An Open Letter on Sexuality

Dear homosexual, gay or lesbian, bisexual, queer, or anyone who may feel judged by me on issues of sexuality (heterosexuals too):

I'm writing this to let you know that I love you. Really. There's a lot of hate going around, and sometimes, the things I say might offend you.

You are not a sin. Your sexuality is a part of your identity? Well, you are fearfully and wonderfully made. Your identity is not a sin. You are not hated.

I love you.

Your attractions, your feelings, your body chemistry - that's you. God loves you. I love you.

I love you enough to risk our relationship.

I love you enough that while I remind you that you are God's creation, and it's you that I love, I still can't call something other than what it is.

Sexuality is not a sin, but our use of sexuality can be. I love you enough to stand up and say that God's plan for sex is within marriage, and God's plan for marriage is heterosexual.

I love you enough to get called intolerant, or a bigot. I love you enough to be called out-of-touch, or stupid, even by heterosexual couples who don't get married (it's not a sexuality issue. It's a use-of-sex issue. Sex outside of marraige is sin). I love you enough to say that legally, your relationships should probably have equal rights for taxes and such, while at the same time saying that I can't bless your relationship as a marriage, and I can't condone sexual activity outside of marriage. I love you enough to offend you, to be called a hypocrite, to be hated by you, or pitited by you.

I won't love you so little as to lie to you and say it's OK. I won't pretend, just so our relationship is easier. You are valuable. Your love is valuable. You are called to the same standard as every human, by God. That must be hard for you, and I don't know what it's like for you. But I do know that I love you, and that I'm here, if you'll have me here. I can't make it better - no one can. Jesus is with us, even when life makes no sense, and there is suffering - perhaps especially there.

I love you and want to be in community with you. I want to laugh with you, share with you, and encourage you. I love you too much to lie to you. I love you too much to put myself first, and say things that aren't true just so you or someone else won't think bad thoughts about me. I love you enough to proclaim God's Law and God's Gospel, to stand alongside you when we both fail, to come alongside you when God forgives us, and to struggle through this life with you.

I love you enough to proclaim to you the entire forgiveness of all your sins in Jesus Christ, and enough to ask you to seek Him. I love you enough to ask you to remind me of my sin, and to proclaim to me the forgiveness in Christ.

If I call something you do a sin, it's never because I don't love you. If I didn't love you, it would be easier for me to just let it go. I don't love my sin. I don't love your sin. I don't love any sin (or, at least I don't want to) - and you, yourself, are not a sin. Remember that.

Remember that I love you.

Remember that God loves you.

About the ELCM: Are We Confessional?

This post inaugurates a as-yet-undetermined in number series on some of the beliefs of the Evangelical Lutheran Conference and Ministerium of North America. It has come to my attention that due to the relatively small size of the ELCM and the structure of the website, it might be hard for people to "zero-in" on exactly where we are on various doctrines, and where we fall on the spectrum.

There was a recent inquiry about the nature of this blog, because I didn't put out anywhere whether I am "Confessional" or not. Now, this term can mean different things in different circles, so a little clarification is going to be necessary. In general, it refers to a person, group, or church body for which a confessional document (or documents) are considered binding. As a Lutheran, then, it refers to the Lutheran Confessions (the Book of Concord).

Not all Lutheran church bodies view the historic documents of faith the same way. Not all of them include the same things - not all Lutheran church bodies include the Formula of Concord, for example, because of the historical situation in which it was written.

Even when we are talking about the same set of documents, there's the question of whether these are binding confessions of faith, true expositions of Scripture among others, or just one way to think about things.

To complicate matters more, "subscribing" to the Confessions (agreeing that they are true) can be done in more than one way. This is called quia or quatenus subscription.  

• Quia, which is Latin for "because," is subscription to the Confessions "because the Confessions are a correct statement of the teachings of Scripture" - that is, they rightly interpret Scripture and teach what Scripture teaches, wholly and totally.

• Quatenus, which means "insofar as," replaces the "because" in the above phrase: "insofar as the Confessions are a correct statement of the teachings of Scripture" - so, then, the bits that are not, one hasn't agreed to.

Of course, then you get into the problem of which bits are, and which bits are not. Claiming that they are true among others, or just one way to think about things is functionally equivalent to quatenus subscription.

The ELCM takes the quia view of subscription: The Confessions in their entirety rightly set out what Scripture teaches. From the ELCM documentation, we hold to:

"The “Quia” View  which holds that all of the Documents of the Christian Book of Concord (Unaltered Augsburg Confession, Apology to the Augsburg Confession, Small Catechism of Luther, Large Catechism of Luther, Treatise on the Primacy of the Pope, Smalcald Articles of Luther, Solid Declaration, and Formula of Concord - Epitome) are a correct setting forth of the Doctrines of Holy Scripture."

Now, wait a minute, does that mean we think more of the Confessions, these man-made documents, than we do of Scripture? Of course not. That's the Lutheran distinction between norma normans and norma normata -  and we'll get to that next.

So yes, the ELCM is a Confessional Lutheran body - we are happy to give our assent to the tradition of faith, to those correct teachings which have been handed down, and to stand up and say: this we confess and believe, for this is what Holy Scripture teaches.

A Short Sermon for Quasimodogeniti

Hallelujah, Christ is risen!

This Sunday is the second Sunday of Easter. The season of celebration, the season of the Resurrection. Traditionally, it is called “Quasimodogeniti,” because of the old Latin antiphon for today: Quasi modo geniti infantes, Halleluja, rationabile, sine dolo lac concupiscite. This is from 1 Peter 2:2; it is the first half of the verse that tells us “as newborn babes, long for the spiritual milk which is without guile, that ye may grow thereby unto salvation[.]”

Even in the Church’s celebration of today is the command to grow unto salvation. The Easter season is a time that our joy rings out, and we think of our present and coming resurrection along with Christ. This Sunday in particular has been a time to think on our new birth in Baptism. We are made new along with Christ! Because He lives, we live! Hallelujah!

The Gospel for today is the same in the traditional, one-year lectionary as in the Revised Common Lectionary: John 20:19-31.

¹⁹ When therefore it was evening, on that day, the first day of the week, and when the doors were shut where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in the midst, and saith unto them, Peace be unto you. ²⁰ And when he had said this, he showed unto them his hands and his side. The disciples therefore were glad, when they saw the Lord. ²¹ Jesus therefore said to them again, Peace be unto you: as the Father hath sent me, even so send I you. ²² And when he had said this, he breathed on them, and saith unto them, Receive ye the Holy Spirit: ²³ whose soever sins ye forgive, they are forgiven unto them; whose soever sins ye retain, they are retained. ²⁴ But Thomas, one of the twelve, called Didymus, was not with them when Jesus came. ²⁵ The other disciples therefore said unto him, We have seen the Lord. But he said unto them, Except I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe. ²⁶ And after eight days again his disciples were within, and Thomas with them. Jesus cometh, the doors being shut, and stood in the midst, and said, Peace be unto you. ²⁷ Then saith he to Thomas, Reach hither thy finger, and see my hands; and reach hither thy hand, and put it into my side: and be not faithless, but believing. ²⁸ Thomas answered and said unto him, My Lord and my God. ²⁹ Jesus saith unto him, Because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed. ³⁰ Many other signs therefore did Jesus in the presence of the disciples, which are not written in this book: ³¹ but these are written, that ye may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God; and that believing ye may have life in his name.

There’s a familiar story here: good old “doubting Thomas.” A lot of things can be said about Thomas, and we can learn a lot from him. We can learn the value of faith without proof, if we’re careful to understand the difference and we don’t pretend that it makes faith irrational. We can learn about confessing Christ as God – Thomas’ “My Lord and my God” is a clear confession of the identity of Jesus as one with the Father, given the first-century context and nature of how he says it in the original. We can learn about how Jesus comes to us in our weakness, and condescends to help our unbelief. We can even ask the question if Thomas got a share in the Holy Spirit, since he wasn’t there when Jesus breathed on the other disciples in verse 22-23.

In fact, those first few verses, up to and including 22 and 23 are full of interesting things: John’s account of the Holy Spirit coming, the greeting “Peace be with you,” the fact that the other disciples got the proof of hands and side, and the power to forgive and retain sins – and that’s a whole lot in itself.

However, what struck me most this week was the last two verses. John gives us a glimpse into his writing process, and tells us what’s up. Jesus did many more things than we hear about. The Gospels aren’t biographies: they’ve got a purpose. John even comes out and tells us what that purpose is: that we might believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and in believing, have life in His name.

To believe that Jesus is the Christ. Is John just trying to convince us? Is this Gospel an exercise in persuasive writing? Hardly. The fact is, we use the word “believe” for some things that aren’t belief. 

“What’s the weather like?” “Well, I believe it will rain this evening.” No, no I don’t. I am of that opinion, or maybe, I have reason to think it will rain, because there are clouds on the horizon, or I can tell by the breeze, or I heard the weatherman say so. I don’t believe it, though, not the way the Scriptures talk about belief. 

Belief isn’t some middle thing between knowledge and opinion – that’s kind of how we treat it these days, ever since Immanuel Kant defined it that way. If belief is just a slightly more certain opinion, a slightly less certain knowledge, then it’s just what I choose based on persuasion. If that’s the case, then picking a religion is just about which one I find convincing.

That’s not the belief of Scripture – that’s not the belief that comes from the Gospel. The faith that comes from the Gospel is a response. It’s a recognition that God is speaking to us, and that this is our answer. This is why John wrote, this is why we read the Gospel, this is why we proclaim the Good News of Jesus Christ – because it is a message that demands an answer.

This Gospel tells us of Jesus Christ, and it demands from us a response. It requires that we answer the question that the very existence of Jesus and His Resurrection pose to us. Faith comes from the power of God in the Gospel, the Gospel which is the power of God unto salvation. What we believe, our faith, that’s a gift, given to us by God, which comes about through hearing and receiving His Word. 

No one is ever convinced to become a Christian – we encounter the living God in the proclamation of His Word. He stands before us and demands an answer – He offers us an answer to our problem. He stands before us, saying “you, a sinner, stand condemned, yet I have died for you, and you are raised with me.” Salvation is of God alone. He asks the question, and provides the answer.

This is why it is written: that we may believe. That we may have life. God’s “Yes” to us in Christ is the answer to the very question that He poses to us. And this “Yes” transforms us – we are reborn and made new. We are newly created in Christ, we have been raised with Him, and that reality is now. 

We are now resurrected with Christ, and He is present with us, in bread and wine, and in the power of God in our lives. In that very Word that transforms us. In that Word that makes new our lives, our relationships, our desires. God’s Word proclaimed doesn’t just tell us a story of what happened – it makes it real, here and now, it does what it says. It creates faith.

He is risen – and we are raised with Him. Glory be to Him.

Easter Monday

Hallelujah, Christ is risen!

Today is still Easter - in fact, it's going to be Easter for 40 days. We are in a seaon of celebration, a festival season, and we celebrate the new life that we have in the Resurrection of Jesus Christ.

The traditional Gospel reading for Easter Monday is Luke 24:13-35, the story of the disciples on the road to Emmaus. The Resurrected One Himself teaches them on the way out of the Scriptures. Their hearts burn at His proclamation. Everything in the Scriptures points to Christ.

Every word of proclamation is the proclamation of Christ. He is the center of the Scriptures, and the key to their understanding. But, when Moses and the Prophets have spoken about Christ, and how He will suffer and be glorified, will yet someone dare to call themselves a Christian, who has not searched what the Scriptures have to say about Christ...? (Paraphrased from the Venerable Bede)

As Christians we must search the Scriptures, we must live in the proclamation of Christ.

And yet, it was in the breaking of the bread that they knew Him. The proclamation is essential to Christianity, and so are the Sacraments. One without the other is only half of what God has in store for us. He has promised to work through His means: Word proclaimed, Baptism, the Lord's Supper. These three are how Christ is with us now, and how we experience being in Christ.

May we then seek Him where He is to be found, and rejoice in the finding.

Grant, O Lord who bestows restoration upon the world in the Paschal Feast, a continuation of Your heavenly gift to Your people, for perfect freedom and life eternal. Bless, that we might put into good effect the desires You grant us; through Jesus Christ, Your Son, our Lord, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Ghost: ever one God, world without end. Amen.

Spy Wednesday

Surprise, I'm not writing about April Fools' Day! It's the Wednesday of Holy Week, and there's actually a name for today.

Those reading the traditional lectionary will get Luke's account of the Passion today. Tomorrow, we celebrate the institution of the Lord's Supper on Maundy Thursday...so what happens right before that? Judas decides to betray Jesus.

That's the name, at least in English: Judas spied an opportunity, and took it. He was out for gain, out to force Jesus into doing what he thought should be done, out for every chance he could get. An opportunitst par excellence. We're like that too, looking for every angle, every benefit, every chance we get - thanks be to God that we have One who saves us from this.

Thanks be to the One who saves us from the rightful punishment of our sins, to the One who is resurrected and in Whom we live!

A couple of traditional collects (prayers) for today:

Grant, we beseech thee, Almighty God: that we, who for our evil deeds are continually afflicted, may mercifully be relieved by the Passion of Thine only-begotten Son; who liveth and reigneth with Thee and the Holy Ghost: ever one God, world without end. Amen.

O God, who willed Thy Son to submit for our sake to the yoke of the Cross, so that Thou mightst drive from us the power of the enemy: grant us, Thy servants, to attain the grace of the resurrection. Through the same Jesus Christ, Thy Son, our Lord,  who liveth and reigneth with Thee in the unity of the Holy Ghost: ever one God, world without end. Amen.

Tuesday of Holy Week

The historic lectionary reads Mark's account of the Last Supper, the Garden, and the Crucifixion for today. The passion narratives are read, over and over. This whole week, we hear from all of the Evangelists about the Passion. Different views of the same event, with different things pointed out.

Sometimes, we might think, "just be dead already, so we can get to the Resurrection."

The thing about that is, though, is that there's no Resurrection without the Crucifixion. There's no Easter without the Passion. There's no Easter Sunday without Good Friday - in fact, no Sunday at all, as we remember the events of Easter in a smaller form every Sunday.

We are fast approaching the Paschal Triduum - the Holy Three Days, from the Vigil of Good Friday to the Evening Prayer of Easter Sunday. The three days around which the entire Christian calendar, the entire Christian experience, turns. All of what we hold dear as Christians, all that we are in Christ, is in the tension of death and Resurrection.

Christ is risen, yes. We are not awaiting His death and Resurrection, but remembering. Remembering what He has done for us, and what that means. Remembering His promise. Remembering that we die with Him in Baptism, that we have died to our old selves, and have been made new.

This is why we read the Passion narratives over and over. To remind us that we, too, are dead, just as we remember that we too are made alive by God in Christ. We are Christ-ians, little Christs. We live in that tension, where we are both dead and made alive. Where we remain sinner and saint. Where we live in Christ.

Monday of Holy Week

A traditional reading fro the Monday of Holy Week is John 12:1-36. This includes several pericopes, but there's a really interesting one from verse 20 on. This is something we don't hear much about, so it is also striking. I will reproduce here vs 20-33:

Now there were certain Greeks among those that went up to worship at the feast:

these therefore came to Philip, who was of Bethsaida of Galilee, and asked him, saying, Sir, we would see Jesus.

Philip cometh and telleth Andrew: Andrew cometh, and Philip, and they tell Jesus.

And Jesus answereth them, saying, The hour is come, that the Son of man should be glorified.

Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a grain of wheat fall into the earth and die, it abideth by itself alone; but if it die, it beareth much fruit.

He that loveth his life loseth it; and he that hateth his life in this world shall keep it unto life eternal.

If any man serve me, let him follow me; and where I am, there shall also my servant be: if any man serve me, him will the Father honor.

Now is my soul troubled; and what shall I say? Father, save me from this hour. But for this cause came I unto this hour.

Father, glorify thy name. There came therefore a voice out of heaven, saying, I have both glorified it, and will glorify it again.

The multitude therefore, that stood by, and heard it, said that it had thundered: others said, An angel hath spoken to him.

Jesus answered and said, This voice hath not come for my sake, but for your sakes.

Now is the judgment of this world: now shall the prince of this world be cast out.

And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto myself.

But this he said, signifying by what manner of death he should die.

So there's material here for pages and pages, but I want to focus on two things: one, the Greeks, and two the voice from heaven.

These Greeks are not Greek-speaking Jews, but actual Gentiles. In contrast to the Jews who are encountering Jesus after the triumphal entry, these Gentiles are not the ones Jesus has spent most of His time dealing with. The crowd that just welcomed Jesus will turn on him, this we know already. They are looking for a political Messiah, and when He disappoints, they will kill Him for it. And these Gentiles, these God-fearers who aren't even allowed to worship as the Jews, say "Sir, we would see Jesus." 

And look at this response! Jesus responds with His death. He tells them, and His disciples present, that He is here to die. For the whole world! Those Gentiles, those non-Jews! Those that the people of Jerusalem want Jesus to lead them against! Jesus is already letting them down as a political figure, and pointing to His sacrifice for the whole of creation. 

And what's the response to this? God the Father speaks from heaven, telling us that it glorifies His name that salvation is for all. It's not just for the folks we like. It's not just for the people who are like us, who have the same tastes, the same skin color, the same practices, or the same culture. It's for everyone, it's for the whole of creation - for God glorifies His Name. That's the same name from the traditional reading yesterday in Philippians 2: the name of Jesus, at which every knee shall bow and every tongue confess.

Every human is made with a purpose, and that purpose is bound up in God. Every life makes this same statement, and the proclamation of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ is the right response to what He has done in us. We say, along with the world:

"Sir, we would see Jesus."

Jesus, lifted up on the cross, drawing all to Himself.

"Sir, we would see Jesus."

Jesus, in the proclaimed Word.

"Sir, we would see Jesus."

Jesus in the bread and wine of the Eucharist.

"Sir, we would see Jesus."

Jesus, in us, working in our lives, and through us to others.

"Sir, we would see Jesus."

Palm Sunday

Palm Sunday – the day we proclaim the triumph of the Lord. The day that the crowds celebrate a coming Messiah, who isn’t quite what they expect. The day that we can’t quite decide if we are celebrating a triumph, or nodding smugly, knowing that this One is come to die.

Well, it’s actually both. Jesus’ triumphal entry is a proclamation of His Lordship as Prince of Peace. He didn’t come to be a political leader, to draw Israel into war with Rome or create a new, strong nation. He didn’t stand up for His rights, or talk about being a citizen of a country with pride. As an earthly king, He failed – but as the Lord of creation, He redeems it to Himself.

As someone recently pointed out to me, all of the events of Holy Week are carefully orchestrated to make sure the crucifixion happens. Jesus isn’t an accidental victim, but an intentional one. He’s out to get killed, because it’s that death and resurrection that redeems.

But this is Palm Sunday – it isn’t time for the Passion, it isn’t time to talk about death. Not yet. Right now, we see celebration. An acknowledgement of the Lordship. Not the political Lordship, because this One comes to die – but rather the cosmic Lordship, the Lord of creation. It is for this reason that every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord. The celebration of the triumphal entry is something we can take part in because we know it is a proclamation of who Jesus really is. He is the One who comes in the Name of the Lord, and He is the Lord of creation. It’s true, He is come to die, and it’s also true that it is the Lord of creation who comes to die.

Sing hosanna, then, to the Lord of Hosts, who gave Himself for us. The Gift is the Giver Himself. Let us proclaim His majesty!

Meditations: Invocavit

The past Sunday was the first Sunday in Lent. Not of Lent, as the Sundays don't count toward the forty days, but in Lent. It's known as Invocavit,  from the Latin antiphon, which comes from Psalm 91: Invocavit me, et ego exaudium eum.

Historically for Lutherans, Invocavit is a big deal, due to a series of sermons Luther preached in 1522, with the result of calming the Reformation into a nonviolent movement. More on that another time, though.

What I'd like to point out about this week and the readings from this Sunday is about temptation. Traditionally, we read about Jesus being tempted on Invocavit - if you follow the revised common lectionary, you are in year B, so there's only one verse about it in Mark, you kind of got the Baptism of Christ again. In any case, we remember the temptation of Jesus on this Sunday as we remember His sufferings throughout Lent. He went through what we do - and we fail at it.

As a colleague of mine has remarked, any chance we get, we want to turn stones into bread, we want to get something for nothing. Jesus doesn't live from the sweat of others, He's not interested in what He can get at someone else's expense. We sure are, though.

And in the same way, anything that gives us the least advantage, a bit of wealth or power, a better reputation, some pleasure - we are right there to worship that, every chance we get. Jesus succeeds where we fail - He that kept the Law for us became a curse for us, that we might be redeemed.

It strikes me, when I look at these temptations, how thoroughly I, we all, fall prey to the same thing, even if it looks different today. We remember in Lent why we need a Saviour, and that we have one.

Meditations: Septuagesima

This last Sunday actually began the pre-lent period (the "gesimas"). This is the three weeks before Ash Wednesday in which we prepare for the time of repentance that is Lent. Many places do away with this, after all, Lent is hard enough, right? These are rough Sundays, too - it was Septuagesima, or Circumdederunt Sunday. That's "wrapped around" or "entangled", coming from Psalm 18:5 in Latin: The ropes of the grave entangled me. Not a very nice thought, but it does serve to remind us that we need to repent, and we are in need of a Saviour!

Historically, the Gospel for the past Sunday is Matthew 20:1-16, the parable of the workers in the vineyard. And what a Gospel it is! The Lord of creation hasn't decided to pay us according to our works, but to dispense with what is His own as He chooses. He has chosen us, apart from what we may have done or may not have done. Perhaps we are even decent people - not perfect, but decent. There's no way to be good enough, and there's no need to be good enough. We are taken as sinners, declared righteous, and then we are united to Christ. He becomes sin for us, that we might become righteous.

In this busy mid-week, after the last vestige of Epiphany is gone with Candlemas, after a groundhog prognisticates the weather, and before our thoughts even begin to turn to Lent and Easter, let us remember the insufficiency of our "good enough", of our "do this", of our "achieve that", and the great sufficiency of His "it is done." He has claimed us as His own, away from the powers of death, sin, and the grave, though they encircled us. We are His - and He may do what He chooses with what belongs to Him. May it be so.

VDMA

No longer under the radar

So if you used to read this blog, you know that I haven't posted in a very long time. There's a reason for that, and it's not just laziness.

About a year ago I moved from Munich, Germany, back to the United States. I was happy in academia, but wanted to pursue ordination and more direct ministry, instead of "just" teaching. We probably could have stayed in Germany, but  there were some other personal matters involved in the decision.

So, having been a member of the EKD, I entered into the colloquy process with the ELCA. Colloquy is a process by which a pastor from another tradition or Lutheran body becomes a pastor in a Lutheran body. And boy, is the ELCA different from the EKD. While I was comfortable in the EKD, if on the conservative end of things, in the ELCA, I was so far right on some issues that I could barely see the left-of-center leadership I was working with. Needless to say, this did not bode well for my colloquy.

I won't go into all the details, but it took me a year to accept the fact that it just wasn't a good fit - and five rounds of added requirements and rule changes to get the message that they thought so too. It was probably one of the worst years of my life, certainly one of the worst recently.

However, once I got it, I was able to take stock of what I felt called to do, and the situation around me, and I found a new home: the Evangelical Lutheran Conference and Ministerium in North America, the ELCM. I found a group that I'm 100% theologically in agreement with, and their polity is amazing. It's seriously by consensus - and stuff gets done! We are a moderate, centrist group, and I'm happy to be a part of things. I've been extended a call as healthcare chaplain and mission development pastor, and there is also a return, at least partially, to academia in the works. I've come a long way to be back where I started, but God has grown me a lot, and I've learned a lot about myself.

So what does that have to do with this blog? Well, I'm. I longer worried about what I say in here affecting my material security or future. I'm free to proclaim what I believe, faithfully.

So starting with this week, this blog is alive again. It's Septuagesima Sunday - a time of preparation for Lent, where we focus on our need for penance. A time where we are reminded, in the traditional Gospel for today, that God rewards as He chooses, and He gives to those He chooses (Matt 20:1-16). A time when we say, out of the depths have I cried out to thee, O Lord: Lord hear my voice - and know that He has indeed heard.

Old Testament Lection, Trinity 4

I've been pretty inactive with this blog for a while, so something I would like to start doing is sharing some of my thoughts on the readings for the week. The Revised Common Lectionary is what I'll be using, and I will reflect from time to time on the different passages from the Sunday that starts the week.

This last Sunday was the 4th Sunday after Trinity Sunday, and the Old Testament reading was from Isaiah 55:10-13 (ESV here):

¹⁰ “For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven
    and do not return there but water the earth,
making it bring forth and sprout,
    giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,
¹¹ so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;
    it shall not return to me empty,
but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,
    and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

¹² “For you shall go out in joy
    and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and the hills before you
    shall break forth into singing,
    and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.
¹³ Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress;
    instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle;
and it shall make a name for the Lord,
    an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.”

 There is a connection here between the natural order of things and the spiritual order of things. Verses 10 and 11 compare the two - the natural order provides an illustration for the spiritual, but this isn't because there is some necessity that the spiritual conform to the natural, or because the natural order objectively reveals something about the spiritual order, but rather because the spiritual order is prior to and foundational for the natural order. Nature looks the way it does because the model set for it is based on who God is.

What difference does that make? In verse 11, the Word of God has efficacy. Everything that is the Word achieves the purpose set by God - and we know of whom we speak when we talk about God's Word. The divine origin, divine commision, and divine power of the Word presuppose here (in personification) the divine nature of the Word. The deliverance from exile in verses 12-13 are also a type of our deliverance from subjection that the Word unfailingly brings. This is an anticipation of salvation offered in Christ.

The natural order shows us God, when we have the eyes to see, because if we know the One who sets the standard, we can see the echoes in nature.

On Heresy

So generally, I assume that there is at least some connection between faith as being salvific and the propositional content of faith. As a friend of mine put it recently, you can't have a relationship with God without knowing certain things about God. I tend to think in the older categories of notitia (factual knowledge), assensus (assent that the factual knowledge is true), and fiducia (trust and reliance). These seem to presuppose one another, i.e., I trust and rely on a God about whom I know certain things and hold those things to be true. For example, I know the fact of God's omnipotence, and I hold to be true that God is omnipotent, but the real faith bit is my reliance on God's omnipotence as sufficient to steer the world, deal with my stuff, etc.

So what happens when one of the first two categories (or propositional knoweldge at all) is untrue?

Here's a simple example that most would accept: Someone who "comes to faith" in a Jesus who is not divine has the wrong object of faith (false propositional content). But does that prevent faith in the sense of relying on and apprehending the promise of God?

Also stirring the pot is that I hold fides apprehensiva: the idea that faith is a created gift of God that then apprehends or takes hold of God's promise, resulting in the application to the subject. So can we have a created gift of faith taking hold of a promise when the promise is greviously misunderstood?


Obviously, we didn't do the easy one first, though. Take another example: Someone hears the Gospel and responds, but shortly thereafter is taught e.g. modalism. It's not at all clear that the initial faith is in the wrong object, but subsequent propositional content (as well as subsequent notitia and assensus) are heterodox. This individual has been taught heresy, but we don't want to place the efficiency of proclamation with the one who proclaims, or we're all in trouble. A possible heresy in a sermon doesn't preclude God's activity in Word as a means of grace. So is the subsequent heterodox belief a fall? Then we have to allow for a lot of back-and-forth. One possible solution here is to have a proleptic grace based on present (correct) faith and yet-future correct doctrine, but I worry that this hamstrings the impulse to correct heresy, either polemically or irenically.

Now we get more complicated: An individual who comes to living, fruit-producing faith, and who after a longer period of time, engages in theological reflection and is intellectually convinced of a heretical position. I'm pretty sure this was me at one point. I'm prepared to accept that this entailed a fall from grace, because of theological reflection (even if mine was naive, I had the obligation to know better). Someone who assumes a heretical position after theological reflection is consciously (or at least culpably) rejecting orthodox faith, so I am pretty sure that this imperils the soul. (By the way, I am talking about actual serious heresy, not adiaphora. My example before was modalism, in my case it was full-on Pelagianism) So there seems to be something about intellectual heresy changing the object of relying faith to move one outside of Christ.

A worry: how in the world can anyone differentiate between individuals of the second type and those of the third type until after the fact? On one hand, we are not a particularly theologically educated society. On the other, in modern societies with such an emphasis on education, we may all be culpable in the "should have known better" sense. And if you are standing on the outside looking at this, how does one correct heretical doctrine in (pastoral) love?

Hey, I don't have any answers, I just come up with problems.

News for a (belated) New Year

After a series of pretty crazy things at the end of last year and beginning of this year, I finally have time and opportunity to continue this blog. In the intervening time, I've completed and submitted my dissertation for the DA in Philosophy and Religion at Harrison Middleton University, and we've moved - we're back in the United States, and I have been accepted as a candidate for ordination with the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.

On the academic front, I hope to be able to make another announcement here soon. Those interested in the current debate on ramified natural theology can read a contribution of mine here.

I'm hoping to have a bit more activity on here in the near future - I have some stuff in the pipeline that I've been thinking about, so if you haven't given up yet, dear reader, your patience will be rewarded (or, you know, the fact that you forgot the blog existed and you didn't delete it, that will be rewarded too...)

On Advent

As the first week of Advent comes to a close, I'd like to reflect a little bit on what Advent actually is.

This time of year is often the "pregame" for Christmas; we hear the carols and see the decorations, and at some point the tree goes up. At the same time, those of us who go into churches with vestments see penetential colors, and in daily Bible readings we hear about the Cross, not the manger. What's going on?

Advent is both of these things. We shouldn't reduce it to pre-Christmas, but it is the anticipation of the arrival of the Lord. That's what Advent means, from advenire, a to-coming, an arrival. At the same time, it's the time where we reflect on and remember why it is that we need a Saviour, and what the Lord who is come has done for us. It's a season in tension, and a season of the cry for salvation as well as the answer, God's answer. Jesus, God's Word to us, who is come and will come again - Advent is an anticipation of what has been and what is yet to come.

Advent is a time of the Church, a Christian time, where an already and a not-yet coexist. The Advent of Christ is in the incarnation and in the return. Our salvation is, and comes yet to us. Advent is the season of the sinner who is yet a saint, remembering and anticipating the Lord who is come and is yet to come.

So by all means, celebrate the coming Lord - but don't forget our need for Him.

Merry Tension.

Developments

It has been some time since my last post, though this time it was more intentional. I took a much-needed vacation, where I managed to actually have some vacation and relaxation, and not catch-up on research or other projects. I have also completed my final set of comprehensive exams at Harrison Middleton University, meaning that I am in the final stage of the program. This is where I get to propose a disseration topic and write. I actually have a pretty good idea of what I will be doing; I do have the unusual advantage of having already gone through one doctoral disseration process here at the LMU, so I know rather well what's expected and what an end-product should look like.

Some other projects are lagging behind, like the book, from which I was supposed to provide sample chapters last month, but that just can't be helped. Mostly, everything is on track.

A Thought on Baptism

Today in the church service, we had the special liturgy for the remembrance of our own Baptisms (along with one new Baptism). This is actually intended for the 6th Sunday after Trinitatis, but our pastor did it today, as we had another special event on that Sunday. It made me think a bit about baptism, specifically about the relationship between Baptism and faith (we had also last week one Baptism and one "blessing"; the latter being where the parents wanted "to let the child choose for themselves as an adult").

As one might know, I grew up in a credobaptist tradition, but am now theologically supportive of paedobaptism. There has also been a change in my theology from thinking of baptism as an ordinance and Baptism as a sacrament (see what I did there?), which has made me think a lot about the status of Baptism. If Baptism occurs chronologically before faith, it seems to be fully independant of the recipient; here we have the case of the parents who do not wish to choose something for their child (which cannot be undone, though I don't know if they had that in mind). If, however, faith precedes Baptism, is Baptism as a sacrament contingent on the human-side action or status of faith?

There is in my opinion a dual key to resolving this issue. The first is to have the proper definition of faith. Faith is not synonymous with assenting to a set of propositions, or "holding-to-be-true"; rather, faith is the faculty created by God in the believer which "apprehends" or lays hold to salvation. It is for this reason that Luther, for example, referred to faith as fides apprehensiva. Faith actually has not so much to do with intellectual assent, though it is accompanied by such assent in an adult. So the argument that an infant doesn't have faith in the first place is a rationalistic reductionism of the concept of faith in the first place. But wait, isn't some sort of assent and cognitive acceptance necessary (in technical terms, doesn't fiducia imply notitia and assensus)? Don't we have to know and acknowledge or agree with what we are laying hold of and placing our trust in? To an extent, yes - and this is where the sacramental nature of Baptism comes in. While the ritual act performed here is a temporal event which stands in relation to other temporal events, the presence of the eternal God in the sacrament necessitates that the sacramental aspect of Baptism is cotemporal with all temporal events. Our participation in Baptism is something that is always the case, and it is then the case that the individual at Baptism is the same individual who cognitively assents as a rational adult. The unity of the Christian as a person is held together through time by the eternal God, in whose life we participate. From a temporal perspective, it may seem like Baptism is retroactively actualized (cf. Wolfhart Pannenberg, for example), but a thorough application of the assertion that God's eternity is present to all temporal points and that the sacraments have us participating in God results in the sort of temporal unity I've just described.



Some of you who know me will notice what theory is doing the heavy lifting here, and if you are still waiting for that in print, I'm still working on the manuscript before I submit it...

What Jesus Really Said

I had a conversation with a colleague recently where a certain sentiment was expressed, basically: "It seems like people forget everything they have learned about the New Testament when they get into the pulpit. They preach as if these are things that Jesus really said, especially from the Gospel of John, when we know that, in all probability, that's not at all the case." We discussed it for a while, and I think there are a couple of things to point out in regard to this.

At the time, I framed my response as a matter of epistemic access. That is to say, I wanted to express that one has to already be in such a condition that one is able by faith to look at history in a certain way, otherwise one is necessarily using a different interperative paradigm. I argued that the rejection of the Gospels, or even of the Gospel of John, on the grounds that the words are not historical in the reductive sense of "word for word the case" is a one-sided, overly reductionistic argument. There's something to be said here regarding epistemic access and epistemic standpoint which will play into how I think about it, but I want to start somewhere else.

I think that this is probably best framed in a distinction between ipsissima verba and ipsissima vox. Ipsissima verba means "the very words", whereas ipsissima vox means "the very voice." Given that Jesus probably didn't do the majority of His teaching in Greek, and even if he had done so, the radical differences in vocabulary between John and the Synoptics make asserting ipsissima verba kind of problematic, in my opinion. That's not to say that there are not some things recorded that are Jesus' ipsissima verba, just that we can't assert that everything in the New Testament is.

But if I can argue from the standpoint of faith, I can say something like the following: Look at the process by which certain "gospels" were rejected, and the four we have made it into the canon. Even Mark is based on an earlier oral tradition, which preserved in part the ipsissimia verba and the ipsissima vox of Jesus. If we can accept providence in the formation of the canon, we can make the not-much-stronger claim that everything that got recorded as Scripture in those accepted works is providentially either ipsissima verba or ipsissima vox, and that for faith, the distinction doesn't really matter, as the providential inclusion of ipsissima vox which is true to the ipsissima verba wouldn't contradict the true teaching at any point. So I can have no problem with saying that, for example, John wrote certain things with a certain agenda, because the things that were written are a true expression of Jesus' proclamation of the Kingdom present in Him and His resurrection. Additionally, on this providential picture, there is dual authorial intent - John intended to express something, and God intended to express something as well, as the preservation of true ipsissima vox requires God in the picture, if it's providence. We can even go so far as to treat things that seem to be ipsissima vox as ipsissima verba, because of the providential preservation. In a certain sense, with the Triune God's authorial intention in play, the ipsissima vox have to become the ipsissma verba, because what is recorded is still God "speaking" to us, and we can't abstract the Son from this action.

That, my friend, is how one can get into the pulpit and say that Jesus told us He is the Way, the Truth and the Life - because that statement is His true voice speaking to us, whether or not we can determine a specific temporal recording of this statement during His earthly life.

Not thinking much

We've recently had a major heat wave here, and though it is a bit better at this point, my notable lack of air conditioning has made thinking a last-resort action. So I've not got much to blog about. I will, however, share a number of links which have amused me in recent days:

Jim West on Football in Church

Theologygrams on Time and Eternity

Rock songs for 50 theologians

Rock songs for 25 more

The most interesting thelogians in the world

A response to the above from Die Evangelische Theologen

Apostles' Creed for conservative evangelicals

Apostles' Creed for liberals


Have fun, folks. Back to regularly scheduled programming when I darn well feel like it again.

The Future of Evangelical Theology

This week marked the end of the seminar I gave (in conjunction with Prof. Dr. Armin Kreiner) on Evangelical Theology ("Wohin Steuert die Evangelikale Theologie"), and I'd like to take a moment to reflect (now that the semester is over).

Through the semester, we looked at the origins and historical development of evangelicalism, especially in the english-speaking world, but the bit I found to be the most interesting was in the second half of the semester, which dealt with new developments and influences in evangelical theology. The point of the seminar was to present evangelicalism as something differentiated rather than a monolithic block, and especially to distinguish it from fundamentalism. I'll probably say more about some individual aspects here in the future, but for today I would like to give my summary thesis, which I formulated for the close of the course:

The future of evangelical theology is as one theological direction and influence among others in the so-called mainline denominations rather than in particular "evangelical" denominations.

 (OK, so I actually said something like "Die Zukunft der evangelikalen Theologie ist eher als eine Richtung bzw. Prägung unter anderem bei den sogenannten mainline-Konfessionen vorzustellen, anstatt als die Theologie besonderer und gesonderter evangelikaler Konfessionen.")

This seems to be the case not only from the doctrinal nearness of the New Evangelicals to the conservative-moving theologians of mainline denominations (Catholics included, by the way!), but also is supported by socialogical data in certain age groups (primarily my generation and younger) who change their church affiliation as well as rejecting single-issue politics. Prof. Dr. Michael Hochgeschwendner from the Amerika-Institut of the LMU was kind enough to guest-lecture for us once, and gave me the most support for my theory.

Evangelicalism lives in tension with fundamentalism. In distinguishing itself from the fundamentalist rejection of the world and society, and in taking a more active role in forming society, "evangelicals" end up on the same field of play as "mainliners", "liberals", and others. When the Christian conscience is not connected to the Religious Right, but decides on the basis of love and justice, "evangelical" social action starts to have a lot of similarity to "mainline" groups; the theological movements within "evangelicalism" are in conversation with the rest of the theological world.

That's probably pretty controversial, but I'm going to stick to my guns. I'm an "evangelical" in a "mainline" denomination, and there is enough evidence that the move I've made is one being made by many young adults. It's time to end the characterisation of church groups as being representatives of one or the other type of theology, and time to begin, for ourselves, representing the Truth for who He is, where and  how we can proclaim Him.