “the ways of God in the world” (4). His concern is to bring both the New Testament and the likes of Augustine, Aquinas, Calvin, Luther, etc. (5) to bear upon the text. An excursus on the Fourth Servant Song does this quite nicely. Yet, there are no subsequent references to any classical Christian interpreters with the exception of Calvin. There is also insufficient engagement with text criticism, philology, and comparative Near Eastern studies. The enormous ferment in Isaiah studies of the last two decades has been more visible than that of almost any other book in the Old Testament. However, in spite of the significant achievement of this commentary, Childs demonstrates that tremendous confusion still reigns regarding virtually every serious problem of Isaianic interpretation. His commentary simply accents this confusion and leaves the reader “crying in the wilderness” for an analysis of Isaiah that is methodogically sound and theologically conservative. Reed Lessing

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 471 THE HOLY SPIRIT: Who He Is What He Does. By Robert Gromacki. Nashville: Word, 1999. 277 pages. Cloth. $24.99.

The work and ministry of the Holy Spirit is always a subject worthy of honest Biblical investigation. This volume from a conservative, non-charismatic, and evangelical perspective is noteworthy. Dr. Gromacki, college professor and Baptist pastor, carefully weaves his way through a variety of perspectives on the person and work of the third person of the Holy Trinity, providing insights as well as challenges for contemporary evangelical Protestants in general and for Lutheran pastors in particular. In fifteen well-organized chapters, Gromacki portrays the person and work of the Holy Spirit. He includes full chapters on Biblical symbols of the Spirit along with the activity of the Spirit in the Old Testament, the Gospel era, the life of Christ, and the book of Acts. He then tries to explain the baptism in the Spirit in a non-Sacramental way, and makes a Biblically dubious distinction between indwelling and filling of the Spirit. A chapter on spiritual gifts is handled sensibly followed by a specific chapter on “Speaking in Tongues,” showing the Biblical emphasis on tongues as real languages for that time but as gifts no longer necessary for the expansion of Christ’s kingdom (220-225). A chapter on the place of the Spirit in eschatology is interesting, if not a bit confusing, for its millennial observations. Most of Gromacki’s thoroughly researched and well-written chapters end with a summarizing application section entitled “Implications for Us.” The format and content of these sections are indeed practical suggestions for applying the Biblical and theoretical information for all Christians. Regrettably, Gromacki does not have our Lutheran sensitivities to the proper use of Law and Gospel and falls into the perennial trap of creating another level of evangelical legislation. Almost all the implications have a resoundingly Law-oriented tone when these statements could well have been expressed in more positive, evangelically affirming ways. Most of the statements are in the form of “must” declarations. For example, “We must not be afraid of the Holy Spirit,” “We must acknowledge the full eternal deity of the Holy Spirit,” “We must depend on the Holy Spirit in our thinking, serving, and decision-making,” and “We must accept the miraculous nature of the biblical phenomenon of speaking in tongues.” Because of his solid Biblical base, some statements provide Gospel-motivated guidance, for example, “When we are controlled by the Spirit, we will be biblically firm and accurate in our proclamation.” This latter form could have been more prominent throughout the book. Other concerns are the millennial distortions of Scripture and some Trinitarian misrepresentations. The millennial perspective can be expected since Gromacki is writing for a Baptist audience. His dispensational pre-millennial understandings of Israel, the church, the rapture, and other eschatological themes can be recognized quickly by Lutheran readers. More of a concern was his Chalcedonian misunderstanding of Christ by affirming the ancient Nestorian heresy “Mary produced and mothered His humanity, but not His deity” (121), although he avoided the Eutychian merging of two natures. In addition there is a seeming subordination of the Holy Spirit (45) whom he thinks can serve as a model for Christians. Finally, his understanding of the blasphemy against the Holy Spirit as “a unique sin in history” committed only “when Jesus was on earth two thousand years ago” (133) is curiously demonstrative of his dispensational perspective.

472 Theologically, Lutheran readers will resonate with Gromacki’s strong Biblical basis and even-handed discussion of spiritual gifts. We can also appreciate the emphasis upon the Spirit’s proper work as pointing to Jesus. Gromacki’s non- Sacramental and millennial comments are disturbing but expected from an author with his denominational persuasion. How the Holy Spirit appeared physically in Biblical times is incidental to the whole book yet illustrative of Gromacki’s work. Although it is the subject of several pages, he gives contradictory information. In a chapter on the symbols of the Holy Spirit, Gromacki makes the Holy Spirit appear “in the visible form of a dove” (124; cf. 52 and 108) as Luther once wrote of the Enthusiasts, “feathers and all.” Yet, later, he denies that the tongues of fire in Acts 2 were “real fire…they looked like fire, but they were not actually fire” (110). This is in spite of the fact that the same Greek formula is used in both the Matthew and Acts texts. Years ago, Lorenz Wunderlich, professor at Concordia Seminary, produced a little book on the person and work of the Holy Spirit. His book, The Half-Known God, provided as much help as Gromacki’s book with less distortions of the Biblical materials. That book should be re-issued by Concordia Publishing House. Most Lutheran pastors could benefit from this book as a tool to develop their own critical reading skills. The Biblical data can certainly be adapted for congregational study. However, this book should not be in the library of a confessional Lutheran congregation. The view of the Holy Spirit from a dispensational pre- millennialist, who is not supportive of the Pentecostal use of tongues, will be appreciated particularly by pastors serving in America’s Bible-belt. Lutheran readers can glean much from this book for a Spirit-guided study of Scripture. Timothy Maschke Mequon, WI

DIASKEPSIS THEOLOGICA: A Theological Examination of the Fundamental Difference Between Evangelical Lutheran Doctrine and Calvinist or Reformed Teaching. By Nicolaus Hunnius. Translated by Richard J. Dinda and Elmer Hohle. Malone, TX: Repristination Press, 2001. lxxxii + 462 pages. Cloth. $44.00.

Nicolaus Hunnius (1585-1643), son of the Wittenberg professor Aegidius Hunnius, studied and later taught at Wittenberg and had served as ecclesiastical superintendent in Eilenburg before becoming superintendent in Lübeck in 1623. There he contributed several books to the literature of Lutheran orthodoxy, including the Diaskepsis. It bases a sharp critique of Calvinist theology, particularly in regard to the doctrine of predestination, upon an extensive exploration of the nature and structure of public teaching. In it Hunnius sketched the threefold classification of the articles of faith—primary fundamental articles, secondary fundamental articles, and non-fundamental articles—that informed later orthodox practice of theology. He unfolded this distinction through the use of the Aristotelian- Melanchthonian method that had been carried beyond the Stagirite and the Preceptor by Lutheran theologians in the generation of his father. Thus, twenty- first century readers experience the analytical framework of Aristotelian factors or “causes”—formal, effective, material, and final, with all their subdivisions—and the tools of Aristotelian logic as they pursue Hunnius’ argument. For example, in exploring the question “What dogmas are the foundation of faith?” Hunnius explains

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 473 that in assessing possible answers, “We consider the means of that inference either materially, and it is the middle term to be used in the argument; or formally, and it is then accommodation of the middle term to the conclusion to be inferred” (97). Readers should not be driven off by this unfamiliar epistemological method, for even though it imposes an Aristotelian world view upon the material it assesses, it does provide help even for twenty-first-century thinking about how to convey the Biblical message. Within the grid that this epistemological system makes necessary—for example, consideration of the three offices of Christ (prophet, priest, king) in regard to their (Aristotelian) accidents, their presuppositions, and their fundamental elements—Hunnius expresses the Gospel with rich recourse to Scripture and with thoroughness. In two ways Hunnius pursued his goal of refuting the contention of Reformed theologians that differences between Lutheran theology and their own were not substantial. He cited many examples of the bitter polemic expressed in Reformed condemnations of key Lutheran teachings, and he argued that the teaching of the Reformed, particularly on the doctrine of predestination, denied fundamental points in Lutheran teaching. The Synod of Dordrecht was fresh in Hunnius’ mind—much of the citation he employed from the Reformed side came directly from its discussions or from theologians who participated in its deliberations—and he engaged its conclusions in detail. One of several signs of the distance Lutheran public teaching had traveled since the publication of Luther’s De servo arbitrio almost exactly one hundred years earlier is found in the greater sympathy Hunnius shows for the Remonstrants (Arminians) than for the Calvinist “winners” at Dordrecht. Among other examples of this shift is Hunnius’s discussion of God, which contains no hint of the reformer’s concept of Deus absconditus and Deus revelatus. The synergism of certain later orthodox theologians is not yet in bloom, but Hunnius’ inability to place the differences between Lutheran and Reformed theology within the dialectic tension of Luther’s wrestling with the paradox of divine responsibility for salvation and human responsibility for obedience points toward the problems that led his successors in that direction. Much of Hunnius’ work consists in lengthy quotations from the works of a fairly wide range of Reformed theologians from the late sixteenth and early seventeenth century. Unfortunately, readers get no help from annotation or introduction about the various currents and schools within the Reformed churches of the time, and so it is necessary to consult reference works to know what concerns and issues were governing the argumentation of Hunnius’ opposite numbers, to which he was responding. Even simple bibliographical identification of the cited works is absent. Readers will reap a rich harvest from reading the book, for it indeed gives a glimpse into the method of pursuing theological argument in the period of early Lutheran orthodoxy. It demonstrates not only how theologians like Hunnius engaged their opponents but also how they pursued proclamation of the Gospel within the framework set by the way in which they had been taught to think. Understanding his part of our own history serves the church of the twenty-first century as we pursue the task of bringing God’s Word to those to whom God sends us. Robert Kolb

474 THE REVOLUTION OF THE CANDLES: Christians in the Revolution of the German Democratic Republic. By Jörg Swoboda. Edited by Richard V. Pierard. Translated by Edwin P. Arnold. Macon: Mercer University Press, 1996. 203 pages. Paper. $22.95.

With candles in hand, the people of Leipzig marched in October 1989 to demonstrate that the old regime of the German Democratic Republic was corrupt, immoral, and incapable of governing. The Leipzig candles set off a glow that spread across the Republic faster than Stasi (secret police) agents could record who was holding them or putting them in their windows. Seldom have candles sufficed as weapons against a tyranny so vicious as that of the East Berlin communist cadres, but in 1989 it worked. Christians had invited those outside the church into their churches to talk about the crisis in their society, and from these conversations grew an earthquake of people marching with candles, an earthquake that brought down an empire that was truly evil. The story of Christians is always the story of God, and among the more imaginative ventures of the Lord of history in the twentieth century, amidst the countless martyrdoms and massacres of Christians by communists, muslims, and others, is the story of the “turning”—the Wende—in the German Democratic Republic and its neighbors in the Soviet world. This volume is a collage of fascinating accounts, largely from Baptist eyes, a worthy supplement to the many tales of heroic action by Lutherans and other Christians in the forty year history of the Communist regime forced upon a quarter of the German people by the Red Army after World War II. The American historian Richard Pierard provides readers with finely crafted analysis of the course of GDR history and the role of the church in that land. What follows Pierard’s perceptive assessment is a series of personal accounts, a longer “chronicle of the Revolution” or Wende by Günter and Harmut Lorenz (whom I could not find identified in the volume) and shorter recollections on the mass exodus of East German citizens in the weeks leading up to the Wende of November 1989, the courageous actions of Christians and others as government pressure tried to contend with the rising tide of protest at the end of the 1980s, and the treatment of the arrested by the secret police. Believers in every society must find the appropriate place for Biblical witness and the demonstration of love and concern for the neighbor on a spectrum between accommodation with societal values and confrontation with its idolatries. The Lorenzes report on a series of assertions adopted by the synod of the Lutheran church of Saxony on October 29, 1989, in which the church confessed that “according to God’s Word,” “truthfulness must be a foundational principle of our society,” “power must be used within limits,” and “every person has the same individual dignity.” This reminder that the Biblical view of what it means to be human inevitably casts believers into the midst of the search for justice in society is important in the midst of the seeming triumph of idolatrous individualism and materialism in the United States at the beginning of the twenty-first century. In the little Saxon town of Klingental, on the Czech border, in May 1990 the local Lutheran pastor told me, “We have survived theoretical materialism. It remains to be seen whether we can survive practical materialism.” After a decade the reports from eastern Germany are not encouraging. Communism used violence

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 475 against the Christian faith; capitalist materialism is much more subtle. But nearly two decades earlier I had asked an East German pastor, at the pastoral conference of the Lutheran Free Church of Saxony, how the Christian faith could survive the pressures placed upon it by the communist system. He simply replied, “Walter Ulbricht (at the time head of party and state in the German Democratic Republic) is not the Lord of the Church.” That is the message with which Pierard concludes this volume. Although plausible interpretations of the Wende suggest that the role of the church in the events of 1989 and 1990 has been exaggerated—that, for instance, the lower cadres of the Socialist Unity (Communist) party played a decisive part in abandoning the old system—the fact remains that Christians in their congregations gave others the opportunity to think about other ways of running a country and also offered them the space and place to discuss issues critical to a just society. The church provided leadership in considering what is right and wrong and in protest against injustice and tyranny. Furthermore, as Pierard observes, Christians do see that these events “reflected the power of God in the world,” and demonstrated that evil will not always prevail. From East German believers we learn that “we are called to serve God in wicked systems as well as in those more compatible with our way of thinking.” We learn that God expects us to be involved in the struggle for justice and that nonviolence, even in the form of candles held against tanks, effects change. We learn, Pierard argues, from the events of 1989 that “we must heed God’s call to ministry in whatever circumstances he has placed us” (196-198). For, as Pierard concludes, “God has shown that He is alive and in charge. To be sure, His ways are not our ways, and we do not always understand His actions in the historical process. But we can rest assured that even in the darkest hours, all things will work out to our good. The lights of ten thousand candles remind us that God will triumph over evil, even as the resurrection of His Son insures that we will triumpth over death. The light of Jesus Christ shines in the darkness, and the darkness will not overcome it (John 1:5). He who is the light of the world has promised us victory over the forces of evil. The ruins of Communism bear testimony to this truth” (200). Robert Kolb

JUSTIFICATION: Am I Good Enough for God? By Rolf Preus. Milwaukee: Northwestern, 2000. 27 pages. Paper. $2.75.

No doctrine is more central to Lutheranism than justification by grace through faith because of Jesus Christ. No doctrine was more central to the academic life of Robert Preus. Therefore, it is no surprise that his son, Rolf, should write on this topic for a series of articles in the Lutheran Sentinel in the first half of 1999. These six short articles, plus an additional chapter reflecting one of his father’s last publications, “Justification and Rome,” draws the reader into the essence of the Christian Biblical truth. At the heart of justification is the marvelous message that God accepts us fully and freely because of Christ’s sacrificial work on the cross of Calvary. Yet, how this forgiveness becomes ours remains an issue of dispute. Preus simply and pastorally leads the reader to see both the objective truth of our justification as God’s gracious act and the precious value of His personal gift of faith in Christ alone.

476 Taking a few moments to return to the distinction of objective and subjective justification, Preus emphasizes God’s faith-filling promise. In answer to a question about when Jesus became his personal Savior, Preus writes: “Oh, I never had the strength to do that. God made Jesus my personal Savior when He baptized me and brought me to faith. And just last Sunday, God told me that all my sins were forgiven and that I was going to heaven. Not only that, He actually put into my mouth the body of Jesus that bore my sin on the cross and the blood of Jesus that has washed me clean and made me a saint. Yes, I am saved and I know it. God Himself has said it. Therefore, it must be true” (19).

Ending this pamphlet, Preus returns to an earlier chapter which emphasized Christ alone and shows how the “ecumenical” document, the Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification, between some Lutherans and Catholics only agrees to disagree on the meaning of the most significant terms. Therefore, his concluding chapter, “Justification through Faith in Christ: The Only Way to Heaven,” returns to the chief teaching and figure—Jesus Christ alone has declared us saints and His forgiven children. Preus offers pastors and Bible study leaders a short seven-session opportunity to return to the Biblical and theological roots of Lutheranism. A study guide, available free on the NPH web site, provides about a half-dozen questions for each chapter which will stimulate conversation and deeper understanding of this hallmark teaching. Most publishing houses would not expend the effort publishing a short booklet on such a common topic, but Northwestern Publishing House is to be commended for doing so. Pastors and lay people are also to be encouraged to use this practical resource in their parishes, particularly during the Reformation season. Timothy Maschke Mequon, WI

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 477 Books Received

Bellinger, Jr. W. H. NEW INTERNATIONAL BIBLICAL COMMENTARY: Leviticus, Numbers. Peabody: Hendrickson, 2001. 338 pages. Paper. $11.95. Braaten, Carl E. and Robert W. Jenson, ed. THE STRANGE NEW WORD OF THE GOSPEL: Re-Evangelizing in the Postmodern World. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002. viii+176 pages. Paper. $23.00. Carson, D. A. LOVE IN HARD PLACES. Wheaton: Crossway, 2002. 369 pages. Paper. $19.99. Colson, Charles and Richard John Neuhaus. YOUR WORD IS TRUTH: A Project of Evangelicals and Catholics Together. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002. 168 pages. Paper. $20.00. Goldingay, John. NEW INTERNATIONAL BIBLICAL COMMENTARY: Isaiah. Peabody: Hendrickson, 2001. 397 pages. Paper. $11.95. Goldingay, John. WALK ON: Life, Loss, Trust, and Other Realities. Grand Rapids: Baker, 2002. 197 pages. Paper. $16.99. Gritsch, Eric W. A HISTORY OF LUTHERANISM. Minneapolis: Augsburg For- tress, 2002. 350 pages. Paper. $29.00. Heinz, Donald. THE LAST PASSAGE: Recovering a Death of Our Own. New York: Oxford Press, 1999. 296 pages. Cloth. $34.00. Hollinger, Dennis P. CHOOSING THE GOOD: Christian Ethics in a Complex World. Grand Rapids: Baker, 2002. 299 pages. Paper. $19.99. Johnson, Luke Timothy. THE WRITINGS OF THE NEW TESTAMENT (Includes CD-ROM). Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2002. 656 pages. Paper. $39.00. Lischer, Richard, ed. THE COMPANY OF PREACHERS: Wisdom on Preaching, Augustine to the Present. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002. 478 pages. Paper. $29.00. McAmis, Robert Day. MALAY MUSLIMS: The History and Challenge of Resurgent Islam in Southeast Asia. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002. 173 pages. Paper. $20.00. Mueller, Steven P. NOT A TAME GOD. St. Louis: Concordia, 2002. 208 pages. Paper. $18.99. Olson, Oliver K. MATTHIAS FLACIUS AND THE SURVIVAL OF LUTHER’S REFORM. Wolfenbüttel: Herzog August Bibliothek, 2002. 432 pages. Cloth. NPG. Roberts, Richard Owens. REPENTANCE: The First Word of the Gospel. Wheaton: Crossway, 2002. 368 pages. Paper. $19.99. Sproul, R. C. SAVED FROM WHAT? Wheaton: Crossway, 2002. 128 pages. Cloth. $14.99.

478 Index of Volume 28

Since our page numbers are consecutive within a volume, the following key shows the page number for each reference:

Volume 28, Number 1 – pages 1-124 Volume 28, Number 2 – pages 125-232 Volume 28, Number 3 – pages 233-356 Volume 28, Number 4 – pages 357-484

Articles, Editorials, Homiletical Helps, and Short Studies

The 1676 Engraving for Heinrich Schütz’s Becker Psalter: A Theological Perspective on Liturgical Song, Not a Picture of Courtly Performers (Brauer), 234-253. The Aleppo Statement: A Proposal That May “Serve the Cause of Christian Unity” (Callahan), 160-174. Bridging the Gap: Sharing the Gospel with Muslims (Yakimow), 270-290. The Church in the Public Square in a Pluralistic Society (Adams), 364-390. Luther, Lutherans, and Islam (Naumann), 54-65 Luther on Call and Ordination: A Look at Luther and the Ministry (Wriedt), 254- 269. “The Most Learned Discourses of the Philosophers and Lawyers”: Roman Law, Natural Law, and Property in Melanchthon’s Loci Communes (Robinson), 41- 53. Preaching Like the Prophets: Using Rhetorical Criticism in the Appropriation of Old Testament Prophetic Literature (Lessing), 391-408. Preaching Predestination: Martin Chemnitz’s Proclamation of God’s Election of Believers (Kolb), 23-40. Pursuit of a Lutheran Raison d’Être in Asia (JI), 126-141. “Real Presence”: An Overview and History of the Term (Collver), 142-159. Toward a Hermeneutics of the Lutheran Confessions (Arand), 9-22. Editor’s Note (Wesselschmidt), 2-3. Homiletical Helps: Advent (Moore, Brauer) 450-452, 452-453, 454-455, 455-457. All Saints’ Day (Peter) 441-444. Christmas (Manteufel) 457-458, 458-459. Epiphany (Rowold, Redeker, Rockemann) 88-89, 459-461, 461-463, 463-465. Lent (Wesselschmidt, Gerike, Adams) 90-92, 93, 94, 95-98, 98-100. Easter (Duke, Henrickson, Warneck, Rowold, Kolb, Raj) 104-105, 106-107, 107-108, 108-110, 110-112, 192-193, 193-195. Palm Sunday (Warneck) 101-104. Pentecost (Raj, Graudin, Kolb, Gibbs, Saleska, Groll, Schuchard, Peter, Okamoto, Nielsen, Meyer, Lessing, Rosin, Peter, Wollenburg) 195-197, 197-199, 199-200, 200-202, 202-204, 204-206, 207-208, 208-210, 210- 215,297-299, 299-301, 301-303, 303-304, 304-306, 307-310, 310-311, 311- 313, 314-316, 3116-319, 319-321, 321-323, 444-446, 446-448, 448-450. Reformation (Rosin) 323-325. Transfiguration (Duke) 89-90.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 479 Short Studies: A Female Apostle? A Note Re-examining the Work of Burer and Wallace Concerning ¦B4FZ:@H with ¦< and the Dative (Curtis), 437-440. The Gospel of the Kingdom of God (Raabe), 294-296. Just Where Was Jonah Going?: The Location of Tarshish in the Old Testament (Lessing), 291-293. Ordination is Not Other Than... (Nagel), 431-436. Theological Observers (alphabetical by author, then title): JI: Missouri Synod, Not Missouri Sect, 362-363. Raabe: The Scandal of Particularity, 8. Rowold: Does China Need Martin Luther?, 4-6. Rowold: Most Dangerous Profession in the Nation?, 6-7. Voelz: Contemporary Americans Make Poor Confessional Lutherans, 358-359. Warneck: Holy Scripture Speaks Clearly to Unclear Situations, 360-361.

Authors of Articles, Editorials, Homiletical Helps, and Short Studies

Adams, David L., 95-98, 98-100, 364-390. Arand, Charles P., 9-22. Brauer, James L., 234-253, 454-455, 455-457. Callahan, Edward J., 160-174. Collver, Albert B. III, 142-159. Curtis, Heath R., 437-440. Duke, David, 89-90, 104-105. Gerike, Henry V., 93, 94. Gibbs, Jeffrey A., 202-204, 204-206. Graudin, Arthur F., 197-199, 199-200. Groll, Douglas R., 210-215. Henrickson, Charles, 106-107, 107-108. JI, Won Yong, 126-141, 362-363. Kolb, Robert, 23-40, 192-193, 200-202, 207-208. Lessing, R. Reed, 291-293, 311-313, 319-321, 391-408. Manteufel, Thomas E., 457-458, 458-459. Meyer, Dale A., 310-311, Moore, Jeffery, 450-452, 452-453. Nagel, Norman, 431-436. Naumann, Jonathan C., 54-65. Nielsen, Glenn A., 307-310, 316-319, Okamoto, Joel P., 301-303, 303-304. Peter, David, 299-301, 304-306, 441-444, 444-446. Raabe, Paul R., 8, 294-296. Raj, A. R. Victor, 193-195, 195-197. Redeker, Michael J., 459-461. Robinson, Paul W., 41-53. Rockemann, Larry W., 461-463, 463-465. Rosin, Robert, 321-323, 323-325. Rowold, Henry L., 4-6, 6-7, 88-89, 110-112. Saleska, Timothy E.,208-210. Schuchard, Bruce, 297-299, 314-316.

480 Voelz, James, 358-359. Warneck, Richard H., 101-104, 108-110, 360-361. Wesselschmidt, Quentin F., 90-92. Wollenburg, David, 446-448, 448-450. Wriedt, Markus, 254-269. Yakimow, Scott, 270-290.

Review Essays

1 Corinthians. By Gregory J. Lockwood (Kloha), 79-87. Christian Theology: An Introduction (3rd ed.) By Alister E. McGrath (Becker), 183- 186. The Christian Theology Reader (2nd ed.) By Alister E. McGrath (Becker), 183-186. Christianity’s Unknown Gospel. By Paul G. Bretscher (Berger), 72-78. The First Epistle to the Corinthians: A Commentary on the Greek Text. By Anthony C. Thiselton (Kloha), 79-87. Liturgical Preaching: Contemporary Essays. Edited by Paul J. Grime and Dean W. Nadasdy (Nielsen), 175-182. Marks of the Body of Christ. Edited by Carl E. Braaten and Robert W. Jenson (Garcia), 187-191. Schweitzer’s Quests for Jesus and Paul (Becker), 409-430. Servant of the Word: The Life and Ministry of C. F. W. Walther. By August R. Suelflow (Manteufel), 64-71.

Book Reviews

12 Pillars of a Healthy Church: Be a Life-Giving Church and Center for Missionary Formation. By Waldo J. Werning (Kiehl), 342-343. After Paul Left Corinth: The Influence of Secular Ethics and Social Change. By Bruce W. Winter (Holst), 343-345. Baptism: Volume XI, Confessional Lutheran Dogmatics. By David P. Scaer (Maschke), 340-342. Basics of Biblical Hebrew: Grammar and Workbook. By Gary D. Pratico and Miles V. Van Pelt (Lessing), 227-228. Biblia Hebraica Leningradensia: Prepared According to the Vocalization, Accents, and Masora of Aaron ben Moses ben Asher in the Leningrad Codex. Edited by Aron Dotan (Lessing), 225-226. Bondage and Liberation of the Will. By John Calvin, translated by G. I. Davies (Manteufel), 115-116. Can Evangelicals Learn from World Religions?: Jesus, Revelation, and Religious Traditions. By Gerald R. McDermott (Rowold), 117-118. Church Dreams: Talking Against the Trend. By Norbert Lohfink (Rowold), 217- 219. Civilizations of the Ancient Near East. Edited by Jack Sasson (Lessing), 113. Culture Shift: Communicating God’s Truth to Our Changing World. By David W. Henderson (Lessing), 329-330. Diaskepsis Theologica: A Theological Examination of the Fundamental Difference Between Evangelical Lutheran Doctrine and Calvinist or Reformed Teaching. By Nicolaus Hunnius (Kolb), 473-474.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/OCTOBER 2002 481 Dictionary of the Ancient Near East. Edited by Piotr Bienkowski and Alan Millard (Lessing), 113-114. Dictionary of Christian Biography. Edited by Michael Walsh (Rowold), 330-331. The Dictionary of Historical Theology. Edited by Trevor A. Hart (Elowsky), 223- 224. Early Christianity and its Sacred Literature. Edited by Lee Martin McDonald and Stanley E. Porter (Elowsky), 224-225. Ecclesiastes. By William P. Brown (Rowold), 119-120. The Eerdmans Dictionary of the Bible. Edited by David Noel Freedman (Lessing), 114. The Encyclopedia of Christianity. Volume 2. Edited by Erwin Fahlbusch et al. (Rowold), 219-220. First Corinthians. By Richard B. Hays (Holst), 116-117. The God of Israel and the Nations. By Norbert Lohfink (Rowold), 217-219. Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God in Ancient Israel. By Othmar Keel and Christoph Uehlinger (Ashmon), 468-470. The Holy Spirit: Who He Is What He Does. By Robert Gromacki (Maschke), 472- 473. Isaiah, Old Testament Library. By Brevard S. Childs (Lessing), 470-471. The Israelites. By B. J. S. Isserlin (Lessing) 349-351. The IVP Bible Backgroundf Commentary: Old Testament. By John H Walton et al. (Heck), 337-338. Justification: Am I Good Enough for God? By Rolf Preus (Maschke), 476-477. Love Taking Shape: Sermons of the Christian Life. By Gilbert Meilaender (Meyer), 345-346. Luther Digest: An Annual Abridgment of Luther Studies. Volume 9. Edited by Kenneth Hagen (JI), 227. The Masorah of Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia: Introduction and Annotated Glossary. By Page Kelley, Daniel Mynatt, and Timothy Crawford (Lessing), 122-123. Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah. By James J. Westendorf (Rehm), 228-229. Nine Marks of a Healthy Church. By Mark Dever (Kiehl), 328-329. Out of the Shadows. By Thomas J. Lapacka (Meyer), 221-223. Pater Bernhaardus: Martin Luther and Bernard of Clairvaux. By Franz Posset (JI), 348-349. Pierre Bayle’s Reformation: Conscience and Criticism on the Eve of the Enlightenment. By Barbara Sher Tinsley (Kolb), 466-467. Planting Missions Across Cultures. By Kenneth W. Behnken (Kolb), 220-221. Proverbs. By Leo G. Perdue (Rowold), 119-120. The Revolution of the Candles: Christians in the Revolution of the German Democratic Republic. By Jörg Swoboda (Kolb), 475-476. Saint Paul Returns to the Movies: Triumph Over Shame. By Robert Jewett (Maschke), 121-122. Song of Songs. By Tremper Longman III (Mitchell), 346-348. The Spirit and the Flesh in Shandong, 1650-1785. By D. E. Mungello (Rowold), 331-333. The Spiritual Society: What Lurks Beyond Postmodernism? By Frederic W. Baue (Rossow), 326-328. Ten Lies About God: And How You Might Already Be Deceived. By Erwin W. Lutzer (Rossow), 333-336.

482 There We Stood, Here We Stand: Eleven Lutherans Rediscover Their Catholic Roots. Edited by Timothy Drake (Walther), 338-339. Triumph at the Cross: Lenten Devotions for Repentance and Renewal. By Harold L. Senkbiel (Brauer), 226. Using Illustrations to Preach with Power. By Bryan Chapell (Utech), 120-121. The Voice From the Cross: Classic Sermons on the Seven Words of Christ. Edited by Richard Allen Bodey (Rossow), 336. Where in the World is God? By Harold L. Senkbiel (Brauer), 226. Yahweh and the Gods and Goddesses of Canaan. By John Day (Lessing), 216-217.

Reviewers of Books

Ashmon, Scott A., 468-470. Becker, Matthew L., 183-186, 409-430. Berger, David O., 72-78. Brauer, James L., 226. Elowsky, Joel, 223-224, 224-225. Garcia, Alberto L., 187-191. Heck, Joel D., 337-338. Holst, Robert, 116-117, 343-345. JI, Won Yong, 227, 348-349. Kiehl, Erich H., 328-329, 342-343. Kloha, Jeffrey J., 79-87. Kolb, Robert, 220-221, 466-467, 473-474, 475-476. Lessing, R. Reed, 113, 113-114, 114, 122-123, 216-217, 225-226, 227-228, 329-330, 349-351, 470-471. Manteufel, Thomas, 64-71, 115-116. Maschke, Timothy, 121-122, 472-473, 476-477. Meyer, Dale, 221-223, 345-346. Mitchell, Christopher W., 346-348. Nielsen, Glenn, 175-182. Rehm, Merlin D., 228-229. Rossow, Francis C., 326-328, 333-336, 336. Rowold, Henry L., 117-118, 119-120, 217-219, 219-220, 330-331, 331-333. Utech, William, 120-121. Walther, Michael P., 338-339.

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