CONCORDIA JOURNAL

Volume 29 July 2003 Number 3

CONTENTS

EDITORIALS

Theological Observers ...... 226 Theological Potpourri ...... 235

ARTICLES

Syncretism and Unionism Samuel H. Nafzger...... 240 Hofmann as Ich-theologe? Matthew L. Becker...... 265 The LORD Is One Norman Nagel ...... 294

HOMILETICAL HELPS ...... 302

BOOK REVIEWS ...... 327

BOOKS RECEIVED ...... 351

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 225 Theological Observer

What Kinds of Prayers for America?

Now that the Yankee Stadium controversy is out of the judicatory process it is appropriate to have public and open discussion and debate regarding the relevant theological questions. One such question is this: What kinds of prayers for America should the church offer? The question merits careful theological reflection. America is not a church. Often in its history America has thought of itself as church-like, as the covenant people of God, and as the new Israel whom the Almighty favors over other nations. But in reality the United States is a nation, before God, no different from any other nation. America fits into the Biblical category of goy, not the covenant people of God like ancient Israel but just another nation-state like ancient Moab or Persia. Consequently we should not treat America as church nor pray for America as if it were church. Our prayers for America should be left-hand kingdom prayers, prayers appropriate to the left-hand kingdom. What would such prayers look like? It should go without saying that the church’s prayers are always Trinitarian as we beseech God the Father through His Son Jesus Christ in His Spirit (Eph. 2:18). The church can only pray Trinitarian prayers because we are Christians and not Deists. We have been baptized into the Trinitarian name. The Spirit has called us to Jesus Christ who, as the one and only Mediator, has brought us into fellowship with God the Father. Whenever we approach God in prayer we approach Him through Christ. What petitions are appropriate for America? Paul urges us to offer prayers and intercessions for all people including “kings and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life, godly and dignified in every way” (1 Tim. 2:1-2, ESV). We pray that the Creator preserve civil order and promote civil righteousness, punish those doing evil and reward those enhancing the common good, thwart the plans of terrorists, and hinder the purposes of wrongdoers. What petitions does the church offer when a city or America as a nation suffers from a murderous attack or great tragedy? Again, we need to think through the question carefully. The only comfort that the church can give or seek from God is the comfort promised by God, and that comfort is the Good News of Jesus Christ and Him crucified for sinners. It is the consolation of the forgiveness of sins and eternal life with God based on

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 world 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.

226 the work of Christ. This consolation of the Gospel is not to be given simply to those who sorrow and mourn but to those who sorrow and mourn over their sins. It is for those experiencing what Walther calls “godly sorrow,” sorrow before God (The Proper Distinction Between Law and Gospel, under thesis XI). It is directed to those whom the Lutheran Confessions describe as stricken with terrors of conscience, those who lament their sins and fear God’s wrath. Jesus’ beatitude, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted,” in the context refers to the comfort of God’s favor and kingdom to come to those who lament the absence of His favor and kingdom. It is the divine favor and kingly rule that comes only through the person and work of Jesus of Nazareth. What would be wrong with praying that God comfort and console Americans as they grieve over the results of a national tragedy? Such a prayer would be misleading. It would be interpreted through American lens—that the Creator will strengthen and protect American citizens because He favors America as His special people. This is precisely the danger facing the church in every nation—the Gospel ends up refashioned in nationalistic terms. There is no uniquely American version of the Gospel; there is only the one Gospel of the one Creator. The Gospel does not correspond to America as a nation or to Americans as citizens. It correlates with sin and God’s wrath, not national security. There is an important difference between viewing people as fellow contrite sinners and viewing them as fellow Americans. The comfort of the Gospel speaks to the former. It does not address any corporate entity of the left-hand kingdom, such as a government, a city or town, a civic group, or a business. The Law of God speaks to all such groups but not the Gospel. During times of national tragedy the church grieves with those who grieve and offers them our help and assistance in every way. We pray for civil righteousness and external tranquility. And we invite all those who despair over their sins to the comfort and peace that only Jesus Christ has won and can give (John 14:27). Paul R. Raabe

Is There A Nuance in the House?

“Is there a nuance in the house?” As the months have gone by in which the (now formally settled) matter of the “Prayer for America” was the subject of conversation and debate in the Synod, I found myself repeatedly wondering why many people seemed to find the matter a simple one. The group didn’t seem to make a difference: seminarians, pastors, people who spend a lot of time on the Internet, or lay members of my Bible class at my home congregation. In the first place, the majority of people who had an opinion about the event had not even watched it! But even more importantly, they framed the matter in simple, black and white terms.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 227 The two views that I heard most often might be stereotypically described as follows: (1) Rev. David Benke’s presence and actions at Yankee Stadium were clearly and completely wrong, and the Synod already had clear answers to deal with such situations; or (2) Rev. David Benke’s presence and actions at Yankee Stadium were clearly and completely right, and they constituted a bold proclamation of Gospel witness that the Synod would do well to emulate. I freely admit that I find myself more in sympathy with the stereotype that would find fault with Rev. Benke’s actions. But I would like to take each stereotype in turn and attempt to nuance it. To speak first against the stereotype that appeals to me more strongly: a case can be made that the event at Yankee Stadium was a complex and (perhaps) unique reality. Those who watched the event, either live or in recorded form, know that it was a truly bizarre combination of events. On the one hand, patriotism, national identity, and civic leaders figured prominently. On the other hand, there were overtly religious speaking and praying by representatives of both contradictory Christian confessions as well as of other world religions whose “faith” cannot save them, for it is not faith in the only Mediator, Jesus of Nazareth. The event was convened by the civil authorities...but for a religious purpose. The whole society was invited to gather...but as what? Citizens? Victims? Religious people? Patriots? One thing, at least, seems relatively clear (at least to me). The terrorist attack of September 11, 2001, was a unique event, and the “Prayer for America” was not something that we have seen before. Is it even possible, in such a strange and complex event, to be present as a leader of our church body in a way that does not violate Biblical understandings but that would promote the cause of Christ Jesus and His only saving Gospel? I’m not sure—but in retrospect, I can think of things that might have been helpful and things that were not. In the context of so much “prayer” that invoked the names of false gods, it is genuinely difficult to see how merely offering an overtly Christian prayer was the best thing, or even a good thing, to do. The problem is not that the people present would think, “Oh, his prayer is just the same as the other prayers.” The problem is that people would think, “Oh, his prayer is different, but it doesn’t matter.” So, in that context it doesn’t seem OK to pray at all– unless we ask God for repentance and faith in Jesus. For how can we know the hidden will of God in an event as terrible as “Nine-Eleven”? How do we know that it was not God’s judgment, by the hand of a modern-day Nebuchadnezzar, upon a consumeristic, aborting, arrogant, sexually profligate society? We don’t know—that’s the point. But would it have been OK to show solidarity as compassionate members of a society? Could a representative of our church have been present to say something like the following summary: “I’m not really here today so much to offer spiritual comfort, because there are so many differences and contradictions among the people and religions here represented. But I’m here as a citizen of New York and of the United

228 States. And I can promise that in the name of Jesus our God, the people of my church will work together to show care and compassion and love to all in need—and even to the enemies who have attacked our country?” I’m not sure, and I am open to being corrected. But I think that might have been OK. Perhaps the message might have come across, “Oh, they’re really different.” And that could have been a good message to communicate. Perhaps there could be ways in which it was OK to be there and to speak. Turning to the second stereotype, I must begin by saying that I do not know if I would have had the wisdom or the courage if I had found myself in a situation like Yankee Stadium. But viewed theologically, to invite such an assembly to join in as one offers a Christian prayer in the midst of the theological confusion that held sway at Yankee Stadium does not constitute a bold witness for the Gospel. Paul’s sermon on Mars Hill was a bold witness for the Gospel—and they laughed at him. Paul’s preaching in the synagogues of Macedonia was a bold witness for the Gospel—and they tried to kill him. I have heard it said, “Well, clearly it was OK to pray because of all the opportunities to witness that have come out of it.” This is a theology of glory. All I know is that even when I do something that is wrong, God can bring good out of my error. I do not doubt that God can and is bringing good out of Rev. Benke’s prayer at Yankee Stadium. But that merely means that God works all things together for good to those who love him and are called according to His purpose (Rom. 8:28). If there is a reason why the world will continue to hate us, it is the claim that present forgiveness and final salvation are to be found only through faith in the Crucified, Risen, and Returning Jesus. This is where boldness comes to the fore—when we attack the world where it most resists the claims of Christ. We do not get to choose the way; He alone is the Way. We do not get to decide how to be saved, or whether we need to be saved at all; He alone is the Savior. This offensive and saving message of Law and Gospel is what constitutes the church’s bold witness. Not every situation affords a genuine opportunity for such witness; it seems clear (to me, at least) that Yankee Stadium did not offer such opportunity, and we should not pretend that it did. Is there a nuance in the house? Not as long as the two stereotypes refuse to publicly admit that there are complexities involved. So I say—a (relatively mild) plague on both (stereotypical) houses! The worst possible future for the Synod would be for us to think now in terms of “win or lose” and be willing to expend our energies on ensuring certain outcomes from convention elections. May all in our church—and especially all in leadership positions–help to lead us forward to further nuanced, careful, theological analysis and understanding of our calling and identity in postmodern, relativistic America. May God grant us grace and courage that we may expend ourselves in witness to Christ Jesus and in the nurture of His people. Jeffrey A. Gibbs

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 229 The Gospel…through a Mask SARSly

As if the world was not bruised enough by the blood-letting of wars and already reeling from the ravages of AIDS, a new plague erupted in our world a few months ago, the SARS epidemic.1 What has made SARS such a scourge is not merely that it was (and still is) very deadly, but that it was clouded in mystery. No one knew where it came from, or even what it was, which left little prospect for a cure. It was like an ogre, sneaking up on its next unsuspecting victim. Without a cure, the best that could be done was to contain that ogre. Though the United Nations often gets a bad rap for multi-layered bureaucracy and inefficiency, its World Health Organization has amassed a very effective, even heroic campaign to deal with SARS. WHO quickly identified and then tracked how SARS was spread; it identified its symptoms and its incubation period. It fought its way through governmental cover- ups and red tape. Finally, it devised a strategy of containment, initially to buy time for a clearer picture of what it was and where it came from, and (still ahead) to move beyond containment to cure. Containment came in two forms. One was a strong effort to contain SARS patients to hospitals, so that the general population was not at significant risk. Unfortunately, that meant that, at least in early stages, hospitals became breeding grounds for a rampant SARS. In response, governments began to designate (and quarantine) certain hospitals as SARS centers, so that others needing hospital services would not contract SARS while in the hospital. It also meant, unfortunately, that medical care-givers were particularly vulnerable to SARS, and no small number lost their lives as they served SARS victims. The other form of containment touched the wider population. One early observation was that SARS spread quickly in confined areas, hospitals certainly, but also offices, classrooms, and forms of transport (planes, buses, trains). That triggered a whole series of steps that has changed the way life works here in Asia. The window for describing in these pages what life in SARS-land has become is daily routine here at China Lutheran Seminary.2 (We’re not even going to touch on the devastating effect this has had on the economy of Asian nations, an impact no less drastic than the impact September ll had on the United States.) First off, everyone has their temperature taken every day. Anything over 100 degrees is considered a fever, consigns one to quarantine, and potentially closes the school. Secondly, everyone washes their hands often throughout the day. Even going to church on Sunday means running the gauntlet of hand-washing and temperature-reading before entering the sanctuary. Most visibly, masks are required of everyone, whether in office,

1SARS is an acronym for Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome. 2This article was written this past May during the height of the SARS crisis in Taiwan, while the author was teaching at China Lutheran Seminary.

230 classroom, chapel, or any form of public transport. (These are the kind of masks that surgeons wear or people who work with hazardous particles.) Classroom dynamics take on a whole new flavor when everyone is wearing a mask. One doesn’t realize, for instance, how much an instructor relies on facial expression to communicate or to read how students are processing what is being said. Suddenly smiles mean nothing. Further, all sounds are muffled, which makes class time a strain for all involved: a strain to project one’s voice through the mask and a strain to hear what comes only in muffled form. Further yet, everyone is consigned to breathing air through that mask (actually re-breathing) for the entire class period, and especially for the instructor who does most of the talking and exerts most of the energy, that air that gets pretty rank after a while, especially since this author’s classes are all three-hour sessions! To commemorate this way of life, one of the formal graduation photos we had taken posed faculty and graduates all wearing masks—a somewhat macabre scene, though all of us on that photo will always share a special bond. Even our graduation announcements requested guests to “please bring your own mask.” There is more. The elevator in the dormitory facility was declared off-limits, except for emergency. While the walk up to the fourth floor is good enough exercise, when things get really hot, sticky, and tired, the elevator still looks mighty inviting. Meals have changed too, from the normal pattern of sitting at a round table, all with equal access to platters of food in the middle of the table, a social as well as culinary event, to each being dished out an individual portion and eating apart from the others—the culinary form of a mask! One final illustration highlights how SARS impacts not merely individual activities or behaviors, but deep insecurity. Suddenly, every cough, every sneeze, every red eye, every ache, every slight rise in temperature, whether in oneself or in others, sounds alarms. Life in SARS- land is lived very much on edge, with maximum priority on protection and isolation. To the extent that life in SARS-land is life endangered, life behind masks, life with heightened instincts for protection and isolation, to that extent life in SARS-land also sets the context for Christian life and ministry. Like any other plague throughout history, this plague cannot be denied or ignored. On the one hand, the church, like all other social institutions, must observe the cautions and sensitivities that society feels and government requires: monitoring temperature, using masks, keeping a list of those attending church, minimizing gatherings in small groups or unventilated venues—including canceling a bus trip planned as part of an annual congregational picnic. On the other hand, though, pastors and elders find themselves faced with challenges similar to those of doctors and nurses. We minister to people too, including people with SARS, and families of people with SARS. Ministry in SARS-land puts us at risk. Where else, however, does the Gospel carry more integrity and more relevance than in SARS-land? Where does the Gospel more properly belong? Beyond specific

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 231 ministry to SARS-ed people, the church also proclaims a Gospel that interprets and relativizes SARS. We know clearly that a person’s ultimate threat is not SARS, but life without Jesus Christ, especially since Jesus Christ came into our world of SARS and AIDS and of evil and death of whatever kind, to bring redemption and life—life in the face of death, life in the face of a weakened life, life in the face of a lonely life, and eventually life beyond the death we all must face. To some churches in Taiwan, this has been a kairotic moment to call the nation to question life-as- nonchalantly-normal, just as it seemed to some in the USA after September 11. The surgical mask has become the symbol of a SARS-ed life, because it clearly mirrors both our mortality and our attempts to blunt that mortality through a mask of protection and isolation. That same mask, however, has become something else, namely, the filter through which the Gospel is proclaimed to a SARS-ed world. The proclaimer may be masked, and the hearers masked, but the Gospel points us beyond all masks and threats and fears to Him who redeemed all who wear masks of whatever kind. Jesus Christ is Lord in SARS-land also, and Savior of all its masked residents. (Interestingly, just a few days before these thoughts were submitted, the WHO announced that it had identified the source of SARS. Would you believe, Chinese food? Not the normal Chinese fare, admittedly, but an exotic, very expensive, and ecologically suspect dish called “dragon-tiger- phoenix soup,” made with improperly prepared civet cat. Be careful what you eat!) Henry Rowold

Large Catechism, III, 661

A question has arisen about the translation and interpretation of a particular passage found at the end of Luther’s treatment of the Creed in the Large Catechism (hereafter LC). It reads, “All who are outside this Christian people, whether heathen, Turks, Jews, or false Christians and hypocrites—even though they believe in and worship only the one, true God—nevertheless do not know what his attitude is toward them” (Kolb- Wengert, 440). The debated words are found in the clause, “even though they believe in and worship only the one, true God.” Is Luther somehow saying that the Turks and Jews believe in and worship the true God? If so, what does that mean? One question has to do with translation. John Nordling has shown that the Latin translation places this clause into an indirect statement that can only be read, “Although they merely believe that God is one and true, and call upon Him [as such].…” In other words, the Latin does not

1This Theological Observer has been written in response to the Theological Potpourri written by Dr. John G. Nordling printed on pages 235-239 of this issue.

232 understand the German text to be stating that Turks and Jews believe in and worship the one, true God. They merely believe that God is one.… The German text (ob sie gleich einen wahrhaftigen Gott glauben und anbeten), however, can legitimately be translated, “even if they believe and call upon one, true God.” Another question has to do with interpretation. If we take the English translations as fair renderings of the German, we might begin by asking the question, what is the antecedent of “they”? Does it, in fact, refer to the entire list, “heathen, Turks, Jews, false Christians, and hypocrites?” If the clause “they believe in and worship the one true God” refers to the entire list, then it includes the heathen along with the Turks and Jews. That would mean that the heathen believe in and worship the one true God as well. Could Luther have truly meant that? While one could make an argument that the Turks and Jews know of and are aware of the one true God, the same is not true for the heathen (Heiden). Within the context of the catechism as a whole, he does refer to their worship of Jupiter as their supreme God, and to Hercules, Mercury, Venus, Diana, and Lucina, etc. (LC I, 18-20). He states that their trust is false and wrong, for it is not placed in the one God, apart from whom there truly is no god in heaven or on earth” (LC I, 19). A case can be made then that only the last phrase, “false Christians and hypocrites” (heretics?), supplies the immediate antecedent for the pronoun “they.” In other words, Luther is saying, “even though they [false Christians and hypocrites] believe in and worship the one true, God,” they do not know his attitude toward them. Luther might have these in mind in LC I, 22-23. In either case, both groups (heathen on the one hand, Turks, Jews, and false Christians, and hypocrites on the other hand) are guilty of idolatry. That Luther speaks of believing and worshiping the one true God does not answer the question of whether it is false worship or true worship. False worship is no worship. To the contrary, false worship is idolatry (see how he links false worship and idolatry in LC I, 17). Whether faith and worship are true or false will be determined by their object. Here we might note that Luther works with two definitions of idolatry. The first form of idolatry has to do with whether or not a person has a correct referent. Do people direct their faith and worship to the God of the Bible or not? In the case of the heathen, Luther answers with a resounding no in LC I, 18-20. This is not the critical issue for Luther. There is another form of idolatry that is the “greatest idolatry” (LC I, 22) and a form that the “heathen, Turks, Jews, false Christians and hypocrites” have in common. It is an idolatry that does not know God’s attitude toward them and thus seeks it from oneself. The pagans “fashion their own fancies and dreams about God into an idol and rely on an empty nothing (LC I, 20). Those in the religious orders may have the right referent (God of Jesus Christ) but rely upon their works in order to wrest heaven from God. “What is this but to have made God into an idol—indeed, an ‘apple-god’—and to have set ourselves

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 233 up as God?” Works-righteousness is false worship and hence idolatry. For Luther then, the critical issue that determines whether one’s faith and worship are false (hence idolatry) or true lies not with simply having the correct referent, namely, the correct addressee. The critical issue is whether or not we know and are confident of that referent’s (or addressee’s) attitude and disposition toward us. This makes all the difference. That is why Luther concludes LC III, 66 with the words, “therefore they remain in eternal wrath and condemnation. For they do not have the Lord Christ, and, besides, they are not illuminated and blessed by the Holy Spirit.” True faith and worship (and their counterpart idolatry) are not defined by having the correct knowledge of God’s identity, but by having true knowledge and confidence of God’s attitude toward us as revealed in Jesus Christ. Charles Arand and James Voelz

234 Theological Potpourri

Large Catechism III, 66, Latin Version

John G. Nordling1

Proinde ii articuli nostrae fidei nos Christianos ab omnibus aliis, qui sunt in terris, hominibus separant. Quicunque enim extra Christianitatem sunt, sive gentiles sive Turcae sive Iudaei aut falsi etiam Christiani et hypocritae, quamquam unum tantum et verum Deum esse credant et invocent, neque tamen certum habent quo erga eos animatus sit animo, neque quidquam favoris aut gratiae de Deo sibi polliceri audent aut possunt, quamobrem in perpetua manent ira et damnatione. Neque enim habent Christum Dominum, neque ullis Spiritus Sancti donis et dotibus illustrati et donati sunt.2

These articles of the Creed separate and distinguish Christians from all other persons on earth. For those who are not in the Christian church, no matter whether they be Pagans, Turks, Jews, or hypocrites, even if they believe in, and worship only one true God, still do not know what his will towards them is; neither can they look to him for any love or kindness: wherefore they remain under perpetual wrath and condemnation. For they have not Christ the Lord, and besides, they are not enlightened and favored with any gifts through the Holy Ghost.3

These articles of the Creed, therefore, separate and distinguish us Christians from all other people upon earth. For all outside of

1I would like to thank my colleagues, Dr. John E. Thorburn, Jr., fellow classicist at Baylor University, and Dr. Norman E. Nagel, Department of Systematic Theology, Concordia Seminary, St. Louis, for taking a careful look at earlier drafts of this paper and offering several suggestions. 2The Latin is that of the Concordia Triglotta (R. Bente, ed., Triglot Concordia: The Symbolical Books of the Ev. Lutheran Church [St. Louis: Concordia, 1921], 694, 696), the version that the later translations in English appear to follow. However, the better version of the Latin text is the one provided in BKS (Die Bekenntnisschriften der evangelisch- lutherischen Kirche [Göttingen: Vandehoeck und Ruprecht, 1952]), 661. At any rate, differences between the two versions are minimal (capitalization, minor spelling, word order, etc.) and do not affect the argument presented here. 3Ambrose and Socrates Henkel, The Christian Book of Concord or Symbolical Books of the Evangelical Lutheran Church, 2d ed. (Newmarket: Solomon D. Henkel and Brs., 1854), 499. Dr. John G. Nordling is Assistant Professor in the Department of Classics at Baylor University in Waco, TX. Dr. Nordling is also a member of Concordia Seminary’s Board of Regents.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 235 Christianity, whether heathen, Turks, Jews or false Christians and hypocrites, although they believe in and worship only one true God, yet know not what his mind towards them is, and cannot confide in his love or expect any good from him; therefore they abide in eternal wrath and damnation. For they have not the Lord Christ, and besides are not illumined and favored by the gifts of the Holy Ghost.4

These articles of the Creed, therefore, divide and separate us Christians from all other people upon earth. For all outside of Christianity, whether heathen, Turks, Jews, or false Christians and hypocrites, although they believe in, and worship, only one true God, yet know not what His mind towards them is, and cannot expect any love or blessing from Him; therefore they abide in eternal wrath and damnation. For they have not the Lord Christ, and, besides, are not illumined and favored by any gifts of the Holy Ghost.5

These articles of the Creed, therefore, divide and distinguish us Christians from all other people on earth. All who are outside the Christian church, whether heathen, Turks, Jews, or false Christians and hypocrites, even though they believe in and worship only the one, true God, nevertheless do not know what his attitude is toward them. They cannot be confident of his love and blessing. Therefore they remain in eternal wrath and damnation, for they do not have the Lord Christ, and, besides, they are not illuminated and blessed by the gifts of the Holy Spirit.6

These three articles of the Creed, therefore, separate and distinguish us Christians from all other people on earth. All who are outside this Christian people, whether heathen, Turks, Jews, or false Christians and hypocrites—even though they believe in and worship only the one, true God—nevertheless do not know what his attitude is toward them. They cannot be confident of his love and blessing, and therefore they remain in eternal wrath and condemnation. For they do not have the Lord Christ, and, besides, they are not illuminated and blessed by the gifts of the HolySpirit.7

4H. E. Jacobs, ed. The Book of Concord; or, The Symbolical Books of the Evangelical Lutheran Church (Philadelphia: General Council Publication Board, 1911), 447. 5Triglotta (1921), 695, 697. 6T. G. Tappert, The Book of Concord (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1959), 419. 7R. Kolb and T. J. Wengert, eds. The Book of Concord: The Confessions of the Evangelical Lutheran Church (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2000), 440.

236 The italicized words seem to assert that complete pagans “believe in, and worship” the one true God. The tricky word here is tantum which, as an adverb, means “only” or “merely”—as in, nomen tantum virtutis usurpas = “you appropriate the mere name [i.e., appearance, pretext] of virtue.”8 However, there is much more to the words, quamquam unum tantum et verum Deum esse credant et invocent, than the English versions let on. For example, none of the translations make clear that the verb credant sets off indirect statement here: “They believe (credant) that God (Deum) is (esse) one (unum).”9 They focus instead upon tantum so that readers who do not know Latin well might conclude that the Lutheran Confessions teach that pagans, together with Christians, also believe in, and worship, the “only one” God. That possibility makes no logical sense, however, nor does it do justice to the idea that has been conveyed to the church in the Latin version. I concede that the Latin translator10 did indeed position the adverb tantum beside unum for rhetorical effect. Nevertheless, (and in spite of the “gap” that occurs between tantum and the word with which it rightly construes several words later), the true object of tantum is credant, not unum. Since similar evidences of this “gap” occur elsewhere in Latin literature,11 we should assume that Obsopöus purposefully arranged the words this way to please the rhetorical sensitivities of original readers of the Large Catechism who knew Latin. Hence, the following translation

8Cicero Paradoxa Stoicorum 2.17.2, in D. P. Simpson’s, Cassell’s Latin Dictionary (New York: Macmillan, 1959; reprint 1968), 594. Emphasis added. Translated by author. 9For the construction of indirect statement see any reputable Latin grammar. Here are the examples F. M. Wheelock uses (Wheelock’s Latin, 5th ed. revised by R. A. LaFleur [New York: Harper Perennial, 1992], 164) to impress the construction upon the minds of beginning Latin students:

Dicunt eum iuvare eam. = “They say that he is helping her.” Dicunt eum iuvisse eam. = “They say that he helped her.” Dicunt eum iuturum esse eam. = “They say that he will help her.” Dixerunt eum iuvare eam. = “They said that he was helping her.” Dixerunt eum iuvisse eam. = “They said that he had helped her.” Dixerunt eum iuturum esse eam. = “The said that he would help her.” Dicent eum iuvare eam. = “They will say that he is helping her.” Dicent eum iuvisse eam. = “They will say that he helped her.” Dicent eum iuturum esse eam. = “They will say that he will help her.”

10That would be Vincentius Obsopöus, “Humanist,” who produced Latin versions of the LC in 1529 (immediately after Luther’s so-called “German Catechism” appeared), and a second edition of the same in 1544. So BKS, xxix, n. 15. 11E.g., ...de quo tantum, quantum me amas, velim cogites: “concerning which I should like you to pursue as much as you love me,” Cicero Ep. ad Atticum 12.18.1 (tantum modifies velim, not amas); quibus cognitis, rex tantum auctoritate eius motus est, ut...: “And when these things had been learned, the king was so moved by [Conon’s] prestige that...,” Cornelius Nepos Vitae 9.4.1 (tantum modifies motus est); tantum ad narrandum argumentum adest benignitas “such is my generosity in telling the argument,” Plautus Menaechmi Prologue 16 (tantum modifies adest). Examples in Lewis and Short (C. T. Lewis and C. Short, eds., A Latin Dictionary [Oxford: University Press, 1879]), 1841. Translated by author.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 237 seems better than any one of the possibilities offered above: “Although they merely [tantum] believe that God is one and true, and call upon Him [as such]...,” etc. Many pagans and Jews believe that God exists (esse), and Muslims stress this fictive God’s oneness (unum). Still, that is a long way from having saving faith in “the one and true [unum et verum] God” revealed to sinners in Jesus Christ. James affirms (2:19) that it is not enough simply to confess that “God is one” for even the demons “believe” this (B4FJgb@LF4<), and tremble:

The point is that the knowledge of who God is does not save them [the demons]; in fact, it is this very knowledge which makes them shudder (and that very name which was used by exorcists to drive them out)! A faith which cannot go beyond this level is worse than useless.12

Another point that should be emphasized is the fact that quamquam (“although”) sets off a dependent clause here, a concessive clause.13 Consider the quite brief—though grammatically complicated—sentence, homines, dum docent, discunt = “People learn while they teach.”14 Knudsvig, Seligson, and Craig cite this passage as an example of a sentence whose clauses are “not all on the same level, i.e., they are not all equal.”15 What Knudsvig, Seligson, and Craig mean is that dum docent (“while they teach”) is grammatically dependent upon homines discunt (“people learn”) and so its ultimate meaning must be determined by the relationship to the main clause. This is an essential point of grammar and ignorance of the principle can greatly impede one’s appreciation of such mature Latin authors as Cicero, for example, who took great delight in arranging complicated clauses inside of clauses to please rhetorically astute audiences.16 The Latin translator took a similar delight in elaborating upon the supremely important idea contained in LC III, 66. Nevertheless, any grammarian should be able to see the essential structure of the sentence, all matters of rhetorical embellishment aside. The markers neque...neque (“neither...nor”)

12P. H. Davids (The Epistle of James: A Commentary on the Greek Text [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1982], 126). For the monotheism of demons in the NT see Mark 1:24; 5:7; and Acts 16:17; for their fear of Christ (whom they recognize), cf. Mark 1:23-24; 5:7. 13For concessive clauses set off by quamquam, cf. J. H. Allen and J. B. Greenough, New Latin Grammar (Oxford: Ginn & Co., 1888; reprint, 1903), #527.d (note), e; and C. E. Bennett, New Latin Grammar (New York: Allyn and Bacon, 1962), #309.2, 5, 6. 14Seneca Epist. Moral. 7.8. Translated by G. M. Knudsvig, G. M. Seligson, and R. S. Craig (Latin for Reading: A Beginner’s Textbook with Exercises, rev. ed. [Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1986]), 105. 15Ibid., 105. 16“An understanding of the different semantic and syntactic roles and relationships of dependent clauses is as important for the reader as an understanding of the basic kernel [of a sentence]. Only with this understanding can one learn to read the prose of an author such as Cicero, one of whose sentences may cover a whole page and may include numerous clauses dependent upon each other and upon the main clause.” Ibid., 105.

238 demarcate co-related main clauses in this sentence, whereas quamquam (“although”) and quamobrem (“because”) both demarcate grammatically dependent clauses. The indefinite pronoun quicunque (“whosoever”) introduces still another depending clause at the beginning of the sentence to make clear that absolutely every type of pagan and “false Christian” is meant: Turks (i.e., followers of Mohammed), Jews, and Christ-denying “Christians” (heretics, perhaps?). Hence, it is possible to discern at last “the point” of LC III, 66—namely, that pagans neither know God’s mind nor can they be sure of God’s grace and favor, although they believe in, and worship, what they merely (tantum) believe is “the one, true God.” But because (quamobrem) their minds are darkened and have not been illuminated by the Holy Ghost, “they remain in eternal wrath and damnation.” We must be sensitive to the Lutheran confessors’ use of elegant Latin phraseology in the Book of Concord and be aware that English translations rarely do sufficient justice to what an idea preserved in so highly an inflected language as Latin conveys. I cannot agree with those who suppose—on the basis of this one, highly rhetorical clause—that pagans “also” believe in, and worship, the one true God. The Latin text conveys precisely the opposite point, as does the entire paragraph (of which the quamquam clause is but a small part), and Luther’s original German version: “...ob sie gleich nur einen wahrhaftigen Gott gläuben und anbeten,” etc.17 My point is that, while the clause in question is probably concessive, it cannot be “so concessive” that its contribution contradicts, or even cancels out, that which clearly is the dominant idea here and everywhere else in Scripture and in the Lutheran Confessions. Even the Small Catechism should make quite clear what that “dominant idea” is:

The First Commandment: Thou shalt have no other gods. What does this mean?—Answer. We should fear, love, and trust in God above all things.18

17This borders on what grammarians call a contrary-to-fact statement: “Even if it were the case [understand: but it is not!] that they believe in, and worship, only true God...,” etc. Translated by author. Luther’s thinking has been decidedly weakened by the now official version of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Germany (EKiD): “...auch wenn sie nur einen wahrhaftigen Gott glauben und anbeten,” etc. Thus, R. Mau et alii, Evangelishche Bekenntnisse: Bekenntnisschriften der Reformation und neuere Theologische Erklärungen. Teilband 2 (Bielefeld: Luther-Verlag, 1997), 95. 18According to the English version of the Triglotta, 539.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 239 Articles

SYNCRETISM AND UNIONISM

Samuel H. Nafzger

Introduction

The apostle Paul, standing in the middle of the Areopagus in ancient Greece, was moved to say: “Men of Athens, I perceive that in every way you are very religious” (Acts 17:22). Perhaps an alien visitor to the U.S.A. today might say much the same thing about us Americans at the beginning of the twenty-first century. A couple of years ago the Wall Street Journal published a fascinating article with the title “The Age of Divine Disunity: Faith Now Springs from a Hodgepodge of Beliefs.” Lisa Miller begins this article with these words:

“I’m an Episcopalian, and I think of myself as a practicing non- Jew,” says Katherine Powell Cohen, a 36-year-old English teacher in San Francisco. “I’m a Mennonite hyphen Unitarian Universalist who practices Zen meditation,” says Ralph Imhoff, 57, a retired educator from Chandler, Ariz. “I call myself a Christian Buddhist, but sort of tongue-in-cheek,” says Maitreya Badami, 30, who works in the Contra Costa, Calif., public defender’s office. If America has always been a melting pot, these days its religious practices have become a spiritual hash. Blending or braiding the beliefs of different spiritual traditions has become so rampant in America that the Dalai Lama has called the country “the spiritual supermarket.” Jews flirt with Hinduism, Catholics study Taoism, and Methodists discuss whether to make the Passover seder an official part of worship. Rabbi Zalman Schachter- Shalomi, a prominent Jewish scholar, is also a Sufi sheik, and James Ishmael Ford, a Unitarian minister in Arizona, is a Zen sensei, or master. The melding of Judaism with Buddhism has become so commonplace that marketers who sell spiritual books, videotapes and lecture series have a name for it: “JewBu.”

Dr. Samuel H. Nafzger is Executive Secretary of the Commission on Theology and Church Relations of The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod. This article is an adaptation of an essay that Dr. Nafzger delivered at the North Dakota District Pastoral Conference that met on October 7-9, 2002.

240 The new religions are an offshoot of the globalization of practically everything, as formally exotic cultures and religions are suddenly accessible in every way. But Rabbi Schachter-Shalomi says Americans’ dissatisfaction with traditional religion began in the 1960s, when early photos of Earth were transmitted from space. At that moment, he says, the idea that one God might be better than another lost its primacy, and people began to think that “all religions are vital organs in the planet.”1

It would be a serious mistake to think that The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod remains unaffected by the society and culture in which it exists. The Missouri Synod, founded in 1847 by German Lutherans who had come to America eight years earlier, managed pretty much to stay out of the mainstream of life in the new world for the first half of its 150+ years of existence. My grandfather, who was born in Germany and baptized at the Old Lutheran Church in Steeden, came to the U.S. in 1894, attended Bronxville Academy in New York and the Gymnasium in Ft. Wayne, and graduated from Concordia Seminary in St. Louis in 1899. His first call was to serve as a minister-at-large in Texas, where he served two parishes until his retirement in 1943. He never preached in English until the beginning of the First World War, when speaking in German was suddenly prohibited by law. Several years ago in St. Louis I met a lady who had been a member of my grandfather’s congregation back in Texas over fifty years earlier. In fact, she had been confirmed by him. She told me that one Saturday she had come to the church to make a private announcement to attend the Lord’s Supper, a common practice in our LCMS congregations in those days. She reported that she was horrified to have him tell her that she would not be permitted to attend communion the next day. In response to her shocked “Why not?” he told her, “Because you attended the revival meeting being held here in our town earlier this week.” Although the woman went on to tell me that my grandfather later relented, provided that she would promise never to do that again, this incident illustrates how much our world and our church have changed during the course of the past seventy-five years. Today we could not “avoid the heterodox” in this way even if we tried. Syncretism, as my grandfather understood it, is in the air we breathe, on TV, on the Internet, and at our tables and bedsides. It is actually inside our minds. But what is it? What is this entity called syncretism, often connected in Missouri Synod circles with another term—unionism?

1Wall Street Journal, Feb. 10, 1999.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 241 I. Some Definitions

What do the terms syncretism and unionism mean? Since neither of these terms is found in the Bible or in any of the writings contained in The Book of Concord, we must begin by ascertaining the way these terms have actually been used in Christian, in Lutheran, and in Missouri Synod circles. Only then can we go to the Scriptures and the Confessions to see what they say about these topics.

A. Syncretism

The term syncretism was apparently first used by Plutarch, a Greek biographer who wrote at the end of the first and beginning of the second Christian century, as both Roman Catholic and Lutheran encyclopedias point out. Plutarch used this term to describe the Cretans, who “often quarreled among themselves but always made common front against an enemy who threatened them from the outside.”2 As Plutarch used this term, it referred to “a political alliance in which mutual differences were overlooked in the face of a threat to all.”3 Erasmus, Luther’s contemporary, used this term in the sixteenth century. He derived it from the Greek word sun-kerannumi (to mix, mingle with)—it does not occur in classical Greek—and he simply transposed it into Latin. Thereafter, the term was generally applied “to an eclectic mixture in philosophical and theological doctrines.”4 For example, a fifteenth-century humanist cardinal by the name of Bessarion was called a “syncretist” because of his attempt to reconcile the contradicting philosophies of Plato and Aristotle. Humanistically trained theologians at the time of the Reformation used the term syncretism to describe the attempts of theologians to reconcile and blend together religious doctrines that were contradictory to one another. Hans Thimme, in his article in The Encyclopedia of the Lutheran Church, delineates three applications of the term syncretism:

1. The inclusive mingling of religions and cults near the close of the ancient period. He writes:

From this syncretistic situation the early Christian Church profited to this extent that for a while it aroused no particular suspicion amid the multiplicity of religious movements, and in fact enjoyed relative freedom in its missionary endeavors, as the Book of Acts demonstrates.

2The Encyclopedia of The Lutheran Church, 1965 ed., s.v. “syncretism.” 3Sacramentum Mundi, 1968 ed., s.v. “syncretism.” 4Ibid.

242 It soon became clear, however, that Christianity was in sharp opposition against syncretism because it relativized the truth. The first indications of this battle are the anti- gnostic passages in the New Testament in the Pauline and later epistles. The battle continued for centuries and led to the church’s adoption of protective measures such as the canon, the creeds, and the ministry.5

2. The term syncretism was used in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries in a completely different context. Provoked by the acrimonious, doctrinal debates that sprang up following Luther’s death, both within Lutheranism and between Lutheran and Reformed theologians, a man named George Calixtus developed what he referred to as the Consensus quinquesaecularis (accepting as binding doctrine the consensus of Christians during the first five centuries of the Christian era). His hope was that the contemporary divisions among Lutherans, Reformed, and Roman Catholics might be overcome. He was strongly opposed in this endeavor by the Lutheran orthodox theologians, especially by Abraham Calov (1612-1686). Concludes Thimme:

We can readily appreciate his [Calixtus’s] desire for denominational peace and church union, but must reject his proposed method of bringing it about; it would have meant the end of the evangelical message in the land of the Reformation.6

3. In the twentieth century the term is applied to those religious establishments and ideological associations that consciously and explicitly seek to mingle religions. A good example of this understanding of syncretism might well be Bahaiism, which has its headquarters in Haifa, Israel. Thimme concludes:

In view of the fact that the secularism of our times seeks to relativize the truth of the Gospel message, and misleads many churches and religious fellowships into assuming that distinctions and separations are no longer fashionable or necessary, syncretism appears as a specific temptation of the present time. Under no circumstances may we confuse syncretism with the endeavor commanded by the Lord of the Church himself to use all of our powers to promote the unity of the faith on the basis of the truth and to be ready

5The Encyclopedia of The Lutheran Church. 6Ibid.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 243 to do all that we can in the cause of peace. Genuine ecumenicity is the opposite of syncretism.7

Webster’s Third New International Dictionary’s definition of the term syncretism quite succinctly summarizes these various elements of this term’s historical development as follows:

(fr. GK synkretismos federation of Cretan cities, fr. synkretizein to unite against a common enemy.) 1. the reconciliation or union of conflicting (as religious) beliefs or an effort intending such...a movement of a Lutheran party in the 17th century led by George Calixtus seeking the union of Protestant sects with each other and with the Roman Catholic Church. 2. flagrant compromise in religion or philosophy: eclecticism that is illogical or leads to inconsistency: uncritical acceptance of conflicting or divergent beliefs or principles. 3. the developmental process of historical growth within a religion by accretion and coalescence of different and often origin-conflicting forms of belief and practice through the interaction with or supersession of other religions.8

B. Unionism

The Commission on Theology and Church Relations (hereafter CTCR) in its 1967 report Theology of Fellowship notes that originally the term syncretism had generally been used by Lutherans to refer to a “mixing of religions.” The Commission states that “the term Synkretismus was employed during the period of seventeenth-century orthodoxy to denote efforts to reunite Roman Catholics, Lutherans, and Reformed.”9 But in the aftermath of the forced union of Lutherans and Reformed churches in 1817, known as the Prussian Union, the term unionism came to be used more frequently in Missouri Synod circles—in place of syncretism—to refer to the coming together of churches without the removal of the doctrinal differences that divided them. The Commission writes:

The terms unionism and unionist as ecclesiastical terms came into use in connection with the efforts of King Frederick Wilhelm III of Prussia to effect a union of the Lutheran and of the Reformed churches in his realm in 1817, the tercentenary of the Reformation. The union was to be effected by declaring the doctrines which divided the two confessions to be differences in nonessentials.

7Ibid. 8Webster’s Third New International Dictionary, 1966 ed., s.v. “syncretism.” 9Theology of Fellowship, A Report of the Commission on Theology and Church Relations, 1965, 29, n. 14.

244 This Prussian Union was very distasteful to loyal Lutherans, and those who favored the union were called unionists (Unionisten). The terms “unionism” and “unionist” were frequently used by the fathers of the Missouri Synod, though also the terms “syncretism” (Synkretismus), which had been generally used prior to 1817, and “mixing of religions” (Religionsmengerei) were extensively employed. In part these terms were used, as they had been in Germany, to characterize the union of the Reformed and Lutherans without removal of the doctrinal differences which divided them. Later, however, the terms “unionism” and “unionist” were frequently applied when Lutherans who were not wholly agreed in doctrine and practice nevertheless worked and worshiped together.10

Already in this document the Commission observed that it was difficult to get a clear-cut definition of unionism from the literature of The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod—i.e., a clear picture of precisely what joint activities constitute unionism. A Brief Statement, adopted by the Synod in 1932, gives the most official and perhaps the most helpful definition of unionism when it states:

We repudiate unionism, that is, church fellowship with the adherents of false doctrine, as disobedience to God’s command, as causing divisions in the Church, Rom. 16:17; 2 John 9, 10, and as involving the constant danger of losing the Word of God entirely, 2 Tim. 2:17-21 (Brief Statement..., Par. 28).

It should be noted that here unionism is defined as church fellowship with adherents of false doctrine generally, not only with the Reformed Church, as the word unionism had originally been understood to mean. In succeeding years some in the Missouri Synod tended to broaden the concept of unionism to refer to far more than church fellowship with adherents of false doctrine: also to the “joint work of those not united in doctrine” and to “mixed (promiscuous) prayer among those who profess the truth and those who deny any part of it.”11 According to this understanding of unionism, activities that had not necessarily assumed church fellowship, such as praying with Christians of another confession, were regarded as unionistic. This broadened understanding of unionism would have made it impossible even to participate in joint prayers for the Holy Spirit’s aid with Lutherans from differing synods when they met to seek to overcome their differences.

10Ibid., 26-27. 11The Concordia Cyclopedia, 1927 ed., s.v. “unionism.”

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 245 In the twentieth century the Wisconsin Synod has articulated this broadened view of “unionism” and extended its definition even further under what is sometimes referred to as the “unit concept of fellowship.” An official WELS document titled “Church Fellowship” states the following:

We may classify these joint expressions of faith in various ways according to the particular realm of activity in which they occur, e.g., pulpit fellowship; altar fellowship; prayer fellowship; fellowship in worship; fellowship in church work, in missions, in Christian education, in Christian charity. Yet insofar as they are joint expressions of faith, they are all essentially one and the same thing and all are properly covered by a common designation, namely, church fellowship. Church fellowship should therefore be treated as a unit concept, covering every joint expression, manifestation, and demonstration of a common faith. Hence Scripture can give the general admonition “avoid them” when church fellowship is to cease, Rom. 16:17. Hence, Scripture sees an expression of church fellowship also in giving the right hand of fellowship, Gal. 2:9, and in greeting one another with the fraternal kiss (Rom. 16:16); on the other hand, it points out that a withholding of church fellowship may also be indicated by not extending a fraternal welcome to errorists and by not bidding them Godspeed (2 Jn. 10, 11; cf. 3 Jn. 5-8).12

According to this understanding, the Wisconsin Synod regards as “unionistic activities” such joint participation of individuals belonging to churches not in church fellowship as organists playing the organ in a worship service, engaging in table prayer with spouses and other family members who belong to churches not in church fellowship, and serving as attendants in wedding services. While certain individuals in the LCMS may have held and continue to hold views approaching this understanding of what constitutes unionism, the “unit concept of fellowship” as defined above has never been the official position of the LCMS. The terms syncretism and unionism are best known to members of the LCMS today, if they are known to them at all, because of their appearance in the Constitution of the Missouri Synod. Article VI of the Synod’s Constitution lists the “conditions for acquiring and holding membership.” Included among these “conditions” are the following: Renunciation of unionism and syncretism of every description, such as:

12WELS Statement on Church Fellowship, 1970. Included in Appendix in Church Fellowship-Working Together for the Truth, John F. Brug, ed., Milwaukee: Northwestern, 1996, 166.

246 1. Serving congregations of mixed confessions, as such, by ministers of the church; 2. Taking part in the services and sacramental rites of heterodox congregations of mixed confession.

But it should also be noted that the Synod’s Constitution also makes it clear that “the renunciation of unionism and syncretism of every description” does not mean the avoidance of any contact or relationship with other Christians or Christian church bodies. The very first reason listed in the Synod’s Constitution for the formation of the Synod expressly states that it is the objective of the Synod to

Conserve and promote the unity of the true faith (Eph. 4:3-6; 1 Cor. 1:10), work through its official structure toward fellowship with other Christian church bodies; and provide a united defense against schism, sectarianism (Rom. 16:17), and heresy.

On the basis of what has been said above, we can draw the following concluding observations:

1. The terms syncretism and unionism are not found in the Scriptures or in The Book of Concord. 2. Since the time of the Reformation, syncretism has been a term used by Lutheran theologians to refer to the “mixing of religions” without the resolution of the doctrinal differences that divide them. 3. In The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod, the term unionism, which came into usage as a result of the state-forced union of the Lutheran and Reformed churches in Prussia in 1817, was originally used synonymously with the term syncretism. These are terms that connote the compromise of the Gospel through the relativizing of its doctrinal articles. 4. The Constitution of the Missouri Synod gives as examples (not definitions) of syncretism or unionism “the serving” of congregations of mixed confession by its member pastors and their “taking part in the services and sacramental rites of heterodox congregations of mixed confession.” This provision was not understood as necessarily prohibiting joint prayers with Christians belonging to heterodox or erring churches. 5. The Constitution of the Missouri Synod, by giving as the first reason for the formation of the Synod the objective of working for fellowship with other Christian church bodies, indicates that the renunciation of all forms of syncretism does not mean that the members of the Synod should have nothing to do with other Christian churches. The Synod’s Constitution rejects not only

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 247 syncretism but also sectarianism and schism, i.e., separatism. The CTCR states:

It is evident that the concepts of unionism and separatism are intimately related. Unionism is attempted union when separation is in order, and separatism is separation when union is in order.13

6. The most concise definition of syncretism or unionism is that given in Francis Pieper’s Brief Statement, adopted officially by the Synod in 1932, which states:

We repudiate unionism, that is, church fellowship with the adherents of false doctrine.

7. As the term “unionism” came to be more frequently used to refer to the mixing together of religions by coming together in church fellowship with erring Christian denominations before the resolution of doctrinal differences, the term syncretism was increasingly understood as the mingling together of the Christian religion with non-Christian faiths.

But if syncretism or unionism has meant the practice of “church fellowship” with the adherents of false doctrine, then this means that we shall have to review the nature of the church and of church fellowship as these topics are taught in the Scriptures and confessed in The Book of Concord.

II. The Doctrine of the Church in the Scriptures and the Lutheran Confessions

As Confessional Lutherans, we members of the LCMS want our doctrine and practice, and this most certainly includes our understanding of syncretism and unionism, to be normed by “the un-normed norm” of “the Scriptures of the Old and the New Testament as the written Word of God and the only rule and norm of faith and of practice” and by the “normed norm” of all “the Symbolical Books of the Evangelical Lutheran Church as a true and unadulterated statement and exposition of the Word of God” (LCMS Constitution). After all, this is what the pastors, teachers, and congregations of the LCMS have agreed to when they joined The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod and signed its Constitution. But what is it that the Scriptures teach about unionism and syncretism? As we pointed out above, the Scriptures do not use these terms. But this does not mean that they have nothing to say about these topics.

13Theology of Fellowship, 27.

248 Article VI of the LCMS Constitution speaks of unionism and syncretism, but it includes no references to Scripture. But Article III gives three Scriptural references to support the objective of forming the Synod. It states that the Synod “to conserve and promote the unity of the true faith (Eph. 4:3-6; 1 Cor. 1:10), work through its official structures toward fellowship with other Christian church bodies, and provide a united defense against schism, sectarianism (Rom. 16:17), and heresy.”14 Ephesians 4:3-6 speaks of “endeavoring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called in one hope of your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you all.” According to these words from the apostle Paul, unity is both a gift and an assignment. In 1 Corinthians 1:10 the apostle states: “Now I plead with you, brethren, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that you all speak the same thing, and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be perfectly joined together in the same mind and in the same judgment.” The unity of the Spirit is kept in the bond of peace when Christian brothers and sisters “speak the same thing.” In his letter to the Romans, chapter 16, verse 17, Paul writes: “Now I urge you, brethren, note those who cause divisions and offenses contrary to the doctrine which you learned, and avoid them.” Teaching doctrine contrary to the Scriptural Gospel causes divisions in the visible church. It is interesting—and significant, I believe—also to note that none of these passages use the term koinonia, or fellowship, the establishment of which the framers of the LCMS Constitution refer to as the first purpose or objective of the Synod. This implies that an understanding of what fellowship is cannot be limited to a mere word study of the word koinonia. But it will be helpful for us to review briefly the meaning of this term and note how it is used in the New Testament. The root meaning of koinonia is “having part with others in a common thing.” It is used in a variety of ways in the New Testament. (See 2 Cor. 8:4; 1 Cor. 10; Luke 5:10; 1 Tim. 5:22.) Most frequently, however, the term koinonia is used—eighteen times in all—in the New Testament to describe the relationship of unity that exists in the Body of Christ. St. John writes in his first Epistle: “That which we have seen and heard we declare to you, that you also may have fellowship with us, and truly our fellowship is with the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ” (1 John 1:3; cf. also 1 Cor. 1:9). The term koinonia is also used in the New Testament—two or three times only—to refer to the external manifestation of the spiritual unity that all Christians have with one another (see Gal. 2:9; Acts 2:42; 2 Cor. 8:4). What do the Lutheran Confessions have to say about church fellowship? While none of the documents in The Book of Concord have an article or a

142001 Handbook of The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod, 6.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 249 section on “Fellowship” or on “Inter-Christian Relationships,” and while none of these writings use the terms syncretism or unionism, they do present a clear, well-thought-out understanding of the doctrine of the church. If syncretism or unionism means “church fellowship with the adherents of false doctrine,” then it will be of foundational importance for us to see what the Lutheran Confessions have to say about the church and about church fellowship. The “one holy Christian church,” says Melanchthon, is “the assembly of all believers” (German, AC VII, 1), “the assembly of saints” (Latin, AC VII, 1). It is “a spiritual people...reborn by the Holy Spirit” (Ap VII & VIII, 14). Martin Luther writes that the church is “a little holy flock or community of pure saints under one head, Christ” (LC II, 51), that it is “holy believers and sheep who hear the voice of their shepherd” (SA III, XII, 2). In so describing the church, each of these Reformers seeks to be faithful to the understanding of the church confessed in the Apostles’ Creed as “the holy Christian Church, the communion of saints” and in the Nicene Creed as “one holy Christian and apostolic.” Moreover, not only do the Lutheran Confessions say what the church is; they also say what it is not. The Reformers expressly reject the Roman Catholic understanding of the church as consisting of those who profess the Christian faith and who are under the rule of legitimate pastors and the Roman pope, i.e., that the church is essentially a visible, tangible entity or institution, the membership of which can be precisely determined and delimited by certain external criteria. This understanding of the church continues in the Roman Catholic church to the present. Karl Rahner, for example, writes:

Since the visibleness and visible unity of the Church are constituted by the sacramental and juridical authority of the Church (which latter includes in its turn the teaching and ruling authority of the Church), all and only those belong to the Church as members who are visibly, i.e., in the external form, subject to these two powers of the Church. And everyone who, on the social plane, is cut off or has withdrawn himself from one or both of these powers, is not a member of the Church.15

15Karl Rahner, “Membership in the Church According to the Teaching of Pius XII’s Encyclical ‘Mystici Corporis Christi.’ ” Theological Investigations, vol. II, trans. Carl Kruger (Baltimore: Helicon Press, 1963), 17. Cf. “ ‘Dominus Iesus’: On the Unicity and Salvific Universality of Jesus Christ and the Churches,” issued on September 5, 2000, by the Vatican Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, published in the September 14, 2000, issue of Origins. Here it is stated that “the ecclesial communities which have not preserved the valid episcopate and the genuine integral substance of the eucharistic mystery are not churches in the proper sense” (para. 17). This view of the nature of the church as set forth in the Confutation was clearly articulated by seventeenth-century Roman Catholic theologian Robert Bellarmine: “The church is an assembly of men, an assembly that is visible and perceptible to the senses just like an assembly of the Roman citizenry or the Kingdom of France or the Republic of Venice.” Robert Bellarmine, Disputationes de Controversiis Christianae, Paris, 1615, I, 982.

250 The Lutheran confessors did not make this mistake. On the contrary, they argue that arrogant people and hypocrites, while in the church, are not in actuality a part of it. This conviction leads them to make a distinction between the church properly speaking (proprie dicta) and the church broadly speaking (late dicta). Melanchthon, responding to the Confutation’s condemnation of AC VII and its identification of the church as the assembly of saints, writes:

We concede that in this life hypocrites and evil men are mingled with the church and are members of the church according to the outward associations of the church’s marks—that is, Word, confession, and sacraments. The sacraments do not lose their efficacy when they are administered by evil men (Ap VII and VIII, 3).

But this does not mean, he continues, that “the church is merely an association of outward ties and rites like other civic governments.” On the contrary, “it is mainly an association of faith and of the Holy Spirit in men’s hearts” (Ap VII and VIII, 5). Referring to the Apostles’ Creed, Melanchthon says:

Certainly the wicked are not a holy church! The following phrase, “the communion of saints,” seems to have been added to explain what “church” means, namely, the assembly of saints who share the association of the same Gospel or teaching and of the same Holy Spirit, who renews, consecrates, and governs their hearts (Ap VII and VIII, 8).

Lest he be misunderstood, he repeats:

Hypocrites and evil men are indeed associated with the true church as far as outward ceremonies are concerned. But when we come to define the church, we must define that which is the living body of Christ and is the church in fact as well as in name. We must understand what it is that chiefly makes us members, and living members, of the church. If we were to define the church as only an outward organization embracing both the good and the wicked, then men would not understand that the kingdom of Christ is the righteousness of the heart and the gift of the Holy Spirit but would think of it as only the outward observance of certain devotions and rituals (Ap VII and VIII, 12-13).

With these words Melanchthon clearly distinguishes between the one holy Christian church (una sancta), which is the church properly speaking, and the local and territorial entities with their rites, orders, and external membership, which are the church broadly speaking.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 251 This does not mean, however, that the Reformers understand the church to be some sort of Platonic republic: “This church actually exists,” writes Melanchthon. It is “made up of true believers and righteous men scattered throughout the world,” who have flesh and blood. And while this church properly speaking is hidden from human eyes, we know where it is to be found because of the “marks” of the church, namely, “the pure teaching of the Gospel and the sacraments” (Ap VII and VIII, 20). This understanding of the church has enormous implications for how the Lutheran Confessions understand relationships among Christians and Christian churches and therefore also for our understanding of what constitutes syncretism, unionism, and separatism. The true sphere of the church’s ecumenical endeavors, according to their thinking, is the church in the proper sense. But since the church in the strict sense has not yet been revealed (Ap VII and VIII), it is within the external, visible structures and fellowship of the church in the broad sense as it actually exists in the world that it carries out its relationships and conducts its ecumenical endeavors. The purpose of these ecumenical efforts therefore is not to bring about the unity of the church in the strict sense, for this unity already exits. The unity of the church is created by the Holy Spirit and comes with faith. Ecumenical efforts in the church have as their purpose to overcome divisions in visible Christendom. It is to this task that the confessors were actually devoting their energies in their confessional writings. As the Preface to The Book of Concord states, the Lutheran confessors saw clearly that “there was no better way to counteract...religious controversies...than, on the basis of God’s Word, carefully and accurately to explain and decide the differences that had arisen with reference to all the articles in controversy, to expose and to reject false doctrine, and clearly to confess the divine truth” (Preface to The Book of Concord, 6). Compromise on doctrinal matters was out of the question: “We have no intention...to yield anything of the eternal and unchangeable truth of God for the sake of temporal peace, tranquility, and outward harmony.... We desire such harmony...that...will not give place to the smallest error” (FC SD XI, 94-96). To come together in external fellowship with those who teach false doctrine would be to compromise the Gospel, through which the unity of the church comes into being in the first place. While the confessors do not use these terms, they believed it would be syncretism or sinful unionism to come together in external unity (church fellowship) where doctrinal agreement is lacking. So it is that the Formula of Concord quotes Luther as saying to all those who rejected the doctrine of the Real Presence of Christ’s body and blood in the Lord’s Supper: “Whoever, I say, will not believe this, will please let me alone and expect no fellowship from me. This is final” (FC SD VII, 33). According to the Lutheran Confessions, “The primary requirement for basic and permanent concord within the church is a summary formula and pattern, unanimously approved, in which the summarized doctrine

252 commonly confessed by the churches of the pure Christian religion is drawn together out of the Word of God” (FC SD Rule and Norm, 1). The primary concern of the Lutheran confessors is not for uniformity of ceremonies or rites but for genuine agreement in the teaching of the Gospel. “Churches will not condemn each other because of a difference in ceremonies, when in Christian liberty one uses fewer or more of them, as long as they are otherwise agreed in doctrine and in all its articles and are also agreed concerning the right use of the holy sacraments, according to the well-known axiom ‘Disagreement in fasting should not destroy agreement in faith’ ” (FC SD X, 31). In summary, the Lutheran Confessions in speaking of the church make a clear distinction between the church properly speaking, which is one, and the church broadly speaking, which is not united. There is, properly speaking, only one church, and its unity is a given. But the church as it manifests itself in the world is frequently divided, rent by division and schism. This fundamental distinction about the understanding of the nature of the church and its unity lies at the heart of what the Lutheran Confessions teach about relationships among Christians. The connecting link between the spiritual unity of the church, which comes with faith in Christ, and the ways visible groups of Christians relate to one another (inter-Christian relations) is the confession of the faith (fides quae). According to the Scriptures and the Lutheran Confessions, to come together in church fellowship on the basis of unreconciled diversity in the confession of the Gospel is sinful syncretism or unionism. As a result of this brief overview of what the Scriptures and the Lutheran Confessions teach about the nature of the church, we can make the following observations:

1. What the Lutheran confessional writings teach about the doctrine of the church is normative for members of the LCMS as they relate to church bodies that do not teach the Gospel purely and administer the Sacraments rightly (churches of mixed confession, i.e., heterodox churches). 2. If we members of the LCMS are to be faithful to what the Lutheran Confessions understand the Scriptures to teach about the doctrine of the church in our inter-church relations, we must distinguish (i.e., neither confuse nor separate) the church properly speaking from the church broadly speaking. The Lutheran Confessions carefully distinguish between the unity of the church (Latin, unitas; German, Einigkeit der Kirche), which is given with faith, and unity in the church (Latin, concordia; German, Einigkeit in der Kirche). Unity in the church is based on agreement in the pure teaching of the Gospel and on the right administration of the Sacraments. 3. Church Fellowship is the term that the Lutheran church has historically used to refer to the relationship that exists between

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 253 churches in doctrinal agreement with each other. (In 1956 Franklin Clark Fry, president of the Lutheran Church in America, said: “Insistence upon agreement in doctrine as a precondition for church fellowship is the distinguishing mark among all Protestants and should never be relaxed.” Quoted in Lutheran Understanding of Church Fellowship, 2000, 14.) 4. Syncretism and unionism are the terms used by the founders of the LCMS to refer to the practice of church fellowship among church bodies not in doctrinal agreement, the end result of which is the relativizing of truths of the Christian faith and an incipient denial of the Gospel itself.

When we members of the LCMS have said everything there is to say about church fellowship, however, there still remains much more to say about relationships with Christians and churches with whom the Missouri Synod is not in church fellowship. In the next section of this article, therefore, we shall illustrate how the contemporary context in which we live makes questions of unionism and syncretism much more complicated than ever before.

III. The Contemporary Context

On the night in which He was betrayed by Judas, Jesus our Lord offered up this prayer to His Father: I do not pray for these only, but also for those who believe in me through their word, that they may all be one; even as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that thou hast sent me. The glory which thou hast given me I have given to them, that they may be one even as we are one, I in them and thou in me, that they may become perfectly one, so that the world may know that thou hast sent me and hast loved them even as thou hast loved me (John 17:20-23).

The apostle Paul declares in his letter to the Ephesians:

There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of us all, who is above all and through all and in all (Eph. 4:4-6).

But where is this unity for which Christ prayed and about which St. Paul writes? There certainly is one Lord, one God and Father of all, who is over all. But where is this unity among those who believe in this one Lord?

254 In December 1998 I attended the Eighth Assembly of the World Council of Churches in Zimbabwe.16 This organization had been founded fifty years earlier in the heady aftermath of the end of the bloody Second World War. The birth of this new organization was accompanied by great optimism that the oneness of those for whom our Lord had prayed in His High Priestly Prayer was finally just around the corner. But things have not worked out quite that way. While the WCC now has a membership of some 350 churches representing approximately 500 million people (the Roman Catholic Church is not a member but it does participate in the WCC), the fiftieth anniversary celebration of the WCC took place under the threat of its dissolution, a threat that continues today. Some observers at Zimbabwe were heard wondering out loud if this Assembly might be the WCC’s last. And, significantly, on the final day of the Assembly five separate Communion services were held—all of them off-campus and none of them officially sponsored by the WCC itself. Even among and within confessional Lutheran churches, issues of Christian unity stand at the top of the list of divisive and controversial issues. In August 1999 the churches belonging to the International Lutheran Council met in Cambridge, England. Two days were spent in hearing papers and in participating in discussions on the topic “Fellowship/ Inter-Church Relations”—once again! This was the sixth time that this topic was discussed within the past fifty years by this group of confessional Lutheran churches from around the world, all but one of which have church fellowship with the LCMS. And the topic of inter-Christian relationships continues to be one of the most discussed issues in the LCMS today. The 1998 Synodical Convention, reacting to memorials submitted from throughout the Synod in the wake of controversy surrounding participation in a family wedding service and a memorial service held in South Dakota following a deadly tornado, candidly stated that “this 60th Convention of the LCMS recognizes that a growing problem exists among some of our pastors and congregations regarding the understanding, application, and practice of our Synod’s fellowship principles.”17 Is it any wonder that there should be a “growing problem” today in the Missouri Synod regarding the understanding, application, and practice of our Synod’s fellowship principles. Luther and the Reformers had to worry about how to relate to the Roman Catholic Church on the one side and the Swiss Reformers, the Enthusiasts, and the Anabaptists on the other. Because of the terms of the Peace of Westphalia, most of those with whom they were not in church fellowship lived in separate states. And, as far as

16The quotations that follow were taken from materials distributed at the Eighth Assembly of the World Council in Zimbabwe in connection with the celebration of the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of the World Council of Churches in 1948 in Amsterdam. 17LCMS Convention Proceedings, 1998, 114.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 255 non-Christian religions were concerned, there were only the Jews for the most part. When Walther and the Saxons came to America, they did not encounter Germany’s territorial churches, though the kinds of people they met were not much different. Their primary church-relations encounters were with Reformed Christians and with American revivalists. It is interesting to read how the Saxons related to the Reformed congregations in their area, suggesting that in the absence of a Lutheran pastor, the members of their congregation in St. Louis might ask Pastor Wall, the pastor of the Union Church, to perform their Baptisms.18 But the field of inter-Christian relationships has become considerably more complex for the typical Missouri Synod pastor at the beginning of the twenty-first century. Not only has there been a proliferation of religious groups, both Christian and non-Christian, but this has been accompanied by incredible changes in the culture and society in which we live, brought on by increased mobility, intermarrying, and the advent of the Internet and the Information Age. Syncretism and its inevitable result—relativism— are in the very air we breathe. Though our fathers and grandfathers could advise their members to avoid the sectarians, such advice is no longer possible today. Today we are drowning in information, and as a result, many people have retreated into a sound-byte/bumper-sticker approach to things metaphysical. The end result of these developments is a galloping individualism, an impatience with “abstract” concepts such as the corporate nature of the church, a retreat into a reliance on subjective experience, a loss of loyalty to institutions (a desire to be “believers” but not “belongers” mentality), and a pick-and-choose approach to what one believes about things religious, a phenomenon sometimes referred to as “Cafeteria Catholicism.” Is it any wonder that our people and our pastors often find it difficult to understand the LCMS’s position on closed communion and church fellowship, positions that our society regards at best as unfriendly and aloof, and at worst as incredibly sectarian and unchristian? An overview of the contemporary religious situation as seen through the lens of the Scriptural and Confessional principles presented in the Lutheran Confessions provides the basis for the following observations:

1. By definition, syncretism and unionism compromise and relativize the objective and exclusive truth claims of the doctrine of the Gospel. 2. The dangers of syncretism and unionism as defined above are more real and more prevalent today than perhaps ever before since we live in an age that prizes these very qualities as necessary for living in an increasingly pluralistic society.

18Carl S. Mundinger, Government in the Missouri Synod, St. Louis: Concordia, 1947, 127. Mundinger also reports that Pastor Wall delivered an address at O. H. Walther’s funeral (95).

256 3. The subject of inter-Christian relationships is not exhausted by a discussion of church fellowship. (The terms church fellowship, inter- church relations, and inter-Christian relationships are not synonymous terms.)

In the final section of this paper we want to present a brief overview of how the LCMS has sought to address the problems of syncretism and unionism.

IV. The LCMS and Syncretism and Unionism

In this section I shall seek primarily to describe what we in The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod have said by way of what I like to refer to as our “covenants of love” with one another with respect to the way we relate as a church body to church bodies with which we find ourselves in doctrinal disagreement, as well as with non-Christian religious covenants that we members of the Synod commit ourselves to keep when we join this voluntary association of congregations, pastors, teachers, DCE’s, DCO’s, deaconesses, parish assistants, certified lay ministers, and directors of parish music.19 In response to an assignment from the 1998 Synodical Convention to prepare “a synodwide study of the confessional nature of our church body (why we are who we are) and of our fellowship principles and practices (why we do what we do), suitable for use by church workers and lay people” (1998 Res. 3-03B: “To Study Fellowship Principles and Practices”), President Barry and the CTCR prepared some study materials titled The Lutheran Understanding of Church Fellowship. These materials were studied in all the conventions of the thirty-five districts of the LCMS. Significantly, these materials had received the unanimous approval of the CTCR and of President Barry. In these materials the president of the Synod and the CTCR summarize “the Lutheran Understanding of Fellowship” in this way:

While the church’s internal unity is perfect and known only to God (Eph. 1:4), the limits of external fellowship are determined by whether the Gospel is preached purely and the sacraments are administered according to Christ’s institution. The Gospel and the sacraments are in themselves always pure. In this way they create and preserve the church in her hidden unity throughout the world. Yet, when church bodies make public confession of the Gospel and the sacraments, tragically some obscure or explicitly contradict the teaching of the Gospel and the proper administration of the sacraments. [In a footnote, the following example of such a situation is given: “When a person receives a trinitarian Baptism in a

19See LCMS Constitution, Article V on Membership.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 257 Reformed congregation (such as a Baptist church), that Baptism is valid and true. Tragically, however, Baptist doctrine explicitly rejects the biblical teaching that Baptism brings the Holy Spirit and the forgiveness of sins.”] For this reason the limits or boundaries of the external fellowship are creeds and confessions. Churches in altar and pulpit fellowship share the same confession, including the rejection of errors that contradict this confession. Where churches cannot agree on a common confession, the basis for church fellowship does not exist. (The Lutheran Understanding of Church Fellowship, 2000, 5.)

Significantly, The Lutheran Understanding of Church Fellowship ends with a “Postscript” that states:

This document is offered as a study of the Synod’s position on church fellowship (altar and pulpit fellowship) on the basis of the Scriptures and the Confessions, with reference also to church history— including the Synod’s own history. It does not discuss the many questions that remain concerning the various ways individual Christians might relate to each other (16).

The Commission on Theology received some 4,300 responses to these study materials, and as the Commission and the president of the Synod reported to the Synod, a majority of these responders affirmed the LCMS position on church fellowship as Scriptural and confessional. But many persons also expressed the concern that this document “appeared to begin with predetermined conclusions” and that the proof- texts cited as the basis for the Synod’s practice of church fellowship were actually directed in the Bible “against non-Christians, not erring Christians,” thereby giving “the members of other denominations the impression that we do not even regard them as Christians.”20 Some responders, according to the Response Report, “feel that pastors should be free to decide in emergency situations whether...to participate in any joint worship without being branded as dissenters. They oppose indiscriminate fellowship practices, but they do not want to be seen as separatistic in suggesting that members of other churches are not Christians.” In short, while there is considerable agreement in the Synod regarding the Lutheran understanding of church fellowship, there is also widespread disagreement throughout the Synod regarding precisely which joint activities with other Christians and Christian churches belong to the practice of church fellowship and which activities do not. Article VI of the Synod’s Constitution, which we referred to before, gives some examples of unionism and syncretism. This Article lists the following activities that are to be included under these descriptions:

20LCMS Convention Workbook, 2001, 49.

258 1. Serving congregations of mixed confession, as such, by ministers of the church; 2. Taking part in the services and sacramental rites of heterodox congregations or of congregations of mixed confession; 3. Participating in heterodox tract and missionary activities.

The Synod does not understand this provision, however, to prohibit its pastors from serving vacancies in heterodox congregations, so long as these congregations agree to be served by pastors who minister to them on the basis of the Synod’s doctrinal position. Moreover, the 1870 Convention of the Central District of the LCMS, in which Drs. Walther, Schwann, Wyneken, and Sihler took part, specified that a Lutheran pastor who agrees to speak in the pulpit of a “strange” church must take care not to give his own congregation reason to suspect that he agrees with preachers of other denominations in their doctrine, and that he must have the strength and fortitude to confess the truth also in a “strange” pulpit. This convention unanimously concluded:

If it is asked, accordingly, whether it is contrary to the conscience of a Lutheran minister upon invitation to preach in a strange church, the answer is: No, Christ has preached in synagogues and the apostles in the temples of idols, and we should be glad to preach in the pope’s palace, if given permission. It would be a sin to reject offhand an offer that we preach the gospel also to others.21

In 1977 the LCMS adopted Resolution 3-25: “To Speak Regarding Lutheran/Non-Lutheran Weddings.” This resolution expressly states “that we expect our pastors and congregations to follow (Article VI of the LCMS Constitution) with respect to mixed wedding ceremonies.” (Our sister church in Germany, the SELK, permits participation of its pastors in joint wedding services in certain situations, as do a number of our other partner churches around the world.) But the resolution also says that pastors may arrange for their “participation in such a way so as not to be a part of the service”— offering a prayer before the service begins, after it ends, or at the reception. The Synod recognizes that its pastors may pray together with Christians with whom the LCMS is not in church fellowship. From its very beginning the Synod spoke not only of altar and pulpit fellowship but also of “prayer fellowship.” The 1943 catechism of the Synod responds to the question “Why do we say ‘our Father’ in the Lord’s Prayer?” with this answer: “We say ‘our Father’ because the believers in Christ throughout the world are the children of one Father and therefore pray for and with one another.”22

21Fünfzehnter Synodal Bericht des Mittleren Districts der deutschen Evang. Luth. Synode von Missouri, Ohio, u.a. Staaten, Cleveland, Ohio, 1870, 43. 22Luther’s Small Catechism (St. Louis: Concordia, 1943), 152.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 259 In its report Theology of Fellowship, officially adopted by the Synod in 1967 (Res. 2-13), the CTCR states that Christians “not only may but should join in fervent prayer” with those whom they engage in doctrinal discussions “with a view to achieving doctrinal unity.” In this report the Commission goes on to state:

Our Synod should clearly recognize that, in the case of necessary work on the local, national, or international level, where the faith and confession of the church are not compromised, and where it appears essential that the churches of various denominations should cooperate or at least not work at cross-purposes, our churches ought to cooperate willingly to the extent that the Word of God and conscience will allow.23

This document also offers guidance for situations that are not altogether clear. It continues:

In the many cases [that] do not seem to fall readily under the guidelines enunciated above (e.g., prayers at all kinds of meetings), every Christian should for his own person observe the apostle’s injunction, “Let everyone be fully convinced in his own mind” Rom. 14:5.… With regard to his brother, whose conscience may not judge in all matters as does his own, let every Christian observe the instruction of the same apostle, “Why do you pass judgment on your brother? Or, why do you despise your brother? For we shall all stand before the judgment seat of God…. So each of us shall give account of himself to God” (Rom. 14:10, 12).24

The LCMS does not now hold, nor has it ever held, to what the WELS refers to as “the unit concept of fellowship.”25 Joint worship with non-Christian religious bodies has never been an issue in the LCMS. In December 1980 the Lutheran Church in America asked the Lutheran Council in the U.S.A. through its Division of Theological Studies to “engage in research in the area of interfaith worship.” In response to this assignment, the DTS produced two statements. In October 1984 a document titled Counsel for Lutheran-Jewish Celebration was adopted “for study and discussion within the Lutheran churches belonging to the Council”; and two years later, in 1986, Counsel for Lutherans with Respect to Interfaith Worship was approved. The three LCMS representatives to 23Theology of Fellowship, A Report of the Commission on Theology and Church Relations, 1967, 27-28. 24Ibid. 25It is interesting to note that in 1983 Res. 3-02: “To Strive Toward External Unity in the Church,” the Synod applies Romans 16:17 to members of the LCMS itself when it resolved that we recognize that contentious persons who constantly seek to “expose” the error of others, and so incite quarrels and divisions among us, are to be admonished according to the words of Christ and His apostle, Matt. 18:15-17 and Rom. 16:17.

260 the Council (of which I was one) asked that their negative votes be recorded, and they stated their concern “for doctrinal agreement as a prerequisite to worshiping with others.”26 Many of the concerns just listed have found expression in the paragraphs included in the Response Report to The Lutheran Understanding of Church Fellowship under the heading “Cases of Discretion,” which was approved by the 2001 Convention “for continued use and guidance” in Res. 3-07A.

Not every occasion where worship takes place is necessarily a manifestation of church fellowship. There are situations where discretion is appropriate. Some laity raised concerns about attending Baptisms, confirmations, weddings, funerals, etc., of family and friends in churches not in church fellowship with the LCMS. Attendance at such services is generally a matter of personal judgment and individual conscience. On such occasions LCMS members will want to refrain from receiving Holy Communion and participating in rites of other churches that compromise their confession of faith. Doubtful situations may produce emotional distress and may require pastoral counsel. Pastors, teachers, and other officially recognized church workers are often asked to participate in activities outside of their own and other LCMS congregations. Some of these are civic events. Offering prayers, speaking, and reading Scripture at events sponsored by governments, public schools and volunteer organizations would be a problem if the organization in charge restricted a Christian witness. For instance, if an invitation requires a pastor to pray to God without mentioning Jesus, he cannot in good conscience accept. Without such a restriction, a Lutheran pastor may for valid and good reason participate in civic affairs such as an inauguration, graduation or a right-to-life activity. These occasions may provide opportunity to witness to the Gospel. Pastors may have honest differences of opinion about whether or to what extent it is appropriate or helpful to participate in these or similar civic events. In these cases charity must prevail. There are also “once-in-a-lifetime” situations. It is virtually impossible to anticipate all such situations or to establish rules in advance. Specific answers cannot be given to cover every type of situation pastors and congregations face. These situations can be evaluated only on a case-by-case basis and may evoke different responses from different pastors who may be equally committed to LCMS fellowship principles. The LCMS has always recognized this.

26Synodical President Bohlmann stated his agreement with the action of the LCMS representatives, and he asked “that his abstention to (this) request for authorization for publication be noted” (Footnote 1).

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 261 However, the response to one situation should not establish a precedent for future ones. Where pastors regularly consult each other and are convinced of one another’s integrity, they are freer to use their discretion where such prior consultation is impossible. We do not want to fall into the trap of case-law rigidity by setting down rules for every conceivable situation. At the same time, the exception should not become the rule, lest the truth of the Gospel be compromised. A pastor may face situations in the community where no other pastoral care is available, and he may be asked to minister to those outside his congregation. Before doing this, ideally he would consult with other LCMS pastors, especially the Circuit Counselor, District President or Vice Presidents. But often these cases do not allow for consultation of any kind, and on-the-spot decisions have to be made. In these and other situations nearly every pastor may question even his own decision and wish he had taken another course of action. We do not have the option of changing the past but must be content with believing that we made the best possible decision under the circumstances.27

These paragraphs do not intend to break new ground, but they do bring together in one place various facets of how the Synod over the years has dealt with cases of casuistry in this area. What we have attempted to show in this final section is how the LCMS has taken the principles of fellowship laid down in the Scriptures and confessed in the Lutheran Confessions and applied them to contemporary situations. This we have done by referring to our Synod’s Constitution, its doctrinal statements, and the resolutions of the Synod adopted by majority vote. This does not mean that the vote of the majority necessarily establishes right doctrine regarding what constitutes “unionism” and “syncretism.” But it does mean that this is what the majority of us in the Synod understand the Scriptures and Confessions to teach, and such resolutions do establish the official doctrinal position of the Synod. Because synods and councils, theologians, commissions, and faculties can and will err, we have provisions in this voluntary association called The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod for the expression of dissent. But we members of the Synod also appeal to one another by the mercies of God to honor and uphold the doctrinal position of the Synod as established by majority vote regarding the way we relate to other Christian churches as well as to other religions, organizations, and entities. We conclude this section with the following observations:

27LCMS Convention Workbook, 2001, 50.

262 1. Not every occasion where worship takes place is a manifestation of church fellowship (e.g., joint prayers; participation in civic events, including offering prayers, speaking, and reading Scripture; and participation in “once-in-a-lifetime” situations where joint worship takes place with Christians not in doctrinal agreement do not necessarily constitute syncretism or unionism). 2. Joint prayer (worship) together with non-Christians is always syncretistic and compromises the confession of the Gospel. Christians can pray only in Christ’s name. 3. There may be times when members of the Synod equally committed to the same understanding of the Scriptural principles of fellowship do not agree in their application of these principles in certain difficult situations. Moreover, there may be times when what is done in one situation may not be appropriate in other circumstances. The apostle Paul on one occasion forbade circumcision (as a compromise of the Gospel and therefore syncretistic—Titus in Gal. 2:1-5). On another occasion he circumcised Timothy “because of the Jews in that place” who knew that his father was a Greek (Acts 16:3). Paul concluded that in this situation circucision would not compromise the Gospel and therefore would not be syncretistic. 4. Freedom for pastoral ministry can exist in a confessional church only when it is accompanied by responsible commitment to the “covenants of love” the members of the Synod make with one another through mutually agreed-upon procedures. Not keeping our covenants of love with one another undermines the trust environment that is the necessary context for the flexibility necessary to apply the Scriptural principles of fellowship in the pluralistic society in which we today carry out our ministry. When this trust is not present, legalism inevitably threatens and concord is disturbed.

Conclusion

I want to conclude this paper by quoting from the Postscript appended to the CTCR’s 1981 report The Nature and Implications of the Concept of Fellowship:

By virtue of our membership in the Synod, we in the LCMS have voluntarily agreed with one another regarding those activities and actions with fellow Christians in other church bodies which we understand the Scriptural principles of fellowship to permit and prohibit. We have made certain decisions together regarding the specific meaning of altar and pulpit fellowship, as well as the way in which we go about declaring it and implementing it. We

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 263 have also established procedures for revising previous decisions in this area. The loving commitment of the members of the Synod to each other requires that we submit ourselves to our joint decisions. The workability of ecclesiastical declarations of altar and pulpit fellowship is dependent upon the existence of mutual trust and confidence among the pastors, teachers, and congregations of the Synod. Such an atmosphere comes into being when the members of the Synod voluntarily demonstrate their responsible commitment not only to its doctrinal position but also to its mutually agreed-upon decisions.... The love of Christ, which seeks the edification of all members of His body, will also constrain us to take seriously the commitments which we have made with our fellow members in the Synod. At the same time, it must also be recognized that unusual and difficult situations can and do arise in this world. Responsible commitment to our mutually agreed-upon fellowship policies does not mean legalistic slavery to rules. Rather, this very commitment itself demands freedom for responsible pastoral ministry. When, in certain unusual circumstances, our regular ways of proceeding would get in the way of a ministry of Word and sacrament to a person in spiritual need, then an alternate way of proceeding must be sought. In such cases the advice and counsel of brothers in the ministry can be of inestimable value. It should also be recognized that individuals equally committed to the Scriptural principles of fellowship may not always come to identical conclusions regarding specific ways of proceeding in administering pastoral care in such exceptional cases. It is imperative that pastors show a mutual respect for one another’s ministry. Uninformed and judgmental criticism of actions which appear to be violations of mutually agreed- upon ways of proceeding are destructive of the trust and confidence which fellow members of the Synod should have in one another. It should go without saying, however, that Christian love includes the exercise of loving admonition and doctrinal oversight, especially by those to whom this responsibility has been entrusted. Freedom for responsible pastoral ministry goes hand in hand with responsible commitment to mutual decisions. It is impossible to have one without the other. A lack of responsible commitment invites the very suspicion and mistrust which inhibit responsible pastoral care. But genuine commitment to our agreed-upon procedures builds the atmosphere of confidence and trust in which freedom for pastoral ministry thrives.28

28The Nature and Implications of the Concept of Fellowship, A Report of the Commission on Theology and Church Relations, 1981, 45-46.

264 Hofmann as Ich-theologe? The Object of Theology in Johann von Hofmann’s Werke

Matthew L. Becker

Even a casual reading of Francis Pieper’s (1852-1931) Christliche Dogmatik reveals that a principal object of criticism in that text is the theology of Friedrich D. E. Schleiermacher (1768-1834).1 According to Pieper, Schleiermacher’s fundamental error was replacing the sole, “objective authority of Scripture” with “the subjective views of ‘the theologizing subject.’”2 This error was compounded when Schleiermacher’s method became the dominant one in modern Protestantism. The most influential twentieth-century theologian in the LCMS even popularized a catch-word for this type of theology: “Ich-theologie,” which one might render as “theology of the self.” Schleiermacher was thus labeled an “Ich-theologe,” a “theologian of the self.” While Pieper leveled strong criticism against Schleiermacher’s theological program, he also excoriated those Lutheran theologians who had been influenced by Schleiermacher. Chief among these was Johann von Hofmann, who taught at Erlangen University from 1838 to 1842, and again from 1845 until his death.3 Wherever Schleiermacher appears in Pieper’s Dogmatik, Hofmann is usually not far away. Hofmann, too, is called an “Ich-theologe” or, more specifically, “the father of Ich-theologie among the conservative Lutheran theologians of the nineteenth century....”4 His theological method is also attacked:

All are agreed that only what Christ teaches and does is Christian. And Christ definitely teaches...that the method we must employ if we would know and be sure of the truth is to continue in His Word. 1Franz Pieper, Christliche Dogmatik, 3 vols. (St. Louis: Concordia, 1917, 1920, 1924). Volume two was published first, followed by volume three, and then volume one. 2Francis Pieper, Christian Dogmatics, 3 vols., trans. Theodore Engelder et al. (St. Louis: Concordia, 1950-1953), 1:ix. 3Hofmann began his theological studies at Erlangen in 1827, but two years later he entered the University of Berlin, where he studied under Schleiermacher, Leopold von Ranke (1795-1886), Georg Hegel (1770-1831), and Philip Marheineke (1780-1846). Hofmann remained in Berlin for approximately two and a half years. In an 1859 letter to his friend Franz Delitzsch (1813-1890), he indicated that he found Schleiermacher’s theological method very insightful, but he generally disagreed with his theological conclusions. For Hofmann’s relation to German idealism, see Matthew Becker, “The Self- giving God: Trinitarian Historicality and Kenosis in the Theology of Johann von Hofmann” (Ph.D. diss., The University of Chicago, 2001), 388-434. 4Pieper, Christian Dogmatics, 1:6. Dr. Matthew L. Becker is Associate Professor of Theology and Director of Pastoral Studies Program at Concordia University in Portland, OR.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 265 Now, since Christ is always right, Schleiermacher, Hofmann, Frank, and all who employ their method, all who ask the “Christian subject” to furnish independently of the Word of Christ full assurance or, at least, half assurance, are in error. Their theological method is not Christian but unchristian.5

The main proof-text for supporting this interpretation is Hofmann’s infamous assertion (often the only quotation from him to be cited in the standard surveys of nineteenth-century theology):

Theology is a truly free science (Wissenschaft), free in God, only when precisely that which makes a Christian to be a Christian, his own independent relationship to God, makes the theologian to be a theologian through disciplined self-knowledge and self-expression, when I the Christian am for me the theologian the unique material of my science.6

On the basis of this passage, Theodor Kliefoth (1810-1895), who was among the first to raise such a charge, argued that Hofmann’s theology was “subjectivistic.”7 Likewise, Hofmann’s erstwhile colleague, Delitzsch, asserted that

...no theologian can draw out of his consciousness of faith, out of the life of faith as such, the whole variety of the past, present, and future of salvation and develop that into an extensive doctrinal system, even if only in outline-form. If the Bible is not directly involved as the cause of its formation, such a doctrinal system at the very least needs to prove that only the Bible, as divine revelation, stands behind the doctrinal system as its normative authority.8

5Ibid., 1:115. For similar criticism, see ibid., 1:60-67, 114ff., 144-148., 179ff.; 2:344-355, 362ff; 3:446-447. Pieper was especially critical of Hofmann’s theory of the atonement because Hofmann had rejected the orthodox articulation of the doctrine of the vicarious atonement. While Hofmann’s revisionist Christology is beyond the scope of this essay, the essay does analyze the methodological foundations for his understanding of Christ. 6Johannes von Hofmann, Der Schriftbeweis, 2 vols., 2nd ed. (Nördlingen: C. H. Beck, 1857-1860), 1:10. Hereafter this text is abbreviated as “SB.” 7Theodor Kliefoth, “Der ‘Schriftbeweis’ des Dr. J. Chr. K. von Hofmann,” Kirchliche Zeitschrift 5 (1858): 635-710. This review article was reprinted with five additional parts (a total of 560 pages!) as Der ‘Schriftbeweis’ des Dr. J. Chr. K. von Hofmann, (Schwerin: Otto, 1860). 8Theologische Briefe der Professoren Delitzsch und v. Hofmann, ed. Wilhelm Voick (Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs, 1891), 45. Hereafter this text is abbreviated as “BD.”

266 More recently, Karl Barth (1886-1968), Paul Tillich (1886-1965), and some of their students have also criticized Hofmann’s method for similar reasons.9 In contrast to this typical interpretation of Hofmann’s theology, however, the present essay argues that Hofmann’s method was not subjectivistic, but was instead grounded in the triune God’s own graceful self-giving through the mediation of Scripture and ecclesial Sacraments. As an exercise in historical theology, this essay argues both that the typical understanding of Hofmann’s method needs to be viewed with skepticism and that some aspects of his method are of surprising contemporary importance. One may discover in Hofmann a theological emphasis and a theological move that have a positive significance for contemporary theology. His insights into the hermeneutical nature of theology are of special importance.

The Problem of Theological Method in the Modern World

As a post-Enlightenment theologian who recognized the legitimacy of David Hume’s (1711-1776) and Immanuel Kant’s (1724-1804) critiques of traditional theological knowledge, Hofmann struggled against the growing suspicion that Christian theology did not properly belong in the university. Many of his contemporaries argued that theology had become an outdated discipline and was not truly a Wissenschaft (“scholarly discipline”). How does one understand the Christian faith and theology in light of the modern critiques of theological knowledge? Have not theology and its object been displaced by the modern Wissenschaften? Has not historical criticism, at the very least, called into question the traditional understandings of Biblical texts and Biblical authority? In view of these questions, Hofmann devoted considerable attention to epistemological and methodological issues in the discipline of theology, but he did so almost entirely in relation to the interpretation of Biblical texts and to questions about the nature of the Biblical canon and Biblical authority. In this regard, Hofmann did not want to be thought of primarily as a systematician but as a Biblical theologian who sought to establish the scholarly character of theology by means of a method appropriate to its object. The fact that two-thirds of Hofmann’s literary corpus is exegetical 9See Karl Barth, Protestant Theology in the Nineteenth Century: Its Background and History, trans. Brian Cozens and John Bowden (Valley Forge, PA: Judson Press, 1973), 607-615; Paul Tillich, Systematic Theology, 3 vols. (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1951-1963), 1:42; Eberhard Hübner, Schrift und Theologie (München: Chr. Kaiser, 1956), and idem, “Hofmann,” RGG 3:421-422; George Lindbeck, “Confessions as Ideology and Witness in the History of Lutheranism,” Lutheran World 7 (1961): 393- 394; Carl Braaten, “Prolegomena to Christian Dogmatics,” Christian Dogmatics, ed. Carl Braaten and Robert Jenson (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1984), 1:16-17; and Braaten, “A Harvest of Evangelical Theology,” First Things 63 (1996): 45, where Braaten includes Hofmann in Lindbeck’s “experiential expressivist” type, discussed in George Lindbeck, The Nature of Doctrine: Religion and Theology in a Postliberal Age (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1984), 16-17, 31-32. CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 267 in nature, and not directly a matter of systematic theology, confirms this self-understanding. A further confirmation is the fact that Hofmann lectured explicitly on dogmatic theology only once in his long career, during the summer semester of 1842.10 Even though one should therefore remember Hofmann primarily as a Biblical scholar, he did address questions of systematic theology and theological hermeneutics. His understanding of these questions, and his response to them, shaped his understanding of God and Christ, and shaped his self-understanding as a Christian, just as his understanding of the relation of God to his Christian faith shaped and informed his theological method and defined its goals. After careful consideration of the problem of theology in the modern world, Hofmann asserted that theology is a Wissenschaft since it has a unique object upon which the theologian reflects, a unique mode of knowing that object, and a unique method by which that object is expressed as a unified whole.

The Object of Theology

The Christian Tatbestand as the Experience of the Risen Christ

For Hofmann, the most comprehensive discipline in the university is Christian theology since its object embraces God (the source and goal of all that is) and the world. This object is given to the Christian theologian in “the relationship of God and humanity as it is in Christ” (DVL, 40). Since Hofmann maintained that this relationship is present and personal, he sometimes described the object of Christian theology as “the present factual situation (Tatbestand) of community (Gemeinschaft) between God and humanity mediated in Jesus Christ” (SB, 1:7). Since Hofmann also emphasized that this community/communion or relationship is trans- subjective and historical, he described the object as “the historically present relationship between God and humanity in Christ” (DVW, 381). Hofmann stated: “We therefore return to the observation that the theologian has a double truth to contend with when he addresses Christianity, a relationship of God to humanity in Christ and, as a result of that, a relationship of humanity to God in Christ, and both together are understood best when we say, ‘Christian theology deals with the relationship between God and humanity as it is in Christ’” (ibid., 382). Hofmann defined the object of theology in these terms or ones similar to them. 10Hofmann’s dogmatics lectures have been handed down in two distinct but overlapping forms. Wapler includes a summary of part of these lectures as an appendix to his biography of Hofmann. See Paul Wapler, Johannes v. Hofmann (Leipzig: A. Deichert, 1914), 379- 396. I have relied on a translation of Wapler’s summary by Claudia Nolte. Hereafter this text is abbreviated as “DVW.” Wapler’s summary, however, is inferior to a more complete transcription of Hofmann’s lectures by Christoph Luthardt (1823-1902). Luthardt, who studied at Erlangen from 1841 to 1845, published a nearly complete transcription of these lectures in Zeitschrift für kirchliche Wissenschaft und kirchliches Leben 10 (1889): 39- 53, 99-111. Hereafter this text is abbreviated as “DVL.”

268 Each of the dimensions of this object, both the personal-experiential and trans-personal/historical, is contained within what Hofmann called the Christian Tatbestand. Tatbestand is a very important word in Hofmann’s theology, though it is difficult to translate. “Given situation,” “subject matter,” “given state of affairs,” and “given reality” are possible ways of translating it. The word clearly has a broader meaning than a mere Tatsache, a mere “fact.” For Hofmann the Christian Tatbestand encompasses both “the living, personal communion between God and sinful humanity mediated presently in Christ Jesus” and also the realization of the historical and ecclesial experience of this personal communion (i.e., “what makes the Christian a Christian”).11 “But the development of the content of this statement is something different from Schleiermacher’s description of the pious self-consciousness. It is not a being of the Christian that comes to expression, but always the Tatbestand which has realized itself objectively in me” (ibid.). By using the term Tatbestand, Hofmann sought to identify and comprehend both the existential immediacy and the historical mediacy of the communion with God that has “its permanence and continuance [Bestandl in the present Christ” (SB, 1:10). In other words, the Christian Tatbestand includes both a relationship to historical knowledge as well as a personal, existential relationship to the ultimate source of the Tatbestand as a whole, i.e., the triune God who gives God’s self in Christ in order to establish personal communion with humanity. Thus the Tatbestand of Christianity is not merely a past reality, but through the living “personal and effectual working” [Selbstbetätigung] of the Risen One Himself the Tatbestand is also “an effect in the present” that involves the Christian believer (SB, 1:6; ET, 7). This “effective working” (Wirkung) of the risen Christ alone establishes the Christian in a “certain,” “immediate” (existential), “personal,” relationship with God (SB, 1:10). The faith of the individual Christian theologian, which all Christians have in common, refers therefore to “an immediately certain truth” in the present existence of the theologian (SB, 1:11). Such faith is the self-conscious certainty of the individual’s relationship with God in the risen Christ through the indwelling Spirit.

In this certainty of faith lies the communion of God and humanity.... Therefore this relationship between God and humanity existing in Christ is available to the theologian not only in Scripture and in the church but he has it also in himself, due to his experience; and even if this experience has not ensued without the mediation of the church and Scripture, it still is therefore—insofar as it yields him a singular certainty about God—therein not dependent on Scripture and the church but the becoming aware of a closest, most immediate attestation of God himself, thus of primordial certainty (DVW, 383). 11Johannes von Hofmann, Die Encyklopädie der Theologie, ed. H. J. Bestmann (Nördlingen: C. H. Beck, 1879), 51. Hereafter this text is abbreviated as “ET.”

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 269 “The experience of the relationship mediated in Christ, although mediated through the service of Scripture and the church, still gains its independent existence in the Christian” (DVL, 40). On the basis of this Christologically grounded immediacy, one’s individual faith can now be said to exist without being tied exclusively to the trans-personal, mediating authority of a local Christian congregation or of an institutional church or of any other external authority. Precisely in this way, however, Hofmann’s religious experience could not be the total object of his theological reflection since that experience was itself the result of an encounter with the self-giving God that transcended the religious experience. Clearly, for Hofmann, the way of the Christian “believing subject” is the way of faith that understands the triune God as the center of the universe. One might say that Hofmann’s faith in the mercy and forgiveness of God in Jesus and His community “decentered” Hofmann from being the center and subject of his faith. Though Hofmann’s faith was thereby certain and sure, it was not certain and sure in itself but only in God, who nonetheless had established Hofmann in communion with God’s self. In this regard, Hofmann’s understanding of faith was rooted in Luther’s assertion:

God says: “I am giving My own Son into death, so that by His blood He might redeem you from sin and death.” Here I cannot have any doubts, unless I want to deny God altogether. And this is the reason why our theology is certain: it snatches us away from ourselves and places us outside ourselves, so that we do not depend on our own strength, conscience, experience, person, or works but depend on that which is outside ourselves, that is, on the promise and truth of God, which cannot deceive.12

The Christian Tatbestand as Mediated and Historically Conditioned

Even though Hofmann argued for the immediate, existential character of Christian faith and theology, he did not want to be understood as saying that Christian faith and theology are unmediated and merely matters of individual experience. While the Christian individual, in fact, stands in an existential, present relationship with the risen Christ, the one who participates in this relationship has already been mediated historically into

12Luther, “Lectures on Galatians” (1535), Luther’s Works, vol. 26, ed. Jaroslav Pelikan (St. Louis: Concordia, 1963), 387. Ideo nostra theologia est certa, quia ponit nos extra nos: non debeo niti in conscientia mea, sensuali persona, opera, sed in promissione divina, veritate, quae non potest fallere (D. Martin Luther’s Werke, vol. 40, pt. 1 [Weimar: Hermann Böhlaus Nachfolger, 1911], 589, lines 8-10). Luther refrains from using the notion of “security” (Sicherheit/securitas), which he thought was too self-centered. Such a notion leads in the direction of self-sufficiency and self-confidence over against God. Instead, Luther regularly speaks of “certainty” (Gewissheit/certitudo), a notion that concentrates the individual on that which is outside of oneself, namely, God or God’s promises.

270 this relationship through the service of the church, “insofar as it serves Christ’s Selbstbetätigung” (SB, 1:7). Hofmann added: “I am what I am as a Christian only in the church community, only because of the church’s activity and service” (SB, 1:10).

Above all, since we proceed from a present Tatbestand of Christianity, a visible presence of this Tatbestand is apparent to everyone: the existence of the Christian church.... The personal and effectual activities that are characteristic of this corporate existence are apparent. It testifies to itself through the word of its confession; through a baptism with water it brings [people] into its fellowship. It enacts its fellowship with a meal of bread and wine. It is ordered through an office for these personal and effectual activities, as diverse as [this office] may take form (ET, 52).

Hofmann could speak of his relationship with God, but “only as a result of ecclesial activity,...only through the mediating service of the congregation which has made me share in the relationship to God in Christ and continuously kept me in it” (SB, 1:10-11). In this context Hofmann asserted that the object of theology is given in a threefold way: first, in one’s personal experience of baptismal regeneration and faith; second, as the historical extension of the community of Christ in which the Tatbestand presents itself both in individual experience and in a corporate, ecclesial experience; and third, in the Christian Bible, which witnesses to the reality of the Tatbestand, understood not as timeless doctrines but as the historical record of God’s communion with humanity that culminates in the actions of the Redeemer (SB, 1:23; DVL, 40). The immediate cause of this threefold activity is the divine Spirit of the triune God, who provides the essential unity within the object of theology as well as that object’s inner self-authentication in the life of the Christian (DVL, 104). So, while Hofmann spoke of faith as a “certain” “possession” (Besitz) of the individual Christian (SB, 1:8), he certainly did not think that Christian faith is grounded in the individual. Rather, faith has its source, norm, and ground in the living, risen Christ, who works mediately through His ecclesial community and the Scriptures to establish individuals in an existential relationship with the triune God. Christian theology, if it is to be Christian, starts within this given situation (Tatbestand) and never leaves this given situation. Hofmann used another term related to Tatbestand to comprehend the historical nature of the mediation of the Tatbestand, namely, Tatsache. Tatsachen (“facts”) are individual events that give shape to the Tatbestand as a whole. Each individual Tatsache must therefore be comprehended as the realization of the relationship between God and humanity mediated in Jesus Christ.13 A Tatsache should not be interpreted, at least in Hofmann’s 13For a helpful description of the differences between Tatbestand and Tatsache in the theology of Hofmann, see Wilfried Behr, Politischer Liberalismus und kirchliches Christen-

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 271 thinking, to refer to a pure facticity, however. Instead, Tatsachen refer to the given realities that are mediated through history—in this case, the given realities that are mediated through and interpreted within the community of God. The Christian Tatbestand, therefore, includes such interpreted facts as the reality of baptismal regeneration, Holy Scripture (including the preaching and teaching of Holy Scripture), the church’s liturgy and historic Confessions, public ministries, common spiritual and missional life, and the history of Christian institutions. “Word, Baptism, Lord’s Supper, and ecclesial community are thus the raw material of dogmatics” (DVL, 104). All of these Tatsachen (and not just his own “faith experience”) make the Christian into a Christian.14 But one might wonder, “Is there not a fundamental contradiction between speaking about the object of theology as both ‘immediate’ and ‘mediate’? How can the object of theology have both these characteristics?” In response to this question, Hofmann asserted that there is no contradiction between the mediation of the congregation and the Christological immediacy of the relationship of faith, just as there cannot be a contradiction between the latter and the Scriptural witness to God’s historical and present relationship with humanity in Jesus Christ. The relation of the Christian to God is both “realized in the person of Jesus Christ” and also exists in the present as “a visible and externally ordered community” (ET, 53). In this way, “membership in this community of the church and participation in that relationship between God and humanity realized in Christ are one and the same” (ibid.). Hofmann made the same affirmation when he wrote, “Christianity is an entirely transcendent as well as an entirely immanent Tatbestand” (ET, 22-23). In such a definition of Christianity, Hofmann distinguished but did not separate the transcendent origin of the community of God and humanity in the risen and present Christ from the historical, institutional reality of the church and its Scripture:

[T]he relationship between God and the human being which is actualized in [the church] cannot be contained within her visible and external orders, but this relationship has to be...active through these external orders so that whoever participates in these orders

tum: Studien zum Zusammenhang von Theologie und Politik bei Johann Christian Konrad von Hofmann (1810-1877) (Stuttgart: Calwer Vertag, 1995), 33-38. See also R. Staats, “Der theologiegeschichtliche Hintergrund des Begriffes ‘Tatsache,’ ” Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche 70 (1973): 316-345. 14Johannes von Hofmann, Weissagung und Erfüllung im Alten und im Neuen Testaments, 2 vols. (Nördlingen: C. H. Beck, 1841, 1844), 1:51-52. Hereafter this text is abbreviated as “WE.” See Wilfried Joest, “Erfahrung als theologisches Prinzip in der älteren Erlanger Schule,” in Glaube und Gesellschaft: Festschrift für W. F. Kasch, ed. K. D. Wolff (Bayreuth: Fehr, 1981), 165-176. Hofmann thought that by limiting the concept of Erfahrung to christliche Erfahrung, he was distinguishing himself from his teacher, Schleiermacher, who he thought was more concerned to talk about a mediation between Christian faith and general human experience of God.

272 of the church’s corporate existence comes to experience through them the self-attestation of the relationship of God and humanity, which is [however] in and of itself independent of these external orders. The inwardness of the church’s corporate existence must consist in this: A transcendent Tatbestand has to be active through this immanent corporate existence and evidence itself in those who belong to it.... But if the church is the present actuality in the world of the relationship between God and humanity given in Jesus, then she is this in her tangible actuality. And as the latter, she is ordained to mediate the effectual working of the former in the individual. Everyone experiences for himself the actions [of this relationship] which effects participation in the tangibly perceptible reality of the church; and in no other way than this does the individual experience this (ET, 9-11; see also DVL, 40).

Just as the certainty of our salvation does not rest for us on the witness of the Spirit to our adoption [by God], but on the fact of our baptism, to which the Spirit needs only always to give his comforting “yes,” so also does the certainty, which dwells in the congregation so that it will overcome all tribulations of its communal life in the Spirit, rest not on the witness of the Spirit to its common life with Christ, but on Scripture, whose possession makes that victory certain for it in advance and to which the Holy Spirit needs only to testify in each case of tribulation (WE, 1:51).15

In view of the importance of the trans-personal and historical dimensions of the Christian Tatbestand for Hofmann, his method must be distinguished from that of his younger colleague, Franz H. R. von Frank (1827-1894). It is unfortunate that many scholars, including Pieper and Tillich, seem to have interpreted Hofmann’s theology through the lens of Frank.16 Frank’s theology, however, was not oriented to history, nor to

15“If one might draw a line from the I-certainty of Descartes to Hofmann, one might say (somewhat boldly): ‘I am baptized, and therefore I think theologically.’ This does at least express the fact that in Hofmann Christian certainty arises out of the fact of present Christianity, namely, out of my being a Christian in the community as this is guaranteed by baptism” (Helmut Thielicke, Modern Faith and Thought, trans. Geoffrey Bromiley [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1990], 236). 16This is certainly the case with D. Erich Schaeder’s analysis of Hofmann’s theology. See Schaeder, Theozentric Theologie: Eine Untersuchung zur dogmatischen Prinzipienlehre, 2nd ed., 2 vols. (Leipzig: A. Deichert, 1914-1916), 1:24-35. Schaeder misunderstands Hofmann’s notion of Tatbestand when he describes it only as “an inner Tatbestand which lies in the conscience or experience of the Christian as an objective, inner fact which the Christian bears in himself” (ibid., 29). This is to confuse Hofmann for Frank. Schaeder does not account for Hofmann’s explicit intention to ground the trans- personal Christian Tatbestand in the self-giving triune God. Martin Schellbach correctly notes Frank’s exegetical dependence on Hofmann but also identifies Frank’s methodological differences from Hofmann. See Schellbach, Theologie und Philosophie bei v. Hofmann (Gütersloh: C. Bertelsmann, 1935).

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 273 divine revelation in history, but solely to the rebirth and conversion experience of the individual Christian, which, for Frank, is the origin and content of the Christian certainty.17

The Epistemology of Theology

Hofmann’s conception of the theological task means that Christian theology is grounded in the triune God, revealed through the risen Christ, who mediates the historical relationship between God and human beings.18 If Christian theology does not begin from this unique relationship, it is dependent on something external and foreign to it, and therefore it will be talking about something other than the relationship between God and humanity mediated in Jesus Christ. Even though Christian theology cannot help examining the other academic disciplines, including especially metaphysics, “as soon as the theologian concerns himself with objects of these Wissenschaften other than as they concern the relationship of God and humanity and insofar as they are knowable from this relationship, he is doing something alien to the theologian” (DVW, 380). Although dimensions of the object that the theologian analyzes and expresses are also studied by scholars within the other academic disciplines, the theologian’s intention must be to approach that object by a different route altogether.19 Hofmann thought that the experiential tatbestandliche starting point of his theological method assured that his theology would be independently grounded apart from all externalities, including all other academic disciplines (especially historical criticism, but also philosophy e.g., Kant’s Kritiken) and even the external, heteronomous ecclesial authorities of Scripture, church doctrine and tradition, and church government.20 If the Christian

17Frank was decidedly influenced by the post-Kantian transcendental idealism of Johann Fichte (1762-1814). Frank reformulated Fichte’s “transcendental I” in terms of “the Christian I.” See H. Edelmann, “Subjektivität und Erfahrung: Der Ansatz der theologischen Systembildung von Franz Hermann Reinhold v. Frank im Zusammenhang des ‘Erlanger Kreises’ ” (Th.D. diss., University of Munich, 1980). 18See also Johannes von Hofmann, Die heilige Schrift neuen Testaments zusammenhängend untersucht, 11 vols., 2nd ed., ed. Wilhelm Volck (Nördlingen: C. H. Beck, 1896), 1:59-73, where Hofmann grounds the startingpoint of his analysis of the coherence of the New Testament writings in the revelation of the risen Christ to the disciples of Jesus and to Saul of Tarsus. 19The polemical context in which Hofmann defined his method is very important for understanding his theological concerns. While an examination of this context is beyond the scope of the present essay, one should be aware that Hofmann set himself against four main “fronts”: Lutheran orthodoxy, rationalism, historical criticism, and German idealism. These “fronts” led him to search for new language with which to articulate the living reality and meaning of the Christian Tatbestand. 20See Karlmann Beyschlag, Die Erlanger Theologie (Erlangen: Martin-Luther Verlag, 1993), 69. Beyschlag’s assessment of the relation between Christian certainty of salvation and the character of the Christian Tatbestand in Hofmann’s theology is more accurate than Werner Elert’s (1885-1954). In Elert’s estimation of Hofmann’s theological method, “The Christian of the present enters into the history of the realization of salvation and sohas the opportunity to test the truth of the claims of Christianity, so to speak, in his

274 Tatbestand is the object of faith and accessible only by means of faith, then a Wissenschaft that is independent of faith or alongside faith is incapable of comprehending God or faith. Theology, therefore, “limits itself within the bounds of faith and establishes itself anew precisely only on the basis and ground of faith” (DVW, 385).

If theology is rightly an independent discipline, then there is no other starting-point for it than the Christian Tatbestand, immediately certain for faith, as it presents itself prior to all intellectual discussion of its content (DVL, 42).

Furthermore, “[t]here is no proof for that starting-point, just as there is no proof for ‘I think,’ apart from demonstrating externally that which is the proof of what is present within” (DVL, 42). All understanding and interpretation of the Christian faith is possible only on the ground of Christ’s living relationship with the individual, which forms the object of such faith.21 “The foundation of truth lies already in the experience of faith, and all that is required is to uncover and expound the contents of that experience” (DVW, 385). Thus Christian theology is not a Wissenschaft like the philosophy of religion or the discipline of history or any other academic discipline that is grounded in the structures of human thought (DVL, 40). Instead, theology should be understood as

self-sufficient (selbstständig) and independent (unabhängig) knowledge of a solely unique object. In just this way, it is independent of an externally determining principle or foundation (Bestimmungsgrund). For it neither has its origin in a need alien to the spirit of scientific inquiry, nor is it subservient to a heteronomous authority without thereby being simply a matter of the autonomous individual. Its ecclesiality is likewise self-evident as is its spirituality, because it is presupposed that the theologian is a living member of the given local church. But because he is a living member of it, he is also not bound to its earthly reality; own body, namely, to see if it really brings ‘salvation’ as it claims. Consequently, the answer then is not given from rational consideration but from the immediate experience. The subjective proof material secures the character of a Tatbestand, whose use makes all questions of method secondary” (Werner Elert, Der Kampf um das Christentum: Geschichte der Beziehungen zwischen dem evangelischen Christentum in Deutschland und dem aligemeinen Denken seit Schleiermacher und Hegel [München: C. H. Beck, 1921], 289). With his focus on “the subjective proof material,” Elert minimizes the trans- personal and extra nos dimension of the Tatbestand, which includes the Selbstbetätigung (“personal and effective working”) of the risen Christ. This Tatbestand grounds the personal faith of the Christian, not the other way around, as Elert puts the matter. Thus, according to Hofmann, the certainty of faith is grounded in the triune God, who works through the Selbstbetätigung of Christ, who works through the church’s means of grace. 21Johannes von Hofmann, “Gedanken über Theologie,” Zeitschrift für Protestantismus und Kirche 46 (1863): 265. Hereafter this text is abbreviated as “GT.”

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 275 rather the truth of its reality lives in him and sets him free. [This is] a freedom which he does not owe to Wissenschaft but to Christianity and [a freedom] to which he does not lay claim in the name of Wissenschaft, but rather [to which he] is obliged to safeguard his faith (GT, 232-233).

Clearly, for Hofmann, the personal rebirth and faith of the individual Christian have enormous consequences for how the theologian thinks and knows. The “Christian is himself conscious of a newness in his entire relationship with God, a newness that is also a newness in his entire way of thinking” (ET, 5). Human reason is not a tool by which to find God; rather, only after people are established in a believing relationship with God, or the Tatbestand encompasses them, can human reason then function to understand the relationship that God has so established.22 “It is an actual relationship, after all, that is the object of our thinking, in which, not about which, we are doing our thinking” (SB, 1:12-13).23 Hofmann’s conception of the place of reason in theology reorients reason to a subservient role that is normed and guided by God’s own initiative in establishing the theologian within the ecclesial community. Christian theology can thus be confident that it is able to think correctly of God only on the basis of the divine self-disclosure—i.e., as the triune God who establishes communion with humanity in and through the risen Christ.24 While Hofmann aligned himself with a similar argument for the independence of theology that his more famous teacher, Schleiermacher, also made, he nonetheless differed in important respects from Schleiermacher’s understanding of theology. Hofmann did agree with 22This idea summarizes Hofmann’s basic criticism of Kant, namely, that thinking can be pertinent to empirical reality in all its dimensions only if thinking has God, not reason, as its center. To become truly reasonable, reason must maintain its proper place coram Deo. 23This assertion is a corollary to Hofmann’s statement “I the Christian am for me the theologian the object of knowing” (Hofmann, Theologische Ethik, ed. H. Rutz [Nördlingen: C. H. Beck, 1878], 17). Hereafter this text is abbreviated as “TE.” Compare with Bultmann’s similar statement: “We cannot talk about our existence since we cannot talk about God. And we cannot talk about God since we cannot talk about our existence. We could do the one only along with the other. If we could talk of God from God, then we could talk of our existence, or vice versa. In any case, talking of God, if it were possible, would necessarily be talking at the same time of ourselves. Therefore the truth holds that when the question is raised of how any speaking of God can be possible, the answer must be, it is only possible as talk of ourselves” (Rudolf Bultmann, “What Does It Mean to Speak of God?” in Faith and Understanding, ed. Robert Funk, trans. Louise Pettibone Smith [Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987], 60-61). 24Hofmann makes clear that the view that God alone establishes the conditions for knowledge of God is itself a presupposition that is grounded in faith. The encounter with God establishes the necessary precondition by which the theologian speaks of God. Thus Hofmann would disagree that theology is “presuppositionless,” though he nonetheless asserts, similar to Barth and Eberhard Jüngel (b. 1934), that God’s self-revelation sets the conditions by which God is known. On “presuppositionless theology,” see Rolf Ahlers, The Community of Freedom: Barth and Presuppositionless Theology (New York: Peter Lange, 1989).

276 Schleiermacher’s assessment of the two conditions necessary for a particular theology to emerge in history (i.e., the degree to which a mode of faith is communicated by means of ideas rather than symbolic actions and the degree to which a mode of faith attains historical importance and autonomy), but he did not stress Schleiermacher’s overarching concern to define Christian theology properly as a “practically oriented” discipline of educating future ministers and theologians for public church service. Perhaps because of Hofmann’s own intra-church disputes, he did not want to secure the place of theology in the university by means of its practical goal but solely on the basis of its unique object of study, the Tatbestand of Christianity. Similar to Schleiermacher’s method, Hofmann’s method recognized that for Christian faith to be presented intelligibly, the theologian may borrow certain philosophical categories or terms that receive new meaning within their distinctively Christian theological context. These terms have to do with thinking through the “independent” self-presentation of Christian faith itself and forming it into a systematic, “coherent and complete whole,” or “system,” and they therefore entail no specific philosophical allegiance (ET, 17-18).25 But Christian theologians cannot avoid awareness of and dialogue with the other Wissenschaften in the university, since the task of Christian theology, once properly grounded, includes the responsibility to relate its way of thinking to other ways of thinking among the other Wissenschaften in the university and to questions that these other disciplines raise about human existence and the meaning of all contingent being. Although theology has an independent startingpoint, it is “a mixed Wissenschaft” and is “not an absolute Wissenschaft since it contains that which other Wissenschaften also pay attention to as well” (GT, 232). “Where philosophy ends with a question, theology begins answering” (SB, 1:15).26 Consequently, despite its similarity to some aspects of a nonfoundational approach to theology, Hofmann’s theological method, seeks to relate the truth claims of the faith to “the world out there,” which includes the other

25See also Wapler, Johannes v. Hofmann, 52, 97. In light of recent discussions about foundationalism, there appear to be similarities between the theological hermeneutics of Hans Frei (e.g., that theology is a descriptive discipline and is therefore a discipline that utilizes philosophical concepts only eclectically and on an ad hoc basis) and Hofmann’s concern that philosophy cannot and should not attempt to provide a foundation or universal ground by means of philosophical criteria regarding truth and rationality in order to justify or defend the truth claims of Christian theology. See Frei, The Eclipse of the Biblical Narrative (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1974); idem, The Identity of Jesus Christ: The Hermeneutical Bases of Dogmatic Theology (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1975); idem, Types of Christian Theology, ed. George Hunsinger and William Placher (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1992), esp. 70-91. 26One is struck at least by the formal similarity between Hofmann’s statement here and Tillich’s ideal of a “correlational” model of “answering theology” that moves between “questions” that arise from a “situation” and “answers” that are given by means of the Christian “message.” See Tillich, Systematic Theology, 1:18-28.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 277 academic disciplines in the modern university and the needs of modern societies. Not surprisingly, Hofmann was especially interested in the disciplines of philology, psychology, history, and, as his dogmatics lectures demonstrate, even the philosophy of religion.

The Method of Theology

Since the Christian faith is not merely a matter of the individual’s relationship to the risen Christ but has itself also been mediated by a community into which the theologian is incorporated, the theologian must proceed to answer the question of how this communal experience of faith could be shaped the way that it is. Thus the theologian must reflect upon and seek to understand the historical nature of the presuppositions of the relationship that forms the object of the Christian’s faith. These presuppositions of the theologian’s religious experience, reached by means of the systematic procedure in his method (i.e., reflecting on one’s being a baptized child of God in Christ), include both historical and eternal presuppositions. Both sets of presuppositions involve those conditions that must have been the case for the relationship between God and the Christian to have developed the way that it has within the ecclesial community. A basic assumption of Hofmann’s theological understanding is that the past history of Christianity can be understood only on the basis of the present, Christian Tatbestand, which is the creation of the risen Christ, who is Himself the living connection between the present and the past.27 This present reality opens the Christian to a proper understanding of the past of Christianity and, indeed, to a proper understanding of time and history since Christ is the unity of all time—past, present, and future. For Hofmann, time or history itself is grounded Christologically, since the center or the focus (Mitte) of history is the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus (ET, 7).

The self-representation of Christ in the world is the essential content of all history, namely, first, his pre-figuration in the life of our nature, second, his appearance in the flesh and his transfiguration of the same, and third, the representation of his transfigured nature in the personal life of the Christian. His appearance in the flesh serves as the antitype of his pre-figuration; his representation serves as the type or model of the life of his community. He cannot effect or fulfill the pre-figuration of himself without also giving it to his community. He cannot represent himself in the struggling community without at the same time modeling the triumph of the community. Therefore, we have in the self-representation of Christ in the world both history and prophecy: history, because it is the always progressing formation of the communion between God and

27The analysis here is indebted to Behr, Politischer Liberalismus, 20ff.

278 humanity; prophecy, because it is the always more certain reference to the final form of the communion between God and humanity. What we are dealing with is this prophesying history and the effective working of the Spirit (which attaches itself to the word) through which this prophesying history occurs (WE, 1:40; see also DVL, 53).

“Jesus is the end but also the center of history: his incarnation in the flesh is the beginning of the end” (WE, 1:58). Hofmann’s understanding of “the present” allowed him therefore to presuppose both the unity of history and his immediate access to this unity in the provisional fulfillment of history in the present life of the Christian. But the present mode of divine activity in history is the resurrected and living Christ, not the Jesus of past history (ET, 7). The history that the Christian theologian seeks to examine, then, is a history that reaches into the present to confirm again an experience that was also created in the past. Historical revelation is related to personal faith, not as a set of doctrines taught to a person who is to know them or as a set of timeless “concepts” (Begriffe) “behind the facts,” but as a history that has a present dimension in the experience of the believer. It authenticates itself by happening once again to the believer in the present. “So of necessity the activity of the theologian is to inquire into these historical objects, (i.e., to inquire into) the church’s development and temporality and also into the Holy Scriptures” (ET, 23). “Resulting from this [inquiry into the personal experience of rebirth and faith] there is then a system of facts, a history that has become a system” (DVL, 42). The conviction of Hofmann was that theological reflection involves the mutual penetration and relation of both the present experience of the Christian individual and the history of God’s relationship with humanity as it has developed in God’s relationship with ancient Israel and the Christian church. The task of the theologian is to correlate the content of the faith reached through systematic analysis of the present Tatbestand with the content of the faith reached through investigation of the historical and trans-subjective dimensions of the Tatbestand. The question is whether the results of such historical investigation are in agreement with those reached through experiential-systematic reflection. Only with the establishment of such coherence is the truth of the Christian faith established. To establish this harmony was the goal of Hofmann’s Der Schriftbeweis, wherein he first analyzes his personal Christian faith, especially his baptismal regeneration, and then proceeds to develop and express the implications of this experience (nearly 2,000 pages) as it is clarified in Scripture. Hofmann acknowledged that the results of the first way are uncertain if they do not conform to these criteria that are external to the individual believer’s personal relationship with the risen Christ. “Certainly, the

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 279 theologian cannot unfold the content of the relationship [between God and humanity in Christ] without referring to the existing expression of this relationship in the Bible and the church” (DVL, 40). The “certainty” (Gewissheit) of the Christian is extra nos, in God and God’s promises.

...[Ilf there is to be a reliable, certain exposition of the content of the personal salvific experience, we need guidance that must come from outside ourselves. The starting-point of our dogmatic and ethical activity lies, to be sure, within us. But we cannot travel the path forward from that starting-point reliably unless we embrace guidance that comes from outside ourselves (DVW, 387-388).

This external direction comes by means of historical investigation of the Tatbestand that is external to the Christian. “Since all members of the Christian community are now equally capable of error, there must be a norm given in Scripture for all ecclesial proclamation of the truth, which is the form of the divine word for the community as a whole and for the individual according to his position within the community; and indeed this is Scripture as a whole, as this is willed by God as a total” (DVL, 106).

The theologian, who wants to interpret the relationship between God and humanity in Christ, as it is the content of personal experience, understands himself—to express it completely and correctly—to be dependent on continuous comparison of the same relationship as it is contained in Scripture and as it has come to formation in the church. In the experience of the individual the relationship between God and humanity is mediated through ecclesial activity. In the church, however, the relationship between God and humanity established in Christ is witnessed to through Scripture (ibid., 40).

“Systematic theology has its justification in that Christianity is a personal matter; but Christianity is equally a communal matter, and therefore historical activity must join the ranks of systematic theology. When one does not do the latter, Christianity turns from being a personal matter into being a subjective matter” (ET, 32-33).28

28For a cogent critique of the Barthian charge of “subjectivism” against Hofmann, see especially Max Keller-Hüschemenger, “Das Problem der Gewißheit bei J. Chr. K. von Hofmann in Rahmen der Erlanger Schule,” in Gedenkenschrift für D. Werner Elert, ed. F. Hübner (Berlin: Lutherisches Verlagshaus, 1955), 288-295. Keller-Hüschemenger stresses that Hofmann deliberately uses the word “personal” (persönlich) and avoids the word “subjective” (subjektiv) in an effort to avoid the usual contrast between “objective” and “subjective” and to defend himself against the charge of “subjectivism.” See also Kantzenbach, Die Erlanger Theologie, 194-195.

280 The personal certainty rests on God’s immediate self-attestation to the human being, but it is mediated through the church. And the activity [and the affairs] of the church are then corrected when they are normed by Scripture. A one-sided emphasis on the personal experience of salvation brings either mystical or pietistic degeneration of doctrine. One-sided emphasis on the church without the necessity of a norm and without the right and the validity of the personal experience is papistic. One-sided emphasis on Scripture as the laws of God for faith and life is located in the Reformed church and its sects.... Therefore the theologian wants to express the content of the personal experience completely and correctly by means of a continual comparison with the ecclesial formulation of this relationship as well as with the content of Scripture (DVL, 41).

The goal of Hofmann’s historical investigation of the ecclesiality of the Christian Tatbestand is both to confirm and to correct the understanding of one’s personal relationship to God in Christ reached by means of the initial systematic investigation of that relationship. Each way or procedure, the systematic and the historical, investigates the same Christian Tatbestand, but each way looks at that Tatbestand differently. The criterion by which Hofmann judged whether a theology is true is the degree to which such a theology corresponds to the Christian Tatbestand. The Scriptural understanding of the Christian Tatbestand occurs in the expression of a coherent correlation between the personal experience of faith and the Scriptural whole (including the history of the church).

The Hermeneutical Circle

One will recognize in Hofmann’s method an articulation of the so- called “hermeneutical circle.” In his view, both traditionalists (like Ernst Hengstenberg [1802-1869]) and rationalists (like Kant) not only neglected the historical peculiarity of Christianity but also misunderstood that the historic past of Christianity can be properly understood only on the basis of the present reality of one’s living relationship with the living and freely- active God, given in and through the risen Christ. Christianity is not simply a type of reason or moral knowledge, as in Gotthold Lessing’s (1729-1781) historical-revelational scheme or in Kant’s “religion within the limits of reason alone”; nor is Christianity a collection of ahistorical teachings, as in Hengstenberg’s theology.29 Instead, Christianity is primarily “a matter of historical experience” that is truly understandable only by means of

29Hengstenberg had been on the Berlin faculty when Hofmann was a student there, but he had little influence on the Erlanger. Hofmann was especially critical of Hengstenberg’s understanding of the inspiration of Scripture, which, in Hofmann’s judgment, completely ignored the historical character of Biblical events and texts.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 281 personal faith in the living God.30 The truth of Christianity can be understood properly only because it has been experienced in the existential and present relationship that the believer has with God through the risen Christ.

The theologian must enter his exegetical activity as a Christian. He cannot cast aside his Christianity in order to become an exegete. Such alleged presuppositionlessness (Voraussetzungs-losigkeit) would instead constitute a surrender of the essential condition by which the Scripture can be understood (ET, 143).31

In truth, a complete presuppositionlessness on the part of the interpreter, as for example Rückert demanded, is something unthinkable. It is impossible for the interpreter to be neither Christian nor non-Christian, neither religious nor irreligious, but merely interpreter. He approaches Scripture as he is, not as a tabula rasa upon which Scripture inscribes itself.32

Thus the proper examination of the Bible and its history by the theologian does not occur within a general or presuppositionless perspective but “within the perspective of one who is a regenerated Christian” (BH, 24). Such historical investigation presupposes “the personal certainty [Selbstgewißheit] of Christianity in the Christian” (ET, 116). Hofmann acknowledged that a “purely historical, non-dogmatic interpretation of the Bible is not possible”; instead, proper Biblical interpretation already involves a perspective that is governed by a theological outlook that is in turn informed by earlier study of the Bible.33 At the same time, unlike most

30“The wrong attitudes listed by Hofmann [in his history of Biblical hermeneutics] can be reduced to two. The one misjudges the historicity of the Scripture: They take an ‘intolerable emphasis on the individual essence of speech,’ because the Scripture is a ‘work of the Holy Spirit,’ and thereby expect too much of the text as ‘a unified witness,’ or they treat the Bible as a compact ahistorical block, or they grasp the historical document of truth as ahistorical doctrine. With regard to the other, they demonstrate a ‘false position with regard to the truth of salvation,’ i.e., they are ignorant of the matter [Sache] which is witnessed to in Scripture. The first cannot understand the history of the Bible, the second cannot understand the content” (Christoph Senft, Wahrhaftigkeit und Wahrheit: Die Theologie des 19. Jahrhunderts zwischen Orthodoxie und Aufklärung [Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1956], 89-90). 31Compare with Bultmann’s basic argument in his essay “Is Exegesis Without Presuppositions Possible?” in New Testament and Mythology and Other Writings, ed. and trans. Schubert Ogden (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1984), 145-153. Of course, Bultmann did not allow his theological faith to interfere with his rigorous use of historical criticism, whereas for Hofmann the object of theology necessarily affects the nature and practice of one’s historical methodology. Gadamer indicates Bultmann’s own positive relation to Hofmann on the issue of “fore-understanding.” See Hans-Georg Gadamer, Truth and Method, 2nd ed., trans. Joel Weinsheimer and Donald Marshall (New York: Continuum, 1998), 331, 523-524. 32Johannes von Hofmann, Biblische Hermeneutic, ed. W. Volck (Nördlingen: C. H. Beck, 1880), 23. Hereafter this text is abbreviated as “BH.” 33Briefe von J Chr. K v. Hofmann an Heinrich Schmid, ed. Charlotte Schmid (Leipzig: A. Deichert, 1910), 66. Hereafter this text is abbreviated as “BS.”

282 other theologians of his day, Hofmann sought to emphasize that the interpretation of the Bible is possible only on the basis of an inner relationship with what is witnessed to in the Bible. Barth’s criticism of Hofmann’s hermeneutics, therefore, “misjudges both the necessary significance that Hofmann attributed to experience (in order to secure by means of experience an understanding of the content of Scripture) as well as the unconditioned nature (Unabdingbarkeit) of the experience and its certainty for the grounding of theology as a science.34 Even though Hofmann was more critical of Biblical interpreters who neglected to discern the historical character of the Biblical witnesses than he was of historical critics, Hofmann also criticized those who might have a sense for Biblical history but who rejected or silenced the theological message of the Bible. Though Hofmann greatly appreciated the development of history and philology as university disciplines and as ancillary disciplines to theology, he found the purely historical approach to the Bible to be deficient. Long before Hans Frei (1922-1988) or Brevard Childs (1923- ), Hofmann asserted that the underlying assumptions of modern historical criticism are not theologically neutral. While Hofmann agreed with scholars like Johann Semler (1725-1791) and Johann Emesti (1707-1781) that on the level of general hermeneutics the Bible has to be treated “like any other book,” and even though Hofmann also admitted that historical critics had often come across the right sense of a Biblical text (since they were not looking for ahistorical teachings and had a better sense for the historical), they too had a “false position with regard to the Holy Scripture” (BH, 24). Faith alone makes possible the correct understanding of the Sache of the Bible, because faith is oriented to the humble self-giving of the triune God in Jesus.35 For Hofmann, the abiding skepticism of historical critics about the free and active working of God in history, especially about the central divine action to which the New Testament writings bear witness, namely, the resurrection of Jesus from the dead, is its chief problem.36 In place of faith in the living Lord Jesus, Hofmann argued, these scholars had placed their faith in a philosophical worldview that was itself a kind of rigid, dogmatic skepticism. Historical criticism does not open the interpreter to the present 34Martin Hein, Lutherisches Bekenntnis und Erlanger Theologie im 19. Jahrhundert. Die Lutherische Kirche, Geschichte und Gestalten. Band 7 (Gütersloh: Gerd Mohn, 1984), 227. Hofmann’s “appeal to ‘experience’ is not, as Barth thought, the concession or a fatal compromise of a biblicist to the Zeitgeist; the important insight is expressed by Hofmann, namely, that all understanding and interpretation is possible only on the ground of a living relationship to the thing: He does not therefore call upon experience for support, because he does not want to master the Bible on the basis of experience, but rather because he wants to understand the Bible on the basis of experience” (Senft, Wahrhaftigkeit und Wahrheit, 87). 35This conviction is the same basic assumption that underlies Herbert T. Mayer’s little classic, Interpreting the Holy Scriptures (St. Louis: Concordia, 1967), 9ff. 36Hofmann also recognized that historical criticism could not provide any assurance to faith, since critical historical investigation was itself an uncertain procedure. Because historians disagreed with one another about historical matters, their conclusions could only be provisional.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 283 experience of the unique, free, and independent relationship of faith to God. Furthermore, historical critics treat the facts of history as isolated events that have no relation to one another because that which provides such a coherent view of the facts, namely, Christian faith in the humble, self-giving, triune God, is missing. A more complete understanding of the content of the Bible is dependent on the interpreter’s own self-understanding as one who has received that which makes the Christian a Christian and that which also then makes the Bible to be “Holy Scripture.” For this reason, too, Hofmann was critical of Schleiermacher’s procedure of treating Biblical hermeneutics as merely an application (Anwendung) of general principles of interpretation. While Hofmann agreed with Schleiermacher that Biblical hermeneutics are related to general hermeneutics (and that Biblical hermeneutics involve universal principles of interpretation and human understanding), Biblical hermeneutics cannot be completely subsumed under general hermeneutics. There is still a need for a specifically theological hermeneutic to provide proper access to the truth and to the reality to which the Bible bears witness. One cannot properly understand the particular and the individual unless one first has a rough understanding of the totality or the whole. Thus the task of Biblical hermeneutics is

to show how the interpretation of Holy Scripture, done according to the ordinary rules of hermeneutics, is at the same time determined by the distinctive character of its object. The interpreter is in the first place confronted by the Holy Scripture as a whole, which in this capacity is the Holy Scripture of Christendom. It is in its totality and intrinsic unity that it forms the object of Biblical hermeneutics. The foremost question is how the activity of the interpreter of Holy Scripture is determined by the specific way in which he is confronted by the Bible in its totality.... [The Bible’s] peculiarity is derived from the nature of its content, which has caused it to be the Holy Scripture of Christendom (BH, 28).

But how does one come to this “whole”? On what basis is one able, if at all, to speak of the Bible as a “unity”? Again, for Hofmann, the unity and authority of Scripture are grounded only in the “givenness” of the Christian Tatbestand, to which the Scriptural whole also bears witness. Biblical hermeneutics must therefore begin with the fundamental assumption that Christianity is not a matter of “timeless doctrines,” nor is it a matter of “ahistorical rational and ethical principles,” nor is Christianity even a matter of doctrinal development in history; instead, Christianity should be understood primarily as a historical process of the mediation between God and humanity in and through the historical and present Christ (SB, 1:35). For Hofmann, the central fact of the Christian faith is not merely that God has given the world a book but that God is seeking a relationship with humanity by means of that which witnesses to God’s actions in history.

284 In order to express this historicality of Scripture, Hofmann defined the Bible as “the monument (Denkmal) of Heilsgeschichte” (SB, 1:25).37 That is, the Bible is a single narrative that has its center or focus in Jesus and is the description of God’s historical self-giving to humanity; i.e., it is the narrative history of God’s establishing communion between God’s self and humanity, first through the people of Israel and then in one man from that people, Jesus.38 It is this specific content that makes the Bible as a whole the object of a special kind of interpretation (BH, 8, 28). Once properly grounded, the task of the Biblical interpreter includes the responsibility of raising out of the Bible the right parts of the heilsgeschichtliche whole and interpreting them correctly in relation to that whole. The process is to move from the whole to the particular and then from the particular back to the whole (BH, 28).39 Each individual pericope or text or individual book of Scripture is to be understood in relation to the historical development of the whole canon. Here Hofmann acknowledged that the interpreter must reckon with the implicit criteria that were used to discern the relative authority of individual Biblical writings, including even the apocryphal texts. The interpreter must also reckon with such canonical issues as the distinction between the antilegomena and the homologoumena, the presence of noncanonical materials in the Biblical texts (e.g., the ending of Mark; the first verses of John 8), and the presence of multiple sources from different historical periods within the same canonical text.

37The main title of Hofmann’s last project, Die heilige Schrift Neuen Testaments zusammenhängend untersucht, is instructive: “An Investigation of the Coherence of the Holy Bible of the New Testament.” 38Compare with Wilhelm Dilthey’s (1833-1911) notion that a central “midpoint” allows the interpreter to discern “the whole” of a text. Such a “centering in a midpoint” gives “structure” to the whole. Implicit in this notion is the idea that a text must be understood on its own terms. See Gadamer, Truth and Method, 291-292. In a brilliant essay, R. S. Crane writes of the “power” that unifies all the parts of the whole and does so to create a certain effect in the reader. In tragedy, it is the power of the tragic action that effects the catharsis of pity and fear in the reader/viewer. See R. S. Crane, Critical and Historical Principles of Literary History (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1967). 39“If Hofmann wants to vindicate the biblical whole as the starting point of biblical interpretation, it will be pointed out that the hermeneutical circle is undoubtedly a given for all interpretation and that Hofmann’s theological program suggested to him that a thought-out separation from this circle is impossible” (Joachim Wach, Das Verstehen, 3 vols. [Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr (Paul Siebeck), 1929], 2:366). Wach defends Hofmann’s approach: “I don’t see why an interpretation that is oriented to the general principles of interpretation should not also be able to get its bearings by means of the totality” (ibid.). Gadamer, following Wilhelm Dilthey and Wach, makes the same point: “...the movement of understanding is constantly from the whole to the part and back to the whole. Our task is to expand the unity of the understood meaning centrifugally. The harmony of all the details with the whole is the criterion of correct understanding. The failure to achieve this harmony means that understanding has failed” (Gadamer, Truth and Method, 291). This “movement” between “parts” and “whole” is very similar to the relation of the analogy of Scripture to the analogy of faith and to the relation of the Scriptures to the Lutheran Confessions.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 285 Hofmann thought that the canon must correspond to a narrative unity into which the various authentically canonical texts could be fit. This narrative whole became clear to Hofmann as he worked to discern a series of successive historical stages that led up to the advent and appearance of Christ, the further development of God’s historical community of love in the Christian church (including the development of the Scriptural canon), and the promise of eternal and perfect communion with God in the eschaton. Each new stage of history is always the development of earlier stages that partially prefigure what is to come. Thus history, within the heilsgeschichtliche context, has a dynamic character that is fulfilled only in its future. As such, history bears within itself an openness toward the future. History itself is the result of God’s working to bring history to its fulfillment, and the canonical whole corresponds to this history. Because Israel as exemplary community (vorbildliche Gemeinde) has its antitype (Gegenbild) in the Christian congregation, the distinction between the Old and the New Testaments represents itself as the organic sequence of “exemplary Heilsgeschichte” and the completion or fulfillment of Heilsgeschichte in the Christian community and the final consummation of all creation in the eschaton (TE, 65; BH, 152).

Evaluation

Certainly the most significant aspect of Hofmann’s theological method is its axiomatic assumption that Christianity is a communal-historical- experiential Tatbestand. The methodology by which one investigates this Tatbestand of necessity must include both an accounting of personal experience of the Christian Tatbestand as well as an accounting of its historical and ecclesial nature (including also the historical nature of one’s personal experience). Gadamer is correct to note Hofmann’s significance for the rise of modern theological hermeneutics: Hofmann understood that Christian experience is itself historical and ecclesial in nature; it is both personal and trans-personal. For Hofmann, Christian experience by its very nature leads the Christian theologian into historical exegesis in order to compare one’s own experience with the experience of the historical community that precedes and conditions that experience.40 Thus one could argue that the

40Compare with Gadamer’s central assertion that “[u]nderstanding is to be thought of less as a subjective act than as participating in an event of tradition, a process of transmission in which past and present are constantly mediated. This is what must be validated by hermeneutic theory, which is far too dominated by the idea of a procedure, a method” (Gadamer, Truth and Method, 290 [emphasis in original]). For Gadamer, understanding is an experience of “the fusion of horizons” (Horizontverschmelzung)that is conditioned by the history of the effects or influences (Wirkungsgeschichte) of the work in question. For a similar hermeneutical attempt to move beyond the false alternatives of “subjectivism” and “objectivism,” see Richard Bernstein, Beyond Objectivism and Relativism: Science, Hermeneutics, and Praxis (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1983).

286 uniqueness of Hofmann’s theological method resides in his attempt to steer a middle course between an uncritical and untheological use of historical criticism, which he thought was incapable of truly understanding the unique object of theology, and an uncritical and ahistorical use of traditional dogmatic proof-texting. The goal of Hofmann’s method is to understand one’s personal experience of salvation in light of the events of salvation that are external to one’s own life and that have been mediated to the individual by the risen Christ through the Christian Scriptures and the Christian community. Hofmann’s hermeneutical move here guided his intentional effort to overcome the false alternatives of “subjectivism” and “objectivism” in theology. This effort, unfortunately, also opened him to misunderstandings, whether by Delitzsch or Pieper or others, since Hofmann’s creatively fresh approach to the theological task led him to formulate new concepts and new language (neologisms). Hofmann’s personal faith is enclosed in the events that form the trans- personal Christian Tatbestand, including also the external and historical word of the living Christ and His revelation of the triune God. The triune God is that which encompasses the entire Christian Tatbestand. Hofmann’s thought begins and ends with the triune God (see, e.g., DVL, 51; SB, 1:37, 177-178; BH, 57-58; HS, 11:79), and in this train of thought he took into account his own finite creatureliness, his historicality, his sinfulness, and his rebirth. By stating the matter this way, Hofmann hoped to counter the charge that his systematic procedure is merely a theological form of speculative idealism or mere solipsism.41 One could argue that the permanent value of Hofmann’s theology is his seeing the “community as a whole as the method of God’s authority in the world, that the community is the actual bearer and object of the divine power of salvation, that being a Christian and being a theologian only occur within the Christian community, and that Scripture as a whole corresponds to the history of this community, since Scripture is a witness to this history.”42 Hofmann was among the earliest of nineteenth-century theologians to acknowledge that all theologians have certain presuppositions that shape and inform their theological understanding. In this, he anticipated a common assumption of theological hermeneutics in the twentieth century. Similar to Rudolf Bultmann (1884-1976), who was drawing upon his teacher, Adolf Schlatter (1852-1938), who was also quite familiar with Hofmann’s theology, Hofmann articulated the necessity for an existential, personal relationship

41Hofmann and Delitzsch seem to have been talking past one each other. Delitzsch’s concern was to emphasize the objective and external nature of that which grounds faith. For Delitzsch, faith is certain and sure only because it is grounded outside the individual Christian in the “objective” Word of God. For Hofmann, personal and existential faith is certain and sure because it corresponds to and coheres with the Tatbestand that can be viewed as both internal to the believing Christian as well as external to the Christian. But Hofmann, too, on occasion acknowledges that personal faith is only certain extra nos, in God, in God’s word, in God’s action. 42Schellbach, Theologie und Philosophie, 88.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 287 to the Sache of the Christian Tatbestand (including Scripture and the history of the interpretation of Scripture). The interpreter cannot avoid a personal relationship with what is interpreted if he wishes to gain a fuller understanding of that “other.” The question, then, is: which are the correct hermeneutical presuppositions that are the conditions for proper theological understanding? Those who think they interpret without presuppositions have merely replaced ecclesial dogmatic presuppositions with some other kind of dogmatic presupposition. While Ranke sought “the death of the self” in the quest for “objective” historical knowledge, Hofmann recognized that the self is part of understanding. The interpreter is not a tabula rasa on which the Bible can paint itself, but he enters into the process of interpretation as the one he is. Indeed, the process of interpretation is both a seeking to understand that which is other than oneself and a seeking of self-understanding. In other words, Hofmann’s concern was to interpret the Christian Tatbestand, the dimensions of which are both internal (“personal”) and external (“trans-personal”) though “certainty” is grounded outside the self. (In response to Pieper’s criticism of Hofmann’s approach to Scripture, Hofmann likely would have simply said, “Dr. Pieper, you, too, have presuppositions that guide your reading of Holy Scripture. While we both uphold the principle of sola Scriptura, I at least acknowledge that Scripture is not alone when one is reading it. There is Scripture, the interpreter and his life’s experiences, his presuppositions, the history of Scriptural interpretation in the church, and the history to which Scripture bears witness.”) Thus Hofmann was constantly aware that in response to God’s self-giving revelation, the theologian is expressing himself and God’s self-giving simultaneously. Hofmann could not speak of God theologically without being caught up in this speech with his whole being. Theological speech is conceivable only as a confession or witness to the communion that God has established between Himself and humanity in Christ.43 But isn’t this central element of Hofmann’s hermeneutical procedure problematic? Bultmann, for example, asked what possible relevance Hofmann’s union of experiential analysis and historical investigation can have for the theologian. For Bultmann, such a union cannot “prove” the certainty of Christ since Christ has to be known as the goal of history before the significance of Israel’s history can be viewed in the light of Christ.44 Barth levels a similar accusation.45

43Hofmann’s emphasis on the relation of radical self-knowledge to the knowledge of God who gives God’s self to be known in the present seems to be very close to central assertions in the respective theologies of Augustine, Kierkegaard, and Pascal. “Without knowledge of self there is no knowledge of God.... Without knowledge of God there is no knowledge of self” (Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, ed. John T. McNeill, trans. Ford Lewis Battles [Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1960], 1:35-37). 44Rudolf Bultmann, “Prophecy and Fulfillment,” trans. James C. G. Greig, in Old Testament Hermeneutics, ed. Claus Westermann (Richmond: John Knox Press, 1963), 58. 45See Barth, Protestant Theology, 614-615.

288 Unfortunately, Bultmann’s and Barth’s criticisms of Hofmann’s theological method demonstrate a basic misunderstanding of Hofmann’s theology. Hofmann was not concerned to “prove” his Christianity, but only to “understand” it. What looks like “begging the question” is actually just another form of the well-known hermeneutical circle along which all interpreters find themselves.46 One has a pre-understanding or expectation of the text one is to understand, which one cannot avoid bringing to the text.47 Through one’s encounter with the text, one discovers this pre- understanding confirmed to a certain degree, yet never to the point that one’s pre-understanding is simply confirmed in toto.48 While Hofmann admitted that “[i]n truth, the whole order [of the system] depends on a dogmatic view [of the Bible] which itself is already an outcome of a general study of the Bible,” Scriptural texts, like all classic texts, have a way of surpassing and correcting the interpreter’s pre-understanding, of “decentering” the interpreter (BS, 66). Clearly the goal of Hofmann’s theological method is “understanding” and not some form of “rational proof” or “internal security.” Precisely because Christian experience is communal and ecclesial, and because Scripture belongs to the ecclesial community, the Christian has a historical and necessary relationship to Scripture that is given through the experience. The communal and ecclesial nature of the experience dictates that the understanding of this experience be compared with and, if necessary, corrected by the understanding of the extra nos experience in Scripture and the history of the interpretation of Scripture in the church (ET, 26-27). Even though the development of the content of experience is an independent task, one must recognize that one can make mistakes. The interpreter may be blind to prejudices and assumptions and ideological illusions that need to be properly criticized. Thus Hofmann emphasized that one’s method and exegesis must be open to comparison with the understandings of the Christian experience put forth by other theologians. Likewise, Christian theology is not merely a scholarly discipline in and for the believing community but as such also belongs in the university. Hence, Hofmann’s theological method does not trivialize or marginalize the other academic disciplines of the university but seeks to relate the truth of the Christian faith to these other disciplines and vice versa.

46See Thielicke, Modern Faith and Thought, 240. See also Wach, Das Verstehen, 2:365-367. Wach maintains that Hofmann saw, correctly, that each interpreter is incapable of freeing himself from “the hermeneutical circle,” i.e., that such a circle “is undoubtedly a given for all interpretation.” 47For a discussion of hermeneutical “pre-understanding,” see Gadamer, Truth and Method, 265-307; Wemer Jeanrond, Text and Interpretation as Categories of Theological Thinking (New York: Crossroad, 1988), 12-22; and David Tracy, Plurality and Ambiguity: Hermeneutics, Religion, and Hope (New York: Harper and Row, 1987), 16-27. 48See Paul Ricoeur, “Explanation and Understanding,” in Interpretation Theory: Discourse and the Surplus of Meaning (Fort Worth: The Texas Christian University Press, 1976), 71-88, especially Ricoeur’s discussion of the circular process of interpretation that moves from “guessing” to “validation,” and from “explanation” of the other to “self- understanding” by means of the encounter with a text that is other than one’s self.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 289 Understandably, Hofmann’s hermeneutical procedure did put him at odds with his Doktorvater, Ranke, and most other nineteenth-century historians. Ranke’s critical spirit, his skepticism about the past, and his desire for “objectivity” did not seem to have taken hold in Hofmann’s hermeneutical approach to the Biblical texts and their narration of divine acts in the past. Hofmann merely sought to comprehend matters whose historical veracity was already assumed. Thus Hofmann never devoted himself to the problem of establishing criteria by which to evaluate the genre and literary-historical character of Biblical texts. While Hofmann on occasion asserted that in principle a historian’s approach to the Bible is to be no different from his approach to any other ancient text, this Rankean principle was never carried to the point that it could call into question the divine character of the Bible itself and its inspired witness to Heilsgeschichte. Hofmann’s faith in the acts (Wunderwerke) of God and his sense of a divine Heilsgeschichte in the narrative whole of the Bible kept him from approaching the Bible with historical criticism as it was practiced by later Protestant scholars in the turn-of-the-century Religionsgeschichteschule. Furthermore, some may wonder if Hofmann’s method is not open to attack on the basis of Ludwig Feuerbach’s (1804-1872) critique of Christianity. Such an attack would charge that Hofmann had projected theological meaning onto reality (whether that reality is the Biblical texts or extrabiblical historical events) and then had utilized his conception of the historical task to confirm that preconceived theological meaning. While Hofmann’s writings present no direct evidence that he was familiar with Feuerbach’s atheistic-materialist and anthropological interpretation of Christianity and his reinterpretation of the nature of Christian faith, Hofmann’s writings do contain a line of argumentation that could be used to counter the claim that Christian faith is mere “projection” or “illusion.” Hofmann, like Luther and Schleiermacher, asserted that God cannot be spoken of in God’s self but only on the basis of God’s giving of God’s self to faithful human beings. Hofmann would not agree with the main point of Feuerbach’s view that God is nothing but the result of human projection and that theology is really anthropology in disguise.49

49See Ludwig Feuerbach, The Essence of Christianity, trans. George Eliot (New York: Harper and Row, 1957), first published in 1841. In the introduction to the Harper and Row edition, Barth refers to Hofmann as “an associate of Schleiermacher, who was blind to Feuerbach’s charge that ‘theology has become anthropology’” (ibid., xxi). Despite the lack of direct evidence, it is likely that Hofmann at least knew of Feuerbach’s basic materialist view. Feuerbach and Hofmann were in Erlangen at the same time for two years. Feuerbach transferred to Erlangen from Berlin in 1827, the same year seventeen- year-old Hofmann matriculated at Erlangen. In 1828, Feuerbach received his degree from Erlangen, and afterward he became a Privatdozent in the philosophy department there. This position lasted until 1830, at which time Feuerbach was forced to leave Erlangen due to controversy about his atheism. Wapler hints that Hofmann surely would have been aware of Feuerbach’s presence in the philosophical faculty, whose lecture hall was right next to that of the theological faculty. In 1827, the Erlangen philosophical faculty (which also included the discipline of history) was Hofmann’s second home. Two of

290 The criticism that Hofmann leveled against David Strauss’s (1808-1874) mixing of philosophy and theology (and Strauss’s inability to comprehend the certainty of faith, which is independent of history, philology, and philosophy), even if not entirely persuasive, could also have been leveled against Feuerbach, though Hofmann never referred directly to him. The refutation of Feuerbach would, no doubt, imply the possibility of a proof for God’s existence outside of faith, something Hofmann thought was not possible. According to Hofmann, the kind of existential certainty that faith has cannot be proved from the outside. God is only knowable in faith, which corresponds to God’s self-revelation. In this understanding, faith is a divine gift and not the result of human projection. Related to criticism about Hofmann’s tendency to project a subjective meaning onto the Bible and extrabiblical history is the critical question of whether such a focus on individual religious experience or personality betrays an illusory individualism that reflects much of Western individual possessiveness. In recent years, post-structuralism and deconstructionism have raised questions about the nature of the self and the lack of transparency of the self.50 Deconstruction of the self by psychoanalysis and deconstructive philosophical analysis have led many to set forth persuasive arguments that the modern self is a fiction resulting from people’s pretensions to autonomy and their desire to control and manipulate reality. In view of this criticism, Hofmann’s theological method would need to be modified to stress what Hofmann himself also often acknowledged, namely, that his personal experience of faith is an aspect of the interpretive experience of his religious community (including Scripture and ecclesial confessions) and not “an independent existence” within the theologian. Personal religious experience is always historically conditioned experience that is informed by the history of one’s religious community and its confessional tradition. Such a tradition, Hofmann argued, is in principle open to revision to accord more closely with the sine qua non of the Christian faith, communion between God and humanity mediated in and through Jesus Christ and received by faith. Christian theology seeks to articulate an experience of a community’s “community tradition” that itself receives its life and vibrancy by being established and reformed by “the external word of God,” the living voice of the Gospel. In this communal hermeneutic, faith-shaping events are not outside the community but within the community’s interpretive and ongoing life. Likewise, one’s Christian identity is not grounded in the past or the present personal experience but in the present communal experience, e.g., evangelical proclamation and the ecclesial means of grace.

Hofmann’s closest friends on the faculty were the Erlangen philosophers Emil Schaden and Karl Heyder, who also likely discussed Feuerbach’s ideas with Hofmann (though there is no firm evidence to support this supposition). 50See, for example, “The Disappearing Self,” in William Barrett, Death of the Soul (New York: Anchor, 1986), 119-141. 50See, for example, “The Disappearing Self,” in William Barrett, Death of the Soul, (New York: Anchor, 1986), 119-141.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 291 Finally, in view of Friedrich Nietzsche’s (1844-1900) criticism of historicism and in light of the cultural crises that have developed in Western civilization since at least the end of the First World War, Hofmann’s conception of Heilsgeschichte is problematic in its original form. In recent years, all such “meta-narratives,” both theological and secular, have been criticized, especially by so-called post-structuralists.51 As Walter Benjamin (1892-1940) observed, such constructions result in a history of the Victors.52 Is it not the case, however, that “the center” of Heilsgeschichte (i.e., a Christian understanding of world history on the basis of the ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus) is no longer as sure and certain as Hofmann thought? Nietzsche’s questioning of all such narratives clearly articulated the crisis of consciousness about time and reality that many have experienced since the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries. Many today still agree with Yeats that “the center cannot hold.”53 Despite this strong criticism of Hofmann’s notion of Heilsgeschichte, one could respond on his behalf that his understanding of Biblical Heilsgeschichte accounts for the presence of disruption and incompleteness in the contingencies of history. His conception of Heilsgeschichte is not a simple and progressive development; rather, it is a development that is also marked by conflict and opposition between God and fallen creation and between church and world. Just as Friedrich Schelling (1775-1854) left room for the irrational, the evil, and the judgment of God in the unfolding drama of history, so too did Hofmann.54 Furthermore, one could point out that even Nietzsche and post-structuralist historians involve themselves in “totalizing” discourse and the formation of meta-narratives similar to Hofmann’s own. Recent criticism of so-called “new historicism” is similar to Hofmann’s criticism of old historicism: the historian or Biblical interpreter always operates out of an inescapable, totalizing framework that is constantly in need of revision.55 Though Hofmann wanted to address history’s fundamental questions, he did not claim to have comprehended and explained an “end” that has already been reached, as Hegel did, and upon which he could then only look backward. Hofmann was aware that

51See, for example, Hayden White, Metahistory: The Historical Imagination in Nineteenth-Century Europe (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1973); Allan Megill, “‘Grand Narrative and the Discipline of History,” in A New Philosophy of History, ed. Frank Ankersmit and Hans Kellner (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1995), 151-173; and the essays in The New Historicism, ed. H. Aram Veeser (New York: Routledge, 1989). 52Walter Benjamin, “Theses on the Philosophy of History,” in Illuminations, trans. Harry Zohn (New York: Schocken, 1969), 256. 53W. B. Yeats, “The Second Coming” (1921), reprinted in The Humanistic Tradition, 4th ed., 6 vols., ed. Gloria Fiero (New York: McGraw Hill, 2002), 6:52. 54For Hofmann’s relation to the thought of Schelling, see Becker, “The Self-giving God,” 414-433. 55“In the tendency to profess an empiricism free from all metaphysical presuppositions, we see only the curious attempt to jump over one’s own shadow” (Ernst Troeltsch, Der Historismus und seine Probleme [Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1922], 670).

292 history runs in all sorts of directioins and creates confusion. Precisely for this reason there is the need for a focal point, a “center,” the Mitte, which in faith provides a perspective on the whole of reality. For Hofmann, this “center” is the risen Chrst, “the end” of history that has been given “in the middle.” Hofmann’s theological method is thus ultimately grounded in the concrete form of the triune God’s self-giving, saving love in Jesus. Far from being an ich-theologe, Hofmann ought to be remembered as the most important Dreieinigkeits-theologe of the nineteenth century.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 293 The LORD Is One

Norman Nagel

Our Lord confesses the Shema in Mark 12:29. }!6@L, z3FD"Z8 6bD4@H Ò 2gÎH º:ä< 6bD4@H gÍH ¦FJ4< (>$(I!G %&I%*A M&1*%FK-!B %&I%*A -!F9I”A*E 3/HA–). A scribe confesses it back to him, slightly modified. They are in the temple, central to whose liturgy was the Shema.1 The whole of life was held and enclosed by the Shema (Deut. 6:4-9). It began and ended each day.2 “The Lord our God, the Lord is one.” There is no other but He, He alone and no one else. All that is God is what He is, and of that all He lacks nothing—total God, all included.3 Within that first of all commandments, as that which alone matches the fact that He is one, comes: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.” Those called to hear the Shema may then assert no fraction. In fractioning God you fraction yourself. The

1Joel Marcus, “Authority to Forgive Sins Upon the Earth” in The Gospels and the Scriptures of Israel, eds. C. A. Evans and W. R. Stegner (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994), 197. L. Deiss, Springtime of the Liturgy (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1967), 15. 2I. Elbogen, Der jüdische Gottesdienst in seiner geschichtlichen Entwicklung (Frankfurt: Kaufmann, 1931), 12-2a. Joachim Jeremias, “Die Muttersprache des Evangelisten Matthäus.” ZNTW 50 (1959): 270f. Evidenced already in Pseudo-Aristias 145-127 B.C. S. C. Reif, Judaism and Hebrew Prayer: New Perspectives on Jewish Liturgical History (Cambridge: CUP, 1993), 83-84: Qumran and the Nash papyrus. 3Michael Wyschogrod represents Judaism in Faith and Order Paper No. 119 of the World Council of Churches: The Roots of Our Common Faith, 1984, with “The ‘Shema Israel’ in Judaism and the New Testament,” 24: Paraphrased, the verse [Deut. 6:4] says: “Please pay careful attention, Israel: The Lord (who revealed himself at Sinai through the ten commandments) is our God, he alone and no one else.” Because this is so, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might” (6:5). The emphasis here is on the “all.” 25: Deut. 6:4 should therefore not be read as a metaphysical statement about the nature of God: that He is one and indivisible, that His essence excludes all attributes or that only negative statements can be asserted about God. These issues arose in medieval Jewish philosophy and are the result of the meeting of Biblical categories with those of Greek philosophy. Frequently, Deuteronomy 6:4 was translated as “Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one.” Translated thus, it is difficult to avoid interpreting the verse as attributing oneness to God, and, for anyone trained in Greek philosophy, it is natural to relate this oneness to that of Parmenides and the Neoplatonic tradition. But the Biblical text does not deal with such problems. Its concern is the Jewish people’s loyalty to the God of the covenant and the refusal to permit Israel to direct only part of its love to that God. That is the reason that the translation of Deuteronomy 6:4 by the 1962 Jewish Publication Society edition of the Pentateuch, earlier quoted, is the correct one (TDNT 2, 421: to the far distance). 23: Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. Patrick Miller, Deuteronomy (Louisville: John Knox, 1990), 101. Dr. Norman E. Nagel is Graduate Professor of Systematic Theology at Concordia Seminary in St. Louis, MO. This article was originally presented at the LCMS Theology Professors Convocation which met in Dallas, TX, on March 7-9, 2003

294 whole of them is involved by such a Lord. This is stated four times over, four ways of saying “all of you,” yet with each its own full strength. Nothing is left out or missing; unfractioned “one” evokes “all” and “whole.” “Without reservation” lived toward some one is love.4 Wyschogrod hears this when he listens to Christians speaking of faith.5 All that the Lord is, does, and says, is confessed in His $(!. To infringe His $(! is to infringe the Lord. To confess His $(! is the only •>\TH way coram Deo. The scribe could say the right words: “Well done,” says Jesus. “You are not far from the kingdom of God.”6 You are close, but not yet quite there. What follows in Mark, Matthew, and Luke is the Christ question. They can say a Shema, that cuts the Lord down to a size they can get a handle on. Their attempt, thus, to box in the Lord boxes them in. Jesus puts to them what alone can liberate them from that box. Jesus quotes Scripture to the Scripture-quoting scribe.

12:35-37: “How can the scribes say that the Christ is the son of David? David himself, inspired by the Holy Spirit, declared, ‘The Lord said to my Lord, Sit at my right hand, till I put thy enemies under thy feet.’ David himself calls him Lord; so how is he his son?” (Psalm 110:1).

4R. W. L. Moberley, “Toward an Interpretation of the Shema” in Theological Exegesis eds. C. Seitz and K. Greene-McCreight (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999), 132. Miller 102: Early Christian exegesis saw here complementary aspects of the human personality—mind, soul, spirit, which together make up the person. Jewish exegesis has seen here “distinct but complimentary ways of manifesting love toward God” (McBride, “The Yoke of the Kingdom,” 303). V. Taylor, The Gospel According to St. Mark (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1966), 486: In contrast with Aquinas “The intention is not to distinguish faculties & powers, but to insist on a complete response.” Marcus, 210: “For this passage [Zech. 14:9] the Lord cannot truly be ‘one’ while a pocket of resistance to his salvific will remains.” 5In the setting of the World Council of Churches Wyschogrod suggests that “love” may be spoken of here as equivalent to “faith” (28). Schlatter expounds this without reservation. Markus Der Evangelist für die Griechen (Stuttgart: Calwer, 1935), 229f. Der Glaube im Neuen Testament (Stuttgart: Calwer, 1963), passim. 261: als käme durch ihr Glauben an Jesus ein “neuer Glaube” in die Welt. G. Wohlenberg, Das Evangelium des Markus (Leipzig: Deichert, 1910), 321f. Love not as demanded but given. J. Schniewind, Das Evangelium nach Markus (Göttingen: V & R, 1949), 161f. 57: alles von Gott erwarten. Matt. 5:3. Large Catechism 1, 1-4: Quid est unum habere Deum aut quid est Deus? One or none, everything is from Him. Woran des Herz sich hängen dürfte. A. Schlatter, Die Evangelien Markus und Lukas (Stuttgart: Calwer, 1961), 126. Deut. 4:35. G. Bornkamm quotes Hermas, Mandates 1, 1, wo ausdrücklich der Glaube, dasz es nur einen Gott gibt, an erster Stelle der Gebote erscheint. “Das Doppelgebot der Liebe” in Neutestamentliche Studien für Rudolf Bultmann (Berlin: Töpelmann, 1954). 88. Apostolic Fathers, ed. M. W. Holmes (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1999), 374. 6Wyschogrod 27: The Talmud asks [Mishnah Berachot 2:2] why Deuteronomy 6:4-9 is placed before Deuteronomy 11:13-21. The answer given is that “we accept the yoke of the kingdom of heaven before the yoke of the commandments” (Marcus, 197).

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 295 The scribes remain tangled up in their theological box, as long as they won’t allow the Lord to be there in front of them, questioning them toward freeing them for the whole Shema. He shames them to the recognition of their running that part of God which serves their purpose, some fraction of the Lord, some fraction of the Shema, some fractional religious positioning, some useful pieces, but not the lot, the One, all and only complete. With the Lord’s $(! you can’t do fractions. The final word here is judgment upon their piecemeal, magisterial, manipulating theology, and upon those who run it, the scribes, the top theologians. Their only hope was a Christ-confessing Shema, but they had a theology, indeed a spun Shema, that made that theologically impossible. The Lord couldn’t possibly be the one there in front of them challenging them with the Shema which confesses the Lord who cannot be brought under any definition or program other than His own. He is then, of course, free to be and do as He is and does and says. And what He does and says gets out of their control, their so much for so much, but not the whole lot (Rom. 11:35f.). We may also observe this in the other two gÍH passages in Mark (“key word of the Shema”).7 At 2:7, Jesus is forgiving sins. “Why does this man forgive sins? It is blasphemy! (That carries the death penalty.) Who can forgive sins but God alone?” ƒ+4H Ò 2g`H. True, but they have it backwards. They have God sized up. He forgives sins in heaven (a distance somewhat safer from interference, invisible church). This man Jesus is clearly not in heaven but here on earth. Therefore, He cannot forgive sins. Jesus does not wait to get clearance from them. He forgives sins here on earth. The one who does that is the only one who can do that, the Lord Himself, ƒ+4H Ò 2g`H. “The Son of man has authority on earth to forgive sins.” That He is that unsplitable One is shown in the forgiveness He gives: complete, the whole lot, no sins left out of His forgiveness. No fractioned forgiveness with some attendant proviso. “My son, your sins are forgiven.”8 “We never saw anything like this” may express banal not-getting-it, and yet hiddenly, “Never such another as this one.” Mark does not attempt any defense or calculation for this Son of man. He does not seem to fit any of their sizes to fit the Lord into. There He is. Hear Him, •6@bgJg "ÛJ@Ø Shema Jesus (Mark 9:7; 1:11; Is. 42:1). Again, here in chapter 2, they had their Shema backing them up, and Scripture too. Isaiah 43:25: “I, I AM He who blots out your transgressions for my own sake.” !{% *1E!C, ¦(f ¦4:4 which Jesus does and says before Caiaphas who appropriately tore his O4Jä<"H, having heard unmistakable blasphemy (14:62-3).9 Both Caiaphas and Jesus confessed the Shema; for

7Marcus, 198. Cf. 1 Cor. 8:4. 8Schniewind, 57: Das eigentliche Wort der Gottescherrschaft aber heiszt Vergebung...Gottesglaube. Schlatter, Glaube, 277. 9E. Stauffer, Jesus and His Story (New York: Knopf, 1960), 174-195. ƒ+4H in TDNT, 2, 434-442. Seldom as a digit; soteriological not ontological; everything depends on one thing.

296 Caiaphas it was a Shema which would not permit Jesus to be !{% *1E!C, nor permit Him to forgive sins as if He were the Lord God Himself. Caiaphas had to get rid of Jesus in defense of the God of his Shema. Jesus went to Calvary in the Shema. The !{% *1E!C of Isaiah 43 is $(! of Isaiah 53 and 35:4-6. In Gethsemane He is held by the Shema and its $(!, His $(!. He is in solidarity with God and in solidarity with sinners. There are times when the Word tells of His identification with us and times when the Word tells of His identity with the Father. {?:@@bF4@H Jè B"JD\ and Ò:@@bF4@H Ò "ÛJÎH º:Ã<. He did not become a fraction of a man but totus verus homo, nothing needing to be added, and nothing detracted. No sin not included in the sins He answered for; all are forgiven when He forgives. $(! the whole lot. Jesus identified Himself as the Lord of the Shema in forgiving the paralytic his sins. He goes on to make clear that the Lord who thus forgives on earth is unfractionable. He forgives not some sins but all of them. He doesn’t half heal. Forgiving or healing, He $(!’s it. Mark 10:18 also has gÍH Ò 2g`H. The rich young ruler would be a disciple, but with some reservations. He scores well by the commandments. Jesus looking upon him, loved him, and said to him, “You lack one thing.” That was the piece he kept out of his Shema’s gÍH Ò 2g`H. Shema with reservation is a fractured, fractioned Shema. Mark 10 began with marriage, the way the Lord planned it, complete, without reservation, marriaging love. And more love when children are given. Shema Jesus does not withhold anything of Himself from them. The disciples had Jesus measured down to something less, but “He took them up in His arms and blessed them (6"JgL8`(g4 imperfect, one by one— each one full Jesus) laying His hands on them” (no doubt at all to whom the blessing was given). There is a Shema confessing marriage. There is a Shema way with children. There is a Shema way of following Jesus. ƒ+4H Ò 2g`H. Jesus doesn’t put down the young man’s good and helpful life. He’s close. Jesus longs for him not to stop short of the whole lot of blessed discipleship that comes with a whole Shema, which Jesus evokes. “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone (gÆ :¬ gÍH Ò 2g`H).” What meant more to him than the whole Shema was his riches.10 Jesus calls him to the Shema, away from what he would hold to in denial of gÍH Ò 2g`H, and so to denial of “Come, follow me.”11 In all three gÍH Ò 2g`H passages in Mark, Jesus is one-ing it all the way, and so on to the final $(!.

10Omitted is RLPZ.z3FPbH represents mammon. B. Gerhardsson, The Shema in the New Testament (Lund: Nova, 1996), 302, n.2. 11Bengel ad loc. Non dicit, Nemo est bonus, nisi unus Pater meus, sed Nemo est bonus nisi unus, Deus. Saepe Dominus verba sua ad captum interrogatium attemperavit. Marcus, 209. Schniewind, 58: soll zum Nachdenken reizen.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 297 “There is no God but one.” For although there may be so-called gods in heaven and on earth—as indeed there are many “gods” and many “lords”—yet for us there is one God, the Father, from whom are all things and for whom we exist, and one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom are all things and through whom we exit (1 Cor. 8:4b-6).

There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of us all, who is above all and through all and in all (Eph. 4:4-6).

There is not the slightest hint here of splitting into bitheism or with the Spirit into tritheism. The Shema holds. “Peter and John went up to the temple at the hour of prayer.” “Men of Israel why do you wonder at this?” (Acts 3:1 & 12).12 Tritheistic arithmetical problems get buried under: “The Father is Lord, the Son is Lord, the Holy Spirit is Lord, and yet there are not three Lords but one Lord.”13 One or three as alternatives is excluded by $(!. Otherwise we would be back with arithmetic and the mathematics which Dr. Luther repelled at Marburg. The Lord does His $(! as He does it, and it may not be submitted to our calculations, measurements, or deprivations. These are foresworn as efforts to get control of the Lord and have Him work according to our prescriptions. There’s the whole of Him in His $(!, far more than we can control or imagine, that goes on to our surprise and amazement. What a Lord!— From Him and to Him in the liturgy, after J• •(4" J@ÃH •(\@4H the $(! acclamation, with “one” and “holy” swinging on and up together.

One holy Father, one holy Son, one holy Spirit. Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit to the ages of ages. Amen.14

12Marcus, 201: these seemingly contradictory passages with such apparent unconcern. B. Gerhardson, The Shema in the New Testament (Lund: Nova, 1996), 301: “living at home.” Schlatter, Glaube 261 & 299. Note 5 above. N. T. Wright, The Climax of the Covenant (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991), 132: Jesus placed within the very monotheistic confession itself...the Christianized Shema. 136: Christological monotheism. Schlatter, Synagoge und Kirche (Stuttgart: Calwer, 1966), 86: Das Christliche Jerusalem. M. Hengel, “Christologie und neutestamentliche Chronologie,” in Neues Testament und Geschichte, eds. H. Baltenweiler and B. Reicke (Tübingen: Mohr, 1972), 54: Nebeneinander. 13J. N. D. Kelly, The Athanasian Creed (London: A & C Black, 1964), 74: offers no loophole to tritheism. 14Addai and Mari, East Syrian. Prayers of the Eucharist: Early and Reformed, eds. R. C. D. Jasper and G. J. Cuming (New York: Pueblo, 1987), 44. And so to Basil and Chrysostom: 51, 66, 75, 86, 99, 112, 123, 134. For on from the New Testament through the early Fathers see A. Hahn, Bibliothek der Symbole und Glaubensregeln der Alten Kirche (Hildesheim: Olm, 1962), 371. Also K. Beyschlag, Grundrisz der Dogmengeschichte, vol. 1 (Darmstadt: WBG, 1982), 75, n. 37. 62: Gott ist nicht nur der Einzige, sondern

298 Thus the early and semitic East Syrian Addai and Mari—the further off from East Syria, the nearer it is to Byzantium. From East Syria derive also the Te Deum and the Gloria in Exclesis, which climaxes with: “For Thou only art holy; Thou only art the Lord. Thou only, O Christ, with the Holy Ghost, art most high in the glory of God the Father.”15 Tu solus, tu solus, tu solus. From such soluses the solas of the Reformation, extolling all that is in them and defending against any detraction of any of that all. The wonder, the beauty, the awesome delight confessed in the Lord’s $(! is then echoed on also in its defense “No other gods.” No other gods lined up beside Him, having His turn along with them (Deut. 4:35; 6:14f.; 32:39; Ps. 81:8-10). He is a jealous God. Israel His bride plays the harlot to her judgment in attempting to make space in His $(! for other gods and giving to them some love, some piece of themselves. Split God, you split yourself. He survives the attempts to fraction His $(!; we do not. The unreserved love that goes with His $(! is to His honor and our salvation, His people, His “all Israel.” That it is not easy to find words to match the awesome wonder and delight of His $(! derives not so much from the incapacity of words (He has given us some good ones to use) as from the fact that the counterpart of $(! is love, and love can never talk about itself. It goes on where the person is who is loved. (Matt. 28. Freedom of the Christian). It does not cease. Bengel delights in the again and again, and rings in Psalm 72:18.16 Marcus observes Mark’s “a few extra times for good measure.”17 The Eastern liturgies draw toward One and the Same ringing on forever.18 The als solcher zugleich der Heilige. B. Spinks, Addai and Mari—the Anaphora of the Apostles: A Text for Students (Bramcote: Grove, 1980), reports Botte’s observations: semitic origin and its early date; oscillation between Father and Son. Spinks’s diagnosis of the texts prompts him to assert “a second century date would not be impossible” (7, 12). M. J. Moreton, departing from Spinks’s berakoth derivation (24), suggests the Shema as matrix of the eucharistic prayer. “Commandment and Remembrance in the Shema and in the Eucharistic Prayers,” in Studia Patristica 20 (1989): 384-388. A. Gelston seems to agree a little with both (The Eucharistic Prayer of Addai and Mari [OUP, 1992], 10f.). 15TLH 19. LW 161 went plural. As found c. 380 in the Apostolic Constitutions see Deiss, 221. Jungmann gives the Syrian, Greek, and Latin texts. The Mass of the Roman Rite (New York: Benzinger, 1950), 1, 347ff. 353: The transition is so imperceptible. 355: no question here of a mere roll-call of the divine Persons. It was introduced by Ambrose secundum morem orientalium partium [particularly Nisibis and Edessa]. Thus, Augustine as quoted by L. Fendt, Einführung in die Liturgiewissenschaft (Berlin: Töpelmann, 1958), 83. See also F. K. Müller, “Das Ordinarium Missae” in Leiturgia 2 (Cassel: Stauda, 1955), 23. Athanasius, De virginitate c. 20. LW 34, 205. 16Bengel ad loc. Ubi nomen proprium semel appellativum bis ponitur: Jehovah Deus, Deus Israël, eo positu accentuum, qui occurrit etiam 1 Chron. 12, 18: Pax! pax tibi! Ex hac unitate Dei fluit, ut totum ei uni nostrum amorem debeamus. The Hunting of the Snark: “I have said it thrice: What I tell you three times is true.” At verse 38 Bengel observes an elenchus apertus. 17Marcus, 198. 18In comparison with the Western usage. J. N. D. Kelly, Early Christian Creeds (New York: Longman, 1993), 132. Deiss, 172, 216-218.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 299 Nicene Creed begins with the Shema’s $(!—I believe in one God and in one Lord. One church, one Baptism. So then also the Augsburg Confession: impartibilis; Manichaeans are rejected; they have two gods, Article 1. Original sin is all inclusive, Article 2. One Christ who is true God and true man, inseparable, not piecemeal. A sacrifice for all sins and all God’s wrath propitiated, Article 3. Article 4: justification, forgiveness of sins, and righteousness before God propter Christum; no splitting that into fractions or levels. The Small Catechism begins “You shall have no other gods.” Similarly, the Large Catechism begins this way. One Baptism is “instituted by God himself.” He does it (4, 6, and 10). From the Lord’s Supper nothing may “be broken off.” “It is not something we do” (5-7). Holy Absolution is the Lord speaking, bestowing His total forgiveness (SC 5, 27f.). The Solid Declaration ends confessing the $(! with the Nicene and the Athanasian Creed, not to mention the Article of Justification. The Confessions give us also “pure.” That is the all that it is, and this may not be polluted, added to, or drained off. Thus, faith speaks of doctrine, doctrine as homology. {?:@@bF4@H came through at Nicaea because anything less would not have confessed the whole of Him, $(!. AC VII says satis. All that makes the church the church is where the means of grace, as mandated and instituted by the Lord, are going on. Nothing needs to be added, not the papacy, not circumcision. Enough, that’s the whole lot, which is denied by any suggested or demanded addition, something else to guarantee it or make it work. That can only happen by distrust of His $(!. Similarly, the Lord’s Supper is not to be detracted from, infringed on, added to, taken over by us to JÎ Ç*4@< *gÃB<@< (1 Cor. 11:21). It is the Lord’s Supper only, alone, all His, complete: His undiminished body and blood He gives into our mouths with forgiveness for all our sins with life and salvation—awesome, joyful, nothing less or other added. Hence closed communion, which then also protects those who by unrepentance would bring the Lord’s judgment upon themselves. Closed Communion; $(! is complete.19 One of Humberto Eco’s early works he called opera aperta, open-ended, incomplete, inconclusive, not done, finished, whole, closed. He may serve as a representative of today’s Zeitgeist which denies the possibility of anything done, closed, all there, finally certain. It’s all relative, at best perhaps in some process, but every yesterday’s supposed certainties died yesterday evening, and today, if not brought to despair by yesterday’s failures, we must then try out some models, paradigms, metaphors, principles, analogies, hypotheses, and see how much this or that of them may accommodate some of the phenomena.

19Lohfink/Bergman TDOT 1, 201: “Not one” is used to emphasize that a certain work which God has done is complete: Ex. 8:27 (31); 9:6, 7; 10:19; 14:28; Joshua 23:14; Judg. 4:16; 1 Kings 8:56; Ps. 34:21 (20); 106:11. G. Sauer, DOTTE 1, 80: The OT adv. ;(H!H “once and for all” in Psalm. 89:36 (H. Gunkel, Die Psalmen [1926], 394) most nearly approximates the important NT expression ephaprax (cf. G. Stählin, TDNT 1:381-384).

300 This is not at all surprising when ears are dead to the $(! call of the Shema. There is blasphemy in the denial of the Lord’s $(!, and even worse mockery in splitting it. The multiple gods of pluralism are idols. One idol is never enough; one and then an other. No idol is $(!.

Great is the LORD, and greatly to be praised; he is to be feared above all gods. For all the gods of the peoples are idols; but the LORD made the heavens. Honor and majesty are before him; strength and beauty are in his sanctuary (Psalm 96:4-6).

God wishes to be known and called upon in no other way than as He has revealed Himself. So we are to hold fast to whatever He has disclosed of Himself, as is brought to mind when we call upon Him. Adoration is nothing other than such confession by invocation of what those words convey—thus Chemnitz.20 The Shema calls, gathers the Lord’s one Israel. Its rejection damns those who will not hear. “He who has ears to hear, let him hear,” or “indeed hear but not understand, not turn again and be forgiven” (Mark 4:9-12). With the Shema it is a matter of life or death. The Lord $(!, or not $(!. The Lord’s name is indeed $(! in itself, but we pray that it may be $(! among us also.

20Loci Theologici, Locus 1, 3: Et quia omnino vult Deus ita cognosci et invocari, sicut se patefecit, tenenda est aliqua descriptio Dei, ad quam mens in invocatione se referat. Nihil enim aliud est adoratio, quam confessio, tribuens illi essentiae, quam in invocatione alloquimur, omnia illa attributa, quae in definitione ponuntur. 1591 p. 27; 1653, 1690, Lutheran Heritage Foundation 2000 Reprint, p. 24. ET, CPH 1989, p. 57. esse unum et eundem verum Deum, qui bene facit et qui punit. Reprint 30; ET 64. Deut. 32:39. Lutheran Worship, 413.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 301 Homiletical Helps on LW Series B —Gospels

Eighth Sunday after Pentecost Mark 6:7-13 August 3, 2003

When You Meet “You Have Your Opinion; I Have Mine”

I. Introduction: “You have your opinion; I have mine.” A. The problem: You’ve heard it, maybe from children or spouse; from co- worker or boss; perhaps from pro-choicers, gay-rights people, or from others who shut off discussion. It puts you off! B. The opportunity: Truth is, this cop-out “You have your opinion; I have mine” is an opportunity to refresh your faith. Here’s how it works. II. “Meet people where they are…” A. Text: When Jesus sent His disciples on a short mission, He told them first to meet people where they live, literally. 1. “Whenever you enter a house, stay there….” 2. “If any place will not welcome you….” B. Figuratively meeting people where they live, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, shortly before being executed by the Nazis, said: “During the last year or so I’ve come to know and understand more and more the profound this-worldliness of Christianity. The Christian is not a homo religiosus (a religious man), but simply a man, as Jesus was a man.... I don’t mean the shallow and banal this-worldliness of the enlightened, the busy, the comfortable, or the lascivious, but the profound this-worldliness, characterized by discipline and the constant knowledge of death and resurrection.” C. Reiteration: Not of this world but in this world. “Meet people where they are….” III. “...but don’t leave them there.” A. We all meet people, but do we seek to meet their opinions? 1. How often do you sit down just to talk with someone, with no ulterior motive? “Love is not self-seeking” (1 Cor. 13:5). 2. How many relationships do you cultivate with people “in the world” where faith-talk is easy and natural? B. When you’re cultivating such relationships, you can expect to hear (or sense underneath the talk), “You have your opinion; I have mine.” 1. Temptation: To change the subject and avoid the honest talk. 2. Resist the temptation: Engage their opinion. a. “Tell me why you believe that” or similar leading questions. b. “Let me tell you what I believe” or similar non-threatening, non- dogmatic statements. c. “Do this with gentleness and respect” (1 Pet. 3:15). 3. Why should you bother? a. Jesus came into the world to meet us and turn us to God (turn us from our opinions to His truth; repentance).

302 b. Jesus has authority (Mark 6:7; Matt. 28:20; 1 John 4:4). c. Through our sharing the Word, the Spirit of Jesus engages the world incarnationally. d. You only have to have two loves in your life—God, and the person in front of you at any particular time (Rev. Eloy Cruz to President Carter, “Living Faith,” 218). C. Now that you’ve respectfully heard their opinion, what’s next? IV. Report back to Jesus. A. Text: After the disciples’ mission, they reported back to Jesus (Mark 6:30). B. Application: After meeting the opinions of others, report back to Jesus. 1. Tell Him in prayer about your conversations. 2. Learn from Him about the opinions you’ve encountered (daily Bible reading, Bible class participation, questions to the pastor, etc.). 3. Learn from Him about your…what? a. Does your engagement with others and report to Jesus show that you’re holding human opinions yourself? b. Learn from Him the truth of God (John 14:6). 4. Prepare to meet your conversation partner again. a. A Christian worker is one who perpetually looks in the face of God and then goes forth to talk to people (Oswald Chambers, “My Utmost for His Highest,” April 22). b. Text: “Shake the dust off your feet” is a sign of rejecting wrong spiritual opinions, not a condemnation of the person. c. Pray that the Spirit of Jesus bless your past witness—and hopefully your future opportunities with that person. V. Surprise! A. Evangelism turns out to be just as much about the Spirit growing your faith as about that person you’ve been dealing with. B. Bonhoeffer: “I’m…discovering…that it is only by living completely in this world that one learns to have faith. One must completely abandon any attempt to make something of oneself, whether it be a saint, or a converted sinner, or a churchman, a righteous man or an unrighteous one, a sick man or a healthy one. By this-worldliness I mean living unreservedly in life’s duties, problems, successes and failures, experiences and perplexities. In so doing we throw ourselves completely into the arms of God, taking seriously not our own sufferings, but those of God in the world. That, I think, is faith; that is metanoia (repentance); and that is how one becomes a man and a Christian.” VI. Conclusion. A. The result of incarnational engagement with others: Fresh air from the Spirit of Christ for your faith! B. May God in His mercy lead us through these times; but above all, may He lead us to Himself! (Letters and Papers from Prison, Collier, 369-370). Dale A. Meyer

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 303 Ninth Sunday after Pentecost Mark 6:30-34 August 10, 2003

Preliminary considerations: As is his style, the evangelist Mark has been recording with haste the mission and ministry activities of our Lord, one after the other. Mark 6:1-6, the appointed Gospel lesson for Pentecost Seven, recounts Jesus’ ministry in His hometown and the subsequent rejection there. In the text that follows (vv. 7-13), the Gospel lesson for Pentecost Eight, our Lord delegates the apostles two-by-two to further His ministry. Suddenly Mark presents an excursus on the events leading to Herod’s having John the Baptist beheaded (vv. 14-29). Then comes our text, which reads like a fitting conclusion to that phase of the ministry of Jesus and of the apostles that ended at Mark 6:13. Textual considerations: Jesus had given the Twelve the title “apostles” when He selected them (Mark 3:14). At this stage in our Lord’s earthly ministry, the word “apostle” perhaps signified the role of the disciples as missionaries moreso than their status. Jesus commissioned them as His emissaries, and as such, it was appropriate that they reported back to Him. Mission accomplished; the missionaries returned from their respective places of deployment in Galilee to their headquarters in Capernaum and gathered to report to their Master everything they had done and taught. Like those of their Master, their teaching and actions demonstrated the reign of God among His people. The missionaries were caught in the middle of an ever-flowing crowd that kept coming and going. The plural participles with the definite articles (@Ê ¦DP`:g<@4 6"Â @Ê ßBV(@

304 did not deter Him and His missionaries from their mission and ministry to advance the kingdom. Homiletical considerations: In Series B, Psalm 23 is the appointed psalm for the day. The Old Testament lesson promises that God will punish the shepherds who do not care for His people and replace them with shepherds who will tend them. God, who is compassionate, will gather a remnant of His people and bring them back to their pasture. The sheep will no longer be missing, neither afraid nor terrified. The time for God’s people in the desert wilderness will end, since the Good Shepherd will lead them to their final resting-place. In Ephesians 2, Paul vividly portrays God in Christ reconciling unto Himself estranged humanity and making it His dwelling. Christ has appeared as the hope of the hopeless world and the answer to the sigh of the people oppressed by sin and its consequence, death. The estranged have been brought near in Christ and built together as God’s holy temple.

Suggested outline: Retreat and Advance

Introduction: Rest is very much a part of God’s design for His creation. Those who work hard deserve to rest. In a busy world no one seems to have enough time to accomplish everything they are supposed to do. Pocket calendars and palm pilots beg for extended hours and longer days in our lives to accommodate more than we are able to do in one day. Knocks on the door, even when “do not disturb” and “privacy please” signs are hanging on the doorknobs, make us covet “time alone” and “getaway weekends.” There is no such thing as perfect rest for those whose lives are dedicated to the service of others, no matter how solemn their vocations may be. Like emergency crews, drugstore workers, and gas-station personnel, Christians are on duty 24/7. Even when we claim our well-deserved rest, we remain servants of Him who made Sabbath for people and not the other way around (Mark 2:27).

I. Christian ministry is exhausting. A. It demands “our soul, our life, our all.” B. Although shepherds need rest and retreat, they do not let the sheep stray. II. Rest is holy and God-designed (cf. Matt. 11:28). A. Retreat to a place of privacy, away from towns and villages. B. For time alone, prayer, reflection, and time with God. C. Rest in order to return to work. Our final rest is yet to come. III. Retreat only to advance the Gospel. A. In our world Sunday follows “Sabbath,” so the work goes on. B. We live in the wilderness of life, excluded yet reconciled. C. Sheep without a shepherd surround the children of the kingdom. D. Compassion for the estranged and the lost impels readiness to serve (cf. Matt. 9:37-38). Victor Raj

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 305 Tenth Sunday after Pentecost John 6:1-15 August 17, 2003

Introduction: Driver’s tests, algebra tests, promotion tests, ACT tests, final tests, Emergency Broadcasting Tests—they all create butterflies and are terrible on our nerves! Indeed, the four words most dreaded by any student are “This is a test!” But a test is exactly what we are given in this Gospel lesson. John 6:6 states of Jesus: “J@ØJ@ *¥ §8g(g< Bg4DV.T< "ÛJ`<”—and the context indicates that the entire crowd is given a sign test. But this test is not about traffic signs, mathematical signs, or zodiac signs. Rather, it is about the signs of Jesus, specifically the sign of bread. Liturgical context: Bread is for eating, and eating is highlighted in the Introit for the day—“How sweet are your promises to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth.” The point of the test in our text, however, is expressed clearly in the Old Testament lesson. Moses, Aaron, Nadab, Abihu, and the seventy elders “pass the test,” for they eat and drink and see God (Ex. 24:11). On the other hand, the crowd in John 6 eats and eats and eats (!) but fails to see God at work in His Son, Jesus. They fail the sign test. Biblical context: Some features of John’s version of this story that are not located in the Synoptic versions include the following: The crowds follow Jesus to this place because “they saw the signs he was doing” (v. 2). The place is a “mountain” (v. 3). John tells us the Passover was “near” (v. 4). The role of the boy with the five barley loaves and two fish is a Johannine detail missing in the Synoptic stories of this event. John is the only evangelist to mention that the loaves were barley loaves, the inexpensive bread of the poorer classes. Their significance here echoes the barley loaves in the account of Elisha’s feeding a multitude (2 Kings 4:42-44). Strangely, we are also told that “there was a great deal of grass in the place,” a puzzling addition. Jesus’ actions with the bread and fish are different as well. He first gives thanks, and then He Himself distributes the food to the crowds (v. 11). In the Synoptic versions, the disciples distribute the bread and fish (Matt. 14:19; Mark 6:41; Luke 9:16). When the crowd has been fed, Jesus commands the disciples, “Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost” (v. 12). Unlike the Synoptists, John does not mention the number of the crowd that has been fed but describes their reaction, saying that they “saw the sign that he had done,” called Him “the prophet who is to come into the world,” and tried to “take him by force to make him king,” an action requiring Jesus to flee (vv. 14-15). Comments on the text: Verse 2: Note the use of the imperfect verbs—the multitude “kept following” (²6@8@b2g4) Jesus because they “continually saw” (¦2gfD@L<) the signs that He “habitually did” (¦B@\g4). Key here is the use of J• F0:gÃ"—indeed, the word brackets the pericope (cf. v. 14), and hence is a major homiletical clue to preaching the text. The synoptists generally use the word *b<":4H (deed of power, mighty work) when they refer to miracles, but John never uses this term. Rather, he has two words: F0:gÃ@< (sign) and J• §D(" (works). The word F0:gÃ@< is connected with F0:"\

306 Verse 4: Although this is the second of three Passovers mentioned by John (cf. 2:12, 23; 11:55ff.), his reason for including this aside is not as much chronological as it is theological. The meaning of this feeding hinges on the Passover, and in this Gospel the reader is prepared already in the first chapter to recognize Jesus as the Passover Lamb of God (1:29, 36). Passover and exodus typology run deep throughout John 6. Verse 7: A denarius was a laborer’s daily wage, so two hundred denarii would have been about eight months income. Verse 11: Is this a teaching about the Eucharist or not? The Passover setting (v. 4), Jesus’ thanksgiving, His distribution of the food, and the gathering of the leftovers may suggest this. The context furthers the possibility. In 6:51-58 we find the most explicitly Eucharistic language in the Gospel. Since the discourse in verses 26-71 is an interpretation of the feeding story, then verses 51-58 augment the strong possibility of a Eucharist meaning in our text. Moreover, since John’s Gospel often functions on two different levels—one earthly and one heavenly —this feeding of Jesus may have a Eucharistic application. Verse 13: The reference to the twelve baskets of leftovers is characteristic of John’s pattern of mentioning physical details when describing our Lord’s signs. For example, he notes the six water pots filled (2:6-7), a water jug left behind (4:28), and a mat carried by one who had not been able to walk (5:8-12). This, in part, highlights his summary statement in 20:30-31, namely, that he was an eyewitness of the signs. Additionally, the twelve baskets indicate that Jesus has enough to supply the needs of the twelve tribes of Israel. The total number of people may well have exceeded twenty thousand or more. Verse 14: He is not just a prophet, but the prophet, just like Moses (Deut. 18:15-18). The connection between the crowd’s response and traditions about Moses is made explicit later in the chapter (6:32). A Jewish text roughly contemporary with this Gospel indicates that at the time of the Messiah’s coming, “the treasury of manna will come down again from on high, and they will eat of it in those years because these are they who will have arrived at the consummation of time.” Verse 15: Jesus will not be enthroned here but rather in His crucifixion. He is a king (so Nathanael’s confession in 1:49 and the crowd’s in 12:13), but not an earthly king. This will become much clearer in 18:36-37. Jesus will go to Jerusalem not to wield the spear, but to receive it in His side (19:34). Hence, the crowd’s attention was focused on food (v. 26) and victory (v. 15)—not on the divine self- disclosure mediated through the incarnate Son; not on the Son as the bread of life, crucified for the world. The crowd failed the test! Homiletical development of the sermon: “This is a test of the Emergency Broadcasting System. The broadcasters of your area in voluntary cooperation with federal, state, and local authorities have developed this system to keep you informed in the event of an emergency. If this had been an actual emergency, the attention signal you just heard would have been followed by official information, news, or instructions. This station serves the ______area. This concludes this test of the Emergency Broadcasting System.” In John 6:6 Jesus tests Philip, and by extension the crowd is also given a test—and by extension so are we! The test is about the signs of Jesus, specifically how we understand His sign of bread. Does it point us to earthly or to heavenly realities? The word “sign” occurs seventeen times in John. One definition is “a wondrous act that reveals Jesus’ identity.” There is an instructive passage at the end of the account of the raising of Lazarus. The chief priests and the Pharisees did not deny

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 307 that a miracle had taken place; indeed, they said, “This man does many signs” (11:47). But the signs did not lead them to faith. Rather, the signs led them to plot the death of both Jesus and Lazarus (11:53; 12:10-11)—so far were they from understanding the meaning of the signs. On the other hand, some people followed Jesus on account of the signs (e.g., 12:18). As we identify with the crowd in John 6, so we often fail the sign test. Worship is just worship; the Bible is just a book—and bread is just bread, not as Jesus later says, “I am the living bread…This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world” (6:51). When all is said and done, we don’t see the true mission of Jesus, and, just like the crowd, we create an earthly, crossless king. Be it true/false, multiple-choice, or essay—over and over and over again we fail to see the radical nature of the King and His kingdom—and thus we fail the test! But in His mercy Jesus provides sign after sign—indeed there are seven in the Gospel! They are as follows: changing water into wine (2:11), healing the nobleman’s son (4:54), healing the man at the Pool of Bethesda (5:1-15), feeding the 5,000 (6:1- 15), walking on the water (6:16-24), opening the eyes of the blind man (chap. 9), and raising Lazarus (11:38-44). The eighth and climactic sign is Jesus’ own death (12:33; 18:32; 21:19—all three verses state F0:"\

The Festival of Saint Bartholomew John 1:43-51 August 24, 2003

Context: Jesus has begun to gather His disciples. John the Baptist’s advertising of this “Lamb of God” has attracted the curious (1:15-37). Simon and Andrew have come to Jesus, and Simon has already begun to experience what it means when Jesus takes over a person’s life. Jesus changed his name, gave him a new identity— even without Simon’s asking (1:37-42). That is what one has to expect when one encounters Jesus. Textual notes: 1. The simplicity of the story in the text is most impressive. The dramatic details are spare. Jesus simply says, “Follow me.” He does not try to persuade or make an attractive offer. He commands. His Word creates a new reality. After all, He is the Word who in the beginning made all things. Making new, re- creating, is just in His blood. 2. Nathanael’s first reaction to Jesus is the typical reaction of the sinner who wants to remain in charge of life. His prejudiced reaction—nothing good in

308 Nazareth—was a defensive reaction against the claims that could come from the One who really was the One of whom Moses and the prophets had written. Nathanael thought he knew better: no good from Nazareth, and with this judgment he protected himself from Jesus’ call and command to follow, from Jesus’ dethroning Nathanael as lord of his own life. 3. Then Jesus turned Nathanael’s judgment and life around. It is not clear why Jesus’ seeing him under the fig tree so impressed Nathanael; nevertheless, he was impressed. He decided that Jesus must be the very best that he knew God had to offer. He must be the Messiah, Israel’s King, and that special Son of God that David had been. Nathanael was still trying to be in charge, identifying Jesus and placing this Messiah in his own box. The Lord exploded Nathanael’s noblest conception, that this man was the chosen Deliverer from David’s line. 4. Jesus told Nathanael that that was not the half of it. Without being wrong, he was not right. For Jesus is even more than the Messiah. He is the Son of Man. With this reference to the tradition that goes back to Daniel 7:13-14, Jesus identified Himself with that figure in human form who has the characteristics that God alone can claim: “He was given dominion and glory and rule, that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him; his dominion is an everlasting dominion, his kingdom one that will not be destroyed.” God was coming in human form, Daniel prophesied, and Jesus claimed to be this one like a Son of Man, who had been described in intertestamental tradition as having angels ascend from Him and descend upon Him. For that reason Caiphas found Him guilty of blasphemy (Matt. 26:63-65; cf. Acts 7:56). This image of the angels ascending and descending was combined with the title “Son of Man” against the background of Genesis 28:12, where angels create a picture and place of God’s promise and presence. There God spoke to Jacob from heaven; now God speaks in these days through His Son. 5. The stark simplicity of John’s telling becomes evident here at the conclusion of the story too. Jesus claims to be God in human flesh, and John follows up with “On the third day there was a wedding.” No pious comment, no fond sentiment can add to the simple claim of Jesus to be our God. We cannot add or subtract anything to/from His Word as it cuts into the heart of our lives, stabbing our Old Adam to death, snipping off the wild growth of unpruned desires, liberating us from the chains of our false conceptions of God and human life, and telling us who is in charge and who we are. Like Simon, we are given a new identity, a new life, and a new way of life; and all that we can do is go to a wedding and live as the new creatures He has made us to be.

Suggested outline:

A New Identity

Introduction: Nathanael was minding his own business when Philip interrupted his life with word about Jesus.

I. Like us, Nathanael wanted to be in control. First, his prejudices simply dismissed Jesus: no good from Nazareth. We categorize in this way, too, to try to stay in charge of life. II. Jesus impressed Nathanael, but Nathanael still wanted to be in control. He recognized Jesus as Messiah. Jesus had to tell him that this man from Nazareth was more than an earthly deliverer. He was God. III. Jesus is the Son of Man, of whom Daniel prophesied. He is God in human flesh,

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 309 who brings the presence and promise of God to us. IV. Once He has taken control of our lives and given us a new identity in Himself, Jesus sends us to serve Him in the context of weddings and other events and situations of everyday life. Robert Kolb

Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost John 6:41-51 August 31, 2003

Notes on the text: 1. This passage is an excerpt from Christ’s “Bread of Life” discourse. This exchange occurred after Jesus fed the 5,000 (vv. 1-13) and after the people failed to discern the sign that He had given in this miracle (vv. 14-15, 26). Jesus urges these people to work for the food that endures to eternal life (v. 27). The people ask for a sign that they might see and so believe in Him. They remind Jesus that their fathers received a sign in the manna they ate in the wilderness (vv. 30- 31). In His reply Jesus retains the image of bread and tells them that God gives the true bread from heaven that gives life for the world (vv. 32-33). That bread is He Himself: He is the bread of life (v. 35). Everyone who looks to the Son and believes in Him will have eternal life (v. 40). 2. Today’s text begins at this point in the story. Jesus’ claim to be the bread that came down from heaven causes the Jews to begin to murmur (egogguzon; v. 41). The subjects have changed, or at least have become more specific. Jesus had been talking with “the crowd” (ochlos; e.g., v. 22), but now it is “the Jews” whom the Gospel identifies as grumbling. John’s Gospel sometimes refers to Jesus’ opponents as “the Jews” (e.g., 5:16) but not always (e.g., 8:31). These Jews see plainly that Jesus, the son of Joseph, is identifying Himself as the Son of God, and it confuses and offends them. This claim is the principal identification made of Jesus in this Gospel (e.g., the Prologue, the miracles, the “I Am” sayings, and the evangelist’s summary statement in 20:30-31: “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”). This claim is also the primary reason that Jesus was rejected, opposed, and killed (e.g., 5:17-18; 8:58-59; 11:45-57; and especially 19:7, where the Jews tell Pilate that Jesus must die because “he made himself the Son of God”). 3. Jesus responds by rebuking His hearers (v. 43: “Don’t murmur…”). His claim to be the bread of life conflicts with experience and reason. But this is a matter of divine initiative and revelation, not of human effort and reason, and so is belief in this claim and in the one it is about: “No one is able to come to me except the Father who sent me draws him, and I will raise him on the last day. It is written in the prophets, ‘And they will all be taught by God’ ” (vv. 44-45). Therefore, the hearers’ complaints have no foundation. Moreover, Jesus tells them that He is the one God has sent to make Himself known (vv. 45-46). Everyone who is truly godly listens to Jesus; everyone who puts his trust in Jesus will be raised on the Last Day and have eternal life. In this way, He is the bread of life. So Jesus promises that anyone who eats of this bread, that is, anyone who believes in Him, will have eternal life (vv. 47-48). 4. Just as He did earlier, Jesus draws a contrast between kinds of food (vv. 49- 51). Here Jesus contrasts the manna given in the wilderness to Himself as bread of life. The forefathers ate manna and died, but those who eat the bread from

310 heaven will live forever. This distinction should not be understood as one between the material and the immaterial. Speaking about Jesus as “spiritual food” may leave this impression. The “bread of life” is none other than Jesus, the Word made flesh. At the same time, however, earlier verses (especially vv. 26-29 and 35-40) indicate that the “eating” to which Jesus refers in this situation should be understood as faith in Christ. Notes for preaching: 1. “Is not my word like fire,” declares Yahweh, “and like a hammer that breaks a rock to pieces” (Jer. 23:29)? The words of Jesus in the bread of life discourse are certainly like fire or a hammer: they challenge and offend His hearers. Accordingly, it would be appropriate to seek to kill the hearers of the sermon and then to speak directly to them the saving Word of God. But I expect that Christ’s divinity is taken for granted in the circles in which most readers of this journal operate and so would not be the stumbling block that it was for Jesus’ hearers. Furthermore, the decisive moment occurs later in this episode (vv. 60-69), and it would be more fitting to wait until that pericope comes up. The situation is not ideal, but neither is it unworkable. What, then, might preachers seek to do? I would suggest that they take their lead from this excerpt. Here Jesus explains Himself and His mission. In a similar way, a sermon based on this excerpt might seek, first, to explain what Jesus teaches about Himself and His mission and then to assure hearers of the truth of Jesus’ words about Himself and the salvation He brings. 2. Since the text is an excerpt, it will be necessary to set out its context. How much discussion of this context is needed will depend in part on previous sermons. In any case, it will be important for this text to speak about Jesus’ claims to be the bread of life from heaven. In particular, the sermon should draw attention to the basic issue in this discourse, which is life. Jesus had come not merely to provide for this life by satisfying temporal needs (e.g., the food that spoils) but especially to provide for eternal life by giving “the true bread from heaven.” And the sermon should draw attention to the problem that this claim raises for Jesus’ hearers. Of course, death continues to reign in our time and remains as threatening as ever. Efforts to prolong life and to minimize or isolate ourselves from death and its causes are as prominent as ever. Therefore, even we who say that Jesus is the bread of life may find ourselves “working for the food that spoils” (v. 27). 3. Next, the sermon would observe that Jesus explicitly denies any attempt to make God and His ways conform to human reason. When the people complain about Jesus’ words, He tells them to stop. He also quotes Isaiah 54:13—“They will all be taught by God.” Urge the people to be taught by God, and stress the promises that Jesus Himself makes: “Everyone who listens to the Father and learns from him comes to me” and “He who believes has everlasting life” (vv. 45, 47). 4. Following this line of thought, the sermon might seek to assure hearers further of the certainty of Christ’s promises. This could be done by showing that Jesus’ claim to be the Son of God is, on the one hand, basic to John’s witness to Jesus Christ and, on the other hand, the reason (in John’s Gospel) that Jesus was rejected and ultimately killed. Then it should be declared that the resurrection vindicated Jesus’ claims about Himself and about salvation through Him. In the language of John’s Gospel, the resurrection shows that Jesus “is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name” (20:31). In terms of this pericope, the resurrection vindicates Jesus’ claim to be the bread of life and the living bread that comes down from heaven. Joel Okamoto

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 311 Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost John 6:52-58 September 7, 2003

Notes on the text: 1. For the context, see the “Notes on the text” in the study for the Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost. 2. At this point Jesus provokes a fresh concern among the people. We might say that their concern shifts from the person of Jesus to His flesh. When Jesus first declares Himself the bread of life that came down from heaven, the people wonder: “Isn’t this Jesus, the son of Joseph, someone we know? How can he say: ‘I came down from heaven’ ” (v. 42)? When He responds to their grumbling, Jesus claims to be the “living bread that came down from heaven” and asserts that whoever eats this bread will live forever and that this bread is His own flesh (vv. 50-51). The people now seize on and argue about the call to “eat his flesh” (v. 52). 3. Jesus responds to their complaints by affirming (“Truly, truly, I say to you”) that “except you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you” (v. 53). Christ calls His flesh “true food” and His blood “true drink” (v. 55). Eating this food and drinking this drink will give the hearers eternal life, assure them of the resurrection from the dead, and unite them with Christ (vv. 54- 56). Jesus further explains that this union with Him is like the life He has with God the Father. Just as Jesus was sent by the Father and has His very life through the Father, so also everyone who feeds on Jesus will have the same life. 4. What constitutes “eating” and “drinking” in this context? This question is closely connected to (and therefore should be answered with) the question of whether Christ’s words about eating His flesh and drinking His blood constitute a reference to the Lord’s Supper. Of course, different judgments have been made concerning these matters, but my view may be put this way: Christ’s words do not constitute a direct or a primary reference to the Lord’s Supper. On the one hand, it is consistent with the earlier parts of the discourse to understand eating Christ’s flesh and drinking His blood as metaphors for believing in Him. As Luther said: “To eat is synonymous here with to believe” (LW 23.135). On the other hand, we should observe that Christ does not institute the Sacrament in this passage as He does on the night of His betrayal. He also does not speak about the bread and wine in, with, and under which His body and blood are given to eat and drink in the Sacrament. Indirectly, however, Christ does speak about eating His flesh and drinking His blood. Earlier He had referred to Himself as the bread of life (“I am the bread of life”) that is given to eat. Now, however, He expands on this and speaks of eating His flesh and drinking His blood—speech that, to the readers of the Gospel, obviously suggests the Sacrament. That readers should heed the suggestion is indicated by the parallel between this passage and John 3 on Baptism, especially in 3:5: “Truly, truly, I say to you, except a man is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God.” Notes for preaching: 1. I would suggest once again that the sermon take its lead from this excerpt (for a reason, see the “Notes for preaching” in the study for the Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost). Here Jesus explains about eating His flesh and drinking His blood. In a similar way, a sermon based on this excerpt might first seek to explain what Jesus teaches about Himself, and then to assure hearers of the truth of Jesus’ words about Himself and the salvation He brings. 2. The preacher might begin by observing that the confusion continues. In the previous pericope we find the Jews confused and offended by Jesus’ describing

312 Himself as the bread from heaven, because this implied that He was claiming to be the Son of God. But Jesus reiterates His claim and calls on His hearers to eat this bread, that is, appropriate or receive it. But this call, as the opening of this pericope details, further confuses and offends His audience. They ask and argue among themselves: “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” 3. Next, the sermon could work through Jesus’ response as an explanation of “giving us his flesh to eat” (see #3 in “Notes on the text”). 4. Finally, the sermon could present Christ’s flesh and blood for people today to eat and to drink for eternal life. As readers and hearers of John’s Gospel, we are in a very different position from that of the people portrayed by the Gospel. Jesus, the bread of life, was right in front of the people. He was there as the bread that came down from heaven to be believed upon. But Jesus has now ascended into heaven and is no longer present in the same way. Nevertheless, He still makes Himself present for us as true food and drink: in His body and blood in the Sacrament of the Altar. We truly have Christ’s flesh to eat and Christ’s blood to drink. Therefore, for us, eating Christ’s flesh and drinking Christ’s blood no longer comprise only an image for being given Christ as our Savior and for our reception of Him by faith. Now it is also a means of grace, i.e., in which Christ, the bread of life, is given to and received by us who are perishing that we may live forever. Joel Okamoto

Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost John 6:60-69 September 14, 2003

Notes on the text: 1. With this pericope the “Bread of Life” discourse comes to its climax. Once again, Jesus’ words offend. Earlier the Jews had grumbled when Jesus told them that He was bread that came down from heaven (vv. 41-42). Then they argued about Jesus’ giving His flesh to eat (v. 52). Now even many of Jesus’ own disciples (cf. vv. 16-24) are offended when He insists that eternal life depends upon eating His flesh and drinking His blood. “This is a hard teaching,” they say. It wasn’t hard to understand, but it was hard to accept: “Who can accept it?” (v. 60). Obviously, they could not. In John’s Gospel, “disciples” may refer to followers other than the Twelve, as it clearly does here. Joseph of Arimathea is identified as a disciple (19:38), and Jesus refers to the Jews in Jerusalem who have believed Him as disciples (8:31). 2. Jesus does not try to soften this “hard teaching.” As Luther said, “And if flesh and blood is offended here and murmurs, by all means let it murmur” (LW 33.180). Instead, Jesus challenges the disciples further: “Does this saying offend you? What if you were to see the Son of Man go up to where he was before” (vv. 61- 62)? Earlier Jesus had “offended” by claiming to have come down from heaven. Now He compounds the “offense” by indicating that He will return to the heavens. 3. Then Jesus answers their question. Who can accept His teaching? No one, on their own. On the one hand, Jesus affirms that His words bring the Spirit and bring life: “The Spirit gives life; the flesh avails for nothing. The words I have spoken to you are Spirit and they are life” (v. 63). On the other hand, without God’s will and work no one will believe these words and so receive life. As Jesus teaches, life is the gift of the Spirit of God, but “the flesh,” that is, the sinful human nature, “counts for nothing” in salvation. Therefore, unless God desires faith for the hearer, there will

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 313 be unbelief, even in the presence of the truth and with the promise of eternal life. And so, Jesus explains, “Because of this I have told you that no one can come to me except it is given him by the Father” (v. 65; cf. v. 44: “No one is able to come to me except the Father who sent me draws him”). 4. These words of Jesus might be called “the last straw.” “From this time [or “For this reason”—ek toutou] many of his disciples went back and no longer walked with him” (v. 66). Jesus’ words are Spirit and life; nevertheless, they offend and many of His followers no longer follow. Jesus has incited not only His opponents (“the Jews”) but even many of His own disciples. 5. When Jesus sees this, He makes no attempt to keep them with Him. Instead, He turns to those who remain, the Twelve, and asks them: “You don’t also want to leave, do you?” (v. 67). Speaking for the Twelve, Peter acknowledges the truth of Jesus’ words and confesses faith in Him: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have words of eternal life, and we have believed and have seen that you are the Holy One of God” (vv. 68-69). Notes for preaching: 1. The disciples were right: Jesus’ teaching was hard. And Jesus’ response to their complaint was just as hard. The teaching and the response were truly like a fire and a hammer (Jer. 23:29): they offended the hearers. But as hard as they were, His words were Spirit and life. This text lends itself to the doing of the two chief works of God in human creatures: terrifying, and then justifying the terrified, or making them alive (Ap XII.53). It would be appropriate for a sermon on this text to proclaim Jesus and His words about salvation in a way that challenges today’s hearers and then to speak “the words of eternal life,” that is, the promise of Christ that they are His people, the objects of God’s choosing, the recipients of His grace. 2. After an introduction, the sermon might begin by clarifying the question of the disciples: “This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?” It wasn’t hard to understand Jesus’ teaching. To be sure, the disciples may not have understood it fully, but they understood it well enough. It was a hard teaching to accept. Jesus’ response is “a hard teaching” in the same way. It wasn’t hard to understand. The disciples may not have understood it fully, but they understood it well enough. It was hard to accept. 3. Then the sermon could move on to what is easy enough to explain but hard to accept. Jesus is not hard to understand when He says: “The Spirit gives life; the flesh counts for nothing.” Life and salvation come from the Holy Spirit alone; we can and will do nothing that brings eternal life. Again, Jesus is not hard to understand when He says: “The words I have spoken to you are Spirit and they are life.” Jesus’ message is a Spirit-filled and life-giving Word. Apart from His Word there is no salvation, and apart from believing Him and in Him there is no salvation. Yet again, Jesus is not hard to understand when He says: “No one can come to me except it is given him by the Father.” Unless God wills one’s salvation, Christ’s Word will not be believed and the Spirit will not give life. 4. The sermon might next show how this teaching is brought out elsewhere in the Scriptures and confessed and taught by the church. For instance, Jesus’ earlier words in verse 44 (“No one is able to come to me except the Father who sent me draws him.”) are an obvious reference, as are Jesus’ words: “You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit” (15:16), and the Prologue about becoming children of God, born of God (1:12-13). We confess and teach this in the Small Catechism: “I believe that I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to Him. But the Holy Spirit has called me by the Gospel.…”

314 5. The point of the last suggestion is to deny the possibility of explaining away the scandal of Jesus’ words in the text. One might say that we have no words about God and His salvation through Christ and the Spirit that can remove or relativize the force of the teaching that salvation is by grace alone. 6. The issue, then, is clear. There is no question that salvation is by grace alone. That is a hard teaching, but it is true. In view of this, the question is whether God will save us. Will God save us? Will Christ, His Son, raise us on the last day? Will God give us life? The sermon should turn at this point to the word of salvation, either by reminding hearers that they have the word of eternal life already in Baptism or by promising them life and salvation in the name of Jesus Christ, the bread of life. Because of this word, we can say with Peter: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have words of eternal life, and we have believed and have seen that you are the Holy One of God.” This explanation by Luther may be also helpful:

Since God has taken my salvation out of my hands into his, making it depend on his choice and not mine, and has promised to save me, not by my own work or exertion but by his grace and mercy, I am assured and certain both that he is faithful and will not lie to me, and also that he is too great and powerful for any demons or adversities to be able to break him or to snatch me from him. “No one,” he says, “shall snatch them out of my hand, because my Father who has given them to me is greater than all” [John 10:28f.] (LW 33.289). Joel Okamoto

The Festival of Saint Matthew Matthew 9:9-13 September 21, 2003

Context: After the Sermon on the Mount, Matthew gives the reader glimpses of Jesus doing what He came to do, thus introducing Him to the reader as a person who heals (8:1-17), casts out demons (8:32), calms winds and fears (8:27), and forgives sins (9:2). In all this He demonstrates that He is someone with authority, authority only God has, the authority to forgive sins (9:6, 8). Textual notes: 1. This is not the story of the calling of Matthew but the calling of Jesus, a subjective rather than objective genitive. Jesus is the focus; His actions are the subject of the narrative. He is the one with authority to call, and to call unconditionally (cf. 8:18-22). 2. “When Jesus calls, He calls us to come and die” (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship, chap. 4). Bonhoeffer explains that “the call to discipleship, the baptism in the name of Jesus Christ, means both death and life.” Jesus summoned Matthew into the death of his old way of life and into a resurrected fullness of life in his Messiah. 3. This call from Jesus brought Matthew’s life into disorder and disarray. He had a good job, probably a nice place to live, and good connections (even if not with the Jewish leaders). Jesus threw it all away for him. Matthew was getting along okay, and Jesus ripped him out of his old dependencies, out of his routine, out of his carefully crafted normalcy. Jesus destroyed Matthew’s old basis for identity, security, and meaning in life. Matthew died to the essential elements of his life as tax

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 315 collector in this moment described in the text. Life was never the same again for Matthew. 4. That is why Jesus came into human flesh. He did not come because we were already righteous, living the kinds of lives God made us to live. He came because we had fallen into sin, because the best of our sacrifices could not have pleased God anyway. He came because His very essence is mercy, because His very nature is reflected in His creating what pleases Him out of the nothingness and chaos of our sinful lives. 5. Bonhoeffer’s connection of Baptism and discipleship reminds us that Jesus has already called us, has already claimed us as His own and made us heirs and sharers in His death and resurrection so that we might live His kind of life (Rom. 6:3-23). As the Creator who wants to make all things new, He has made us His new creatures. He has drawn us away from our old way of life and given us a Baptismal identity that follows Him and walks in His footsteps. He who has authority because He is the author of life sends us now to make disciples through Baptism and teaching (Matt. 28:18-20). 6. Jesus calls new life into being, a new life in which God uses us to repeat the call Jesus gave to Matthew in the lives of others. We come to offer our acquaintances liberation from the captivities of their old dependencies and sins. We come to speak the re-creative Word of new life, the Gospel of Jesus Christ that not only describes what He does for us but actually conveys and bestows His death and resurrection upon us. When this Word works through our lives and our mouths, we, too, go to sit and eat with others, that is, with patience and kindness we help these newly-called disciples find their way into the family of faith and Christ’s way of life.

Suggested outline:

Jesus’ Call to Discipleship

Introduction: No one wants to be invited to die. But the call of Jesus means abandoning and renouncing our sinful way of life apart from Him. That is what happened to Matthew.

I. Who is this person who bursts into other people’s lives uninvited, undesired? A. He is One with the authority to heal, calm storms, forgive sins: He acts as if He is God. He is God. B. He is One whose Word interrupts and disrupts our lives. He comes to kill us as those who are in revolt against Him. C. He is One whose essence is mercy, whose way of living and being is re- creation, bringing life out of death, righteous disciples out of sinful rebels. II. Why has He called us? A. So that He can have us as His Father’s children in His family and enjoy us at His table. B. So that He can send us with His call to discipleship, with His gift of death to sin and new life in His death and resurrection, into the lives of others. Robert Kolb

316 Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost Mark 7:31-37 September 28, 2003

Jesus has left Galilee and is on a route circling through non-Jewish and mixed areas. Though His focus was first on the “lost sheep of the house of Israel,” word about Him and His ministry spread beyond—and He worked beyond those narrower limits, as is seen in the exchange with the Syrophoenician woman in the preceding verses. Some in Galilee apparently had ideas of making Jesus a king, a political Messiah, and that kind of talk would get the attention of Herod Antipas, who was not one to tolerate critics or opposition. Jesus eventually would be opposed by more than Herod, but He also has more to do and more to teach before things culminate in Jerusalem. So Jesus and the disciples head first to Tyre and Sidon and then loop clockwise, coming in these verses into the edge of the Decapolis region southeast of the Sea of Galiliee. Since the “lost sheep” were the first concern, Jesus may be focusing more on teaching His disciples about Himself and His mission. After all, they are the ones who will be carrying forth the message after all is over. But word spreads, and people from these mixed and Gentile regions also come seeking help. The miracle that occurs is not an interruption or distraction but both a specific act of mercy and a larger lesson to those who saw it. The miracle is a sign both of who this Jesus is and of a new reality He creates and that exists through faith in Him and what He does. For the crowd then and the readers/hearers now, the miracle is no allegory but the deaf and dumb man is a kind of prototype, a reminder of our inability to help ourselves, isolated and cut off, and a reminder of the incompleteness of life apart from Jesus Christ. What must have gone through the mind of the man as he was brought before Jesus? And through the mind of the crowd? Did people sincerely want help for this man, or was this a chance to see something incredible? Regardless, Jesus took the man aside, apart from the hoopla, so He could focus on the man and the man on Him. The gestures and body language communicate as the miracle unfolds—fingers in ears and touching the tongue to indicate what will happen. Many in cultures of that time attributed healing properties to saliva. Pliny, Tacitus, and Suetonius, for example, write of this. But Jesus leaves no doubt whence healing comes. Mark makes a point of including “ephphatha,” which he then translates. Some commentators suggest that though deaf, the man could see that word on Jesus’ lips. That command of Jesus, coupled with His eyes turned upward, connect His power and authority with heaven’s. The actions are all highly symbolic. It is easy to imagine that they raised the man’s hopes and even sparked faith of sorts. Sometimes Jesus prompts faith before a miracle, and sometimes the miracle comes first. In this case? The answer isn’t important. Did the man hear that word “be opened,” or did he not hear until after that? The answer isn’t important. What is important is the demonstration of Jesus’ authority, the lesson about His person, the power of His word. Ephphatha is not a wish but an effective proclamation. The word does what it describes. And how much of all this the crowd overheard or saw from its vantage point also isn’t important. But they got the point: “He has done all things well.” Jesus charged them to keep this to themselves. There are enough misconceptions about the purpose of His ministry. Things will unfold soon enough, and then people can (and should) noise this around as much as they want. But clearly they cannot help themselves—“He has done all things well.” He can do whatever He wants; and He does it flawlessly, perfectly. It’s an Isaiah 35 connection.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 317 Keeping this quiet is part of the so-called Markan Secret. Why keep quiet? Timing is a factor. There is more to happen on the way to Jerusalem. This isn’t the end yet. But beyond that, there is the matter of knowing something but not everything. Jumping the gun will only contribute to the already skewed notions of what the Messiah is to be. Though the people’s praise at the moment is well grounded and directed, who knows how the perceptions of the crowd may have changed in the weeks that followed? But, of course, that was then and this is now— time to make sure this is a secret no longer to people who need to hear. We see power and authority exercised every day—economic power, political authority, social and family structures at work. But this act of Jesus is power and authority on a level unlike any other. It is seen in the miracle and seen in the new orientation and direction that comes as well. We expect some sort of Christological emphasis with a miracle, but don’t forget the soteriological as well—and the faith expressed in doxology. Luther said this story belongs in the pulpit, that is, it must be preached and be received and held by the congregation. Why? Because we see that amid all sorts of uncertainty and problems that beset us, we aren’t to demand that things go our way and that God fill our wants. On an episode of the Simpsons, when Homer “got religion” and then expected to cash in on his new connection, Marge chided him: “God isn’t just some global concierge, you know, there to do whatever you want.” “Can and will,” Homer shot back. With such expectations he would have fit with many in Mark’s day. But rather than demand, the point instead is to focus simply on Jesus and wait for Him to give what He knows is best. In the case of this one man, that meant physical healing; and Jesus would heal many, though “many” is not “all.” But that miracle is not all Jesus would do. This is yet another step on the way to Jerusalem; and to all who focus on Him and wait for Him to give what He knows is best, He gives forgiveness, life, and salvation. The one-on-one attention given this man is the same attention given each sinner. No “to whom it may concern,” but rather “for me.” This is not my miracle in the same way that it touched this man. But the miracle certainly points to my Savior, who still does all things well.

Suggested outline:

He Has Done All Things Well

I. The miracle in Mark. A. Jesus’ likely intention (separation; teaching) and His compassion (interrupting to help). B. Amid all kinds of confusion and distraction, the action and love ring through. C. The only response there can be: He has done all things well. II. Looking back at the miracle in Mark, and looking now at Jesus. A. The vantage point ought to be better, but mistaken expectations still abound. B. Amid confusion and distraction, focus and wait; Jesus gives what is needed. 1. Not necessarily a miracle, as in Mark. 2. Always the miracle of salvation centered in Him. C. The only response: He still does all things well. Robert Rosin

318 Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost Mark 8:27-35 October 5, 2003

Jesus has moved from the Decapolis (last week’s text) to the area north of the Sea of Galilee, a region named for Caesarea Philippi, the main city. The territory was under the administration of Philip the Tetrarch, son of Herod the Great. He had expanded and improved the city, naming it for the emperor and himself—the city in honor of Caesar by/of Philip. Jesus is still working outside Galilee, preparing His disciples for what is to come in Jerusalem. In that connection, He teaches a key lesson here about Himself, about His role and purpose. Some pericopal series start with verse 31, and that certainly can work. But moving back to verse 27 focuses our attention on the explicit reason why the teaching about Jesus and the passion are important: because the meaning of the person and work of the Christ must be crystal clear. “Who do people say I am?” It is hard to imagine anyone without an opinion, and some who were mockers and scoffers would only ridicule. But those categories are not worth considering here. The disciples wade in with what are more reasonable responses, echoing Mark 6:14ff. Some people—at least Herod Antipas—thought He might be John the Baptist returned from the dead (Mark 6). If so, Herod, who had imprisoned John and rashly cost John his head, might have expected to be haunted by the specter. Others suggested Elijah, meant in the sense of Malachi 4:5-6, which said that Elijah would appear to herald the coming of the Messiah. (In fact, at the Transfiguration he does come.) Or Jesus might be on par with the prophets of old. They are all interesting answers and close to the mark in some ways, but close finally will not count. Yet “Who do people say I am?” is only a preliminary question, setting things up for the question to be turned to the disciples themselves; for while Jesus certainly cares about what others think, the first focus is on those who will be the apostles sent to proclaim. They have to have this concept right! The question is to all the disciples, but Peter characteristically thrusts himself in, answering on behalf of the others. Compared to Matthew and Luke, Mark has fewer details. That is often the case, but it is particularly interesting here, where, presuming Mark has the apostle Peter standing by him behind the composition of the Gospel, some of the detail around Peter is left out. There is only “You are the Christ,” not the extended confession. The abbreviated form is just fine for what follows as Jesus teaches about His passion. Certainly Peter’s answer is crucial, but the point is made well enough to move on. On the other hand, there is no skimping on detail about Peter’s blundering attempt to talk Jesus out of what is in store. If someone wants to use this exchange to boost Peter’s role and reputation, Mark’s Gospel is not the place to go. In verse 30 the disciples are told to keep quiet about this addition to the Markan Secret. Why? They could well fuel the misguided hopes of others who looked for economic or political deliverance. And why would the disciples do that? They might not want to, but they may not be ready themselves, not grasping all that this Messiah-concept entails. In fact, the next verses prove the point as Peter, who got the answer right, then offered up a response to Jesus’ teaching that was quite wrong. Mark’s text seems clear that Jesus was quite plain in laying out what was going to happen to Him. Earlier passion references may have been somewhat

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 319 veiled or indirect, but not here. Perhaps it was precisely because things were so clear that Peter leaps to the defense. Jesus had met opposition within Jewish areas such as Galilee. He had met misconceptions in the mixed regions. But within His inner circle? Yet it is understandable in a sense, given what the disciples had heard about the fiercest opposition yet to come from no less than the religious and intellectual leaders of the people. It added up to a Messiah who would be revealed finally, not in blazing glory but dying on a cross. The disciples’ love for Jesus must have colored their reaction, but so did their theological knowledge. They knew the ominous words of Deuteronomy 21:23—that cursed by God is one who hangs on a tree. The Christ? Jesus’ rebuke is sharp, to say the least, making plain there is no middle ground. Either the Messiah does it the right way, does the Father’s business, or all is lost and Satan wins. Close will not do, no matter how noble a role is filled. People had all sorts of misguided expectations. The devil tempted Jesus in the wilderness with those expectations: stones to bread (economic), all the kingdoms (political), and the temple entrance (refocusing on the old cultic values and practices that were supposed to end with the Christ). Christ resisted Satan then, and now again via Peter. No matter what other kind of ending Peter had in mind, it is not the right one. People still stumble around with modified messiahs. The clear picture laid out by Jesus and then fulfilled is not easy to take. The proper response is not intervention but discipleship. Let go of one’s own agenda, self-image, and plans, and be prepared to shoulder whatever burden— cross—may come. Not any sort of inconvenience qualifies as a cross we have to bear, but rather suffering for Christ’s sake. It amounts to a thorough reorientation and a complete commitment. Along the way, mistaken messiah-ideas can derail, but that is time again for denying oneself (letting go of my idea of the messiah and what I should be getting) and starting again to follow after. Can we do that? Not in and of ourselves, any more than the disciples could “get it” and stay on course without Jesus with them. It is a course set for us—not self-prescribed, no matter how noble it may seem. (Luther and the other reformers complained about just that in connection with abuses within monasticism.) “Follow” is not a new law but a call to be in Jesus’ company by faith. And while Jesus knew where He was heading, the same cannot be said by us about ourselves. But it does not matter, for the same love and grace that moved Jesus to lay this all out before the disciples and to see them through to Jerusalem and beyond is still working for and in us.

Suggested outline:

On the Way with Jesus the Christ

I. Who is this Christ? A. The notions then and now. B. The witness of the prophets and the apostles. II. What this Christ did: A. And He began to teach them…(v. 31). B. He stands by those He called. III. What this Christ does: A. He calls for our lives. B. He gives us life to live and give. Robert Rosin

320 Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost Mark 9:30–37 October 12, 2003

Preliminary considerations: The Gospel lesson for Pentecost Seventeen, Mark 8:27-35, centered on the apostle Peter’s public confession of Jesus as God’s Anointed and our Lord’s admonition to the disciples that they should not prematurely publicize that truth. Instead, our Lord predicted His own death and resurrection. He then invited those who would follow Him to do so by taking up their own crosses. Six days later Peter, James, and John witnessed the transfiguration of Jesus (Mark 9:2-8). A strict warning to keep also this matter a secret ensued this dramatic event as they came down from the mountain. At the foothills they joined the other disciples, who were being challenged to drive out an evil spirit from a demon- possessed boy. Jesus healed the boy Himself. Jesus then took the disciples with Him away from the crowd to a secluded place and began to teach them. Textual considerations: Our text begins with the Lord instructing the disciples. The instruction consisted of His own destiny and a pattern of behavior for the disciples to follow. The substance of this teaching is the revelation of the ultimate goal of God’s incarnation in Christ. God would deliver His Son into the hands of human authorities. Although they would kill Him, on the third day He would rise from the dead. This is a reiteration of what was said in 8:31, except that a strong allusion to Jesus’ betrayal is added here. The present indicative passive B"D"*\*@J"4 signifies the certainty of abandonment. Jesus will be handed over to the authorities to be put to death. With the end of His mission on earth in full vision, Jesus now engages in training the Twelve for their mission when He would be away. God would deliver His Son into the hands of sinful people for the salvation of all. Fully conscious of God’s eternal plan of action, the Son of God presses toward Jerusalem, where His messianic mission will be fulfilled ultimately on the cross. Few, if any, of Jesus’ disciples were able to comprehend this as they remained ignorant (²(<`@L<) of God’s way of doing things. They were distracted; and fear, sorrow, and bewilderment overpowered them. Grief overcame them (Matt. 17:23). Grief has such power that it can make people blind to the promises of God. A Messiah who dies to save was far from the picture they had of the One who would inaugurate God’s reign on earth with power (Mark 9:1). Hearing the Lord announcing His death terrified them to the extent that they missed the Lord’s assurance that He would rise again from the dead. Even after Peter had confessed Jesus as the Christ, the Lord preferred for Himself the title “Son of Man,” focusing on His humanity and the suffering that appellation entailed. The suffering of the Christ is the eschatological action of God (Is. 53:6), His expiatory death for God’s redemptive purposes, His life given as a ransom for many (Mark 10:45). In accordance with His eternal counsel, God would deliver up His Son. Even the disciples would see dimly the meaning of their Master’s death until after His resurrection. In their own human reasoning they could not see first things first. In their hearing Jesus had announced the coming of the kingdom (Mark 1:15), but they had no idea at what price. On the contrary, they were busy debating among themselves the question of greatness. Very much in tune with their cultural norms (and human nature), the disciples were preoccupied by questions of rank and status even as they were traveling. Doubtless, the servant-model leadership Jesus had been living out among them did not cross their mind, at least at this time. If they surmised that all of

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 321 them would be leaders, they wondered out loud who among them might rise to highest prominence. That hardly anyone was exempt from such temptation is evidenced by the brothers James and John’s expressing their desire in the end to rise to positions of power, one wanting to sit at Jesus’ right and the other at His left when He would come in glory (Mark 10:37). A disciple shall not be above his master. Just as Jesus came to this world as a servant, so shall those who follow Him lead a life of service. Service that is God-pleasing is service done in the name of Christ and no other. There is no room for potential greatness in such service. Such service focuses on those being served more than those serving. Perhaps adults may learn such enduring values from children. While quarrels and fights emerge from the desires that battle within us (James 4:2), we look to the Lord, who came to serve, as at the epitome of genuine dignity.

Suggested outline:

First Things First

Introduction: Keeping straight our priorities in life makes life move toward its purpose. As the cross of Christ remains the center of a Christian’s life, his entire life keeps in step with the Lord of life. Proper Christian living promises no shortcuts or quick fixes to deal with life’s struggles. The cross of Christ is the anchor and focus of Christian living. Those who partake in Christ’s suffering share also in His glory.

I. Christ came to the world: A. In humility to accomplish God’s will. B. In God’s own way as the Father delivered up His Son (Rom. 8:32). C. The Son delivered up Himself (Gal. 2:20). D. The cross is the remedy for sin. II. Christ’s death on the cross is the door to life (John 11:25): A. The life Christ lived, He lived for others. B. The death Christ died, He died for others. C. Those who live in Christ live no longer for themselves (Gal. 2:20). D. Death does not have the final word. Life does. Victor Raj

Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost Mark 9:38-50 October 19, 2003

At the End, We Learn the Point of It All

I. Introduction: What’s the point of it all? A. In one way, today’s text seems to reflect life: So many points that you end up not knowing what the real point is. (Deliver the following five points quickly. The rhetorical purpose is to suggest that the text says so much that we end up not knowing the main point.)

322 1. Jesus teaches, “Whoever is not against us is for us.” OK, I can understand that. 2. Jesus teaches us not to do something to weaken another’s faith. OK to that also. 3. Jesus teaches that it would be better to mutilate yourself than to miss out on eternal life. That’s not OK! Relax; Jesus is speaking figuratively, but He’s making a most important point: Do whatever it takes to avoid hell—and that’s OK. 4. Jesus says, “Have salt in yourselves.” OK; after all, we are to be the “salt of the earth” (Matt. 5:13). 5. Finally, “Be at peace with each other.” B. Isn’t this text like life? So many points, good points, but in the end you may well not know what the main point is.

Delivery note: A significant pause, four or five seconds, will be effective in making this transition.

II. So what is the point? A. The story goes that a Montana sheepherder got sick and was taken to the hospital in Fort Benton. His sheep dog followed his master to the city and kept watch outside the hospital door. When the sheepherder died, his body was taken to the train to be shipped back to his family in the East. The dog, Shep by name, appeared at the train station, cried for his master, and vainly chased the train down the tracks. For the next five and a half years, Shep met every train that came into Fort Benton, hoping that one of the passengers getting off would be his master. Shep became well known, and kindly people took care of him; but he refused to be taken to anyone’s home. He had but one devotion: waiting for his master to return. Shep’s devotion did not waver until the cold winter day in 1941 when he died. B. It’s a true story; and when I read it, I couldn’t help but think: if only I, if only we, could demonstrate that same unwavering devotion to our heavenly Master. When we take our eyes off Jesus, day-to-day living loses its ultimate purpose, its point. C. Examples: 1. Take your eyes off Jesus, and the Bible becomes a book of nice moral and spiritual teachings. That’s why some people like the book of Proverbs. Nice teachings, but they’re not connected. What’s the ultimate point? 2. Another example: Take your eyes off Jesus, and other things become your reason for living. They may be good things, like family, health, or career. Or bad things, like alcohol, drugs, greed—whatever. If a lot of things are vying for your heart, chances are you feel pulled in different directions, scattered, with no ultimate purpose in life. D. The point is, or should be, that all our being all the time should be focused on our Savior, Jesus. 1. “Love the Lord your God with all your heart,” etc. (Deut. 6:5). 2. Unlike Shep’s devotion to his earthly master, our devotion to our Savior is often scattered.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 323 III. Learning that point. A. The painful prescriptions (“If your hand causes you to sin, cut it off,” etc.) are Jesus’ vivid way of telling us to be done with sin so that eternal death is avoided and His gift of life received (repentance). B. “Christ says, ‘Give me all. I don’t want so much of your money and so much of your work—I want you. I have not come to torment your natural self, but to kill it. No half-measures are any good. I don’t want to cut off a branch here and a branch there; I want to have the whole tree down. I don’t want to drill the tooth, or crown it, or stop it, but to have it out. Hand over the whole natural self…I will give you a new self instead. In fact, I will give you myself; my own will shall become yours’ ” (C. S. Lewis, “Beyond Personality,” in Sermon Illustrations for the Gospel Lessons [St. Louis: Concordia, 1982], 81). C. This learning process: 1. Cutting out the sin. Textual images: a. Sword (of the Word, Heb. 4:12). b. Purifying fire (Mal. 3:2-3). 2. Jesus decisively dealt with sin and gives eternal life (Forgiveness: Text is teaching before His passion; John 17:3). 3. Sanctification: Salt in yourselves (cf. Lev. 2:13; Rom. 12:1). IV. Conclusion: At the end, we learn the point of it all: Peace. A. Revisit all the points of the text. Jesus finally says, “And be at peace with each other.” B. Did you ever notice that some of your most trying times are caused by conflict with other Christians? C. If you and I struggle individually and as a congregation to cut the sin out of our own lives, putting our wholehearted devotion upon our Master, our Savior, Jesus Christ, we will have more peace among us. “No Jesus; no peace. Know Jesus; know peace.” D. So center all your being all the time on Jesus. At the end of the text, at the end of the striving, and at the end of life—at the end, we learn the point of it all: Jesus, the Prince of Peace. Dale A. Meyer

Reformation Sunday John 8:31-36 October 26, 2003

Introduction: It was Independence Day! But fireworks, sparklers, parades, and floats played no part. Neither did the Statue of Liberty. There were no baseballs, no hot dogs, no apple pies, no Chevrolets. On this day there weren’t even any patriotic songs like The Star-Spangled Banner or I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy or God Bless America. It was Independence Day, but it wasn’t even the Fourth of July in celebration of that great year of 1776. No, this Independence Day began 259 years earlier with the Reformation; when Martin Luther announced to the world that he was on a journey toward freedom. His declaration of independence was driven in part by these words of our text: “Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (8:32). Liturgical context: The liberating truth that sets sinners free is the cry of the Collect for the Day. It states in part, “Keep them steadfast in your grace and

324 truth.…” For years Luther was anything but steadfast in the truth that frees. An unlikely candidate to trumpet independence, for years he had known only bondage, captivity, and a personal prison. He felt obligated to spend entire weeks without food, without speaking, without seeing the light of day. But the fireworks of freedom began when this German monk of the Augustinian Order took hammer in hand and on October 31, 1517, posted his 95 theses on the Wittenberg Castle Church door. This was his Independence Day! Biblical context: The debate with the crowd at the end of John 7 continues in this section of John 8. Many of the themes in this debate were first sounded in John 5, with the issues explored in greater detail now in chapter 8, with 8:31-36 as the heart of the debate. The issues are over paternity and, therefore, the identity of Jesus and His opponents. The discourse is bracketed by references to Abraham (vv. 33, 57-58). But exactly with whom is Jesus debating? They were Jews who believed in Him, but they turn out to be slaves to sin (v. 34), indifferent to Jesus’ word (v. 37), children of the devil (v. 44), liars (v. 55), and guilty of mob tactics (v. 59). John introduces this idea of fickle faith in 2:23-25 and again in 6:60, when many of Jesus’ disciples turn away from Him after a discourse of which they disapprove. The movement from faith to fickleness to forsaking Jesus in John 8 is parallel to the flow from 6:14-15 to 6:60ff. In our text He differentiates the faithful from the fickle with the words “If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples” (v. 31). The verb rendered “hold” is :X

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 325 That is we. Just like Luther. Locked in habits we cannot beat, and bound in a bondage we cannot break. The devil wants to lock us up and throw away the key. If it is the truth that liberates and frees, then it is the liar who captures and kills. In the same chapter as our text, Jesus describes this liar: “He was a murderer from the beginning, not holding to the truth, for there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies” (v. 44). Martin Luther knew this voice as well. He writes in Ein’ feste Burg: “The old evil foe now means deadly woe. Deep guile and great might are his dread arms in fight; on earth is not his equal.” On the other hand, John’s Gospel is full of fireworks as it celebrates this destiny-altering news: Jesus Christ is the world’s only liberating truth. Listen to what John says of the Father’s only Son and our only Savior. “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth” (1:14). Listen to what Jesus says: “I am the Way and the Truth and the Life” (14:6). Jesus delivers the Truth that sets people free at last! To Nicodemus, caged in the hopeless laws of rabbinic Judaism, He says, “For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him” (3:17). To the woman at Jacob’s well, bound to one broken relationship after another, He says, “The water I give...will become...a spring of water welling up to eternal life” (4:14). To the man born in the prison of blindness He says, “Go, wash in the Pool of Siloam” (9:7). To Mary and Martha, locked in grief over the death of their brother Lazarus, He says, “I am the Resurrection and the Life” (11:25). Our freedom march began in earnest when Jesus was bound and taken to Annas, the high priest. He was slapped, spit upon, and sent to Caiaphas. Then, blindfolded, He was struck in the face with fists and beaten by guards. The next morning He was taken to Pilate, who passed Him off to Herod. Herod dressed Him in a purple robe. Back before Pilate, He was crowned with thorns, stripped naked, and scourged, just short of death. Struck and spit upon again, He walked on the Via Dolorosa. Finally, He was stretched out on two pieces of wood, and three iron spikes were hammered into His flesh. His friends had run away. His possessions had been gambled away. His strength was ebbing away. Even His Father had turned away. All He had left was one word, JgJX8gFJ"4 (“It is finished”)—(19:30). But with this word our bondage was broken, the sacrifice completed, death defeated, paradise restored. “It is finished!” A cry of defeat? By no means! Had it not been for the nails, a triumphant fist would have lifted toward the sky. This is the Savior’s cry of victory—“Let freedom ring!” And this is the honest-to-God truth. The death and resurrection of Jesus Christ means that we are liberated from the liar and that our prison doors are wide open. Luther experienced this truth and wrote: “When I understood it, and the light of the Gospel came into my soul, the gates of paradise opened, and I walked through.” This same liberating power sets us free from the condemnation of our sin, from the pain of our past, from worry about our future. No one can take this freedom from us, no law can stop it, and no power on earth or in hell can destroy it. Again Luther: “And take they our life, goods, fame, child, and wife, though these all be gone, our victory has been won; the kingdom ours remaineth!”’ The message rediscovered by Luther and celebrated on this Reformation Sunday is loud and clear—“If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed!” Free in every way—full, final, forever! This is our Independence Day! Reed Lessing

326 On the reading of many books...”

THE “I” IN THE STORM: A Study of Romans 7. By Michael Paul Middendorf. St. Louis: Concordia, 1997. 303 pages. Cloth. $19.95.

Among the “hard to understand” chapters in Paul’s letter to the Romans, the seventh chapter stands out. Does Paul talk about himself? If it is about himself, does it describe his life before or after his conversion? If it is about his life as a Christian, how does one understand the dynamic of the Christian life? Various interpretations of the “I” result in radically different views of the Christian life. Simul iustus et peccator is most puzzling to the human mind. Even more distressing is the issue about what is to be made of it when Christians interact with their Lord and with one another. Does the iustus or the peccator dominate? Is that even a fair or correct question? And yet, Christians do make choices about how to view others. Do Christians, and especially Lutherans, look at others “more” as sinners or as righteous? What is to be done about the sinful, “unwilled” part of one’s own Christian life and that of others? This doctoral thesis, submitted to the faculty of Concordia Seminary in St. Louis in 1990, which was modified in minor ways for publication in 1997, addresses these issues. The study is divided into five major parts. The standard summary of research is followed by what the author titles a semantic study of Romans 7 within the framework of the entire book; a study of the referent of the “I” in chapter 7; a study of the Pauline referent “I” within all passages in which Paul speaks; and then a study of the pragmatic purpose of the “I” statements, using categories that are used in modern linguistic study. Werner Kümmel set the stage for a widely accepted interpretation of Romans 7:7-25 in 1929 when he advocated the view that Paul invents a rhetorical figure to describe an individual under the Law. Middendorf’s work is a response to that viewpoint. It demonstrates that Paul refers not only to himself but also to himself as a Christian. This is no surprise to Lutherans. But it also explains why other Christians interpret the Christian life in such a different way. It exposes how presuppositions about the nature of human beings after the fall and after coming to faith can alter the understanding of what it is to be Christian. The first chapter, dealing with contemporary interpretations of the identity and spiritual condition of the “I,” proved to be difficult reading because of the variety and overlap of interpretations. Interpretations that suggest the referent is Paul, Adam, Israel, a transpersonal being, or combinations of the above, and objections offered to each position, show the complexity of the issue. If one accepts Paul as the referent, a similar complexity of viewpoints still surrounds the issue of whether Paul describes his life before conversion, his new life now, or his life once lived but from which he is now free. The semantic study of Romans 7 within its context asks the question about what is meant by the signs or terms that are used. The many theologically weighted terms in Romans (e.g., flesh, spirit, law, righteousness, sin, justification, grace, dead, alive, the good, evil, the will, etc.) need to be understood with great care so as not to read inappropriate views into the text. An interesting chart (63) contrasts phraseology used in Romans 6 with that used in Romans 7. It highlights a discontinuity with the present age of sin and death and yet shows that the believer continues to live within such an age. But Paul never suggests that he does nothing

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 327 good (94). (In my experience, many Lutheran Christians talk as if they were sinners at heart, even after Baptism, and that God merely works through them. They rob themselves of the joy of seeing themselves as redeemed children of God, living their Christian life now already. Pastors do well to remind their members that they are saints, too, already now!) The study points out the crucial and intended link between these verses and chapter 8 (120f.). The work of God within the believer provides the framework for the resolution of the previous tension. The author makes little mention of Romans 9:16 here. The third chapter provides a very useful discussion of Paul’s way of referring to himself not only in Romans 7 but also in all the other writings attributed to him (see esp. 151-154). It focuses particularly on Paul’s references to himself before and after his conversion. The author shows that Romans 7 is consistent with Paul’s references to his own life and does not function simply as a rhetorical technique to refer to some fictitious person in general. The fourth chapter addresses the question of whether Paul refers to his life before or after conversion. Paul comments about his will; his actions are vividly depicted and contrasted (186-188). To explain the tension between will and action, Paul’s description of the life of unbelievers and believers elsewhere in his writings is presented. Paul consistently describes how the believer is freed from the power of sinning but not from sinning altogether. One is thus dead to the power of sin even if one sins (205). The Christian can understand this already/not-yet situation of the self only by revelation. The Law calls for perfection and shows sin, but condemnation is not the final word. The Spirit thus guides the believer to life, peace, and action. Obviously, Romans 5-8 must be taken as a unit to make sense of the material in chapter 7. So what is Paul’s reason for writing the last part of Romans 7? Chapter 5 of the study addresses that pragmatic question. Paul describes his life before and after conversion. He becomes a model (227) for understanding the Christian life. A summary (231-234) surveys Pauline literature and categorizes his statements to show where he speaks of himself on matters such as his apostleship and conduct, his view of the power of the Gospel in his own life, his defense of his faith and life, his view of himself as an example, his warnings and encouragements, his call to ask his listeners to follow his example, etc. Paul informs and exhorts, both directly and indirectly. Concerning Romans 7, Middendorf concludes that Paul informs his readers about freedom from the power of the Law, sin, and death but goes on to remind the believers that sin does not disappear completely, not even in Christians. Paul still struggles against it. But believers need not despair when they sin. The Spirit of God is at work more powerfully still, leading believers to active, righteous living. Paul speaks here of his struggle in terms of his standing before God, not before the world. Study of this volume has proved most worthwhile. For those willing to be challenged by the bewildering maze of views, satisfaction and further insight will result. But how do we make use of this refresher? It can have a definite impact on how one teaches believers about how to understand their own lives. Paul describes his struggles in chapter 7 but does not leave it there. Christians are called to realize what they already are in Christ, their true nature, even as they struggle. We are called to peace, to being settled, to going forth in the power of the Spirit, to casting our sins on our Lord, who takes the power of such sin away. Thomas H. Trapp St. Paul, MN

328 HENRY VIII, THE LEAGUE OF SCHMALKALDEN AND THE ENGLISH REFORMATION. By Rory McEntegart. Woodbridge: The Royal Historical Society, 2002. 244 pages. Cloth. $75.00.

Challenging long-accepted orthodoxy regarding Henry VIII’s flirtation with the Protestant princes of Germany, Rory McEntegart offers the latest in revisionist readings of the English Reformation. Addressing the traditional thesis that Henry never intended an alliance with the Lutheran Schmalkaldic League but only feigned interest when it was politically expedient to do so, he instead argues that the king “had a strong and sincere interest...in the League’s religious and political principles” (6). That a decade’s worth of dialogue ultimately proved fruitless had little to do with the King or his allegedly dubious motives, argues McEntegart. He instead holds responsible two alternative culprits: the English court factions that counter- worked each other’s aims or the German princes who proved both doctrinally obstinate and diplomatically inept. While never denying Henry’s appreciation of the political benefits of an Anglo- German alliance, McEntegart emphasizes the ecclesiastical advantages he believes to have been foremost in the King’s mind. Following the break with Rome, England desperately felt the need for a clearly defined and unified faith. Though Henry could not merely accept a Lutheran confession without casting doubt on the Royal Supremacy, his theologians could dialogue with Germany in the process of formulating an independent English confession. That the King himself had no real conception of the shape this confession should take, however, inevitably gave rise to faction politics among his traditionalist and evangelical advisers. While McEntegart sees, as a result of this, too much “back-and-forth” among the English, he can find none at all among the Germans. Building his case on voluminous domestic and international correspondence, he paints the Schmalkaldic princes in “stubborn,” “rigid,” and otherwise uncooperative colors (200, 217, passim). Though “consistent” would perhaps be a more charitable adjective, McEntegart’s evidence leaves no doubt about the firm convictions with which the English were faced, especially in Electoral Saxony. This study is copiously documented, and a number of long-standing myths are convincingly undermined in its 244 pages. There are, however, significant matters of detail and interpretation that may prevent its major thesis from gaining acceptance. Though attempting to illustrate Henry’s favorable inclinations toward the Schmalkaldic League, the author frequently reveals that it was an evangelical court faction which—without the King’s knowledge—consistently made the most agreeable overtures to the League. In fact, after persuasively proving Thomas Cromwell’s Lutheran sympathies, McEntegart admits that the vicegerent’s religious agenda had been pursued independently and covertly throughout the 1530s. What of Henry’s own agenda? A footnote in the doctoral thesis from which the current book evolved is illuminating. When Thomas Cranmer was dispatched to Regensburg in 1532 as ambassador to Emperor Charles V (who was at the time campaigning for support against the Turk), “Cranmer’s brief was to play for time with Charles, not refusing Henry’s involvement with the enterprise against the Turk, but not committing the King either.”1 Henry, of course, did eventually refuse involvement. His method in dealing with the princes was not necessarily that of his dealing with the Emperor. But it is clear that the modus operandi McEntegart 1"England and the League of Schmalkalden, 1531-1547: Faction, Foreign Policy and the English Reformation” [London School of Economics, 1992], 47 n. 59.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 329 wishes to dissociate from Henry’s foreign policy cannot simply be dismissed as a later invention. Not all will ultimately agree with McEntegart’s conclusions, but he must certainly be thanked for the wealth of information he provides. His is not only the first substantial work on the topic since Prüser’s England und die Schmalkaldner was published over seventy years ago; it is also the first to build its case on extensive archival research in both England and Germany. As such, none wrestling with the political and theological machinations of the Henrician Reformation will be able to consider it optional reading. Korey D. Maas Oxford, England

ELEMENTS OF BIBLICAL EXEGESIS: A Basic Guide for Students and Ministers. By Michael J. Gorman. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, Inc., 2001. 239 pages. Paper. $15.95.

“And now the end has come. So listen to my piece of advice: exegesis, exegesis, and yet more exegesis.” So said Karl Barth in his farewell speech before his 1935 expulsion from Germany. Yet every reader of this journal knows that the mantra— “exegesis, exegesis, exegesis”—is easier said than done! Both first-year seminarians and seasoned pastors struggle with how to go about a proper exegesis of Biblical texts. Gorman does not intend to replace more detailed books on hermeneutics but does acknowledge that “What we need is a model of exegesis that does not require a Ph.D. in Biblical studies (or in history, sociology, and linguistics) to execute” (23). Though the author’s solution is a model that is simple, it is not simplistic. For example, Gorman has thorough discussions on illegitimate totality transfers, etymological fallacies, intertextuality, and semantic ranges. Moreover, in the first chapter he deftly synthesizes current approaches to Biblical interpretation, breaking them down into synchronic, diachronic, and existential methods. What’s more, he offers very helpful examples of all three methods at work on the same Biblical text, Matthew’s version of the Sermon on the Mount. Gorman’s thesis is that the primary goal of exegesis is “to achieve a credible and coherent understanding of a text on its own terms and in its own context” (9) in order to provide a “careful historical, literary and theological analysis” (3). To accomplish this, Gorman encourages his readers to think of exegesis as primarily an investigation. And since exegetical investigation is in large part knowing what questions to ask of a text, Gorman’s work is saturated with numerous helpful starters—all the way from “What situation seems to have prompted the author to write this text?” to “If I am the original hearer/reader of this text, what do I sense it is trying to do to me?” Indeed, “Like a detective, attempt to leave no stone unturned, no question unexplored” (93). Gorman advocates something similar to what noted Old Testament exegete David Noel Freedman terms “CROT Criticism”—that is, the exegete’s goal is a Close Reading Of the Text. Along these lines, the author quotes the words of John Chrysostom: “It is not in the interest of extravagant ambition that we trouble ourselves with this detailed exposition, but we hope through such painstaking interpretation to train you in the importance of not passing over even one slight word or syllable in the Sacred Scriptures. For they are not ordinary utterances, but the very expression of the Holy Spirit, and for this reason it is possible to find great

330 treasure even in a single syllable” (45). This close, careful reading of a Biblical text requires a process that is more like a circle than an outline slavishly followed— that is, one that is more like “going forward by circling around” (26). The seven elements of “circling around” a text are as follows: survey (preparation and overview)—contextual analysis (consideration of the historical and literary contexts of the text)—formal analysis (of the form, structure, and movement of the text)—detailed analysis (of the various parts of the text)— synthesis (of the text as a whole)—reflection (on the text for today)—expansion and refinement (of the initial exegesis). Exegetes may enter this “hermeneutical circle” at any point in the first six steps, but the process is not complete until all seven elements have been considered. In his chapter on context, Gorman sounds as though he has been eavesdropping on exegetical classes taught at Concordia Seminary—“Context, context, context,” so rant and rave the professors; “context is king!” Gorman writes: “Indeed, context is so crucial to interpretation that it is no exaggeration whatsoever to say that if you alter the context of a word or sentence or paragraph, you also alter the content of that text” (66). For beginning students and interested lay people, this book is a fantastic introduction. For more experienced pastors, Gorman’s discussion of a clear, logical method for studying the Bible will probably give them something they have not found elsewhere. Most Biblical scholars use something like the method presented in this book, but I am afraid that their strategy is often unclear or overly technical. Many hermeneutical handbooks in print are too detailed and complex for most students and pastors to use on a regular basis. If that has been your experience, then this is your book. Gorman’s methodology aims finally at application. “The ultimate goal of exegesis is for the individual and community to become a living exegesis of the text” (128). But caution is in order. The author notes that a premature assimilation often takes place when readers jump into the application of a text without sufficient thought and without respect for the distance between the then and now. Adding to the value of the book is a long listing (some fifty pages) of Internet resources, commentaries, dictionaries, text-critical books, Bible history books, language tools, scholarly journals, etc. Gorman not only lists these resources but also offers helpful insights into how they assist the exegetical task. Also included at the end of the book are guidelines for writing an exegetical paper, along with two fine examples. The author’s introduction provides a fitting conclusion for this review. Once a friend of his, an avid golfer, returned from a summer golf school at the famous Pebble Beach golf course in California and surprised Gorman by saying that his class included students of all abilities, from beginners to near-pros. When asked how the instructors could meet the needs of such a diverse class membership, he responded, “They taught the basics.” In fact, he said, that’s what they do when PGA pros return to Pebble Beach for off-season instruction—they go back to the basics. The benefit of this book is that it instructs both the novice and the seasoned interpreter of Holy Scripture, for when all is said and done, in the final analysis exegesis is all about using and refining the basics, again and again...and again! That being said, this is a book from which every reader of this journal will benefit. Reed Lessing

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 331 FROM PARADISE TO PROMISED LAND: An Introduction to the Pentateuch, 2nd edition. By T. Desmond Alexander. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic/Paternoster Press, 2002. 339 pages. Paper. $24.95.

In this book, evangelical and conservative Pentateuchal scholar Desmond Alexander seeks to (a) guide the reader through the maze of modern critical approaches to the Pentateuch and (b) focus on the main themes of the Pentateuch by drawing on the insights of recent research into Hebrew narrative techniques. Making Alexander’s work unique is this holistic reading of the first five books of the Old Testament. Diachronic methods have had such a bewitching effect that scholars, by and large, have ignored such a synchronic reading of the Pentateuchal text. At the outset, Alexander notes that there can be little doubt that Pentateuchal criticism is in something of a crisis. The opponents of the Documentary Hypothesis are no longer limited to those of a conservative theological outlook. While most scholars still remain committed to the basic concept of J-E-D-P, others seek to modify it substantially. Still others are willing to abandon the Documentary Hypothesis altogether and search for different ways of configuring the composition of these five books. This means that at the present moment no consensus exists in critical scholarship about when, why, how, and through whom the Pentateuch reached its present form. In this section Alexander offers several convincing arguments that help defend Mosaic authorship. In the second half of the book the discussion flows from Genesis, to Exodus, to Leviticus, etc. Yet in proceeding book-by-book, Alexander never loses sight of his synchronic reading strategy. He constantly traces different themes throughout the Pentateuch (e.g., seed, sanctuary, blessing, holiness, kingship, land). This reviewer found that the discussions on land and seed were the most helpful. From the initial creation of the land in Genesis 1, to Joseph’s desire that his bones be buried in the land promised to Abraham, to the covenant blessings and curses in Leviticus 26 and Deuteronomy 28 that center upon the land, to the fact that Moses never gets into the land of promise (Num. 20:12; Deut. 34)—there is hardly an event in the Pentateuch that does not in one way or another deal with the land. Alexander navigates through these texts in ways that highlight the theological importance of Yahweh’s gift of the land. The author begins his discussion on “seed” by noting that the word (Hebrew — “zera”) occurs fifty-nine times in Genesis out of its 170 occurrences in the Old Testament. He then makes important links between the seed of Genesis 3:15 and the royal, or Messianic, Psalms. For example, David is addressed as Yahweh’s anointed or messiah (Ps. 89:21, 39) whose seed will endure forever under divine favor (Ps. 89:5, 30, 37). The idea of seed, of course, ultimately points to Jesus Himself. Alexander makes this clear in a lucid discussion of Galatians 3, specifically verse 16: “The promises were spoken to Abraham and to his seed. The scripture does not say ‘and to seeds,’ meaning many people, but ‘and to your seed,’ meaning one person, who is Christ.” To make the book eminently useful for the parish pastor, Alexander outlines the ways Pentateuchal material is taken up and developed Christologically in the New Testament. For example, the blessing promised to Abram in Genesis 12:1-3 finds its Christological fulfillment in passages like Acts 3:25-26: “And you are heirs of the prophets and of the covenant God made with your fathers. He said to Abraham, ‘Through your offspring all peoples on earth will be blessed.’ When God

332 raised up his servant, he sent him first to you to bless you by turning each of you from your wicked ways.” Perhaps the most helpful discussion along these lines lies in the influence Exodus has had in John’s Gospel. For example, the first and last signs in both books have much in common. The judgment signs of water into blood and the death of the firstborn are replaced in John’s Gospel with signs of hope—water into wine and the raising from death of the firstborn. Again, in the fourth Gospel, John the Baptist describes Jesus as “the Lamb of God” (1:29, 36) and the crucifixion of Jesus occurs at the time of the Passover. Finally, the “I am” of Exodus 3:14 forms the major thrust for the “I am sayings” of Jesus in John. The chapters on Leviticus alone are worth the price of the book. For any parish pastor who dares teach the third book of the Pentateuch, Alexander’s insights are nuggets of gold. His discussions on the grades of holiness and uncleanness, on the sacrificial system, as well as on clean and unclean foods are usable and readily “downloadable” for adult Bible classes. And with New Testament connections sprinkled throughout the discussion, the busy parish pastor almost has his work done for him as he prepares to teach an often-neglected, but very important, book of the Pentateuch. If I may anticipate a question: “So why not simply read through my commentaries on the Pentateuch and avoid Alexander’s book?” Because, while most commentaries are helpful in explaining shorter units of material—verses and chapters—they tend by their very nature to atomize the text into small units. Consequently, they often fail to highlight themes that are spread across entire books, especially when such themes do not appear to be of particular importance in any single passage. Studying the Pentateuch by means of commentaries can be compared to looking at the separate pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. While we may find something of interest in each piece, it is only when all the pieces are put together that we get the complete picture. Alexander puts the puzzle together in ways that bring the larger picture of the Pentateuch into a sharp, Christ-centered focus. Reed Lessing

THE STRANGE NEW WORD OF THE GOSPEL: Re-Evangelizing in the Postmodern World. Edited by Carl E. Braaten and Robert W. Jenson. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002. 176 pages. Paper. $23.00.

This book consists of a collection of essays presented at conferences held in the fall of 2000 at Immanuel Lutheran Church, New York, and Evangelical Lutheran Church of St. Luke, Chicago, under a program title that eventually became the title of this publication. The words “strange” and “new” in the title are meant to describe not the actual character of the Gospel but, rather, how that Gospel sounds to a contemporary culture ignorant of and/or hostile to that Gospel. The word “re- evangelizing” in the subtitle is explained in the Preface: “Most unbelievers in America and other western countries...have been baptized and brought up in a church, but no longer believe and practice the faith. Hence, the need for re- evangelization” (viii). I wish the editors, Carl E. Braaten and Robert W. Jenson, had been immodest enough to lead off the collection with either of their outstanding contributions. Why they chose to begin the book with an essay discouraging the reader from completing the volume and perhaps impeding the marketability of this valuable book is a

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 333 mystery to me. I would suggest that the reader skip the first essay—unless he has a greater tolerance for abstraction and a higher capacity for translating alleged English than I have. But whether he skips or survives the opening essay, the reader will find the presentations that follow to be perceptive in their analysis of what we choose to call (anachronistically, I fear) “the postmodern world.” It is, according to Robert Jenson, “above all a credulous culture, a culture that in moral and religious matters lacks a compass,” resulting in “repristinated superstition” (22). Carl Braaten puts it this way: “In postmodernism we enter the swampland of religious pluralism and epistemological relativism, whereby one set of beliefs is as true as any other, and there is no way to adjudicate the difference” (166). Philip Turner claims that postmodern culture considers tolerance to be a greater virtue than zeal for the truth (82), a claim that R. R. Reno illustrates thus: “God forbid that anyone should formulate a reasoned argument; it might contradict or ‘marginalize’ the experience of others.... The truth and falsity of all claims depend upon one’s ‘perspective.’ Everyone must be affirmed; the views of all must be validated” (63). “We must ‘share’ rather than debate. We are trained to be non-judgmental” (68). Reno continues: “My students can look me in the eye and insist that one should never impose one’s beliefs on others and that all truth claims...are relative” (64). Reno describes this mind-set as Petronian (cynical) rather than Promethean (rebellious). Like the Roman Petronius, students are observers rather than participants. They mock and satirize. They describe veniality without judgment and vice without protest, creating an “atmosphere of superficiality that drains all spiritual significance from events” (67). Oh, the culture may call itself “spiritual,” but Jenson points out that this only means that people “like to read about various religious things and experiment with some of them” and “not that they practice any religion” (28). Borrowing a term from Robert Bellah, Todd Johnson calls this phenomenon “Sheilaism,” “the practice of a do-it-yourself spirituality...customizing religious practices to fit your understandings ‘of god, faith and truth’ ” (119). The preceding diagnosis is not always restricted to the contemporary secular culture; it often applies to the postmodern church as well. Frank Senn applies it specifically to the area of worship. Today “the focus of worship [has] shifted from God to humanity” (146). J. S. Bach’s motto that worship is done soli Deo gloria has surrendered to “the principle that everything done in worship must edify the congregation” (145). There was a time when “the concern was not so much the impact of liturgical orders and practices on the worshiper as the truth-value of those forms in the service of the true God” (146). But today “the purpose of worship [is] less to glorify God than to have an impact on the worshiper” (149). Anthony Ugolnik turns his diagnosis of contemporary consumerism to the modern church’s proclamation of Jesus. “Jesus answers personal questions. He does not save a people, rescue a nation, transform a culture. He becomes a tranquilizer for a soul besieged” (101). Carl Braaten directs his diagnosis to the area of doctrine. For what he calls “McChurch Americana” (172), there “is no future for an ecumenical missiology that would try to accommodate the heresies of Protestant liberals and so called Catholic progressives” (169-170). “The sad truth is that many of the theological best sellers are filled with heresy” (173). Then he turns to the scandalous disunity of the church today: “How can the gospel be true if its promise to reconcile the world unto God does not visibly reconcile believing communities with one another?” (170).

334 The cures the essayists propose for the maladies of contemporary secular and spiritual culture are simultaneously provocative and traditional. Modern evangelization efforts cannot bow and scrape to the current culture, Robert Jenson insists (29). R. R. Reno agrees: “The gospel of redemption will be an offense, no matter how carefully modulated.... Therefore, evangelism has no reason to hide the hard demands of the gospel” (70). Philip Turner believes that re-evangelization “involves something more akin to a confrontation between contending forces than it does a conversation between people who basically agree but must clear up a few misunderstandings and confusions” (74). Turner reminds us that we need “to re- unite those two long-lost siblings—theology and ethics—in a common witness to something quite contrary to postmodernism, namely, truth” (76). Spelling out a thesis encapsulated already in the title to his essay, “The Powerlessness of Talking Heads,” Turner insists that mission prospects must first be attracted by our actions before they will listen to our words (84). Interestingly, Anthony Ugolnik urges the seminaries of the church to become more involved in the arts because it is one of the few ways remaining by which we can communicate with postmodern society (113, 116). Todd Johnson comes up with a surprising inversion: that even as patriotism follows (rather than precedes) the pledge of allegiance, and even as the significance of good child behavior becomes clear after the practice of that behavior, so Christian faith follows prayer and liturgy (120, 130-131)—an inversion that Frank Senn applies in an expanded way to worship. Rather than fret about the impact the liturgy has on today’s worshipers, we should concern ourselves with what kind of god they are encountering in their worship. “We should not be deconstructing the liturgical orders...to accommodate the cultural expressions of the secular worldview; rather, through...ritual engagement we should be deconstructing the secular worldview within the seeker, who must ‘turn from idols to serve the living and true God’ ” (153). “Belief is not required as the first step in public worship; but performing the liturgical rite is the first step toward belief” (151). In his brilliant closing essay, Carl Braaten reminds modern evangelization movements that they cannot deny the exclusivity of salvation through Christ without contradicting “the acts of the apostles” and deflating “the entire missionary movement” (173). Since this book consists of presentations made by scholars to scholars, it risks being “caviary to the general [reader].” But I consider it a “must-read” for every preacher and missiologist. Francis C. Rossow

INTERPRETING THE OLD TESTAMENT: A Guide for Exegesis. Edited by Craig C. Broyles. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2001. 272 pages. Paper. $19.99.

Biblical criticism has experienced dramatic shifts over the past decades— from “author”-centered approaches (e.g., source criticism), to the “text” (e.g., narrative criticism), and to the “reader” (e.g., feminist criticism). Criticism has also been influenced by a “hermeneutic of doubt” that tends to reject a whole, harmonious text for competing traditions and ideologies. This is seen in the fracturing hands of multiple redactors in source and tradition-history criticism as well as in the particular perspectives of reader criticisms. In this context, the book has two purposes. First, it seeks to introduce the major facets of Old Testament (hereafter OT) interpretation so that “our faith [can] reflect the depth and breadth of the Bible itself” (8). Second, it hopes to

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 335 present exegesis from the stance of faith so that it “unfolds the revealed love of God” and allows the reader to “listen to the voice of God” (7, 9). The book’s methodology reflects its purposes. There are nine chapters covering broad areas of interpretation, each written by a respected, evangelical scholar. Each chapter introduces the basic aspects and history of the given criticism, outlines a methodology, and includes applications of the criticism to Biblical texts. There are ample footnotes with extended primary bibliography for further reading. The first chapter, written by C. Broyles, establishes the Biblical text as divine and human. God’s Word is both “God-breathed” (2 Tim. 3:16), or inspired, and “incarnate” through “human language, literature, history, and culture” (14, 17). Because of this, the reader should bracket one’s presuppositions, use the critical tools of scholarship, and approach the text with faith. Broyles also introduces the many aspects of Biblical interpretation: delimiting a passage, translation and textual criticism, prayerful meditation, literary analysis, grammatical and lexical analysis, contextual analysis, compositional history, theological implications and application, and examination of secondary literature. This previews the rest of the book. The second chapter, written by D. Baker, looks at the language and text of the Old Testament. Because there are no original copies of the OT, and because the OT text had been hand-copied for centuries, today’s extant texts contain unintentional and intentional scribal errors. Thus the translator needs to establish what the “original” text said before moving on to what it means (67). To this end, Baker surveys the text-critical apparatus, Masoretic notes, and accents in Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia. He also notes that the shorter (lectio brevior) or harder reading (lectio difficilior) is generally the preferred original reading. Finally, he discusses the two main options in translation: literal and dynamic equivalence. In chapter 3, V. P. Long posits the need to engage in literary analysis because the Bible is preserved in literary forms. In fact, he says “that unless one gives the Bible an appropriate literary reading, one may misperceive its historical and theological import” (88). This places certain responsibilities upon the reader, who, in order to interpret best, needs to have literary and linguistic competence, and needs to show “cooperation” by understanding the text on its own terms (90-92). Finally, Long looks at the general characteristics of Hebrew narrative and poetry. Narrative is scenic, subtle, and succinct. It includes such features as characters, dialogues, desires, plot, the narrator, and narrated time. Poetry is characterized by terseness of expression, parallelism, imagery, and similar sounds. In chapter 4, J. Bimson looks at how archaeology and socio-anthropology can illumine the Bible. He begins with the decline of Biblical history as seen through the Bible and aided by archaeology. In its place, socio-anthropology and archaeology have wed. Here the Bible is a controverted source, with “maximalists” relying on its history of Israel and Judah and “minimalists” rejecting it as a largely exilic fiction (131-132). The latter position rests on skepticism and the notion that historiography, which uses critical evaluations and descriptions of the past, is contrary to fictional, ideological prose. Bimson has three reactions. First, “history” and “story” are not contradictory since “genuine historiography” contains “tendentious ideology, divine intervention, and sophisticated literary techniques” (137). Second, one needs to be aware of Ancient Near Eastern (ANE) literature when reading the OT. For instance, the problem with finding the “destructions” of Joshua 1-12 might rest with hyperbolic language, which is common in ANE conquest accounts (142). Third, one needs to be careful with archaeological data. No evidence

336 exists for Ai’s destruction, a fact that is contrary to Joshua, but the site may have been misidentified or the evidence misinterpreted (139). Finally, sociological models can help explain certain events and institutions in the Bible. Still, one needs to make sure that models organize and clarify data rather than create it (146). In chapter 5, C. Broyles examines three literary contexts in exegesis. Traditions are “constellations of motifs that center on notable persons, events, places, institutions, symbols, or rituals” (159). After identifying traditions in a text, the reader looks to other texts, Biblical or ANE, that address the same traditions in order to gain a better understanding of what is being communicated. Intertextuality, or “inner-Biblical exegesis,” listens for quotations, allusions, or echoes from other Biblical passages. These literary connections provide a larger context from which to interpret. Finally, the canon permits all related Biblical texts to be interpretive contexts. Even if the Biblical writers did not know about or intend to comment on other Biblical texts, the canon connects all texts under the “one Voice in Scripture” rubric (171). Chapter 6, written by E. Martens, addresses the place of the “history of Israelite religion” and Biblical theology in exegesis. The history of Israelite religion charts the diachronic religious life of Israel, both officially and popularly. Biblical theology takes a synthetic approach and presents “the essential theological structure of Israel’s belief” (179). Both can illumine a text by situating it in a temporal religious context and assessing it in light of normative beliefs. Chapter 7, written by R. Hess, looks at ANE texts as an interpretive context. Since many types of Biblical literature (e.g., law, wisdom, covenant, poetry, prophecy, etc.) are similar to ANE texts, the reader should use ANE literature as a context for comparison or contrast in understanding the Bible. Hess provides some general principles for interpretation: make sure there is something to compare or contrast, use material that is appropriate to the type of Biblical literature being studied, and acquaint oneself with ANE scholarship. To this end, he surveys books, reference works, and journals that introduce the reader to ANE literature. In chapter 8, P. Hughes examines scholarly theories about the Bible’s composition history and how certain processes may enlighten the meaning of the Biblical text in its diachronic and final forms. He surveys the presuppositions, methodology, history, and applications of source, form, and redaction criticism. Finally, J. Wilson discusses the interplay of theology and exegesis. After lamenting that many theologians have forgotten about Scripture and merely talk to and about one another, he outlines four approaches to theology (246). The “cognitive-propositional” approach identifies the essential Christian beliefs and puts them in a logical and relational order (249). The “experiential-expressivist” approach sees doctrine as an expression of experience (251). Third, G. Lindbeck attempts to avoid the former’s disconnection with life and the latter’s dispensing with Scripture. Instead, he proposes a “cultural-linguistic” approach, where theology initiates people into the faith community and teaches them the language of that faith community so that they know how to interpret their lives (252-253). In light of this, Wilson proposes his own “imaginative-practical” model, where narrative directs theology so that believers see God and the world through the Bible (254). He rejects the “what it meant-what it means” model, where Biblical scholars say what the Bible meant and theologians distill this to its normative meanings. Instead, he proposes a “this is that” model, which includes group effort and application. Biblical scholars re-create the world and meaning of the OT by using

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 337 their knowledge and (normative) theology so that theologians can learn and apply “that” to “this” similar situation today (256, 259). This book has many strong points. It presents the three dimensions of interpretation (author, text, and reader), which every interpreter needs to be aware of in order to improve his/her competence in and cooperation with the Biblical text. It reaches beyond the normal bounds of context to discuss theology’s relationship to exegesis. Each chapter is cogently presented so that the reader gains a basic understanding of each interpretive task. Frequent applications ensure that the book is informative and practical. Bibliographies in the footnotes give constant direction to the reader who desires more information. Lastly, the reader is guided by informed scholars who believe that the Bible is God’s divine Word in a human medium. The book also has some weak spots. Occasionally one looks for more methodological discussion. Admittedly, the book is not “preoccupied with methodology” (8). Still, someone reading about textual criticism for the first time would benefit from an introduction to the basic types of scribal error (e.g., dittography, glossing etc.). The reader might also benefit from a more clearly identified “original” target text. Is this the original composition, final text, final texts, earliest attested text, or accepted texts? Second, the book does not fully consider every genre. Prophetic texts are often discussed, but the book does not fully introduce prophetic rhetorical criticism, forms of prophetic speech, or sociological approaches to prophecy. The same holds for wisdom and apocalyptic literature. Finally, the New Testament (hereafter NT) deserves more coverage as an interpretive context. Certainly the OT interpreter “must narrow [his/her] horizons from Christian theology and the NT [in order to see] how a contemporary Biblical audience would have understood a passage” (40). Still, from a Christian perspective, one cannot fully understand the meaning or significance of the OT apart from the NT. One could even say that the NT is the primary context for interpreting the typology and theology of the OT. For instance, Samson is a scandalous judge for some modern interpreters. He was unruly, held grudges, and was violent. But one sees Samson more clearly when his life is compared with Christ’s. Samson’s birth was annunciated by the Angel of the Lord; he was miraculously born by God’s power; his life was dedicated to God’s service; God’s Spirit was upon him; God used him to deliver Israel; he performed miraculous feats, was betrayed by a close companion and handed over for money, and was imprisoned; people demanded that he perform more miraculous feats; he prayed to God before dying, and he died with both hands outstretched in a final act of deliverance (Judg. 13-16). After comparing this with Christ’s life in the NT, one sees that Samson is more than a scandalous judge. Samson is a type of Christ. His temporal deliverance of Israel foreshadows Christ’s eternal deliverance of “Israel” (Rom. 9:6-8). In sum, the book’s many fine features far outweigh its weaknesses. This book will be useful and fruitful for the reader who is entering the world of OT interpretation for the first time. Scott A. Ashmon Cincinatti, OH

338 NOT A TAME GOD: Christ in the Writings of C. S. Lewis. By Steven P. Mueller. St. Louis: Concordia, 2002. 208 pages. Paper. $18.99.

Some years ago when I was enrolled in graduate work at a public university, one of my professors remarked parenthetically in his lecture that he couldn’t stomach the writings of C. S. Lewis. When I asked him after class the reason for his distaste, he replied that Lewis was “too doctrinally conservative.” I breathed a sigh of relief. What he regarded as a flaw in Lewis, I viewed as a tribute to the author. But for all the books written about Lewis since then, very few have systematically or thoroughly examined Lewis’s orthodoxy. That aspect of his writing, it is true, has been occasionally denounced in our pluralistic and relativistic society and frequently applauded by mainline Christian churches, but in either case Lewis’s trait of orthodoxy has usually been assumed. Seldom has it been specifically and exhaustively scrutinized. That’s why Steven Mueller’s recent publication, Not a Tame God, is so welcome. It fills a serious gap in C. S. Lewis scholarship. As the subtitle to his book, Christ in the Writings of C. S. Lewis, clarifies, Dr. Mueller restricts his investigation of Lewis to the area of Christology (the person and work of Christ). But since Christology impacts on nearly every other doctrine of the Christian religion, Mueller’s focus is not so narrow as it sounds. An outstanding feature of Mueller’s book is its methodology. First, the author examines the Christology of Lewis’s works one book at a time. Then, in chapter 13, Mueller reviews the Christology of the three ecumenical Christian creeds and cites passages from the Lewis canon that support—or fail to support—creedal doctrine. The second approach allows the reader to review, organize, and summarize the Christology of Lewis that he has considered in a more random way in the prior chapters. As a matter of fact, should the reader wish for a quick overview of Lewis’s Christology, he could begin with chapter 13. The only trouble is, he would miss all the delightful materials, chock-full of insights, that Mueller provides in the prior chapters. The reassuring outcome of Mueller’s examination is the discovery of a high degree of compatibility between Lewis’s Christology and creedal doctrine. The widespread assumption of Lewis’s doctrinal orthodoxy is not wishful thinking; there is considerable evidence to support it. “The Christ presented in both fictional and nonfictional contexts is largely consistent with historic orthodoxy” (178-179). In my opinion, an evaluator of a writer’s orthodoxy must not only be committed to orthodoxy himself and knowledgeable enough to detect false doctrine but must also be sufficiently sanctified not to revel in such detection and not be anything less than pained when he finds false doctrine. Steven Mueller satisfies these expectations. Both his doctorate from Durham University and his extensive teaching experience in theology at Concordia University Irvine promise considerable sophistication in his capacity to understand and evaluate Christian doctrine. It is obvious from his previous articles on Lewis, as well as from this new publication, that he is fond of Lewis and grateful for his theological contributions. Yet Mueller’s love for Lewis is not blind. He points out, for example, imprecision and ambiguity in Lewis’s consideration of the two natures of Christ and the communication of attributes (171 and 185). He recognizes Lewis’s flirtation with modalism in his descriptions of the Trinity (185-187). Lewis’s “teachings of purgatory and prayer for the dead are not held by all Christians,” Mueller reminds us (197).

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 339 The author talks briefly about Lewis’s misunderstanding of Christ’s descent into hell (174-175) and repeatedly about Lewis’s difficulty, not with Christ’s atonement, but with the Anselmic explanation of that atonement (e.g., 20-21, 162, 179-183). But Dr. Mueller always puts Lewis’s doctrinal errors, be they actual or potential, into proper perspective. He reminds us of the vast disproportion between the fewness of Lewis’s errors and the multitude of Scriptural truths that Lewis upholds and expounds. Lewis “presented orthodox Christianity in new, translated forms to better reach the modern reader. This work was quite successful. Through Lewis’s writings, many people considered...the teachings of Christianity. To this day, his writings continue...to present essential, mere Christianity.... His discussions may involve interesting applications of theology, but his conclusions generally reflect classic, biblical orthodoxy” (191). Mueller concedes that some of Lewis’s imprecisions may be the inevitable outcome of human attempts to explain difficult Christian doctrines, however well-intended and helpful those attempts may be. Although Lewis’s explanations of the two natures of Christ, for example, may tempt the reader to the erroneous concept “of the human and divine natures being amalgamated together,” Mueller adds that “the desire to show the union of the two natures is evident” (171). “His explicit goal,” Mueller continues, “was to restate orthodox teaching in a fresh manner.... Moreover, much of his doctrinal thought is expressed in myth and narrative. It is difficult to exercise the precision necessary in theology within these genres...” (183). The foregoing citation further demonstrates Mueller’s awareness that many of Lewis’s writings deliberately set out to uphold orthodox Christian truth. The prefaces of both The Screwtape Letters and The Great Divorce are cases in point. In each of them Lewis states his intent to combat specific contemporary heresies. And who can forget Lewis’s biting portrait of a liberal clergyman in the early pages of The Great Divorce? In Mueller’s words, “Lewis had no desire to be theologically innovative” (165); “he clearly wanted to remain within the bounds of orthodoxy”(165). Moreover, the author reminds us, Lewis was a layman, painfully aware of his theological limitations. He was always willing to learn from his betters. “Lewis was willing to concede his ignorance if the majority of theologians were against him. If he was in error, Lewis was willing to admit his mistakes and seek correction” (183). Frequently, Mueller insists, Lewis would remind his readers, should any of his creative explanations of Christian doctrines fail to be helpful, to return to the “language and content of the creeds” (178). Occasionally, Professor Mueller even successfully clears Lewis of specific heresies of which he has been accused, such as the charge that Lewis teaches a limited atonement in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe when he depicts Aslan as dying for the offense of only one person, Edmund. If that “were the only book written, it might appear that Aslan died only for Edmund. In the context of all seven books, however, the benefits of Aslan’s death are applied to others” (115). Finally, Mueller’s criticisms of Lewis’s occasional imprecise doctrinal formulations are continually characterized by putting the best construction on what Lewis attempted. An example: “If [Lewis’s] depiction of the Trinity is imprecise, it is nevertheless Christocentric” (69). Steven Mueller ends his book with a tribute to the enduring legacy of C. S. Lewis. I not only commend the author for finishing his evaluation of Lewis on a positive note but also join him in expressing my gratitude to Lewis for his contribution to my personal spiritual formation. Unquestionably, Lewis has been occasionally guilty of doctrinal imprecision, ambiguity, and even error. What is to be our response? Recognize his errors? To be sure. Regret their presence? Of course.

340 Guard against them ourselves? By all means. But discredit Lewis and reject his writings as tools for our personal devotional life and our Christian witness? Never! At worst, Lewis’s doctrinal errors are a mere needle in a haystack of Christian truths—truths vigorously defended and brilliantly explicated. Besides, there are false doctrines—and then there are false doctrines. Dare I say it?—There are degrees of false doctrine. There are those of intention, and there are those of accident. There are false doctrines arising from a desire to explain away, and there are false doctrines arising from a desire to explain. There are false doctrines that stem from a desire to negate truth, and there are those that happen in an effort to advance truth. There are those that are products of arrogance, and there are those that result from human limitations. Of course, we are to eschew, with God’s help, both kinds of false doctrine. But as I see it, Lewis’s few errors always fit into one or the other of the second categories in the pairings listed above. In the bodily resurrection of the dead on the Last Day (incidentally, a Christian doctrine Lewis unabashedly subscribed to), I hope to meet this great man of God and shake his hand in thanks for what our Lord has done through him for my own spiritual pilgrimage. Francis C. Rossow

CASIODORO DE REINA: Patriarca del Protestantismo Hispano. By Raymond S. Rosales. St. Louis: Concordia Seminary Publications—Monograph Series— Number 5, 2002. 256 pages. Paper. $16.95.

The newly released book Casiodoro de Reina: Patriarca del Protestantismo Hispano, the first ever to be completely published in the Spanish language by CSP, fills a void in Hispanic literature by acquainting the Hispanic church not only with the life of the first person to translate the entire Bible from the original languages into Spanish but also with the suffering and persecution that went along with that translation, the Reina-Valera, which after four centuries is the Bible that remains the most commonly used among Spanish-speaking, non-Roman Christians today. The book contains new material in the appendices: the translation of Reina’s Confession of Faith, his Preface to the Bible, and An Exposition to the First Part of Matthew, Chapter 4. The book is divided into three sections: The Times, The Plot, and The Tradition. It also includes illustrations, maps, drawings, a chronology, and an index. The author introduces Casiodoro de Reina in the Monastery of San Isidoro in Seville at the height of the Inquisition in Europe and at the dawn of Protestantism in sixteenth-century Spain. Although two chapters speak of the Inquisition, the book is mainly about a monk of the Hieronymite order who opted to stand firm on what God commands and promises in His Word rather than save himself from the furnace of the Inquisition court by submitting to the decrees of the Pope. Luther, Erasmus, Calvin, and other European reformers had produced writings and documents in the vernacular language based on the Holy Scriptures. Some of these writings had been smuggled into Spain and translated into Spanish. Reina, along with other fellow believers, had read, preached, and taught them to the San Isidoro monks and elsewhere. Consequently, there were threats, prohibitions, confiscations, tortures, and burnings at the stake executed by the powerful papal and Spanish Inquisitions. By the late 1550s, Reina probably had already begun the translation of the Bible. The book narrates Reina’s flight for his life from the

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 341 Monastery of San Isidoro with a group of monks; his abandonment of Roman Catholicism in Spain; his attempts to be accepted by the Calvinist church in Switzerland, England, and Germany; and his final acceptance by the Lutheran church as assistant pastor of an immigrant church in Frankfurt, Germany. Reina’s translation of the Bible into Spanish was published in Basel, Switzerland, in 1569. Because the Inquisition had listed it as a prohibited book, Reina attempted to smuggle it into Spain by omitting his name on the cover and using instead the vignette belonging to an unknown printer: that of a bear reaching for honey inside a tree hole and surrounded by bees. Thus Reina’s Bible translation has become known as La Biblia del Oso (The Bible of the Bear). At times it is difficult to follow the chronology of the story as Rosales jumps back and forth from one period to another. It seems, however, that his purpose in doing so is not to confuse the reader but to highlight events. The reader will also find some events repeated. Reina was clear about his purpose for the publication of his translation of the Bible into the Spanish language: the evangelization of the Hispanic world—“The Lord knows that, what we pretend to do [in translating] the Bible, is for no other reason than the propagation of the knowledge of Him and for the comfort of His Church” (178). The people of Spain had not been given the Bible of the church. Like Luther, Reina believed that the Bible was one of the means used by the Holy Spirit to create faith and that it must be read, learned, and taught. Casiodoro de Reina is a book that encourages Hispanic-ministry pastors who find themselves in difficult circumstances similar to those of Reina. By narrating Reina’s life and work, Rosales hopes that Hispanic Protestants throughout the world will be inspired and feel proud of their heritage in being associated with such a patriarch of faith. R. Domínguez Melrose Park, IL

CASIODORO DE REINA: Patriarca del Protestantismo Hispano. Por Raymond S. Rosales. San Luis, Misurí, EEUU: Publicaciones del Seminario Concordia, 2002, 256 páginas. Cubierta semi-dura. Precio $16.95 dólares americanos.

El libro recién publicado por Publicaciones del Seminario Concordia de San Luis, Misurí, en los Estados Unidos intitulado Casiodoro de Reina: Patriarca del Protestantismo Hispano, llena un vacío en la literatura evangélica hispana. Revela a la Iglesia Hispana tanto la vida del primer traductor de la Biblia entera como la persecución de la que la Biblia fue objeto aún antes que saliera de la imprenta. Esta traducción de la Biblia, la cual fue hecha de los idiomas originales, el hebreo y el griego, después de cuatro siglos se conoce hoy como la versión Reina-Valera, la cual por cierto sigue siendo la más usada entre los hispanoparlantes evangélicos. El libro contiene tres apéndices que son escritos originales de Reina: La Confesión de Fe, su Prefacio a la Biblia del Oso, y la Exposición sobre la primera parte del capítulo cuatro de San Mateo. El libro está dividido en tres secciones: El Tiempo, La Trama, y La Tradición. Además contiene varias ilustraciones, mapas, dibujos, una cronología, y un índice. El autor introduce al traductor Reina en su estancia en el Monasterio de San Isidoro del Campo, cercano a Sevilla en el Siglo XVI, durante los años de la Inquisición española y en el amanecer del protestantismo en España. Aunque dos

342 capítulos tratan de la Inquisición, el libro cuenta sobre un monje de la orden monástica de San Jerónimo que optó por seguir firme en los mandatos y promesas de Jesucristo y en la Palabra de Dios que salvarse de las terribles condenas de los tribunales de la Inquisición si se sometía a los decretos del papa. Lutero, Erasmo, Calvino y otros reformadores habían producido escritos y documentos en el vernáculo, la mayoría basados en las Sagradas Escrituras. Estos escritos eran considerados como contrabando por las autoridades y la Iglesia en España. Sin embargo, secretamente fueron traducidos al castellano por unos evangélicos españoles que previamente los habían leído y estudiado en latín, francés o alemán. Los evangélicos españoles, incluyendo Reina, predicaron y enseñaron las mismas doctrinas de los reformadores a los demás monjes del Monasterio, y por fuera a otros fieles. Como consecuencia, recibieron amenazas, prohibiciones, confiscaciones, torturas, y el castigo máximo—la muerte en la hoguera—ejecutado por la poderosa Inquisición sancionada por el papa y los reyes españoles. Probablemente Reina, en este ambiente de confusión provocada por la carencia de la propia distinción y separación de Iglesia y Estado, comenzó a traducir la Biblia hacia fines de la década de 1550. El libro de Rosales narra la huída de Reina y un grupo de monjes del Monasterio, demostrando con ella su abandono del catolicismo romano, y describe los deseos de Reina de ser aceptado por la iglesia calvinista en Suiza, Inglaterra y Alemania. El relato sobre Reina culmina con su aceptación en la iglesia luterana como pastor asistente de una iglesia de inmigrantes en Francfort, Alemania. La traducción de la Biblia de Reina se publicó en Basilea, Suiza, en 1569. Como la Inquisición ya la había incluído en su índice de libros prohibidos, Reina, en lugar de poner su nombre en la portada de la Biblia, usó la viñeta de otro impresor: un oso extrayendo miel del hoyo de un árbol y rodeado de abejas. Así, la Biblia de Reina ha llegado a llamarse la Bibla del Oso. En algunas secciones del libro se torna dificultoso seguir la cronología de Reina, ya que Rosales salta de un período a otro, o a un tiempo pasado o a un tiempo en el futuro. Sin embargo, lo hace, no para confundir, sino para enseñar e ilustrar eventos importantes. Por eso el lector se topará con ciertas repeticiones de algunos eventos. Reina fue muy claro al dar a conocer su propósito de traducir la Biblia al castellano: “El [Señor] sabe q lo q en [la traducción] prendemos y auemos pretendido hasta aora no es otra cosa q la propagación desu conocimiento y el consuelo desu Iglesia (pág. 178). Los españoles no habían recibido la Biblia por parte de la Iglesia. Como Lutero, Reina creía que la Biblia era uno de los medios que el Espíritu Santo usa para crear la fe. Reina consecuentemente sostenía que la Escritura debe de ser leída, conocida y enseñada. Casiodoro de Reina anima a los pastores que se encuentran en ministerios difíciles y en circunstancias similares a los del pastor Reina. Al narrar la vida y trabajo de Reina, Rosales espera que los protestantes hispanos de todo el mundo sean inspirados por el mensaje de la Biblia del Oso, y estén agradecidos a Dios por su asociación con tal patriarca de la fe como en efecto lo fue Casiodoro de Reina. R. Domínguez Melrose Park, IL

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 343 THE COMPANY OF PREACHERS: Wisdom on Preaching. Augustine to the Present. By Richard Lischer (ed.). Grand Rapids/Cambridge: Eerdmans, 2002. 478 pages. Paper. $29.00.

The Company of Preachers is a tour de force of scholarship: nearly five hundred pages of excerpts from the writings of over fifty homileticians (from Augustine to the present). It is hard to envision the massive amount of reading the editor did just to expedite the selection of excerpts appropriate to his purpose. That purpose, as I understand it, is to present a sort of evolution of preaching theory and practice in order to expand the reader’s theological understanding of preaching. Besides, Dr. Lischer has organized these excerpts under seven headings: (1) What Is Preaching?, (2) The Preacher, (3) Proclaiming the Word, (4) Biblical Interpretation, (5) Rhetoric, (6) The Hearer, and (7) Preaching and the Church. True, the categories are not mutually exclusive, and parallelism in their wording may have improved their appeal. But, it is obvious that the categories cover the homiletical waterfront. The editor prefaces each of the fifty-plus selections with a (usually) helpful introduction. “Editor” is too modest a description for the service Dr. Lischer has rendered the contemporary reader. His contributions almost compel the reviewer to gratitude rather than critique. If criticism is warranted, I suppose the authors of the various excerpts are the more appropriate targets. And, I would guess, that’s the idea; Lischer intends that we evaluate their contributions. Lischer has selected people who in the course of history have had an impact on preaching, be that impact positive or negative. For better or worse, like it or not, we are compelled to acknowledge their influence. I, for one, take issue with the extremists of liberation theology and feminism. Nevertheless, their impact on homiletics must be recognized. In a few instances I found considerable disproportion between the generally accepted significance of certain contributors and their ability to communicate. But that is hardly a surprising discovery to anyone who has lived long enough in this world to realize that not every reputation is proportionate to actual skill or merit. Mediocrity sometimes reigns in high places. But most of the excerpts are delightful—and helpful. My copy of the book bleeds with passages I underlined in red to facilitate memory and review. I found the selections from Augustine, John Chrysostom, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Barbara Brown Taylor, H. H. Farmer, and Richard B. Hays particularly stimulating. To illustrate, “Where has Hays been all my life?” I asked after exposure to his contribution. One of Augustine’s criteria for distinguishing figurative from literal language (based on the ethical quality of what the language describes or enjoins! [176]), his defense of eloquence (Why surrender that tool to the exclusive use of errorists? [278]), and his curious defense of plagiarism (permissible if done by a good man for a good purpose [291]) provide provocative reading. Unforgettable is Hays’s coinage to describe the hostile approach of many scholars to the Biblical texts as “a hermeneutic of suspicion” (266). Equally memorable is the Lone Ranger/ Tonto relationship used by Justo and Catherine Gonzales as a way of describing those interpreters who exploit Scripture to foster their own image and status at the expense of cultures and minorities equally deserving but lesser in rank and stature (250-251). How about this insight from H. H. Farmer: “Dare we speculate that God gave us no lids for our ears as he did for our eyes, precisely that we might always be open to one another and to the word?” (146).

344 The editor was too modest. He omitted any excerpt from his own extensive writings, even though he is generally included among the influential homileticians of our time. Likewise surprising were the omissions of selections from Elizabeth Achtemeier and Richard Caemmerer. How much impact the latter has had on the church-at-large, I don’t know. But I am very much aware of the benign and lasting impact that Caemmerer’s goal-malady-means theory and technique of preaching has had on the clergy of Lutheran churches. I, for one, would have appreciated more synthesis of the numerous theories advanced and ideas expressed in the excerpts Lischer selected, also more generalizations by the editor in his portrait of the evolution of homiletics than his brief preface provides. Too much is left to reader inference—and that may have been precisely Lischer’s strategy. (Once again we’re right back to the issue of whether deductive or inductive approaches are more effective in communication!) Lischer candidly admits in his preface that he is merely attempting “to maintain a conversation between the positions represented in the various selections” (xi). I would have benefited from a wrap-up or summary of that “conversation.” But what a delightful and instructive “conversation” it is—definitely worth your “hearing.” Francis C. Rossow

INTRODUCING THE NEW TESTAMENT: Its Literature and Theology. By Paul J. Achtemeier, Joel B. Green, and Marianne Meye Thompson. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001. 624 pages. Cloth. $35.00.

Achtemeier, professor emeritus at Union Theological Seminary in Virginia; Green, professor and dean at Asbury Theological Seminary in Kentucky; and Thompson, professor at Fuller Theological Seminary in California, lucidly introduce students to scholarly study of the New Testament (hereafter NT) and provide a scholarly review for more mature theologians. The book avoids prolonged, detailed analysis of most historical-critical issues and does not engage in direct debate with other scholars. The goal is simply to help people read the NT with more understanding of its theological, historical, and literary background and meaning. Although not denying the importance of literary and historical study, the writers state that “the primary importance of the NT lies neither in the historical information it provides nor in its literary and stylistic artistry but rather in its function within the church as Scripture, as those writings that uniquely and ultimately guide, nourish, and shape our faith and life with God” (12). The previous remarks are not intended to suggest that the authors lack familiarity with critical issues. The brief reviews of scholarly issues are usually satisfactory, even though more skeptical at times than this reviewer thinks reasonable. Although the book has no comprehensive bibliography, each section ends with an excellent choice of selected references in “For Further Reading.” I was disappointed that Louis Brighton’s Concordia Commentary: Revelation (St. Louis: Concordia, 1999) was not listed, but perhaps publication deadlines precluded inclusion. The book has eleven maps, few footnotes; but numerous charts, black and white pictures, and historical citations as well as an index of “Names and Subjects.” There is no index of Biblical citations. The historical citations are especially meaningful, and they range from citations from rabbinic, Roman, and Greek literature to information about how papyrus was made into paper and even an example, in English

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 345 translation, of how the Greek manuscripts would appear without space between words. For theologians living in an age of postmodern skepticism, surprisingly thought-provoking was the note “Science and the Gospels” (58). The authors describe ever so briefly how Newtonian physics was well suited for a “closed universe” that eliminated the possibility of the miraculous (despite Newton’s own lifelong search for God). Such scientific thinking provided the rationale for the quest for the historical Jesus in the past; and, as we know too well, denial of the miraculous continues to influence the “Jesus Seminar” today. The authors suggest that Quantum and chaos theories can serve as “new horizons in science [that] fund the proposal of divine agency within the cosmos” (ibid.). The book begins with a careful and excellent analysis of the impact of the ancient world on a proper reading of the NT. Although the authors recognize that the Biblical documents are influenced by Greek, Roman, and Jewish cultures, they state that the world of the NT must be read from the perspective of Jewish history (20). In doing so they reject as a false dichotomy the debate of interpreting early Christianity within a Hellenistic or Jewish background. They note that the very language of the NT demonstrates how thoroughly Hellenistic culture had permeated Judaism. The authors also demonstrate the danger of contemporary readers misunderstanding the NT since they begin with assumptions of individualism while the NT documents are rooted in cultures of community and organization (41). The body of the book uses a rather traditional introductory format following the now standard NT order, with the exception that Philemon is examined with Colossians and Jude is included with 1 and 2 Peter. The book ends with a brief sketch of the canonization process. It is impossible in a short review to cite all the praiseworthy information shared, and it would distort the impact of the book if only points of disagreement were noted. It is fair and possible to focus on Romans, assuming it to be of special interest for readers in a scholarly Lutheran journal. Interestingly, the authors suggest that “Romans may...be the last letter we have from the apostle Paul” (301). They think that the theme of the book is probably not Romans 1:17. Rather, the theme is expressed in Romans 1:2-5 and 1:14-16, which “indicate together that the universal availability of divine salvation...is the theme of the letter” (308). “Righteousness through trust” is not the theme of Romans but “rather a statement of the means by which the Gospel of God’s mercy is made available to Gentiles as well as Jews” (ibid.). The importance of the scholarly opinion is clear when the authors explain that Romans 9-11 is not an aside but rather an integral part of the letter. The three chapters are the concluding exposition of the Gospel (321). The remainder of the letter discusses “how trust in God and in Jesus Christ finds expression in the structures of life” (ibid.). Unfortunately, the authors do not do justice to introducing the importance of the concluding chapters. I think that this introduction can serve as a good text for an introductory class or as a good contemporary review for busy pastors. It is a fine compilation of old and new ideas. This reviewer and others will disagree with some positions on the basis of presuppositions, research, experience, reason, and faith. Yet the information, opinions, and format of this book make it a helpful tool in NT study. I do consider it unfortunate that there is little reference to early Christian writers’ opinions on authorship and dates. In classroom and congregational Bible class, I have found people interested in the patristic information gathered in Synopsis Quattuor Evangeliorum and often noted in other introductions. Lack of such information in the body of the book also weakens the concluding section on canonicity.

346 Unfortunately, a few annoying oversights escaped the editing process. For example, the port of Cenchreae was correctly located seven miles east of Corinth on page 306, but on page 327 it was placed seven miles west of Corinth as a port on the Adriatic Sea! The citation for Paul’s aid from Philippi while serving in Thessalonica should be Philippians 4:15-16, not 2:15-16 (428). To note only one more faux pas, the outline on page 339 correctly notes that Paul deals with Chloe’s issues in the first six chapters of 1 Corinthians, not the first seven chapters as stated on page 334. In summary, the book escapes a common introductory dilemma of too much or too little. Some introductory texts are so extensive that readers are tempted not to read the primary NT documents. Other introductions are so sketchy that they provide inadequate background information. Achtemeier, Green, and Thompson’s book gives adequate information but should whet the appetite for the vital task of reading the New Testament itself. For example, who would not be encouraged to study carefully the Corinthian correspondence after reading the following: “In many ways, the city of Corinth Paul knew was closer to a modern American city than any other ancient city” (329)? Such similarities include the “upward social mobility conferred by large amounts of money, the large athletic spectacles, the love of parties, the loosening of sexual limits, the desire to be as inclusive as possible in religious beliefs and practices, the desire to include social customs from secular life into the Christian communities...” (ibid.). Robert Holst St. Paul, MN

PENITENCE, PREACHING AND THE COMING OF THE REFORMATION. By Anne T. Thayer. Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing Co., 2002. xiv+226 pages. Cloth. $89.95.

It is the rare preacher who does not have a few books of sermons in his library. We use these works in a variety of ways with an equal variety of justifications. We may search them for an apt illustration or a sound way to explain a difficult theological point. And, regrettably, there is the preacher who takes another’s work into the pulpit and presents it as his own. Sermon collections have been around for at least a millennium and a half, and they seem always to have been used by preachers as preachers tend to use them today. Dr. Thayer examines those collections in use throughout Europe immediately prior to the Reformation, and she arrives at some important, valuable conclusions. Those conclusions and her meticulous research make her book well worth reading. Thayer lays out her case with forensic precision. Her opening argument gives a clear idea of what she seeks to demonstrate. Her evidence is voluminous and marshaled with precision. Her conclusions are clearly stated, and they flow ineluctably from her evidence. She is thoroughly at home with the contents of late medieval sermon collections, and that familiarity shines through on each page of this enlightening book. Sermon collections were one of the most popular forms of literature at the close of the fifteenth century. With the advent of printing, the circulation of the genre exploded. Thayer has traced that explosion for us, and she has found no fewer than 860 editions of sermon collections from the years 1450-1520.

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 347 Obviously, as is the case today, some of these collections were more popular than others. And, again as is the case today, some of these collections were more popular in some locales than were other collections in the same locales. Therein lies the source for Thayer’s argument. In a nutshell, Thayer argues that the sort of sermon collection popular in an area determined to an extent the type of preaching heard in that area. This was more true at the beginning of the sixteenth century than at the beginning of the twenty-first because preachers were then more dependent upon sermon collections for preaching material than preachers are today. But Thayer goes further. She argues that the sort of preaching in an area determined to an extent the reception of the Reformation in that area. It is this second argument that is set forth so persuasively in the pages of this book. The argument that the type of preaching people heard prior to the Reformation determined to a noticeable degree how they either accepted or rejected the Reformation takes more than a little work to prove. Thayer does not shy away from that labor. To the contrary, she goes about the task with painstaking research, perceptive analysis, and quite readable explanation. First, Thayer has selected some of the most widely published, and hence most widely used, sermon collections in circulation in the 1450-1520 period. She has then examined how penitence, in the broad sense of obtaining forgiveness for one’s sins, was preached in the sermons of those collections. Thayer discovered that generally these collections fell into one of three classifications. She describes some of the authors as “rigorist,” some as “moderate,” and some as “absolutionist.” Rigorist preachers emphasized the sorrow and necessity of satisfaction in the penitential process. Moderate preachers did not put such weight on these factors but rather tended to strike a balance between the duties of the penitent and the power of the absolution granted by the priest. Absolutionist preachers placed their greatest emphasis on the validity before God of the priest’s absolution of the sinner. One of the outstanding strengths of Thayer’s work is the voluminous evidence she adduces from primary sources to substantiate these characterizations of late medieval preaching of penitence. She translates extensive portions of sermons so that her reader may become familiar with the sources at hand to the preacher at the beginning of the sixteenth century. And she usually makes the Latin original available to the reader in that fast-disappearing aid to scholarship, the footnote. Were this conducted tour of pre-Reformation preaching all that the book contained, it would be valuable. Thayer gives us a rare glimpse into the state of preaching at the dawn of the sixteenth century, but she gives us even more. Thayer has made a careful study of where the various collections were published. She points out that the printing history of the different collections allows us to draw some conclusions concerning where they were used since a printer was unlikely to print repeatedly large quantities of books he could not sell. The popularity of the different kinds of preachers—rigorist, moderate, and absolutionist—was not uniform. Rigorists tended to be most popular in the Holy Roman Empire and the Netherlands. Moderates predominated in England, Switzerland, and France. Absolutionists were most popular in northern France and in Italy. One need not be an expert historian to see the correlation. In areas where rigorist preaching predominated, the Reformation, especially the Lutheran

348 Reformation, was generally well accepted. In areas where moderate preaching predominated, the Reformation met with less success. In areas where absolutionist preaching predominated, the Reformation met with almost no success at all. Thayer is very careful not to argue that the type of preaching prevalent in an area was the sole determinant of the success or failure of the Reformation in that region. She readily acknowledges that there were many other social, political, and spiritual forces at work. However, she is just as careful to establish the correlation between predominant preaching type, as based on sermon collections used, and the progress of the Reformation in various regions of Europe. For the student of the Lutheran Reformation, Thayer has provided a work that is useful in a number of ways. It provides a status quo ante. It gives the best resource yet available to examine what exactly was preached in churches in the years leading up to the Reformation. Too, the geographical correlation between the publication and use of sermon studies and the reception of the Reformation demonstrates empirically that the laity of the early sixteenth century heard and understood what was preached to them. Thus the Reformation was not merely the movement of an intellectual few but reached into the homes of the common people. One could wish that Thayer had entered more deeply into the contrast between the idea of “grace” as preached by Luther and as preached by his predecessors. However, that is not what Thayer set out to do. Instead, she set out to show how the entire process of penitence was handled by various preachers and how their differences affected their hearers’ attitudes toward the Reformation. That certainly is a large enough task for anyone to attempt. Thayer not only attempts it; she brings it off. The reader of this book will gain a new insight into the roots of the Reformation of the sixteenth century. Frank Morgret St. Catharines, ON Canada

LIFE IN BIBLICAL ISRAEL. By Philip King and Lawrence Stager. Louisville: Westminster/John Knox Press, 2001. 440 pages. Cloth. $49.95.

This book combines the scholarship of two pillars in the discipline of Biblical studies, Philip King of Boston College and Lawrence Stager of Harvard. The result is an outstanding combination that discusses Old Testament texts in light of the most up-to-date results in archaeological research in the land of Israel. The focus is not so much on what prophets, priests, kings, and sages said and did but rather on how the common farmers and peasants lived out their lives. As such, the emphasis is not on Israel’s salvation history but rather on her social, economic, and cultural history. The text is enriched with 228 illustrations that are of the highest quality— with many of them in color. This reviewer is familiar with the following more recent works that are similar in nature and content—Roland de Vaux (Ancient Israel–1965), Victor Matthews and Don Benjamin (The Social World of Ancient Israel 1250-587 B.C.E.–1993), and Daniel Snell (Life in the Ancient Near East 3100-332 B.C.E.–1997). The work of King and Stager is easily superior to these in every way. Life in Biblical Israel is not simply a survey of archaeological history or an attempted re-creation of Israel’s past. Rather, it probes into Israel’s everyday life—the household, arts and crafts, diet, gender relations, marriage, the raising of

CONCORDIA JOURNAL/JULY 2003 349 children—indeed, how the people existed from birth to death. In the process, the authors draw from a myriad of sources—the Old Testament, other ancient Near Eastern texts, inscriptions, potsherds, seals, bone fragments, and iconography from the wall paintings and reliefs of Mesopotamia and Egypt. Throughout the book King and Stager distinguish themselves from minimalists who hold that the Old Testament is simply a literary invention of postexilic Yehud. They write: “There, in the cultures of that era, in an area about the size of New Jersey, we find a number of correlations of biblical lore, contemporary extrabiblical inscriptions, and archaeology that cumulatively lead us to reject the current notions of those critics who consider ‘biblical Israel’ to be a late fiction created in the fourth-second centuries B.C.E. as an expression of the Jewish experience of that era” (3). Today, less than two percent of the people in the United States farm for a living. Most Americans know precious little about “life on the farm.” In ancient Israel, it was just the opposite. Life in Biblical Israel bridges this gap for “city slickers” by being fully saturated with ideas that are rural. Highlighting this emphasis on “small town” living is the section in chapter one entitled “A Day in Micah’s Household.” In it the authors detail, from sunrise to sunset, what a typical day would be like among a farming family in ancient Israel. This section alone makes the book worthwhile, as it brings to life many of the ideas discussed in the chapters that follow. The work attempts to address both the specialist and the nonspecialist. Although some of the material falls outside what a normal parish pastor might use in sermons or Bible classes, most of it is quite “downloadable.” One example will suffice–archaeological work has demonstrated that families in ancient Israel lived in compounds consisting of a cluster of houses within a walled or fenced-off portion of the village. These same configurations persisted into New Testament times. For instance, Jesus proclaims, “In my Father’s household are many houses” (John 14:2). The word “houses” has traditionally, and erroneously, been translated “mansions.” The idea is that the Father’s compound (i.e., “household”) consists of so many clusters of houses that all believers will have a place. This rich smorgasbord of texts and archaeological finds will satisfy the palate of all who partake of its richness. Reed Lessing

350 BOOKS RECEIVED

Bailey, Richard A. & Gregory A. Wills, eds. THE SALVATION OF SOULS: Nine Previously Unpublished Sermons On the Call of Ministry and the Gospel by Jonathan Edwards. Wheaton: Crossway, 2003. 176 pages. Cloth. $19.99. Bauer, David R. AN ANNOTATED GUIDE TO BIBLICAL RESOURCES FOR MINISTRY. Peabody: Hendrickson Publishers, 2003. 327 pages. Paper. $16.95. Benson, Clarence H. BIBLICAL FAITH: Doctrines Every Christian Should Know. Wheaton: Crossway, 2003. 112 pages. Paper. $10.99. Brown, John Pairman. ANCIENT ISRAEL AND ANCIENT GREECE: Religion, Politics, and Culture. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003. 215 pages. Paper. $22.00. Childs, James M. Jr., ed. FAITHFUL CONVERSATIONS: Christian Perspectives on Homosexuality. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003. 132 pages. Paper. $9.00. Clark, David K. TO KNOW AND LOVE GOD. Wheaton: Crossway, 2003. 455 pages. Paper. $35.00. Fryer, Kelly A. RECLAIMING THE “L” WORD: Renewing the Church from Its Lutheran Core. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003. 740 pages. Paper. $39.00. Harland, Philip A. ASSOCIATIONS, SYNAGOGUES, AND CONGREGATIONS: Claiming a Place in Ancient Mediterranean Society. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003. 269 pages. Paper. $22.00. Hummel, Leonard M. CLOTHED IN NOTHINGNESS: Consolation for Suffering. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003. 96 pages. Paper. $9.99. Kaiser, Walter C. Jr. PREACHING AND TEACHING FROM THE OLD TESTAMENT: A Guide for the Church. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2003. 222 pages. Paper. $14.99. Koriath, Kirby L. MUSIC FOR THE CHURCH: The Life and Work of Walter E. Buszin. Fort Wayne, IN: Concordia Theological Seminary Press, 2003. 273 pages. Paper. $19.80. Leroux, Neil. LUTHER’S RHETORIC: Strategies and Style from the Invocant Sermons. St. Louis: Concordia, 2002. 231 pages. Paper. $24.99. Lloyd-Jones, Martyn. GREAT DOCTRINES OF THE BIBLE. Wheaton: Crossway, 2003. 794 pages. Cloth. $40.00. MacArthur, John, ed. THINK BIBLICALLY!: Recovering a Christian Worldview. Wheaton: Crossway Books. 2003. 368 pages. Cloth. $19.99. Mathews, Alice P. PREACHING THAT SPEAKS TO WOMEN. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2003. 192 pages. Paper. $14.99. McManus, Mike. MARRIAGE SAVERS: Resource Collection (2 books, 6 videos) Harrisburg: Morehouse Group. $199.00. Morgan, Robert J. EVIDENCE AND TRUTH: Foundations for Christian Truth. Wheaton: Crossway, 2003. 128 pages. Paper. $10.99. Sandy, D. Brent. PLOWSHARES & PRUNING HOOKS: Rethinking the Language of Biblical Prophecy and Apocalyptic. Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 2002. 228 pages. Paper. $16.00. Senske, Kurt. EXECUTIVE VALUES: A Christian Approach to Organizational Leadership. Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2003. 176 pages. Cloth. $16.99. Stumme, John R. and Robert W. Tuttle, eds. CHURCH & STATE: Lutheran Perspectives. Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2003. 200 pages. Paper. $20.00. Wink, Walter. JESUS AND NONVIOLENCE: A Third Way. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003. 117 pages. Paper. $6.00. Wright, N. T. THE RESURRECTION OF THE SON OF GOD. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003. 740 pages. Paper. $39.00.

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