Concordia Journal | Winter 2010

COncordia Journal

Winter 2010 volume 36 | number 1

Science and Theology: Continuing the Conversation Remembering Herb Brokering and Paul Manz Home ‌ Home at Last Why Philipp Melanchthon Did Not Fear Death What the Gospel Does

COncordia Journal (ISSN 0145-7233)

publisher

Faculty

David Adams Charles Arand Andrew Bartelt Executive EDITOR David Berger William W. Schumacher Joel Biermann Dean of Theological Gerhard Bode Research and Publication Kent Burreson William Carr, Jr. EDITOR Anthony Cook Travis J. Scholl Managing Editor of Timothy Dost Thomas Egger Theological Publications Jeffrey Gibbs Dale A. Meyer President

EDITORial assistant Melanie Appelbaum assistants

Carol Geisler Joel Haak James Prothro

Bruce Hartung Erik Herrmann Jeffrey Kloha R. Reed Lessing David Lewis Richard Marrs David Maxwell Dale Meyer Glenn Nielsen Joel Okamoto Jeffrey Oschwald David Peter

Paul Raabe Victor Raj Paul Robinson Robert Rosin Timothy Saleska Leopoldo Sánchez M. David Schmitt Bruce Schuchard William Schumacher William Utech James Voelz Robert Weise

All correspondence should be sent to:

Rev. Travis Scholl CONCORDIA JOURNAL 801 Seminary Place St. Louis, Missouri 63105 concorjournal@csl.edu

Issued by the faculty of Concordia Seminary, St. Louis, Missouri, the Concordia Journal is the successor of Lehre und Wehre (1855-1929), begun by C. F. W. Walther, a founder of The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod. Lehre und Wehre was absorbed by the Concordia Theological Monthly (1930-1972) which was also published by the faculty of Concordia Seminary as the official theological periodical of the Synod.

The Concordia Journal is abstracted in Internationale Zeitschriftenschau für Bibelwissenschaft unde Grenzgebiete, New Testament Abstracts.Old Testament Abstracts, and Religious and Theological Abstracts. It is indexed in Repertoire Bibliographique des Institutions Chretiennes and Religion Index One: Periodicals. Article and issue photocopies in 16mm microfilm, 35mm microfilm, and 105mm microfiche are available from University Microfilms International, 300 North Zeeb Road, Ann Arbor, MI 48106-1346.

Books submitted for review should be sent to the editor. Manuscripts submitted for publication should conform to The Chicago Manual of Style.

The Concordia Journal (ISSN 0145-7233) is published quarterly (Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall). The annual subscription rate is $15 U.S.A., $20 for Canada and $25 for foreign countries, by Concordia Seminary, 801 Seminary Place, St. Louis, MO 63105-3199. Periodicals postage paid at St. Louis, MO and additional mailing offices. Postmaster: Send address changes to Concordia Journal, Concordia Seminary, 801 Seminary Place, St. Louis, MO 63105-3199.

Cover art: adapted from 2009 Theological Symposium art by Jayna Rollings.

© Copyright by Concordia Seminary, St. Louis, Missouri 2010 www.csl.edu

COncordia J ournal CONTENTS EDITORIALs 5

Editor’s Note

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Science and Theology: Continuing the Conversation

William Schumacher

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Herb Brokering: A Man Who Never Met a Word He Did Not Like!

Rich Bimler

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Reflections on the Life and Music of Paul Manz

Henry Gerike

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Home … Home at Last

Rodney Otto

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Why Philipp Melanchthon Did Not Fear Death

Gerhard Bode

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What the Gospel Does: Three Ways of Applying the Gospel Concretely

David Loy

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GRAMMARIAN’S CORNER The Hebrew Infinitive

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HOMILETICAL HELPS LSB Series C—Old Testament

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BOOK REVIEWS

ARTICLE

Winter 2010 volume 36 | number 1

editoRIALS

COncordia Journal

Note Editor’s

As I write these words, the images and reports from Haiti are becoming ever more devastating. I pray that by the time you read these words, relief will be well underway, including the able efforts of various Lutheran agencies and organizations.

Were this issue of Concordia Journal a blog, I would use a few “tags” to track its highlights: First, “editorials.” During the past year, we received a number of comments from readers who have enjoyed the essays and theological observations that have been emanating from this section. Although President Meyer has taken a selfimposed, one-issue hiatus from his regular lead editorial, this issue’s section is rich.

William Schumacher has taken over the lead editorial duties with reflections to continue the conversation from the Seminary’s 2009 theological symposium on science and theology. What follows takes the lead on other items of conversation, and ends with Gerhard Bode’s original translation of Philipp Melanchthon’s last written words to kick off our celebration of the reformer’s anniversary year.

Second, “song.” Two of the editorials are remembrances of two American Lutherans who added so much to the church’s song and singing, one as a poet, the other as a musician, both of whom took to their eternal rest since the last issue of Concordia Journal. Special thanks to Rich Bimler for the inimitable stories of his good friend Herb Brokering, and Henry Gerike, himself a student of Paul Manz. It is also worth pointing out the lead review of Evangelical Lutheran Worship by Kent Burreson and James Brauer. An extensive, point-by-point version of the review is available at www.ConcordiaTheology.org.

Finally, “Old Testament.” You may have already noticed, but this year’s Homiletical Helps focus on the Old Testament readings in the lectionary. In conjunction with that, this issue provides a cluster of incisive reviews from Reed Lessing on preaching the Hebrew Bible.

Of course, David Loy’s article on the Gospel provides a timely reminder of what it is from which all these tags hang. In a world that can, quite literally, shake to its foundations, Christ’s word of faith and forgiveness stands steady and ready— even at the epicenter—to heal, to liberate, and to invite.

Travis J. Scholl Managing Editor of Theological Publications

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and Theology Science

Continuing the Conversation Those who attended the 2009 Theological Symposium, under the theme “Science and Theology: New Questions, New Conversations,” heard plenary presentations and sectionals from both scientists and theologians. For those in search of tidy solutions or final insights about the relationships between theology and science, the sessions were probably disappointing. But most of us got what we came for: glimpses into scientific research that call for serious and well-informed theological reflection. From the bizarre world of quantum mechanics, to new pictures of brain activity corresponding to religious experiences, to a fresh take on the place of human beings as integral participants in the “natural” world . . . we were challenged to ponder who we are and what it means that God has made us “together with all creatures.”

One haunting and fundamental question that has been echoing in my mind since the Symposium has to do with the capacities and limits of human knowledge.

Can we human creatures really know and understand the world around us by means of our senses and our reason? The same question faces us in the many different scientific disciplines—whether we look at the world of other living creatures (biology and ecology), the properties and patterns of the planet we live on (geology), or the unimaginably large-scale or unimaginably micro-scale structure of the universe itself (cosmology and quantum mechanics). Is the natural world ultimately knowable by human beings, even in our fallen state, without the aid of revelation? I think that all the various disciplines of modern science have to say “yes,” but that our theology is not so sure.

It seems to me that the entire project of science as we know it today (going back to the early 17th century, or perhaps a bit earlier) is based on the assumption that we can come to reliable and accurate knowledge about the natural world through direct observation and careful reasoning, without depending on authoritative texts. And, of course, the “authoritative texts” from which modern science began to shake itself free at the beginning of the modern era included Aristotle’s ideas of physics and natural history and Galen’s medical texts, as well as the Bible.

This means that there is an attitude of suspicion at the root of modern science, but not a suspicion specifically of religious authority per se. The basic attitude of scientific inquiry looks askance at any kind of authority which presumes to preempt our experience and observation of the world.

The observations on which scientific reasoning and theories are based are not limited to our physical senses. The history of modern science is a history of increasingly ingenious devices by which we extend and enhance our observations of the world, from Galileo’s telescope with which he observed the moons of Jupiter, to the functional magnetic resonance imaging which has made possible a new science of the human brain.

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And when we talk of “scientific reasoning” we must remember that this is not a simple or unequivocal term. There have been lots of wrong scientific ideas— probably many more wrong ones than right ones. Nobody reckons that human reasoning is infallible, either individually or collectively. But the idea is that scientific reasoning has to be clear and precise enough that better evidence (from observation) or better reasoning (more persuasive theories) can correct it. This certainly doesn’t work automatically or evenly. But when a fairly large community of scientists share the same data and collaborate on the effort to understand that data correctly, the result is that scientific knowledge really does increase over time. This, I think, is where mathematics comes in as a precise and unambiguous language in which to express scientific ideas.

Scientists can and do disagree with each other about all sorts of things, so it is clear that one may be committed to and engaged in scientific work without accepting all theories that happen to be popular at the moment. But if we reject, on theological grounds, the reliability of human observation and reasoning as it is applied to the world around us, then it seems to me that we are rejecting the very possibility of science. And if we do that, then our attitude toward a whole culture of everyday technology (from structural engineering of bridges, to vaccines for smallpox, to cell phones) becomes rather strange. For if we deny the fundamental reliability of the human intelligence underlying all these technologies, then we can use the technologies only as a kind of convenient magic, the power of which we can manipulate but never understand.

Modern science demystifies the world. We have come to regard most diseases as natural results of infection rather than as the malevolent actions of personal spirits. Comets and meteors are generally seen as natural phenomena, not omens.

We have abandoned the notion of spontaneous generation because we have studied the intricacies of the life cycles of so many living things. Such demystification is not in conflict with the Christian faith. On the contrary, a magical world-view can be seen as sub-Christian, since it admits rivals to God’s power, and fails to appreciate the richness of the Creator’s work.

So what is a Lutheran attitude toward human scientific observation and reasoning? Can we as Lutheran theologians affirm the general reliability of human reason and senses when applied to the natural world? Or must we remain ambivalent and agnostic about such human powers? The great Roman Catholic apologist G. K. Chesterton once remarked, “It was the very life of the Thomist teaching that Reason can be trusted: it was the very life of the Lutheran teaching that Reason is utterly untrustworthy.” I think (and hope) that Chesterton, who was right about so many things, was wrong about the Lutheran attitude toward reason, at least toward scientific reason.

Lutheran Christians need not, and should not, adopt a pre-modern or antiscientific view of the world. Instead, the confession of God as Creator is what makes possible the vocation of accurately observing and ingeniously understanding Concordia Journal/Winter 2010

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the universe as it exists. Great scientific minds who also confessed the Christian faith (such as John Polkinghorne and the late Stanley L. Jaki) have understood the connection between their theology and their science in such a way. Scientific work, in that light, is seen as a kind of worship of the God who made all things.

Such worship of the Creator calls for intellectual honesty and humility, for there is always very much that we do not know. But the complete abdication of reason is out of place as long as we live in a universe which seems to invite, and reward, the restless questioning of human minds. Michael Heller, winner of the 2008 Templeton Prize, described science as “a collective effort of the human mind to read the mind of God from question marks out of which we and the world around us seem to be made.” That is certainly not how I would describe the proper task of theology; but God’s intelligence marks all creation, even the created human minds who seek to understand.

William W. Schumacher Dean of Theological Research and Publication

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Herb Brokering

A Man Who Never Met a Word He Did Not Like!

Children of God, dying and rising Sing to the Lord a new song!

Heaven and Earth, hosts everlasting, Sing to the Lord a new song!

He has done marvelous things, I too will praise Him with a new song! (“Earth and All Stars”) Herbert Frederick Brokering (1926–2009), poet, pastor, husband, father, grandfather, writer, dreamer, friend . . . and so much more! He took his baptism and his name very seriously. He was indeed a “broker” of people. Simply said, he connected. He had that gift of connecting people, of bringing people together, of enabling the gifts of God’s people to intersect with the needs of God’s people.

He brokered people around the themes of health and hope and healing.

Indeed, he never met a word he did not like! He would connect words and meanings and creative thoughts together like few people could. As we would travel, plan, play, and pray together, I was honored at being able to learn and reflect with him as he took the time to mentor me and so many others. More than once I recall hearing people say, after hearing Herb speak, “Wow, that was great. I’m not exactly sure what it all means—but it was great!” He had that gift of being able to stretch people, to nudge his listeners, and to make connections between his words and the Word, Jesus Christ! Being with Herb was never just an event or a visit . . . it was always an experience!

That was Herb. He was one-of a-kind, yet so human, earthy, real—and “Nebraskan,” where he was born. Herb’s gift was being able to bring us health and hope through winsome and wandering and weaving and wondering words, and through it all, we became well . . . in the Lord!

He connected words with ideas and ideas with people and people with passions and passions with affirmation, and through it all, ministries and miracles happened—in, with, and under health, hope, and healing!

He wrote more than 40 books and penned more than 1000 hymns. As a Lutheran pastor, he preached the Word in three parishes, taught the Word in every kind of group imaginable—confirmation classes, parish groups, seminary classes, youth gatherings, major conferences, one on one visits, and personal hospital chats.

Throughout his career, he crisscrossed the continent, giving talks and workshops in churches and communities and hosting many religious events, including Renaissance–Reformation festivals with scholar Roland Bainton. He led church groups on pilgrimages to Luther’s Germany and other countries in Eastern Europe.

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In the midst of the Cold War, Herb was able to sidestep political hurdles so that his pilgrims could meet, worship with, and stay in the homes of Christians behind the Iron Curtain. He could do this because, in some ways, he was ahead of his time.

Yet in other ways, he accomplished these things because he remained grounded in the earthiness of his Nebraska, always remembering his baptism.

He once told me that he had never worshiped in a church that was not filled to capacity. When I asked him to explain this “phenomenon,” he explained that when he worships, he always sees his great-grandfather in the row in front of him, he spots his old pastor in the front pew, he recognizes his neighbors from Nebraska still sitting in the back of the church, and he waves to his wife Lois (who was tragically killed on July 7, 2004, as Herb was attending the LCMS synodical convention). Worship to Herb was the celebration of saints on earth and saints in heaven. That is why Herb always saw the “earth and all stars” in a special way.

There was the time Herb gave our first grandson, Matt, a gift for his baptism.

It was the gift of the word “the.” When Matt’s grandfather asked him why he did not give him the word “in,” Herb quickly responded by saying, “That word was already taken!” Human, humorous, hooray-filled . . . that was Herb!

Herb Brokering lived life to the full as Herb, the Broker! In and through all of these connections, countless people realized that what he was really doing was connecting us to faith in Jesus Christ! He was connecting our Good Fridays with our Easters, our limitations with our gifts, our Nebraskas to our New Orleans, our churches to our communities, our homes to the homeless, our sadnesses to our gladnesses. In essence, he was connecting the secular to the sacred in all of God’s world.

In all of Herb’s words, there was always the Word—of grace, of hope, of forgiveness, of joy, of peace. Through Herb’s own struggles with heart attacks, cancer, loss of family, and an unclear future, the Lord somehow provided Herb the words and the presence to speak and to live hope in the name of the healing Christ.

Another Herb story: once I asked him how he handled the situation when he heard a sermon with which he did not agree. He proudly explained that he had never heard a sermon with which he did not agree. Then he added, “If I hear something I do not agree with, I just change it.” Now that is health, hope, and healing!

Herb had the knack of looking at one thing and seeing something else. He loved the Scriptures and the way Jesus taught because it was all about connections and relationships and wholeness. Many years ago Herb wrote the book Wholly Holy for the Lutheran Education Association. In retrospect, that title “Wholly Holy” was really what Herb’s life (as well as our own) was all about!

His little book, Pilgrimage to Renewal (1979), captures the concept of baptism and “walking wet” daily in the Lord. Listen in:

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How is baptism a pilgrimage? How can one brief act begin a long jour-

ney? I was in Mexico for Israel’s baptism. I bought a pair of sandals for him. As I paid the woman, she asked about his age. “Newborn,” I said. “But these are for a 10 year old,” she commented. “But don’t worry. He’ll grow.” . . . Baptism is a pilgrimage of growth. Baptism is a line, a way, and not just a dot. Two months later, Lisa was being baptized, Israel’s cousin. So I went shopping again. I fell in love with yellow booties, small and fuzzy. As I paid for them the lady asked, “How old?” Three months, I said. “But these are too small,” she said. “But don’t worry. Tell her parents to hang them on the wall to remind her that she is baptized!” . . . That’s what it’s all about. Baptism is going somewhere, being on the way. Baptism is living between remembering and growing into. It’s being between the tiny booties and the bigger sandals. We’re all on this pilgrimage with Lisa and Israel.

Herb Brokering’s writings will live on. The memories of this giant of the faith have already touched so many of God’s people throughout the world. An olive tree is being planted in Bethlehem, Palestine, as a symbol of Herb’s creative presence in that place. Herb’s hymns, litanies, and prayers will continue to be read and sung by families and congregations in many lands and in many languages. A new musical written by Herb, The Way Home, will premiere in the coming months at Concordia University, St. Paul. It is a parable about the parable of the Prodigal Son, as only Herb could write it!

Herb connected all of us to health, hope, and healing. To Herb, a word was not the end, but only the beginning, a point of connection and new birth. Herb had it right. He connected words with the Word becoming flesh, and fresh, in Jesus Christ—and we have been blessed!

This Broker-of-People brought a childlike joy, a creative wonder, and a playful purpose to those he touched. He word-painted the child Jesus for children of all ages throughout the world. May that child of God live in each of us daily, in the name of the healing Christ!

As we go out Easterizing the world, we remember Herb’s prayer for each of us: Lord, send me a surprise. One that catches me off guard and makes me wonder … like Easter. Send me a resurrection when everything looks dead and buried. Send me light when the night seems too long.

Send me spring when the cold and frozen season seems endless. Send me an idea when my mind is empty. Send me a thing to do when I am just waiting around. Send me a new friend when I am alone. Send me peace when I am afraid. Send me a future when it looks hopeless. Send me your Resurrection when I die, Jesus!

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Rest in peace, dear friend. Amen and Amen . . . and Amen! Thanks be

to God! Rich Bimler December, 2009 Dr. Rich Bimler, of Bloomingdale, Illinois, has served the church in various positions throughout his 45-year career, including serving for 15 years as President and CEO of Wheat Ridge Ministries. He continues to write—he is the author of 15 books—speak, and consult throughout the world.

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Reflections on the Life and Music of Paul Manz, 1919–2009

After church musician Paul Manz died on October 29, 2009, many recalled his career filled with accolades and awards. They remembered the concert halls and churches in North America and Europe where he presented organ recitals and hymn festivals. In the weeks following his death, many organists pulled out a volume or two of his organ improvisations that they played for service as a tribute to the contribution of a master and teacher. Choir directors have re-examined Manz’s “E’en So, Lord Jesus, Quickly Come,” thinking that this would be the year to accept the challenge of the high B-flat and have the choir enjoy the satisfaction of singing this masterpiece of choral writing.

Among the facets of the life and music of Paul Manz, his chorale improvisations (along with the attendant hymn festivals) garner the most attention. His improvisations were known for being music that captured the ear as well as the heart and mind. As an oxymoron, these improvisations were not as much spurof-the-moment compositions as much as they were studied, thought out, planned works that gave enjoyment and inspiration. Whether in the context of a Sunday morning service at Mt. Olive Lutheran Church in Minneapolis or at St. Luke Lutheran Church of Chicago, or in the context of a hymn festival, Manz’s chorale improvisations were winsome with their counter-melodies that still gave focus to the chorale. They were also as winsome for the purpose of bringing back wayward Lutherans and others who abandoned some of the life-blood chorales of the church, as much as they served to introduce many church members to some of the new hymns in our hymnals.

Despite these great contributions to the life of the church, Paul Manz was best at being a parish Kantor, one who serves as organist, choral director, teacher, music planner, composer of needed music for the local congregation. Mt. Olive Lutheran Church of Minneapolis was such a local congregation that benefited from his 37 years as its Kantor. In a day when much of hymn singing was anemic in strength, sluggish in tempo, uneven in rhythm, Kantor Manz provided his congregation with a vibrant consistency that made hymn singing strong and healthy.

Underlying such strong singing was the heartbeat or tactus of the hymn that provided singers with a predictability and security in their singing. The concept of the heartbeat of the hymn was at the heart of all of Manz’s hymn playing and made it possible for even a “new congregation” (such as at a convention or a hymn festival) to sing with the fervor of long-standing congregations.

Vibrancy in hymn singing came from the improvisations that served not only as hymn introductions but also as stanza settings where the organ “sang” the text instead of the congregation. Such organ stanzas (as well as stanzas for women or men or choir only) were simply building on the Lutheran practice of alternatim praxis, alternating practice, that invigorated the singing of some of the longer Reformation hymns; a practice that can still invigorate hymn singing.

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It was a privilege for me to be counted among the many students who stud-

ied formally with Dr. Manz, while he was professor at Concordia College (now University), St. Paul, Minnesota. It was an even greater privilege to hear him play the divine service at Mt. Olive church. In fact, I can truly say that I probably learned most about hymn playing and service playing by hearing Dr. Manz play those services. Organ lessons with him always included attention to hymns, the clarity needed to highlight the tune, and the steadiness of the tempo to give security to the singers. Rhythmic problems had to be worked out so as not to hinder the singing of the congregation.

The accolades and awards given to Dr. Paul Manz were well deserved. His organ and choral compositions still give joy and challenge to organists and singers in choirs and congregations. But it was in his hymn playing and service playing that Paul Manz provided congregations and, through his students, future congregations with the joy of singing the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the New Song.

Henry V. Gerike

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Home . . . Home at Last The quote from T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets” noted by Travis Scholl in the Editor’s Note last issue (Fall 2009) precipitated a realization of coming home in retirement. Four decades of pastoral ministry have borne the truth of these lines: “And the end of all our exploring/Will be to arrive where we started/And know the place for the first time.”

Restoring and sustaining an urban church not able to afford a pastor turns out to be a fulfilled dream of a shepherd gone to pasture. Perhaps some of our best experiences and most treasured service await the moment we officially lay down our tools and relax.

After serving rural, small town, and suburban parishes, returning to his first love in the evening years of service struck a harmonious chord between an emeritus vacancy pastor and a struggling urban congregation. Unable to afford a pastor, the congregation is happy; coming back to a meaningful ministry tasted in the formational years spells a happy pastor and wife as the sunset years of life approach.

Beginning with a 1965 summer internship on the south side of Chicago, newly graduated Pastor Larry Morkert, veteran Pastor Albert Pero, and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. sowed the seeds of passionate zeal for the city in this young seminarian’s heart. The Geiseman’s Kingdom Frontier assignment to the Robert Taylor project placed an indelible passion in the souls of aspiring students. Many served urban poor from that time on. This particular servant yearned for work in India and was cut short by ended visas; signed up for American-Indian work, yet was redirected to a rural Midwest parish; volunteered for Sri Lanka, but the interview was left in a forgotten file; pushed parishes to mission limits, yet still felt unfulfilled; initiated and volunteered to third world servant events, desiring to stay longer … until finally, God gave the order to take the Concordia “Rule of 85”1 payout and volunteer to serve where no one could be found.

Here his greatest joy became real. Serving the smallest parish ever, in the poorest area ever, with the least staff ever, God’s best ministry gift was given. What makes it so?

Here are some surprising discoveries. Where there is no money to spare, the only focus is ministry. Budget talk is useless and futile. There’s no money to fight over. When a congregation has died three times and been revived to life by interim ministry training, there is a strong gratefulness for existence that pervades, and the fear of dying is gone. When the relationship of pastor and people is pure gratitude, the miracle of continuing is sustained by God alone in miraculous ways through everyday acts with miraculous healing love. When God places twelve nations in a congregation of 150 people or so with an average attendance of 40–70, the diversity exudes acceptance and joy. Every Sunday is a new experience with culture and people and language. When rentals are needed to sustain the payment of utilities Concordia Journal/Winter 2010

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and upkeep, the variety of worship and languages of small groups of Christians give a sense of awe of God’s Kingdom. Plus, new friendships flourish as the rented space launches new congregations of many colors and traditions: Pentecostal Guatemalans, African-American Baptists and Apostolics and non-denominationals, Nepalese immigrants, Haitian members, Afrikaner dancers, Mexican members, and Costa Rican Pentecostals. Sprinkle this with a few Koreans, Asian Indians, American Indians, and “ESLers” from the Dominican Republic, Bangladesh, Pakistan, and Indonesia. Then add a missionary commissioned to Ecuador and Korea. This all adds up to a mission station alive and well.

All of this in five years since receiving the great gift of the Concordia Retirement Plan. What a blessing to serve. Most feel a sense of sacrifice, purpose, and gratitude. Life is good.

Add to that confirmations, baptisms, and conversions of primarily AfricanAmericans along with reclaimed Swedes, Germans, and Dutch. Life is full and the Great Commandment and Commission are active and powerful. Additionally the congregation has been able to tithe to district and synod for the first time in ten years. Finally, a balanced budget has cheered everyone, albeit one under $100,000.

The simple truth of “less is more” has been fulfilled.

What does this mean? Watch what God has for you in the most unexpected moments of life’s journey. Be open to his call even when it is not listed in the church’s official record. (Emeriti often serve without an official call.) The handshake and prayer are still powerful. God blesses a permanent vacancy with active mission and ministry. It’s not quite the worker/priest concept but has many of those benefits.

With the advent of baby boomer retirees in the synod, perhaps this reflection has merit.

Rodney D. Otto Redeemer Lutheran Church Grand Rapids, Michigan

Endnote 1 The “Rule of 85” is a formula that eliminates some or all of the early retirement reduction for qualified members, allowing payment of the full accrued benefit as early as age 62 instead of 65. If the sum of your age at retirement plus your years and months of participation in the Concordia Retirement Plan equal the number 85 (or greater), you qualify for the “Rule of 85” and some or all of the early retirement reductions may be waived. http:// www.concordiaplans.org/DetailPage.aspx?ID=290

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Why Philipp Melanchthon Did Not Fear Death Editor’s Note: 2010 marks 450 years since the death of Philipp Melanchthon, tireless Lutheran reformer and author of the Augsburg Confession and its Apology. Concordia Journal begins its recognition of this anniversary with the following original translation.

A few days before his death on April 19, 1560 Melanchthon wrote the following on a little page of paper1: Caussae cur minus abhorreas a morte Discedes a peccatis.

Liberaberis abaerumnis, et a rabie Theologorum.

Venies in lucem.

Videbis Deum.

Intueberis filium Dei. Disces illa mira arcana, quae in hac vita intelligere non potuisti.

Cur sic simus conditi.

Qualis sit copulatio duarum naturarum in Christo.

Reasons why you should not fear death You will be freed from sin.

You will be liberated from hardships, and from the raging of the theologians.

You will come into the light.

You will see God. You will gaze in amazement at the Son of God. You will learn those wonderful mysteries that in this life you have not been able to understand: Why we are formed as we are.

In what the union of the two natures in Christ consists.

Gerhard Bode

Endnote

1 Philipp Melanchthon, “(Scriptum.)” in Corpus Reformatorum. Philippi Melanthonis Opera quae supersunt omnia, ed. C. G. Bretschneider and H. E. Bindweil (Halle/Braunschweig: Schwetschke, 1834– 1860) 9:1098.

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ARTICLE

COncordia Journal

What the Gospel Does

Three Ways of Applying the Gospel Concretely

David W. Loy

1 ­ Introduction In this paper I want to call attention to three ways in which pastors can apply the Gospel to our human sin: healing the sinful attitude that leads to a particular sinful behavior, liberating the sinner, and inviting the sinner to leave behind sinful behaviors and walk in the Lord’s forgiveness. I will offer concrete examples of each way of applying the Gospel—taking examples from the Scriptures and from Luther. I will also show which approach fits with which kinds of texts and goals, and I will show how these ways of applying the Gospel allow a pastor to preach the Gospel more concretely by shaping the Gospel in his sermons to answer the law proclamation.

The Healing Effect2 What It Is Perhaps the best entrée into the healing application of the Gospel is Jesus’s sermon in Matthew 6:25–34. Here Jesus is admonishing his disciples for their lack of trust in God’s gracious provision and promising them that their heavenly Father will provide all they need. First, Jesus identifies the goal for them (“Do not worry about what you will eat or drink or wear”). He then diagnoses the malady as a lack of trust in the Father, ever so gently preaching the law (“Look at the lilies of the field . . .”). Finally, he applies the promises of God to this particular malady, pointing out (“Are you not of more value than they?”) that you and I are worth more to our heavenly Father than the sparrows, so he will provide for us just as he provides for them. Our Lord’s sermon here is intentionally directed at creating a particular response in the disciples, and it achieves that goal by applying the gospel as a healing agent to the sickness which leads the disciples astray. God’s promise of provision for his children heals the lack of faith which leads to worry; the intended goal is that the disciples stop worrying and learn to trust their heavenly Father more fully.

Rev. Dr. David W. Loy is Pastor at Zion Lutheran Church in Bolivar, Missouri.

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The healing application of the Gospel will most likely be familiar to pastors

whose homiletical training introduced them to Caemmerer’s “Goal-Malady-Means” methodology.3 With this methodology, the preacher asks what response the sermon ought to elicit from the hearers (the goal) based on the text for the sermon and the particulars of the congregation to which it will be preached. Having established a goal, the pastor then determines what keeps the hearers from achieving that goal (the malady). The emphasis here is on concreteness; simply answering “sin” will not help to focus the sermon, but answering with a concrete instance of sin will provide great focus for the sermon. Finally, the preacher prayerfully considers how the gospel undermines or removes the malady so that the hearers will achieve the desired response (assuming, of course, that they repent of the malady!).

The healing application of the Gospel functions by directing the Gospel at a particular malady that prevents the Christian from living out the sanctified life in a concrete area. The malady is typically internal: a belief, an attitude, an emotion, a desire, or the like. At the heart of this method is the insight that the Gospel—that is, the promise of the forgiveness of sins for the sake of Jesus Christ—brings to life in Christians a renewed obedience to the law once the law has put to death the sinful thoughts, feelings, and desires which create disobedience. In the words of Richard Eyer, “Preaching Law and Gospel means finding the malady behind the sin so that the Gospel speaks to the deeper need for forgiveness and healing that transforms life.”4 The Gospel heals a malady and brings about the healthy life of Christ in the Christian.5 Examples I have already cited one example of the healing application in Matthew 6.

Often this application occurs when Jesus begins a sermon or saying with the words, “Do not be afraid.” For example, in Matthew 10 Jesus tells the disciples not to worry about what they will say when they are brought before kings and rulers (v.

19) and not to fear those who can kill the body but not the soul (v. 28). In the first case, Jesus applies a promise to the fear, telling the disciples, “what you are to say will be given to you in that hour.” Our Lord wants the Gospel of the forgiveness of sins to be proclaimed throughout the world, so he will provide his disciples with the words to proclaim it. In the second case, Jesus reminds his disciples that no sparrow falls to the ground apart from our heavenly Father, and we are of more value to him than any sparrow (vv. 29–31).

Luther also preached the Gospel to heal. To take just one example, in a house postil for Septuagesima Sunday, Luther addresses the inequalities of the lefthand kingdom. Luther understands that these inequalities can engender bitterness among us sinful human beings. He preaches,

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Again, all this we should carefully note so that everyone may serve

God sincerely and cheerfully, whatever his station in life, always thinking, I’m not an emperor or king, I possess neither cities nor castles as great princes have, but I do, nevertheless, have the same holy baptism, and he who died to earn eternal life for me is the same Christ who saved the emperor.6 Luther identifies the malady, namely, bitterness about one’s low station in life. Luther then applies the Gospel to heal the bitterness by pointing out that we are all equal in Christ. In fact, Luther goes on to observe that Christ’s redemption sanctifies whatever work the Christian does.

Knowing that in Christ’s kingdom there is no inequality, we have courage and comfort, and in Christian “pride” we go forward to do what needs to be done. In this way everyone can go about his daily work in a joyful and godly manner. A Christian can truly say, I have no real reason to grumble about my station in life; it is a good and precious one, even though it be unimportant and boring.7 The grumbling stems from bitterness, and the bitterness is healed by Gospel of the forgiveness of sins for the sake of Jesus.

When It Works Best This particular function of the Gospel works best when the goal of the sermon is to assure wavering Christians of God’s love, care, and provision for them so that they will engage in behaviors they are currently neglecting. Typically, if a pastor can say, “Christians ought to . . ., but their fears/desires/beliefs/attitudes keep them from it,” then this function of the Gospel will work well. “Christians ought to trust God to provide for them rather than worrying, but their fears about money keep them from it.” Response: “God purchased you with the blood of Christ, which makes you exceedingly valuable to him. He is not about to withhold all that you need to support this body and life, and certainly not what you need for eternal life.” “Christians ought to share the Gospel with unbelievers, but their fears about what to say keep them from it.” Response: “Jesus Christ has given us the words to say, and the Holy Spirit will put words in our mouths when we need them.”

“Christians should not covet, but they do so because of their belief that happiness rests in what we own.” Response: “We don’t need to covet, because in Christ Jesus God has given us a new worth and an inheritance that satisfies our every need.”

In other words, when the malady revolves around Christians’ fear, lack of trust, misplaced priorities, worry, or the like, or when sins of omission are the focus of the sermon, then the healing function of the Gospel might be employed benefi-

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cially. Absolution will certainly be announced—the hearers must know that God no longer holds their failures or their fears against them, because Christ has borne the punishment for both. Beyond that, however, the further promises of God which are fulfilled in Christ Jesus will be applied to the hearers in order to create in them the renewed faith which will issue forth in the works of faith. The sin-sick soul has been healed, and the Christian embarks on the full and active life of faith.

The Liberating Effect What It Is Healing is not the only way in which the Gospel speaks to the law in a sermon. Often the Gospel simply liberates an individual from the fact and feeling of guilt over a sin by announcing that God has declared the individual innocent for Jesus’s sake.8 Nothing more is in view. Careful spiritual diagnosis of the malady is not a significant element when the Gospel is directed toward absolution, nor does repentance loom large in the law proclamation, because the feeling of guilt is already present—that is, the Holy Spirit is already working contrition and repentance through the hearer’s own conscience. What stands front and center in these cases is the fact and feeling of guilt and the fact of forgiveness. The goal is simply to liberate the hearer from both the fact of guilt and the feeling of guilt.

Examples Jesus proclaims the Gospel to several individuals simply in order to liberate them from the fact and feeling of guilt—for example, the paralytic (Mt 9:2; cf.

Mk 2:5; Lk 5:20), the woman who poured perfume on his feet (Lk 7:48), and the woman caught in adultery (Jn 8:11). However, these cases might be considered pastoral care (despite the fact that they occurred in public), because only one individual receives the absolution. More pointedly, Jesus’s parable of the prodigal son in Luke 15 gives an example of liberation: as the father in the parable receives his son back without so much as a nod to his guilt, so God the Father receives us sinners back without holding any of our guilt against us.9 Acts 2 provides an example of a sermon that aims at liberation. Peter proclaims the law quite pointedly to the crowd gathered on Pentecost—so pointedly that “they were cut to the heart, and said to Peter and the rest of the apostles, ‘Brothers, what shall we do?’” (Acts 2:37). In other words, the law had done its work, and their hearts were burdened by the fact of their guilt. Peter’s response sets them free: “Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. For the promise is for you and for your children and for all who are far off, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to himself” (Acts 2:38–39). Because God’s promise of forgiveness in Christ is for them and their children, they no longer need to bear the burden of their sin of crucifying Jesus. They are forgiven, and they are therefore

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set free from guilt. Paul’s great sermon in Romans 7 might well be another example of preaching toward liberation, culminating as it does with the declaration, “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death” (Romans 8:1–2). Although we Christians commit sin daily, the Father no longer condemns us because of Christ’s sacrificial death. The very proclamation of that news cleanses our consciences from the fact and feeling of guilt.

It is precisely this dynamic of daily sin that moves Luther to proclaim the Gospel with an eye toward liberation in an Easter Tuesday postil.

So a Christian is at the same time sinner and saint. As persons, we are sinful by nature and in our own name are sinners. But Christ marks us with another name, forgiveness of sins. For his sake our sins are remitted and taken away. . . . [Where] faith is, God sees no more sin, for you stand in the presence of God not in your own name but in Christ’s name, who adorns you with grace and righteousness, though in your own eyes and estimation you are a miserable sinner, full of weakness and unbelief.10 Luther’s diagnosis here is that the sinner fears God’s wrath and needs to be freed from that fear. However, the only way in which the sinner will be liberated is by God’s own declaration that he no longer holds the sinner’s sins against him. The Gospel absolves, and in absolving it liberates.

When It Works Best Because preaching toward liberation focuses on the fact and feeling of guilt, it works best when the feeling of guilt is already present—when you believe your hearers will feel guilty as soon as you point out their sin. A perfect example is a congregation which has experienced significant conflict and is now in the process of reconciliation. Under these circumstances—and particularly if a service of reconciliation will be held—there is little need to lay the law on thick. Instead, the congregation needs to hear Christ’s gracious words of forgiveness, so that they can live in the reality that “as far as the east is from the west, so far does [the Lord] remove our transgressions from us” (Ps 103:12). In other words, the sermon acknowledges what happened and calls it sin, but it focuses on the fact that all is forgiven in the eyes of our heavenly Father for the sake of Jesus. It liberates the hearers from the feelings of guilt. Likewise, if the sin in question is one that people struggle with but never overcome, preaching toward liberation works well. Forgiving others provides a particularly poignant example. Our Lord leaves no question that we are to forgive one another from the heart (Mt 18:35), but sometimes our minds say, “I forgive” and our hearts retort, “Yeah, right!” For individuals who are struggling to forgive and running up against their sinful nature, only absolution will do. A change of the Concordia Journal/Winter 2010

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heart is nearly impossible this side of heaven, but freedom from the fact of guilt is possible. In fact, absolution is precisely the means through which our Lord lifts the burden associated with the sin, begins to undo the sinful nature’s hold, and makes forgiveness possible at all.

The Inviting Effect What It Is Preaching toward healing aims to undo the need for sin by applying the Gospel promises to our unspoken worries, fears, and attitudes. Preaching toward liberation aims to lift the burden of guilt through absolution. Preaching toward invitation takes a rather different tack. In such preaching, the Gospel serves as an invitation to turn away from sin and its wages and to live in the blessings of the forgiveness which our Savior won for us through his death and resurrection. The Gospel and its blessings are portrayed as a foil to sin and its curses so that the hearers turn away from sin and live as God’s forgiven children. To use Luther’s words, preaching toward invitation “presents to us at the same time an example of faith and of unbelief or of the state of the godless, in order that we also may abhor the contrary and the opposite of faith and love, and that we may cleave to faith and love more diligently.”11 What is in sight here is the fact of sin and the need for repentance. Of course, repentance is not worked by the preaching of the law alone, although the preaching of the law plays an important role in it.12 Rather repentance is worked by unflinching and unremitting preaching of the law along with bold and uncompromising preaching of the Gospel. In other words, you lay into them, and then you show them the way out. You identify the behavior or attitude that is sinful, and you proclaim the full wrath of God against it, and then you proclaim the full grace of God in Christ Jesus for those who repent. It’s either/or: either keep in the way of the law and be condemned, or repent in the sweet knowledge that our Savior has opened the way of heaven for sinners such as yourself.

The fundamental insight here is that the Gospel proclaims the new reality God creates for us. The Gospel functions as the invitation to live in that reality, and the Gospel actually opens the sin-blinded eyes of the heart to the invitation.

In other words, the Gospel is efficacious—the announcement of the forgiveness of sins in Christ Jesus carries with it the power of God to create faith in the announcement. Against the wages of sin proclaimed in the strong law proclamation, the Gospel as invitation juxtaposes the simple truths that God the Father forgives us for the sake of Jesus and that repentance comes along with faith in this gift. No attempt is made to apply the Gospel to any inner condition. Instead, the Gospel simply stands as the only alternative to God’s judgment against our sin.

Andrew E. Steinman and Michael Eschelbach have argued that the metaphors of walk and path in Proverbs function in precisely this way. They write,

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When treating the law, Solomon shows the negative implications of

sinful paths. . . . This use of the metaphor of path allows Solomon to use the law as a deterrent to sin, as when he speaks of the evil path as harmful, causing people to stumble, presenting danger, or leading them to death. . . . In contrast to the evil path, the righteous path of the gospel does not originate from human impulses, but belongs to God, since his way is from eternity past. The ability to walk on this path is a gift from God. . . . Humans, however, can exercise the option to leave this path and are urged not to abandon it. . . . Solomon often uses the metaphor of path as a means to make the promises of the gospel (both temporal and eternal) more vivid. . . . Other times the metaphor of the path is used as the invitation of the gospel to repentance, faith, and trust.13 Arthur Just makes the same claim about beatitudes: A beatitude describes Gospel gifts that pertain to each and every believer. A beatitude may function like a Gospel invitation, in which the blessings of the Gospel are held out as enticements to bring or to keep the hearer in God’s kingdom.14 The Apology speaks in much the same way: Yet the proclamation of rewards and punishments is necessary. In the proclamation of punishments the wrath of God is displayed, and hence this belongs to the preaching of penitence. In the proclamation of rewards grace is displayed. When they talk about good works, the Scriptures often include faith, since they wish to include the righteousness of the heart with other fruits. Just so they sometimes offer grace with other rewards. . . .15 Notably, when the Gospel is preached as invitation, it may well be preached in the third person. The dichotomous presentation of law and Gospel lends itself to a “those who . . ., but those who . . .” structure, as in, “Those who persist in their sin will stand under God’s judgment on the last day, but those who repent enjoy his gifts of forgiveness and everlasting life.”16 Proclaiming the Gospel in the third person (rather than announcing absolution in the second person) prevents those who are secure in their sin from believing that they may enjoy God’s forgiveness while they continue to choose their sin over his forgiveness.

Examples Isaiah 58:13–14 provides a striking example of preaching the Gospel toward invitation.17

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If you turn back your foot from the Sabbath, from doing your pleasure

on my holy day, and call the Sabbath a delight and the holy day of the LORD honorable; if you honor it, not going your own ways, or seeking your own pleasure, or talking idly; then you shall take delight in the LORD, and I will make you ride on the heights of the earth; I will feed you with the heritage of Jacob your father, for the mouth of the LORD has spoken.

God recites the blessings that come through faith in his promises to invite the Israelites to keep the Sabbath. Jesus’s parable of the sheep and the goats in Matthew 25 is another example. In this sermon Jesus does not merely inform the disciples (and the rest of us!) what will happen on the last day; he invites us to consider our lives in the light of the last day. If we ignore the physical and relational needs of “the least of these my brothers” (Mt 25:40), then we are choosing to live against God’s law. On the other hand, those who have faith in Christ (which finds its expression in caring for others) will receive the kingdom of heaven as their inheritance! Likewise, Jesus’s discourse in John 3:14–21 sets out the two alternatives: to reject Jesus and stand condemned or to receive the gift of everlasting life through faith in him.

Luther also preaches the Gospel as invitation. In a postil on Luke 6:36–42, Luther speaks of the necessity for Christians to forgive those who sin against them.

He writes, Because of your sins you were all under God’s judgment and condemnation. And what did your Father in heaven then do? Is it not true that he neither wanted to judge nor condemn you, but forgave you all your sins, suspended his judgment, and accepted you in grace? For that you should be grateful and do to your neighbor as your Father has done to you: be merciful, judge not, neither condemn, but forgive and be gracious as your Father in heaven has forgiven and been gracious to you.

If you do this, it is evidence that you truly and firmly believe the forgiveness of your Father in heaven who has forgiven all your sins and transgressions. If you do not do it, but like the wicked servant receive grace, and refuse to show grace to others, then you should know that you are merely a make-believe Christian and not an honest Christian.

Because of this God will again throw you out of grace into judgment and condemnation.18 When It Works Best Preaching toward invitation works best in instances where the sins in question can be avoided because they fall under the power of the human will to achieve a certain level of civic righteousness. For example, I have used this form of pro-

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the Gospel in talking about cohabitation: either a couple chooses to live claiming against God by cohabiting without marriage, or a couple enjoys the wondrous gift of forgiveness we have through the death and resurrection of our Savior, which means walking away from (repenting of) cohabitation. The same approach can be taken when it comes to holding a grudge: either a person chooses to nurse a grudge and refuses to forgive, or the person enjoys the forgiveness which God so richly lavishes on us for the sake of Christ, which means working to let go of the grudge.19 There is no middle ground. Either one remains in the sin, which means living apart from Christ and therefore apart from God’s grace, or one repents because of God’s gracious invitation to enjoy the gifts he freely gives.

Those preaching toward invitation must be careful to avoid certain misunderstandings. Never should we leave the impression that changing our behaviors is what gets us ready for the Gospel or justifies us. Repentance is necessary, and the preacher must say so, but repentance is necessary in the way good works are necessary: not as that which earns us salvation, nor as that which prepares our hearts or lives for God, but as the fruit of the faith which is created and strengthened by the Gospel’s gracious invitation. In other words, the law must be preached with reference only to God’s condemnation of sin and his demand for repentance, and the Gospel must be preached without reference to God’s demand for us to repent.

Conclusion If you have spent time studying or listening to the sermons recorded in Scripture, then you know that their power lies not simply in the recitation of correct doctrine but in how they apply law and Gospel to the specific situation of the hearers. They match the law proclamation to spiritual needs of the hearers, and they match the Gospel to the law proclamation to address the hearer’s spiritual needs. What I have presented are three ways in which the Scriptures—and, it so happens, Luther—apply the Gospel in preaching: preaching to heal, preaching to liberate, and preaching to invite. Attending to these ways of applying the Gospel as you prepare your sermons will therefore help you to preach more biblically, not only in content but also in pragmatics, in what your sermon does.20 Keeping these three ways of applying the Gospel in mind will help you to match the law proclamation to the spiritual needs of the people in your pews and to match the Gospel proclamation to the law you have preached. In short, your sermons will become more focused and more biblical, and most importantly, the Gospel will predominate in your preaching.

Endnotes 1

Feedback and comments from several people have helped to improve earlier drafts of this paper. I specifically want to thank the Rev. Dr. Richard Eyer, the Revs. Jeff Sippy, Duane Maas, John Gerlach, David Oberdieck, and Dan Mackey, and Mr. John Eyer, as well as several pastors who

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offered feedback after I presented the paper at the Missouri District Professional Church Workers’ Conference (November 11, 2008).

2 I am deeply indebted to the Rev. Dr. Richard Eyer for my understanding of the healing effect of the Gospel.

3 Richard Caemmerer, Preaching for the Church: Theology and Technique of the Christian Sermon (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1959). See especially chapters 3, 4, and 5.

4 Richard Eyer, “Preaching Law and Gospel in the Particulars,” unpublished manuscript.

5 In a sense, what I am suggesting is that the Gospel (in the narrow sense) can be analyzed in terms of pragmatics. The Gospel imputes righteousness to the sinner to justify him or her, but the Gospel may be applied in different ways, depending on the needs of the situation. The Gospel is not simply the transfer of information (locution); it also effects a change in the justified sinner. In other words, it has perlocutionary force (see James Voelz, What Does This Mean? Principles of Biblical Interpretation in the Post-Modern World, 2nd ed. [St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1997], 276ff.).

It must be noted in passing that pragmatics provides an analogy for the way in which the Gospel works in the justified sinner without actually explaining it. The locutionary force of a statement aims to achieve its perlocutionary force by means of preexisting expectations, unspoken rewards and threats, and the like. In other words, it always carries an element of law. The Gospel achieves its effects, on the other hand, when the Lord removes the heart of stone from our flesh and gives us a heart of flesh (Ez 11:19)—that is, the Gospel creates ex nihilo the very effects it intends.

6 Martin Luther, The Sermons of Martin Luther: The House Postils, ed. Eugene F. A. Klug, 3 volumes (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker Book House, 1996), reprinted in Martin Luther, The Complete Sermons of Martin Luther (Grand Rapids: Baker Book House, 2000), 5:280.

7 Luther, Complete Sermons, 5:281.

8 It is important to distinguish between the fact of guilt and the feeling of guilt. The fact of guilt is an objective sentence that stands over each sinner because of sins committed or good works omitted; it may or may not elicit the feeling of guilt. The feeling of guilt is the anxiety that arises in a person who believes he or she has committed a sin or omitted a good work; the belief may or may not be true.

9 Arthur Just has observed, “Some of the beatitudes function in a manner similar to that of an absolution” (Luke 1:1–9:50, Concordia Commentary Series, ed. Jonathan F. Grothe et al. [St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1996], 268).

10 Luther, Complete Sermons, 6:39.

11 In a sermon on the rich man and Lazarus. Martin Luther, The Precious and Sacred Writings of Martin Luther, ed. J. N. Lenker, vol. 13 (Minneapolis: Lutherans in All Lands, 1904), reprinted in Luther, Complete Sermons, 2.2:18.

12 See Ap IV, in The Book of Concord: The Confessions of the Evangelical Lutheran Church, ed. Robert Kolb and Timothy J. Wengert (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2000), 160: “For it is most certain that in the preaching of repentance, the proclamation of the law, which only terrorizes and condemns consciences, is not enough. It is also necessary to add the gospel, namely, that sins are freely remitted on account of Christ and that we receive the forgiveness of sins by faith.”

13 Andrew E. Steinman and Michael Eschelbach, “Walk This Way: A Theme from Proverbs Reflected and Extended in Paul’s Letters,” Concordia Theological Quarterly 70 (January 2006): 45–47.

14 Just, Luke 1:1-9:50, 268.

15 Ap IV, 365, in The Book of Concord: The Confessions of the Evangelical Lutheran Church, trans. and ed. Theodore G. Tappert (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1959), 163. Note that the Octavo Edition (the basis for the Kolb-Wengert translation), with its slightly different emphasis, lacks this particular formulation.

16 Cf. Psalm 1; 40:4; Proverbs 8:34–36; 28:14.

17 This is the example cited by Ap IV, 365 (Tappert, 163).

18 Luther, Complete Sermons, 6:276–77.

19 This is different from the person who wants to forgive but whose heart will not forgive. In fact, I have preached a sermon in which the first part was aimed at invitation for those who might be 30

nursing grudges and the second part was aimed at liberation for those who wish to forgive but find their hearts uncooperative.

20 On matching the pragmatics of a sermon to the pragmatics of the Biblical text, see Jeffrey D. Arthurs, Preaching With Variety: How to Re-create the Dynamics of Biblical Genres (Grand Rapids: Kregel, 2007).

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Grammarian’s Corner

COncordia Journal

The Hebrew Infinitive

(but first, more on the subtleties of Hebrew verbs) As predicted in our previous column on the “Simplicity of the Hebrew Participle, Part 1 of 1” (Concordia Journal 35:2, Spring 2009, p. 173), the discussion of the Greek participle in this column has now advanced from Part VII to Part VIII (see CJ, 35:4, Fall 2009, p. 393). I did note that the Hebrew infinitive might well be worthy of multiple installments, and we shall turn to such a discussion momentarily. We will begin with a simple overview of the infinitive, to be developed in detail in at least a “Part II,” although I have no designs on surpassing or overtaking the complexity and detail presented by colleague Dr. Voelz.

But as the time of this writing follows closely the annual Society of Biblical Literature meeting (November 2009), let me first report on at least one very intriguing session on the larger question of the Hebrew verb system. Readers of this column may recall our discussion of the “subtleties of Hebrew verbs” (CJ 34:1, 2, Jan-April 2008) in which the nuanced sense of the so-called “perfect waw-consecutive” was utilized as a case study on the complexities of what often seems a very simple verbal system. The SBL paper was titled “Reconsidering the So-Called Vav Consecutive,” delivered by John A. Cook of Asbury Theological Seminary in a session on Linguistics and Biblical Hebrew.

His first point is one that would seem unnecessary to make, except that even recent teaching grammars continue to utilize outright misnomers concerning the so-called waw-consecutive, such as “waw-conversive.” Such terminology leads to the misconception, which I dare say is what many students understand, that the waw-consecutive forms simply “convert” an imperfect into a perfect or vice versa.

The forms are actually quite unregenerate, with no such conversion experience.

Although Fundamental Biblical Hebrew (FBH) uses the traditional terminology of “imperfect waw-consecutive,” I am intrigued by those who refer to this phenomenon as the “waw-relative,” which simply speaks quite generally about a relationship between verb forms. (See also the very helpful and detailed discussion in WaltkeO’Connor 32.2.) But this, too, falls short as a descriptor, since many sentences, paragraphs, and even books of the Bible begin with such forms, which clearly are not dependent upon or “relative” to any preceding form at all. The same can be said for “perfect waw-consecutive” forms, although we will underscore the observation that these are simply not the same phenomenon at all.

The second point made in this scholarly paper was a strong affirmation that the so-called “imperfect waw-consecutive” actually marks an independent and different tense, the historic yaqtul form (without final short vowel). This is originally distinct from the actual imperfect verb form, which was historically yaqtulu, with a final short vowel that disappeared in the evolution of the language (even amateur

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scholars should know that the language once had case endings as well, all Hebrew of which seem to have fallen into disuse [or just fallen off the ends of words!] at approximately the end of the Bronze Age). One “smoking gun” for this phenomenon is the fact that the imperfect waw-consecutive forms in weak verbs will show a shortened form, usually similar to the jussive, again indicating that these historic forms were ordinarily shorter than the actual imperfect. Although Dr. Cook did not emphasize the term, many (including FBH) call this the historic “preterite” or past narrative tense. The distinctive pointing of the waw-consecutive “with imperfect” is really the Masoretic way of marking a different tense, and its use in past narrative is consistent with the original function of this preterite (again, not technically—or ever!—the imperfect form at all). Although the presenter bemoaned the fact that many otherwise up-to-date textbooks still use the traditional descriptions, I could not help but comment to colleague Andy Steinmann of CU-Chicago, also at this session and author of the Aramaic section of what is now FBH/FBA, that I knew of at least one textbook (well known to both of us) that explained this quite properly, consistent with most modern theories. (By the way, Dr. Steinmann’s new intermediate Hebrew grammar is forthcoming from CPH and will provide additional clarification and classification.)

All this is helpful in noting that we really have three major tenses in Hebrew: perfect (generally past), imperfect (generally future), and preterite (narrative past).

Harder to describe is the phenomenon of the so-called “perfect waw-consecutive.”

Many explain its development simply by analogy to the imperfect waw-consecutive, which I have always found less than convincing since (a) it is not normally distinctively marked (except for the mil’ra shift in accent on suffixed forms) and (b) it does not act consistently as a single tense or aspect. Although we may remain uncertain of historical development, this form often functions as a “wildcard” (cf. FBH as well as the case study examples discussed in the aforementioned CJ article, 34:1, 2).

What was helpful in Dr. Cook’s explanation is that the perfect may have its roots in an adjectival form (certainly betrayed in stative verbs) and not in any sense of clear or necessary succession or sequential action. (As an aside, the presenter noted that one relatively obvious marker of sequential verb forms is that they simply follow one another in a narrative, with no essential need for any syntactical marker.)

Drawing on the more technical vocabulary of linguists, and noting the whole concept of Hebrew aspects being called “tenses” as unhelpful, Dr. Cook suggested the opposition of “real” versus “irreal,” with the so-called irreal describing a variety of non-indicative forms, better categorized as moods, not tenses. As has been proposed elsewhere, the roots of this may lie in Near-West Semitic conditional statements and case law, in which the apodosis is regularly introduced by a perfect form, with a natural future but conditional sense. That this carries over into a contextualized understanding (“wildcard”) seems to me to make good sense, and I am

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grateful to this presentation by John Cook for a much more technical and accurate description from a linguistic point of view.

A final point was his assertion that word order is also a factor. He argued that “real” aspects of the so-called perfect (thus, a past tense or perfective action in some sense) follow a subject-verb word order, but the “irreal” uses of the waw conjunction (again, remember that the so-called perfect waw-consecutive is not pointed any differently from the waw as conjunction) follows an verb-subject word order.

This use would obviously front the so-called “perfect waw-consecutive” in a verbinitial clause, which would also support the (overly simplistic) assumption that such clauses are sequential or relational to preceding verbs in an extended sequence.

Instead, the “perfect waw-consecutive” may not be a true sequential form at all but must simply rely on its contextual understanding within a larger framework. To be honest, this part of the presentation was less convincing to me, and it would have benefited from clear examples. I am open to further study of this phenomenon and welcome interaction with readers from their own observation and expertise.

All of which brings us to the intended main topic of this little essay, the Hebrew infinitive. Also, as promised, we will do little more than introduce the major categories. As all students will recall, Hebrew has two infinitives, the infinitive absolute and the infinitive construct. In simple terms, the infinitive absolute is more an adverb than a verb form, most commonly being used for emphasis (or intensifying) a conjugated verb of the same root. This results in the common use of adverbs such as “certainly, surely, truly.” Perhaps the most famous example is Genesis 2:17: Genesis 2:17 tWmT'

twOm

“you shall surely die.”

There are other uses of the infinitive absolute, to be sure, including an odd sense of another type of “wildcard” simply substituting for whatever verb would be utilized in context. This may well be the explanation of this form in the Decalogue (Ex 20:8).

Exodus 20:8 tB'V;h; Sabbath”

~wOy-ta, rwOkz"

“(You will) Remember the day of the

These forms are almost universally translated as imperatives, when the context would suggest the future indicative of the other (negative) commandments: “you will not,” or in this case, “you will.”

The infinitive construct, on the other hand, behaves in large part as an actual infinitive. In this use, it is often a verbal complement, introduced with the preposition “to,” as in our own English idiom.

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Genesis 11:5

city.”

ry[ih'-ta, taor>li hw:hy> dr<YEw:

Exodus 20:8 wOvD>q;l. sabbath day to sanctify it.”

“YHWH came down to see the

tB'V;h; ~wOy-ta, rwOkz"

“You will remember the

However, the most common use of the infinitive construct is really the grammatical function of a gerund, i.e., a verbal noun. In English these forms end in -ing, which often confuse students with the function of a participle, which is a verbal adjective. As a noun, the infinitive is thus often used in a construct relationship with other nouns, hence the popular designation, infinitive construct. Here we will get into some more detailed examples, most notably the construction that employs the preposition b e , very typical of temporal expressions that would be literally translated, “in xxx-ing.” These are most commonly temporal clauses, to be translated with the subordinating conjunction “when.”

Genesis 12:14: hm'y>r"c.mi ~r"b.a; awObK. yhiy>w: “[And it happened] in the going of Abram toward Egypt...” = When Abram went toward Egypt . . .

Genesis 2:17: tWmT' you shall surely die.”

twOm WNM,mi ^l.k'a] ~wOyB.

“in the day of your eating from it,

Finally, it is worth remembering the single most difficult part of translating an infinitive: it is not a finite verb form. There are no past infinitives, present infinitives, or future infinitives. There are simply infinitives. The tense value has to be derived from the context, and we will go on in future installments to discuss helpful examples. For that, we will wait for at least a “Part II.” Andrew Bartelt

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Homiletical Helps

COncordia Journal

Homiletical Helps LSB Series C—Old Testament

The Transfiguration of Our Lord • Deuteronomy 34:1–12 • February 14, 2010 None of the gospels tell us what mountain Jesus climbed with Peter, James, and John to be transfigured. But I’d like to think it was Mount Nebo, despite the fact that the geography makes it virtually impossible. I’d like to think that from its mountaintop, the three disciples could have seen the same thing Moses saw: “Gilead as far as Dan, all Naphtali, the land of Ephraim and Manasseh, all the land of Judah as far as the Western Sea, the Negeb, and the Plain—that is, the valley of Jericho, the city of palm trees—as far as Zoar” (vv. 1b–3). To survey the whole land of promise, what a sight!

But it was a bittersweet sight, for Moses anyway, to see a home he would not enter, to know God would fulfill the promise only after he was dead and gone. “I have let you see it with your eyes,” God says, “but you shall not cross over there” (v. 4). His long life of wondrous deeds, the burning bush, the exodus, Sinai, and the wilderness notwithstanding, could Moses have ever heard words more bittersweet than this? And these are the last recorded words he ever hears from the One he “knew face to face” (v. 10). Was his death as bittersweet? Only Moses knows.

The same bittersweetness pervades the Gospel reading of the Transfiguration. Only this time the sight isn’t what you can see on the horizon, but the dazzling glory that stands at the mountain’s top (Lk 9:29). It is a glory so dazzling, it would seem to raise Moses from the dead and bring Elijah down from his fiery chariot. Or so it must have seemed to the favored three. In a flash, the glory is gone. Peter’s famous utterance drips with the same bittersweetness Moses must have felt on Nebo. But it is quickly overcome with terror (Lk 9:34). By the time they get down the mountain, their utter silence makes them as good as Moses was dead.

Moses’s death brings an end to his five books, and the end of the Pentateuch too leaves a bittersweet taste in the mouth. “The ending defers the fulfillment of the promise; it gives to the Pentateuch the character of an unfinished symphony.

The promise is left suspended and the people are dispirited and fearful (31:6). The future is not simply filled with delights; it is fraught with danger. And the danger comes, not just from the Canaanites, but from the inner recesses of their own hearts (31:20–29).”1 A promise deferred, people dispirited, the future fraught with danger—sound too familiar? I don’t know about the “delights” part, but the rest hits awfully close to home, awfully close to the heart. The ground we survey from this mountaintop is Lenten ground, and the symphony is painfully unfinished.

Deuteronomy hints at hope with the hearty endorsement of Joshua in verse 9, and it would be another Yeshua who would descend the mountain to fulfill his Concordia Journal/Winter 2010

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promise. Jesus too saw God face to face, but he saw him with “the glory as Father’s of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth” (Jn 1:14). Jesus’s eyes have a trinitarian lens. And so, Luke’s Gospel will soon remind us that Jesus will “set his face to go to Jerusalem” (9:51). Luke’s Jesus (and ours) would not remain content to look his own Father in the face without thinking of the humankind who would be left behind if he would not come down the mountain to go where Moses could not, to go where no other human being could go.

There is an elegant eschatology at work here at the end of Deuteronomy, at Luke’s mount of Transfiguration, and at the juxtaposition of both these texts in today’s liturgy. Indeed, we are hearing an unfinished symphony still playing itself out. We know how the story ends. But the promise still somehow feels suspended, awaiting its future. We can see the whole land before us. But it is not yet our home.

And it is at this in-between space of delight and danger, bitter and sweet, that hope finds its home in our hearts.

And there is no surer hope than in the promise of God. “His sight was unimpaired and his vigor had not abated,” Deuteronomy tells us of Moses at 120 years old (v. 7). If we would but have his clear eyes and vigorous strength to see what God still has yet to do in our midst.

Travis Scholl

Endnote 1

Terence E. Fretheim, The Pentateuch (Nashville: Abingdon, 1996), 54.

Lent 1 • Deuteronomy 26:1–11 • February 21, 2010 The approach for this sermon is a textual structure that uses key phrases in the text in the order in which they appear. What follows are brief comments about the key phrases with possible illustrations, applications, stories, and visual aids that could be used. The goal of this sermon is that the hearers will more joyfully give of their first fruits to the Lord and to those in need.

“When you come into the land that the Lord your God is giving you…”

This text is not a practical guide on how to do the various sacrifices and offerings. For example, it does not focus on the tithe, which would come at the end of the harvest, and the amount could be calculated. Rather, it connects God’s grace in giving the Promised Land with both the confession of how God acted so graciously in the history of his people and the giving of first fruits to the Lord and to those in need. The simple declaration that he gave them the place to live recognizes that God keeps his promises and is the giver of all that we have.

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Homiletical applications

One personal way to see how God has been so gracious in our lives is to video tape your house and its belongings, much as you should do for insurance purposes and then label that tape “All God has given to me/us.”

Most of us don’t raise crops but we do have many physical gifts. As a visual you could hold up a key ring with lots of keys on it: house, car, safety deposit box, office, sports locker, bicycle lock, jewelry cabinet, etc. As you single out each key, emphasize how each one is just like the Israelites having a land of their own to raise crops. “We have come into our land” could be a recurring phrase for each key. “first of all fruit …”

The word for “first” could also be translated “best.” Either way, the offering is not to be a “who wants this leftover” offering but the most desirable portion, and it is set aside for the offering before any of the crops are used personally. As mentioned above, though, the specifics are not given other than an amount that fits into a basket and is brought to the central sanctuary. It could actually be a number of different offerings as the crops ripened at different times (wheat, barley, grapes, figs, olives).

Homiletical applications Another way to get at the best/first aspect is the budgeting technique of envelopes in a box. When a paycheck comes, money is placed in different envelops marked: house payment, car expenses, food, savings and so forth. However, the first envelope in line is always marked “offering” to remind us that the best and first goes back to the Lord.

We can’t go to the temple or give it to a high priest as the text instructs, but the public aspect of the offering can be carried out as we place our contribution envelopes into the offering plate and give of ourselves in ways that reach beyond our private lives.

Notice that this text does not explicitly contain accusatory Law. The text instructs God’s people. In fact, the instruction on giving the first/best is an antidote to the coveting prohibited in the Ninth and Tenth Commandments. We live in a consumer culture that encourages greed and an attitude of “what I have is mine and not God-given.” Advertizing tempts us to want more and to be unsatisfied with what we do have. Pride and possessiveness overrule giving to those in need.

God promises help in time of temptation (1 Cor 10:13), and the giving of the offering as described in this text is a powerful teacher of sacrificial and joyous giving.

“You shall make response before the Lord.”

While verses 5b–10 have a creedal quality to them, the confession is time and event specific—entering the land and having a successful harvest. At the same time, Concordia Journal/Winter 2010

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the words certainly could have been used regularly in worship for years to come.

The verses do not include an extensive review of God’s gracious intervention in history but focus on Israel’s history reduced to the essentials. Jacob’s wandering is in contrast to a land they can call their own. The few who went down to Egypt now number in the millions. Those who were oppressed now live in stability and are even land owners.

Homiletical applications: The Creeds we have certainly do what the text instructs the people of Israel to do. We confess that God has given us all our creaturely goods. He is Creator, and all we have is simply a gift from him for us to use wisely. The Second Article is God’s gracious work in history for us in Jesus Christ. The Holy Spirit brings us into the Church in which such a response is made possible. Reciting the Creed in the midst of the sermon is one way to bring the Gospel into the message.

Open the hymnal to the location of the Creed and the Offering. It is separated by only the prayers in most services. You can point out how we are doing what the text says needs to be done: connect our confession of faith with the offerings that we make. “. . . worship before the Lord your God. And you shall rejoice . . .”

While we do not have a clear description of how this offering was made, worship typically was done lying prone or at least bowed. It is an act of thankful worship for what God has given. The key emotion is that of joy. Giving away what has been given to us is a joyous thanksgiving that is bound up in worship.

Homiletical applications The giving of the offering is not some favor we do for God by thoughtlessly dropping a few dollars in the collection plate but a carefully thought out act of thanksgiving in response to the favor of God. One way to say this is: “We don’t need more to be thankful for, but to be more thankful.”

A visual that could be used is to make a happy face out of yellow construction paper. Make the face the same size as the center of the congregation’s collection plate. Hold up the collection plate with the smiley face on the bottom to emphasize the joyous nature of making an offering to the Lord.

“The Levite and the sojourner . . .”

The Levites were the tribe that did not receive a land for their own but were dependent on the tithe that was given. Sojourners did not have the rights of the citizens. Including verse 12 brings the orphan and widow into the picture. The words of Jesus are certainly true—the poor are always with us. Society is all too

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often broken into the “haves” and “have-nots.” Those who have are to take care of those who have not. God’s concern for the less fortunate is closely connected with the offerings given.

Homiletical applications of ways to give to those in need Theologian Abraham Joshua Heschel said, “When I was young I admired clever people. Now that I am old, I admire kind people.” (www.wisdomquotes. com/002857.html) Standing in a “Life Chain” to show our support for the littlest of people.

Twice in less than a month I had people come up to me while I was filling my car with gas. They asked if I could help them with gas for their car. I went into the gas station and told the clerk to put the amount of money the people asked for on my credit card so they could get some gas. I didn’t give them money, but responded to the specific request by buying them gas.

Dinners for the homeless or dropping money in the red kettles at Christmas time.

Glenn Nielsen

Lent 2 • Jeremiah 26:8–15 • February 28, 2010 The Lectionary for Year C provides little help for preacher or hearer in terms of placing this reading from Jeremiah 26 in a historical or narrative context. Three of the Sundays in the Epiphany season offer readings from Jeremiah, but they are neither consecutive nor sequential—and the “early” beginning of the Lenten season eliminates two of the three. It seems very unlikely that, by this Sunday, people will feel that we are in a “Jeremiah season.” A brief historical review will probably benefit both the preacher in his preparation and the hearer in his appropriation.

Horace Hummel’s section on Jeremiah in his The Word Becoming Flesh will be useful in providing some of the main historical anchors for this episode from the life of “the prophet of the decline and fall of the Hebrew monarchy.”1 Jeremiah may come “right after” Isaiah in the Bible, but roughly a century has passed since the fall of the Northern Kingdom when Jeremiah begins his ministry. Hummel summarizes the connection: “Suffice it to say here that Jeremiah lived out his entire life in that chaotic and fateful period a century after the fall of Samaria (and the activities of the great eighth-century prophets) where we have almost a rerun of the earlier history, only this time with Judah as the victim.” 2 Assyria has fallen, King Josiah has died (and his reform movement with him), and Babylon has risen to power.

Jerusalem wonders, as Samaria had, whether salvation will or will not come from Egypt. And so the word of the Lord comes to Jeremiah.

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Two other quick reminders on OT context and connections are necessary for

those of us who may simply flip open to Jeremiah 26 for this Sunday. First of all, the connection or, at least, similarity between Jeremiah 26 and Jeremiah 7 should be recalled. Some commentaries suggest that chapter 7 actually supplies the fuller text of the message referenced in chapter 26. As likely, and certainly less jarring to the narrative progression of the book, is the view that chapter 7 provides a message on a very similar theme. Jeremiah 26:5 seems to be more in keeping with the latter view; the “though you have not listened” of that verse at least indicates that this is not the first time the Lord has used such language to call his people back to faithfulness. Secondly, note the quotation from Micah in 26:18. Hummel notes that this is “the only time a prophetic book mentions another ‘writing prophet’ by name!”

The Gospel for this Sunday, Luke 13:31–35, shows that this historical patterning or repetition is not limited to reaching backwards from Jeremiah’s time, it extends forward as well. The prophet had to preach what he was commanded to preach, with little thought for his own personal safety; the prophet must go on his way, knowing that his way leads to Jerusalem, where death awaits. The parallels are so striking that the challenge here is to really preach on the Jeremiah text and not simply read it and preach Luke. But how?

The parallels between Jeremiah and Jesus are not the only parallels here with homiletical force. This is only the second Sunday in our Lenten pilgrimage; we have only recently heard again the Lenten call to “return to the Lord” (Joel 2; Ash Wednesday). The purpose of Jeremiah’s words, as well, is to bring about a repentance, a return; and the situation from which Judah needs to “turn back” sounds neither foreign nor ancient. Where do we turn for salvation and security when national stability is threatened or when the challenges to our church seem overwhelming? What do we do when a prophetic word “touches” and even “challenges” established ways of thinking? Walter Brueggemann suggests that Jeremiah’s opponents “do not seem to care if it is a word from God, for the defense of their way of life overrides any such theological question.”3 How often and in what ways do we respond to the call to return to the Lord, to listen and turn from our evil ways, to walk according to his will, with our own “the church, the church, the church” (cf. Jeremiah 7:4)? That is to say, how often don’t we console one another with the downward spiraling logic that, since we are the church, we must be right?

There are strong words for the preacher here, too. Look carefully (preferably with a brother or two) at the words from the Lord in Jeremiah 7:8ff. Will our Lenten services and preaching encourage just such an attitude? Do we give our people the impression that “it’s all good” as long as they come every Sunday for absolution?

Remember that the offense of Jeremiah’s message was that he compared Jerusalem to Shiloh, a former sanctuary of the Lord now desolate. If the Lord should withdraw his presence from Shiloh and later Jerusalem as well, on what is our confidence based?

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Jeremiah’s sermon is greeted with violent anger; and yet, the passage does

not end in a passion narrative. Jeremiah continues his prophetic ministry as the people are reminded of times in the past when God sent his prophets with words that wounded in order to make whole. This God continues to do through the prophetic word made surer in the life and death of his own Son and in the apostolic and sacramental proclamation of Christ. The days of the new covenant have already come, and still the word, now in our hearts, is at work to transform us into a people that “know the Lord” (cf. Jeremiah 31:31ff).

Jeffrey A. Oschwald Endnotes 1

Horace D. Hummel, The Word Becoming Flesh: An Introduction to the Origin, Purpose, and Meaning of the Old Testament (Saint Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1979), 230. The section on Jeremiah begins on page 228.

2 Hummel, 229.

3 Walter Brueggemann, A Commentary on Jeremiah: Exile & Homecoming (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 235.

Lent 3 • Ezekiel 33:7–20 • March 7, 2010 Textual Background Ezekiel’s ministry took place among the captives taken to Babylon in the early sixth century BC prior to the destruction of Jerusalem. They were already experiencing God’s judgment. The cry of 33:10 expresses the crush of this judgment: “Surely our transgressions and our sins are upon us, and we rot away because of them. How then can we live?” This is the cry of those who no longer have hope, who have seen firsthand the result of their sin. This pericope is a recapitulation of the first half of Ezekiel: 33:1–9 echoes 3:16–21, while 33:10–20 is nearly identical to 18:21–25. This recapitulation serves a rhetorical purpose, since 33:21 marks the transition point in Ezekiel, when one who escaped the destruction of Jerusalem arrives and announces, “The city has fallen.” From that point on, Ezekiel’s message is one of restoration, not judgment. The function of 33:1–20, therefore, is to remind God’s people once again that his judgment is not some distant, far off event to be safely ignored, but real and terrifying. “How can we live?”

The Concordia Commentary by Horace Hummel covers the textual issues quite well, so repetition is not necessary here. One issue should be noted, however.

Both the ESV and the NIV translations fall into some unhelpful traps when rendering both hq"d"c. (“righteousness”) and [v;r< (“wickedness”). “Righteousness” in these verses is not some kind of abstract status, as seems to be assumed by modern translations. Rather, it refers to the “righteousness” evident in one’s “life” Concordia Journal/Winter 2010

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or “ways” or “deeds.” What God in fact desired of his people was that they lead righteous lives, to “do justice and righteousness” (33:16–19). They had not done so, instead committing “unrighteousness” (as Hummel translates it), a theme repeatedly emphasized in Ezekiel 1–24. As a result they were now suffering the consequences.

Therefore, the wrongheaded claims of God’s people in this chapter are not that they were trusting in “human righteousness” and should instead trust in “God’s (imputed) righteousness.” The problem is that they should have been “doing righteousness” but were not. Perhaps they had once, but that did not matter before God. What he demanded—immediately—was their turning around to live new lives, to repent. They thought that they were suffering unjustly (33:20), that they had some stored up credit for their past righteous behavior and that radical change of life was not necessary. In their eyes, God should overlook their “small” mistakes.

What God saw, however, was not the past. Whether yesterday they did righteousness or unrighteousness did not matter. What mattered was what they would do today.

Lest one conclude that this is mere “Old Testament legalistic righteousness,” the other readings for this Sunday make precisely the same point. The gospel reading does so in parabolic form: “if the fig tree bear fruit next year, well and good; but if not, cut it down” (Lk 13:9), while the epistle reading draws upon Israel’s history as a warning: “Nevertheless with most of [Israel according to the flesh] God was not pleased, for he scattered their bodies across the wilderness” (1 Cor 10:5).

The function of all three readings for this Third Sunday in Lent is to strike fear into the heart of the sinner, so that they turn from their ways (i.e., “repent”) and, trusting in God’s mercy, do “justice and righteousness.”

Thoughts for Proclamation The conscientious Lutheran preacher will no doubt balk at preaching any of these passages as a call to repentance and new life. We may be tempted either to not bother with “sanctification preaching” or to “explain away” the harsh language and the judgment of God, both as if God did not really expect his people to live faithful lives. But that would be difficult to justify textually when the Ezekiel passage is spoken to those who are actually in bondage because of their sin, and in 1 Corinthians God actually slew those who disobeyed him. God’s judgment on unrighteous behavior is quite real, even historical. And without the crush of the sinner, there is no Gospel. As Hummel remarks, portions of Ezekiel such as this one are frequently ignored, “as though a full-orbed Gospel could really be proclaimed without in-depth attention to the Law, a posture entirely at odds with any sturdy Lutheranism” (p. 970). The warning to the one who speaks in God’s name in Ezekiel 33:1–9 is particularly apt here: “I will hold the watchman accountable for [the sinner’s] blood” (33:6).

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“How can we live?” is not a question typically asked by present-day

Westerners. Economic “meltdowns” notwithstanding, most of our hearers are quite content with their situation. As a people, we have not experienced the crush of God’s judgment on sin the way that Judah experienced it. As a result, most people sitting in the pews and, I suspect, even most preachers, will frown upon calls to repentance and “threats” of punishment from God; they are too “unfriendly” and not “uplifting.” Indeed, Lent itself seems to be optional in many circles today. A danger we regularly face–just as did Judah in bondage—is to minimize or rationalize our sin, to think too highly of our “righteous deeds,” and to dismiss the reality of God’s judgment. Nevertheless, God’s basis of judgment is unavoidable: “I will judge each of you according to his own ways” (and note the repetition of this theme in Romans 2). The task of the preacher is to bring his hearers to recognize that even they, God’s people as was Judah, have fallen short of the righteous life he requires. Only he can make us “live.”

In this pericope we do not have any Gospel proclamation. That begins at Ezekiel 33:22, after the announcement of the destruction of Jerusalem, and becomes even more clear beginning in chapter 34, most explicitly in God himself becoming shepherd for his lost flock Judah. What Judah and her false prophets could not make happen, God himself will accomplish. In the midst of the loss of everything once held dear God alone makes them alive. The connection to the Messiah and his resurrection are obvious here: He himself lost all, but was made alive again. And so we, too, who have been baptized into Christ, have been made dead to sin and alive to God (Rom 6). We have been given new life, that is, we actually lead new lives, because Christ has been raised.

Jeffrey Kloha

Lent 4 • Isaiah 12:1–6 • March 14, 2010 There is some stiff competition in the lectionary with our Old Testament lesson for this Fourth Week in Lent. The Epistle reading is 2 Corinthians 5:16–21, Paul’s declaration that we are a new creation in Christ who has reconciled us to God and given the church the ministry of reconciliation. The Gospel lesson is the incomparable parable of the prodigal son in Luke 15—always a difficult passage to pass by. And don’t forget the Psalm for the day, Psalm 32, with those opening lines that were so important for Luther’s doctrine of justification, “Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man against whom the Lord counts no iniquity.” However, when considered all together, the texts reinforce a common theme that gives Isaiah 12 a wonderful context for proclamation. The theme is joy, which is rather striking in the midst of a penitential Concordia Journal/Winter 2010

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season. Liturgically, this had precedence in the old lectionary’s Laetare Sunday, which functioned as a pause for joy in the middle of Lent (some priests even wore pink like the third candle of Advent . . . no, I’m not recommending this!). Perhaps a better reason for the theme is the theology of joy in the midst of penitence. Such contrition is a godly sorrow that already looks forward to a promise of salvation—a joy over sins forgiven, reconciliation, and fortunes restored. Here, Isaiah 12 is a perfect example.

In the chapters that precede and culminate in our text, Isaiah brings an ebb and flow of weal and woe, judgment and justification, wrath and rescue. Judah and Jerusalem is chastened for her rebellion and disobedience, faces the threat of Syria and Ephraim, and the coming ambition and arrogance of Assyria, and yet she is at the same time offered the hope of salvation in the coming of a Davidic king— the paradoxical root and branch of Jesse, who will bring with God’s presence (“Immanuel!” 7:14) judgment and justice and peace. All this, Isaiah says, will come to pass “in that day” (cf. 10:20; 11:10, 11; but also 2:2, 12, 20; 3:18; 7:18, 20, 21, 23), indicating a promised future yet to be realized. In that day, a song of gratitude for salvation won will be sung—but here in our text it is given to God’s people even before “that day.”

The joy of this song begins in the singular, personal expression of thanksgiving for the turning away of God’s anger and the coming of his comfort and consolation: “O God, you are my salvation, I will trust in you and not be afraid. For ‘my strength and my song is Yah[weh],’ O Yahweh, ‘and he has become my salvation’” (v. 2). But by the end, the singular has given way to plurality, the individual to a nation. The song grows into a chorus that makes known God’s deeds and name among the peoples, a chorus that sounds forth from Zion, in whose midst is “the Holy One of Israel,” to echo throughout all the earth. The salvation of God is never parochial but speeds quickly to cosmic dimensions.

While Isaiah writes about a time yet to be, the promise and hope of this song are grounded in the faithfulness and might of God’s past acts of deliverance.

Throughout these chapters, Isaiah repeatedly refers to the Exodus as precedent and exemplar of God’s saving work (cf. 10:24, 26; 11:11, 15–16), and now in verse 2, he quotes Exodus 15:2 directly: “My strength and my song is Yah, and he has become my salvation.” In the midst of tumultuous events and terrible times to come, Isaiah anchors the future of God’s people in the past. Just as Israel burst forth into song after witnessing the sea become both their passage of deliverance and Pharaoh’s destruction, Isaiah promises God’s people a reason to sing again. God will save his people, and it will be mighty and wondrous. The Holy One of Israel who dwells in the midst of Zion will be found in the promised Immanuel.

Isaiah’s song comes to our lips now in a new way because “that day” has already dawned for us in Jesus. Yet our song arises out of a similar condition of remembrance and hope. Our present age continues to be a churning of weal and

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woe, of tragedy and blessedness. As the prophetic voice still warbles between present pain and future bliss, like Isaiah we anchor our future in the deeds of the past.

In his Son, God has opened up the “wells of salvation,” so that we might already draw “living waters.” In the cross and resurrection, the judgment and justice of “that day” have come to pass, so that even in present sorrow we find reason for hope and joy . . . even in our Lenten wilderness we rejoice . . . even in our pilgrimage through “this present evil age” we sing of the joy of our salvation.

Erik Herrmann

Lent 5 • Isaiah 43:16–21 • March 21, 2010 As the season of Lent approaches its climax—Jesus’s suffering, death, and resurrection—our Lord summons our attention: “Behold! I am about to do a new thing! Right now it sprouts forth—don’t you perceive it?” (Is 43:19) Ultimately, this pericope has an eschatological thrust. On this Sunday, however, it resonates with the rich Lenten hymns which pray for a right pondering of Jesus’s holy Passion.

Throughout chapter 43, God drapes the promise of coming restoration in the imagery of his ancient saving deeds. The mighty, redeeming faithfulness of the Lord will sprout forth again in ways so grand and decisive that the former things of God’s saving work for Israel will seem only a prelude. Rhetorically addressed to exiled Israel, pining away in Babylon, God declares the truly new act which he is about to perform.

What is about to sprout forth? First, God will topple proud Babylon, opening the way for the return of the exiles and the rebuilding of Jerusalem (Is 43:13– 14; 44:24–28). Second, the context anticipates a yet greater restoration which will be accomplished when God himself shall come to his people and lead them (40:3–5, 9–11; 42:13–16), blot out their transgressions (43:25; 44:22–23; 53:5–11), and renew them and the whole creation (44:3–4; cf. 65:17–18). All this sprouts forth in and from the cross and empty tomb of Jesus, until the day when it suddenly blooms forth in visible fullness at his second coming.

Verses 16-17: A promise is as good as the one who makes it. The promises of this text are spoken by the one who made a way for Israel through the sea. The mighty waters and the armed forces of Egypt were no obstacle to his power, by which he fulfills every word he declares (cf. Ex 3:19–22; 6:6-8; 11:1; 14:4, 13–18; Is 41:21–29; 43:9–12; 44:7–8).

Verse 18: Former (or first) things (tAnvoarI) and things of old (tAYnImod>q:) refer (a) to Yahweh’s Exodus deliverance, (b) more generally to all his creating, calling, and delivering acts from the beginning, and (c) ultimately to all that belongs to this age Concordia Journal/Winter 2010

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over against the coming age which Yahweh’s new thing will inaugurate (Rom 8:18; 1 Cor 10:11; Rv 21:4–5; Is 65:17). The ESV’s consider (Hithpolel of !yb) refers to sustained attention—to dwell on, to ponder. The admonition not to remember the past is not an absolute prohibition; it is a dramatic declaration, alongside verse 19, that the coming salvation will be so glorious as to warrant full devotion of the heart.

Verse 19a: The opening syntax here (hN<hi + participle) suggests imminent action—“I am about to . . .” The radical newness of the new thing that God is preparing can hardly be overstated. Its aim is not to satisfy perpetual human craving for novelty. Instead, it addresses the deep brokenness of humanity and the creation with the promise that, finally, “something new under the sun” is about to break in.

Springs forth is literally “sprouts” (xmc)—see also 44:3–5; 45:8; 58:8; and especially 4:2 and 61:11. Do you not know it? (h'W[d"te aAlh]) assumes a positive reply—indeed they will, or should. Tragically, the Gospel reading for this Sunday (Lk 20:9–20) recounts that the “scribes and chief priests” did not perceive God’s new work of salvation when it came. As Jesus declares to Jerusalem in Luke 19:44: “They will not leave one stone upon another . . . because you did not know the time of your visitation.”

Verses 19b–20: These verses depict the restoration of exiled Israel as both a new exodus and a new creation. Just as the whole creation suffers the consequences of human sin, so also the non-human creatures will join in honoring/glorifying (dbk) God when they behold his life-restoring provision for his people.

Verse 21: Here My people, my chosen one is further described as a people whom I formed for myself (Wz here as a relative pronoun). Yahweh will form (rcy) new sons and daughters for Zion from all corners of the earth (see esp. Is 43:5–7). He will cause them to sprout up (xmc) through the water of his life-giving Spirit (Is 44:3– 5). They will join the animal chorus (v. 20) in praising God for his renewing work.

There is no God like him. His people know this (v. 19a) and thus serve as his witnesses (43:10, 12; 44:8).

Sermon Theme: “Want Something New?” A sermon could begin by depicting the common longing for “something new.” Apart from our God, this longing leads only to a futile chase—always grasping for that new thing that might heal the brokenness or fill the emptiness of life.

But in the end, everything new turns out to be the “same old same old.”

People often see Christianity as something stuck in the past—outmoded, worn out—and the stories of the Bible as, well, ancient history. But in Isaiah 43, God declares himself to be the sole author of that which is truly new! That newness is rooted in the redeeming work of Jesus Christ. It has sprouted forth in a renewed people in the world who declare his praise. When Jesus returns, God’s new work will sprout forth in a completely renewed world and existence.

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In Mel Gibson’s Passion of the Christ, Jesus stumbles on his walk to Calvary,

and Mary runs to him. On his own, Jesus stands up resolutely and looks deeply into Mary’s troubled eyes. Right then the film places into his mouth words from Revelation 21:5: “I am making all things new.” This is, indeed, what Holy Week and Easter are all about.

Thomas Egger

Palm Sunday/The Sunday of the Passion • Deuteronomy 32:36–39 • March 28, 2010 The Song of Moses (Dt 32) tells a tragic story. The basic theme of the song is repeated in various ways throughout the Old Testament. Yahweh’s undying faithfulness to his son Israel is met continuously by Israel’s idolatry, by the son’s rebellion against the Father who gave him birth, led him out of Egypt, and took care of him in the desert. The song makes particular reference to Israel’s upcoming fall into idolatry after Moses’s death and upon their entering the land of Canaan. This is then, quite literally, Moses’s last song to God’s people before Joshua leads them into the land flowing with milk and honey—a land that, unfortunately, is also flowing with plenty of competing deities who promise prosperity and happiness.

A section of the song retells the tragedy: “They sacrificed to demons that were no gods, to gods they had never known, to new gods that had come recently, whom your father had never dreaded. You were unmindful of the Rock that bore you, and you forgot the God who gave you birth” (vv. 17–18).

However, the song does a lot more than merely calling us to remember Israel’s past idolatry. It also reminds us of God’s judgment against a sinful people.

God will not have fellowship with an idolatrous, unfaithful bunch: “I will hide my face from them; I will see what their end will be, for they are a perverse generation, children in whom is no faithfulness” (v. 20). To add to the tragedy, separation from God will bring with it all sorts of temporal punishments and sufferings. The song has plenty of calamity and doom to sing about and make grown men cry.

Deuteronomy 21:19–22 provides the context and main purpose for Moses’s song. When the Lord first commissioned Moses to write the song, the Israelites had not yet crossed to the land of Canaan under the leadership of Joshua or worshipped the Canaanite deities. Yet Yahweh knew his people Israel well enough from their wanderings in the desert under the leadership of Moses to know that they would once again break the covenant he had made with them in Sinai. In light of what Yahweh had predicted, the Song of Moses will become “a witness for me against the people of Israel,” a song of divine judgment to convict people of their sins.

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The song is meant to be passed on—to be sung!—to future generations of

God’s people. Its tragic theme of Yahweh’s suffering love and Israel’s continuous rebellion recalls the painful past in order to convict us in the here and now. Like the children of God in the Old Testament, we too break God’s Law and fail to trust in him above other things. We, too, follow after other idols, after other things or people, in what we put our ultimate trust when push comes to shove. Recall Luther in his explanation to the First Commandment in the Large Catechism: “A ‘god’ is the term for that to which we are to look for all good and in which we are to find refuge in all need.” Preachers will know best what or who those contemporary, regional, or national idols are that compete for attention with the only true God and Provider.

The tragic theme of the Song of Moses fits rather well in Holy Week as we recall the passion of our Lord. Indeed, the cross stands as the greatest tragedy in the history of God’s dealings with his people. It is the tragedy brought to its climax: the Father sends his faithful Son to take upon himself the sins of his unfaithful people, but sinners like us ultimately reject and kill him on the cross. The cross itself stands as a reminder of what sinners are capable of and as a call to repentance for our sins against God. However, in the midst of all the tragedy, the Song of Moses also has a message of hope, which comes out in the appointed lesson for today (22:36–39). There we hear Moses teach God’s children then and now that “the Lord will vindicate his people and have compassion on his servants when he sees that their power is gone and there is none remaining . . .” (v. 36). We see that the Lord will let his people suffer in their rebellion and under their idols. But the Lord will also show his people, in the midst of their suffering, the worthlessness of these idols in order to lead them once again to trust in him as the one and only God who alone is their protection and Rock (vv. 37–39). By doing so, Yahweh will reveal himself as the God who kills and makes alive, who wounds and heals, who calls sinners to repentance when they are in the hole in order to bring them out of their misery and forgive them (v. 39).

Through the Song of Moses, preachers will not only be able to unmask their congregation’s idols and sins against Yahweh, but also offer Christ on the cross and his forgiveness as Yahweh’s solution to our unfaithfulness, rebellion, idolatry, and sin. Simply put, by bringing contemporary hearers into the tragic story told in Moses’s song, within the liturgical context of our Lord’s passion, preachers are given the task and responsibility to both kill sinners and make them alive—or better yet, to kill sinners in order to make them alive.

Leopoldo A. Sánchez M.

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The Resurrection of our Lord • Isaiah 65:17–25 • April 4, 2010

That this Old Testament lesson would raise eyebrows if not draw sarcasm from some hearers is understandable. Our culture seems to be built on so much hype that never materializes, promising the moon but failing to deliver. A televised sports contest is the biggest game of the year (make that the decade), at least until next week’s. Product advertising suggests wealth, fame, and popularity are ours when we buy what they just happen to be selling. With twenty-four-hour news, networks need programming to keep viewers (to sell product advertising!), so the slightest bump in life gets blanket coverage with inconsequentials repeated ad nauseam. And politicians, well, one wonders how they could take themselves seriously were they to listen to their utopian promises. But the public demands it: security from cradle to grave. Contrast that with Reinhold Niebuhr’s comment that “democracy is a method of finding proximate solutions for insoluble problems.”

And now comes Isaiah with talk of a new heaven and a new earth and all that goes with that. No wonder people are dubious. Comedian Woody Allen’s garbled allusion—the lion [sic] will lie down with the lamb, but the lamb is not going to get a lot of sleep—draws chuckles when he delivers the line because in our world, the image seems ridiculous. We know better. We’ve heard it all before. But God and God’s prophet Isaiah are dead serious.

Roots of this doubt and skepticism run deep. Proponents of the “Enlightenment project” marginalized God as the absent clockmaker, even as they claimed the ability to control and build what historian Carl Becker once called the “Heavenly City of the Eighteenth Century Philosophers.” Although those critics of Christianity denied the source for their inspiration, their goal of an enlightened world would not have been possible without that biblical vision of the new heaven and new earth that they actively rejected, even as they tried to build an imitation of it here and now. Today we are more sophisticated or slick in how we package both the effort and the end, but so many glowing promises are still fundamentally on that same path. And they all suffer from the same fatal flaw in both method and implementation: here are creatures trying to reconstruct creation. We are hopelessly outclassed and doomed to fail. On the contrary, it takes a Creator to do this job, a God who is above and beyond the mess. Creatures are out of their league.

Acknowledging both the misguided plans and the incapable efforts is already a step forward, but it is only an admission of failure, a sign that the Law has done its work. That is all implicitly in the text, a dismal but realistic take on who we are, where we have come from, and where we are going—or not. But the explicit message is the polar opposite: never mind the failures, for God will set things right and will make all things—the heavens and earth—new. Here is the promise of success beyond our wildest dreams.

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The promises are to Israel in captivity, but clearly stretch not just to, but

beyond, any return. Israel should not be so foolish as to think a return to the homeland will end all troubles. This fulfillment is assured by the Messiah’s coming and success. It is difficult to imagine such a radical change given all Israel has been through, but the prophet does not leave things in the abstract. Concrete images make the point that this will be change for good, change forever. So, for example, houses are built to be lived in for generations, not taken over by conquerors.

Vineyards and trees take time to develop, but no worries: there will be time and then some. Here is security. The uncertainty, the danger, the risk, and the terror of life are gone.

The picture is mind-boggling, impossible in the end to comprehend. We try to imagine it and try to describe what will be. But we rely on something concrete and certain: our identity. Isaiah reminded Israel that God heard and responded before they ever asked, and God spoke of them as “my people,” reason enough to hold fast no matter what. The same for us: God chose us and says we are his people by virtue of his grace, declared and seen in action at the baptismal font with no let-up since. Stability, security, and certainty are found in the promise of salvation linked to Christ’s name.

The cacophony of hype and overblown promises from so many quarters is not likely to end anytime soon, as our senses and common sense remain under assault. But today’s text invites us to cut through the din and fog to look ahead to a radical change God will finish in the eschaton, a change he has, in fact, begun making in and with each of us now.

Suggested Outline The New Heaven and New Earth for Sure, for Us I.

II.

The problems of the old A. Israel’s world: the failings and problems; misplaced hopes B. Our world: the failings and problems; futile promises and mis placed hopes God’s solution with the new A. Israel’s prospects: concrete images rest on God’s grace B. Our prospects: concrete hope based on concrete promise Robert Rosin

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Easter 2 • Acts 5:12–20 (21–32) • April 11, 2010

Signs and Wonders—for What?

Acts 5:12–16 presents a picture of a time when signs and wonders were a common occurrence. The ESV is perhaps over-translating in verse 12 when it says, “Now many signs and wonders were regularly done among the people by the hands of the apostles.” The word “regularly” is a translation of the imperfect aspect of the main verb egeneto. This is a legitimate translation, but it is worth noting that Luke uses the imperfect indicative throughout these verses simply to narrate past events.

Thus, the preacher should not put too much weight on the word “regularly” (other translations do not even use it). Nevertheless, it is clear that these miracles were happening frequently enough for people to come to expect them.

The question this raises for us is, “Why don’t these things happen today?”

More pointedly, perhaps, Peter’s miraculous deliverance from prison in verses 17–32 raises the question of whether we, too, should expect this kind of deliverance. How, exactly, does this text apply to us?

God can, of course, do whatever he wants. However, there are some indications in the text that the signs and wonders are not functioning primarily to mark God’s presence. If that were their function, then we might expect to see them wherever God’s presence is, even today. In this text, the signs and wonders vindicate the apostles in much the same way the resurrection vindicated Jesus. In verse 12, for example, Luke includes the specification that the signs and wonders were performed “by the hands of the apostles.” A similar linkage to the apostles may be seen in Acts 8:18, where Simon Magus observes that “the Spirit was given through the laying on of the apostles’ hands.” Faced with the charge of disobedience, Peter and the apostles tell the council, “We must obey God rather than men” (Acts 5:29).

The miracles serve to authenticate Peter’s testimony and vindicate him from the charges leveled against him.

This parallels the way that the resurrection vindicates Christ. Peter continues, “The God of our fathers raised Jesus, whom you killed by hanging him on a tree. God exalted him at his right hand as Leader and Savior, to give repentance to Israel and forgiveness of sins. And we are witnesses to these things, and so is the Holy Spirit, whom God has given to those who obey him” (Acts 5:30–32). Perhaps we may not be accustomed to the idea that the resurrection vindicates Christ.

Lutherans tend to stress that the resurrection conquers death (1 Cor 15) or that it proves that Christ’s sacrifice on the cross was acceptable (the synodical exposition of the Small Catechism). However, Luke is very concerned to show that Jesus was not a failure who died the death of the criminal. That is why the centurion at the cross, in Luke’s account, says, “Certainly this man was innocent!” (Lk 23:47).

The same point is critical in the story of the two men on the road to Emmaus (Lk 24:13–35). They were going to Emmaus because they thought Jesus had failed.

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Jesus’s appearance to them convinces them that his death was not a failure, and they turned around and went back to Jerusalem. Likewise, in our text, Peter cites Christ’s resurrection as evidence that God the Father had vindicated him, overturning their criminal execution of him.

The signs and wonders in this passage, then, serve not as an example of what we, too, can do if we only believe, but as vindication of the apostles’ message of repentance and forgiveness (Acts 5:31).

David R. Maxwell

Easter 3 • Acts 9:1–22 • April 18, 2010 A Chosen Instrument of God While this text from Acts is the foundation for the observation of the Conversion of St. Paul on January 25, on the Third Sunday of Easter this Acts reading gives us insight into the life of the church living out the resurrection of our Lord Christ.

The context shows us that we first meet Saul in Acts 7:58, where he is the “young man” serving as the coat-check person at the stoning of Stephen. Acts 8:1–3 indicates that Saul not only approved of the execution, but also participated in “a great persecution against the church in Jerusalem.” Describing Saul as “ravaging the church,” with his entering house after house to drag men and women to prison, Luke is setting the stage for the Acts 9 text. The remainder of Acts 8 is devoted to the work of Philip and the conversion of the Samaritans (8:12) and of the Ethiopian eunuch (8:38).

Acts 9:1–22 is one of three accounts of Saul’s conversion recorded by Luke (Acts 22 and 26, plus the one given in Galatians 1), thus giving the weight of attention to this event. So Saul is reintroduced with Acts 9:1, characterized as “breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord.” Far from being passive in all of this, Saul takes the initiative to gain approval of the high priest for his searchand-destroy mission that he had started in Acts 8:1–3. The targets of Saul’s searchand-destroy mission were those who belonged to the Way, who is Christ our Lord (Jn 14:6).

With Acts 9:3, Saul is well on his way of persecution, nearing Damascus, when there is an abrupt interruption in his journey. According to Acts 22:6 and 26:13, it was at noon that a light from heaven flashed around him. Saul, now on the ground, hears a voice asking, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” This recalls other divine interventions and self-revelations (Ex 3:4, 14; 1 Sm 3:4–7). As he would write later (1 Cor 15:8), “as to one untimely born, [Christ] appeared also to

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me.” “Persecuting me” emphasizes the close relationship between the risen Christ and his church, his disciples (cf. Lk 10:16).

Saul’s query as to who is speaking is answered by the Lord Jesus, whose words move from accusation to commission: “Rise and enter the city, and you will be told what you are to do,” indicating that Saul not only becomes a believer but one who has a role to play in God’s plan. As of verse 6, the old Saul, enemy number one of the church, has died, and now nothing will ever be the same for him, nor for the church. Acts 9:8 begins with Saul rising from the ground as well as from his old life and thus his death. Without sight, food, or drink for three days, Saul is totally helpless, as helpless as a little child.

A leader in the new Christian community in Damascus, Ananias receives instruction through a vision and initially responds, “Here I am, Lord” (cf. Gn 22:1; 1 Sm 3:6, 8). The Lord gives specific instructions to Ananias (“go to the street called Straight and at the house of Judas”) that he should search for and find Saul.

Knowing who this Saul is and the evil he has caused, Ananias objects to the Lord, even for the sake of God’s “saints at Jerusalem.” The Lord does not argue with Ananias, but simply repeats, “Go,” along with startling news: this Saul, public enemy number one, is “a chosen instrument of mine.” “Instrument” is used by Luke (Lk 8:16; 17:31; Acts 10:11, 16; 27:17) with the meaning of a container or vessel. So here in Acts 9 Saul is to be a vessel “to carry my name before the Gentiles and kings and the children of Israel.” Reversing the description Ananias gives in reference to the havoc and destruction caused by Saul (9:13–14), the Lord (in v. 16) “will show [Saul] how much he must suffer for the sake of my name.”

Ananias, as a messenger of God, does as he is instructed, addressing Saul as brother—a recognition of the same adoption as son of God that Ananias has experienced. For the benefit of Saul as well as those in attendance, Ananias succinctly reviews what has happened to Saul and reveals who has been behind it all—the Lord Jesus. Mention of “the road by which you came” brings to mind the fact that Saul had been on the road to search and destroy those who belonged to the Way. Now Saul has been turned around and set on the way—himself following the Way, the Truth, and the Life, Jesus Christ. Saul now bears in his life the name of Jesus and with his lips proclaims that “Jesus is the Christ.”

When looking back on this account of Saul’s conversion, one is struck by the simple objectivity of the story, rather than any subjective elements that might give insight as to what Saul was thinking or feeling. This objectivity also highlights that the work of conversion is all the doing of God alone; Saul was helpless in it all.

We may not understand the choices God makes for his vessels, nevertheless, the choices are God’s. When God converts an enemy (a category that includes us all), his forgiveness makes brothers of us all, members of his family.

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Suggested Outline A Chosen Instrument of Mine

A.

B.

Saul, like us, was an enemy of Christ and his church 1. Saul breathed murderous threats and ravaged the church as an enemy of God. 2. Like Saul we are enemies of God (Rom 5:10).

3. Even before being struck blind outside of Damascus, Saul has been blind to the Truth, Jesus Christ.

Like us, Saul is met by the Lord Jesus and changed by his grace (9:10–19) 1. Helpless because of our condition of sin and death, we cannot help ourselves.

2. Saul is raised to new life in Christ (Baptism; 9:18), just as we are raised to new life in the water and Word of life 3. Saul is a chosen instrument of God a. An instrument has purpose: to carry my name before Gentiles and kings and the children of Israel. b. An instrument will “suffer,” show its wear and tear as it is used (9:16) 4. That Saul is identified as “a chosen instrument of mine” indicates that at our baptism, our conversion, we become chosen instruments of God, dedicated for his purpose of carrying God’s name to those in our homes, our workplaces, and our schools.

Henry V. Gerike

Easter 4 • Acts 20:17–38 • April 25, 2010 Paul’s Farewell to the Ephesian Elders I.

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Introduction: This famous passage occurs toward the end of Paul’s Third Missionary Journey, as he was heading back to Jerusalem to celebrate Pentecost (20:16). He decided to bypass Ephesus as he proceeded down the West Coast of Anatolia, as Luke says, “lest it happen for him that he spend time in Asia” (v. 16). It turns out that this is slated to be his farewell to them, because he “knows” that they will not see him again (v. 25). Afterward (21:1ff) he and his party sail on.

The content of the speech is varied and wide-ranging (see also point IV

below). Bo Reicke, in his thorough introduction to the Pauline Epistles, entitled Re-examining Paul’s Letter: The History of the Pauline Correspondence (edited by David P. Moessner and Ingalisa Reicke, Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2001), sees a close connection between this discourse and the book of Titus, which he understands as written in a closely proximate time (113). He notes the many parallels in content, including references to presbu,teroi (Acts 20:17; Ti 1:5) and evpi,skopoi (Acts 20:28; Ti 1:7), to trouble-making by the Jews/circumcision (Acts 20:19; Titus 1:10), to deceivers depicted as savage beasts (Acts 20:29; Ti 1:12) who are wreaking havoc by their teachings (Acts 20:30; Ti 1:11). (Indeed, Reicke believes that the Epistle to Titus was actually used to address problems in the congregation at Miletus before it was taken by Titus to Crete [Ti 1:5], which explains the similarity of its content to that of 1 Timothy [written to the context of Ephesus, very near Miletus] and to that of Paul’s address to the Ephesian elders at Miletus, with both letters having a public character to them [Reicke, 113].)

II. Textual Criticism: As is often the case with the text of Acts, ms. D presents many variant readings, many of which either smooth out the story (e.g., v. 24) or add further details (e.g., v. 18), and acts as a sort of “Targum” of the book, giving an expanded “Living Bible” account, as it were. (See Grammar notes below for further comments.)

III. Grammar: A. The beginning of v. 18 might be rendered: “When they had come to be present face to face with him . . .” The final four words of the verse, with an accusative of extent of time, covey: “I was (= proved to be) with you for the whole time.”

B. Note that vv. 18-21 comprise one long sentence. This is typical of so-called Asiatic Style of discourse, which loved complexity and repetition (cf. Ephesians 1). Note also the use of nominative participles in predicate position following the main verb. This is a mark of high style; see vv. 19, 21, 22, (31), and 38.

C. The structure in v. 20 with u`poste,llw in the middle voice is complex. See v. 27 for a similar structure. V. 27 is simpler; it has to do with shrinking back from doing something out of fear. The infinitive with tou/ details what is being avoided.

Mh, is a “sympathetic negative” that reinforces the negative thought of the main verb (note ms. D’s omission here). The structure of v. 20 may be slightly different, viz., conveying

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withholding something (in the accusative) from someone, perhaps giving “…how I withheld nothing of the things that were profitable by not announcing (them) to you….” (cf.

BDAG). Or, it may actually parallel the structure of v. 27, with ouvde.n tw/n sumfero,ntwn anticipating (for emphasis) the infinitive clause that follows the main verb—indeed, actually being part of it. (Cf. Acts 19:4 [from le,gwn on] for a similar anticipatory construction.) This would give the following (which is my preferred understanding): “…how nothing of the things that are profitable did I shrink back from announcing to you and teaching you….”

D. Note the future participle conveying future time, viz., “the things that will confront me.”

E. In v. 23, the addition of D is logical; reading the text as it is printed gives “city by city.” Le,gon is a neuter participle modifying pneu/ma.

F. The structure of v. 24 is difficult to untangle. Note the several variant readings, which seek to make sense of it (logically, D is one of them). A second main verb seems to be called for at the beginning, plus an additional negative (ouvde). The text, as it stands (on solid manuscript authority) is probably best rendered: “But I purposely make (middle voice) the/my life, valuable for myself, of no account….” The clause that follows, beginning with w`j, is also difficult. Note the variant adopted by the previous editions of Nestle/Aland (see the dagger in the apparatus), which is an aorist subjunctive (first person singular). With the preceding w`j, this would convey purpose, viz., “in order that I may complete my race . . .” The N/A text has an infinitive in place of the subjunctive, in which case w`j = w[ste, giving conceived result = “so as to complete my race…” In any case, the general sense seems clear.

G. For the structure of v. 27, see the discussion in C above, for v. 20.

H. This is the key verse in the pericope in many ways. It will be discussed in detail in the next section, but note the important verb forms, which need attentive parsing: e;qeto, an aorist middle indicative; poimai,nein, a present infinitive; and periepoih,sato, another aorist middle indicative. Note also the constructions evn w-. This is often rendered “over which,” but it actually conveys “among whom.”

I. Note the asyndeton (no binding conjunction) at the beginning of v. 29. This conveys tension and emphasis.

J. The phrase trieti,an nu,kta kai. h`me,ran is another accusative of extent of time (see A, above). Later in the verse, pau,w plus a following nominative participle conveys the idea of “stop doing” (supplementary participle), i.e., “I did not stop admonishing.”

K. Ta. near the beginning of v. 32 is accusative of respect = “as far as what concerns right now . . .” The participle h`giasme,noij is perfect passive and gives the meaning “those who are (in a ) sanctified (condition).”

L. In v. 35, note that all four infinitives are present, not aorist.

These convey focus on connection, not simple focus on the act described. The probable emphasis is “to engage in,” e.g., “it is more blessed to engage in giving than in getting.”

M. The form katefi,loun is a good example of an imperfect tense conveying repetitive action, i.e., “kept on kissing him.”

IV. The Narrative and Theological Content: A. In v. 17, note that the men are described as presbu,teroi, but they are described in Paul’s speech as evpi,skopoi (v.28). This probably shows that these terms denote the same, i.e., the pastoral, office.

B. The plots of the Jews, described here, appear in v. 3 of chapter 20 and throughout Acts. See also 1 Thessalonians 2:15 for a similar assessment of Jewish resistance to the Pauline mission.

C. On the basis of the preferred grammatical rendering in v. 20, above, note Paul’s emphatic disavowal of not telling the whole truth. Paul seems to have been dogged by this accusation throughout his ministry; see 1 Thessalonians 2:3–6, a passage in which he also feels compelled to proclaim his honesty. Paul seems to have raised the specter of being a sophist, i.e., someone who would teach anything for money. Note v. 33 below. See also v. 34, where he insists on self-support (cf. 1 Cor 4:12). But notice that this is not Paul’s ideal. 1 Corinthians 9:5–11 argues that men should be supported by their Gospel work—though he himself does not do so to avoid offence to the Gospel (1 Cor 9:12).

D. Verse 21 expresses the basic message of Acts (cf. 2:38; 13:38– 39; 26:18, 20; 17:30–31 [also Lk 24:46–7]), as well as the foundational message of Jesus (Mk 1:14).

E. The witness given to Paul by the Spirit is probably a witness through prophets such as Agabus (cf. 11:28).

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F. Paul’s negative assessment of the relative value of his life in v. 24 is echoed in Philippians 3:7–8, 12–14. The latter part of the verse is well reflected in 26:17–18, where Paul describes his own commissioning by Christ.

G. In v. 26, Paul describes his “innocence” of the blood of others. See 18:6, where Paul lays out “in so many words” what he means by this. Those who reject his preaching have no excuse. V. 27 confirms this understanding.

H. The key to this pericope is v. 28, in which Paul describes rather vividly his understanding of the pastoral office. Note the key verbs, parsed in section III H, above. This verse takes on vivid fullness when they are interpreted carefully. First e;qento. This middle voice form conveys the fact that the Holy Spirit has very deliberately placed the elders as overseers—he is very interested in the outcome of this action! Next, the present infinitive poimai,nein. The focus on connection conveyed by the first principal part stem conveys the habitual work that the shepherd does; this is his constant task. Then the second aorist middle form, periepoih,sato. Again, the emphasis is on the personal involvement and concern of God, who has purchased the church for himself (e.g., as his beloved bride [Eph 5]). This is followed by the interesting phrase at the end of the verse, “with his own blood.” Whose blood that is, grammatically, is God’s (note that the reading “the blood of his own son” is merely a conjecture [see apparatus])—which makes this verse a strong early testimony to the divinity of Christ, as well as to the Trinity (note that all three persons are mentioned—and active!). This verse, then, may be rendered, “with all the underwear showing,” in this way: “Take heed to yourselves and to all the flock, among whom the Holy Spirit has placed you to carry out his purposes as overseers, to engage in regularly shepherding the church of God, which he has purchased for himself as his own possession with his very own blood.” THERE HAS GOT TO BE A SERMON IN HERE SOMEWHERE! I. Already in AD 58, Paul could warn of false teachers who would teach twisted things, vv. 29–30. Notice that these are not Judaizers but people similar to those described in Titus (see the Introduction, above) and the other Pastorals. Notice also that they attempt to draw disciples after them and do not simply argue about a correct doctrinal stance. Verse 32 affirms

J.

what we know, viz., that only God and his Word are our sure defense.

In v.35, note Paul’s use of himself as an example. He often does this in his letters (see, e.g., 1 Cor 4:6, 11:1; Phil 3:17). It is interesting that the final portion of this verse represents a saying of our Lord that is not found elsewhere in the NT (cf. the addition in Luke 6:4 by ms. D for something similar). This is an example of a tradition that survived orally and that could be referenced by early Christians.

V. Conclusion: This text is rich in sermon themes: declaring the full council of God; the threat of false teachers; the use of St. Paul as an example; the preference of giving over receiving, etc. It is hard, however, to resist the lure of v. 28 as a focal point for any teaching or proclamation of this pericope, viz., the nature of and the conduct of the pastoral office. See the final comment in IV H, above!

James Voelz

Easter 5 • Acts 11:1–18 • May 2, 2010 Challenge and Joy The story that unfolds in Acts 10 and 11 is an “aha” moment for Peter and the first century church. As the message is proclaimed today, this can be an “aha” moment for the preacher and the twenty-first century congregation. The significance of this is seen in the fact that Luke tells the story of Cornelius three times in these chapters. This story tells of God’s revelation to Peter that his love in Jesus Christ is for every human being. This is the message that opened the eyes of Christians and the doors of congregations to people of every color, culture, and background.

In the early years of our Synod, the Lord brought Lutherans to our shores from Europe, and as our church grew it reflected its European heritage. In recent years, he has brought people to our country from lands where the Lutheran faith (and in many cases, the Gospel itself) is unknown, with the result that our church is looking more like heaven (people from every nation under heaven) all the time.

While our Synod has missionaries serving in sixty–nine countries worldwide, here in North America in the past decade new missions have begun reaching out to a variety of cultures: African immigrant, Korean, Latino, Chinese, Japanese, Hmong, Asian Indian, and Muslim. Renewed efforts have been made to reach out to Native Concordia Journal/Winter 2010

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cultures and the sight- and hearing-impaired (of which a significant perAmerican centage live outside the family of faith).

This text should lead the preacher to connect with Synod or District mission personnel or Synod and District web-sites and gather information about the important work our church is doing in cross-cultural mission work. This is also an opportunity to learn about the cross-cultural ministries taking place at our Concordia Universities and Seminaries. (There is an “aha” moment waiting for you at the spring graduation program at any one of our Concordia Universities!) The continued expansion of ethnic theological education (Center for Hispanic Studies, Ethnic Immigrant Institute of Theology, Specific Ministry Pastor Program) at our seminaries is also significant.

Cross-cultural mission work can be personally challenging and also quite thrilling. Both the struggle and the excitement are seen in this text. We see how the Lord leads Peter out of his comfort zone and how Peter’s witness to the love of Christ sets him up for criticism from his fellow Christians. In the end, we see Peter and the church receptive to God’s Word, amazed at his love for all people, and praising God for the response of the Gentiles to the Gospel.

Concerning the challenge, consider the reaction of Peter to the Lord’s command to eat the animals in the vision (v. 8). The Greek could not be stronger: “By no means! Absolutely not! Never!” The very thought of eating such a meal was enough to make Peter sick. Peter was definitely being pushed out of his comfort zone.

The challenge is also seen in the fact that cross-cultural mission work takes time. A twenty minute sermon or an hour visit would not be enough to bring Cornelius and his family into the household of the Lord. Peter was led to go to Cornelius, enter his house (according to Jewish law this, too, was forbidden), and stay with him. He actually stayed in the home of a Gentile.

The unchurched, regardless of culture, are operating with a completely different value system. They have a totally different mindset. To reach them we need to leave our comfort zone and go to where they are. In order to reach them, we need to give our time to them and address their concerns. Out of love, we need to remove any unnecessary obstacles blocking their way to Jesus, even if those obstacles are things we cherish and love. We need to go into unfamiliar and uncomfortable territory like Peter did. All this isn’t easy. In fact, at times, it is downright challenging. But all this is part of mission work.

Verse 2 tells us that Peter was criticized when he returned to Jerusalem.

Notice that the criticism fails to mention the fact that Gentiles were saved. Still this criticism had to bother Peter. This, too, makes mission work difficult.

So is it worth it? By all means! Mission work is about rescuing people, saving people for all eternity.

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Our Triune God allows us to be part of his rescue team: the Father who

sacrificed his only Son for us; his Son willingly, not reluctantly, suffered and died as payment for our sins; the Holy Spirit who now is working tirelessly to bring people to faith. God allows us the challenge and the joy of bringing people to Jesus. Something else that brings joy is influencing others to help in bringing people to Jesus. After Peter explained the situation, the people responded by praising God. I am sure Peter felt good about this.

The more people who are on the team working together, the better it is.

When we are alone, the challenge is increased and our joy is diminished. But when we are working together, the joy greatly increases.

Robert Hoehner

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book reviews

COncordia Journal

Editor’s Note: A longer, in-depth version of Drs. Brauer and Burreson’s following review is available at www.ConcordiaTheology.org.

EVANGELICAL LUTHERAN WORSHIP. Pew Edition. Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2006. 1248 pages.

Cloth. $20.00.

In 2006 both the ELCA and LCMS published new hymnals and it is natural for non-users to be curious about the ELCA book. Does Evangelical Lutheran Worship (ELW) reveal anything new in theology and practice when compared to Lutheran Book of Worship (LBW)1 (1978)?

How well does it serve a “Christian assembly” that bears a Lutheran label?

How do the contents of ELW reflect the introduction’s stated desire for “fostering unity without imposing uniformity”? 2 Book: The cover of ELW is red, recalling the hue of the Service Book and Hymnal (1958).3 It has a graphic feature, seldom found in other hymnals: there are several frontispieces, not just a single one facing the title page. Over all, the look and feel of the book is slightly more attractive than LBW. Goals: The introduction to ELW willingly focuses on Word and sacraments as the center of the church’s worship, reflective of its goal of “fostering unity without imposing uniformity.” The ground of unity is worship as an activity of the assembly and that activity’s connection to the Christian tradition of patterns, words, actions, and songs in worship.4 What exactly constitutes the basis for or recognition of a common understanding or practice is not clear.

This presents a significant, underlying problem: apart from any clear theological Concordia Journal/Winter 2010

criteria, does not ELW’s goal of avoiding uniformity actually undermine the very search for some sense of unity?

Lectionary: ELW employs not the lectionary in LBW but a newer ecumenical one, the “Revised Common Lectionary” which is broadly based on the same Roman Catholic three-year lectionary that emerged from Vatican II reforms but was adjusted to North American Protestant use by a selfappointed ecumenical study group.

Questions can be raised about some features. For example, an optional Old Testament “semi-continuous reading” alongside the typological one, which puts Jesus as the center of God’s story, introduces a different theology of Scripture than previous Lutheran lectionaries.

Services: ELW is conceived of as its own unique resource which represents the “beginning of an unfolding family of resources . . . intended to respond to the developing needs of the church in mission.”5 The services reveal a dependency on LBW while embracing an ecumenical worship palette and a move toward socalled gender inclusive language especially with reference to the Godhead. The desire for a diversity of resources propels the changes from LBW. For example, ELW has eliminated any place in which God or the Father was referred to with the masculine pronoun in LBW. The new language often undermines the particular nature of the Trinitarian relationships and thereby weakens the Trinitarian economy of salvation.6 ELW’s pattern for the Sunday gathering was first enunciated in With One Voice 7 as the fundamental shape of the Christian rite of Word and Sacrament: Gathering-Word-MealSending.8 Since every setting follows this

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utilizes the same texts, ELW order and maintains “unity” in worship life across congregations, while providing a high degree of flexibility. But does this multiplicity of settings give too much encouragement to a growing smorgasbord of services among Lutherans? The divine services also embrace ELW’s intention of fostering unity through a very inclusive practice of welcoming all to communion.

This is particularly clear in the funeral rite when the Eucharist is celebrated.

Absent any qualifiers, the whole assembly would presumably include the unbaptized and those of other religious convictions.

Is such inclusivity truly reflective of a church body which confesses this principle: “Admission to the Sacrament is by invitation of the Lord, presented through the Church to those who are baptized”? 9 Psalms: The translation used for the psalms is “a version intended for common sung prayer and proclamation.” 10 As much as it may seek to “clarify” the original, a paraphrase is always a “restatement” and the more it departs from the original, the more it is able to introduce the “translator’s” world of preferences.

Indeed, the super-sensitivity of gender dimensions in ELW psalms is striking and goes well beyond “translation.” One asks: is the resulting text still the Word of God? Service music: It is clear that ELW wants to feature a diversity of musical styles for liturgy and this may be its strongest asset. Within the liturgical section there are ten musical settings for Holy Communion. The musical options for liturgy are further expanded in the Assembly Song section (numbers 151 through 238).

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Hymns: ELW has 655 songs, 114 more than LBW. Analysis of four selected hymn sections suggest that though ELW provides fresh musical diversity, it reorients hymnody away from the theological accents of the Lutheran Reformation11 toward theological expressions that do little to challenge Reformed objections to Lutheran doctrine. Though these appear to be small steps toward not “imposing uniformity,” they raise questions about commitment to a Lutheran theological heritage. How beneficial can this kind of diversity be?

Conclusion: ELW builds on the LBW tradition and takes it in a new direction. ELW might have committed to the uniformity of the “shared tradition” in the Lutheran Book of Worship. Instead, it reaches in new directions to accommodate those who do not wish to be bound by past Lutheran formulations but who seek unity in what might be shared if fences between church bodies were removed. Users of ELW will find that under the guise of familiar Lutheran hymnic and liturgical “forms” there is increased emphasis on worship as the product of the assembly instead of the actions of God and that many texts were altered for service to inclusiveness and ecumenism. ELW’s best feature is the increase in resources that are more global in musical and liturgical expression. Unfortunately, in the end it fosters the kind of unity that slips away from a Lutheran uniformity.

James Brauer and Kent Burreson Endnotes

1 Lutheran Book of Worship, prepared by the churches participating in the Inter-Lutheran Commission on Worship: Lutheran Church

in America, The American Lutheran Church, The Evangelical Lutheran Church of Canada, The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod (Minneapolis: Augsburg Publishing House, 1978).

2 ELW, 8.

3 Service Book and Hymnal of the Lutheran Church in America, authorized by the Churches cooperating in The Commission on the Liturgy and The Commission on the Hymnal, Music edition (Minneapolis: Augsburg Publishing House, 1958).

4 ELW, 6.

5 ELW, 8.

6 The identity of God and of Christ and the nature of salvation are inextricably connected to one another. In the words of Bruce Ware, “The very identity of Christ as the one and only Savior and the full efficacy of the atoning work of Christ, then, are inexplicable apart from his relationship both with the Father and the Spirit. The Father is the Father of the Son, and as such he commissions and sends his Son into the world to be and do what he calls him to do. The design of salvation is the Father’s, and the justice brought to bear against our sin was executed by the Father. The Son, however, could not accomplish the obedience and perform the works that he did apart from the anointing of the Spirit who abides with him as the necessary presence and power of the messianic identity and ability. Cur Deus Trinus?

Must God be Triune for Christ to be a Savior?

Indeed, the Trinity is necessary for the identity of Christ as the atoning Savior, and the Trinity is necessary also to the efficacy of his atoning death.” Bruce A. Ware, “Christ’s Atonement: A Work of the Trinity” in Jesus in Trinitarian Perspective: An Introductory Christology, ed. Fred Sanders and Klaus Issler (Nashville: B&H Publishing Group, 2007), 186–7.

7 With One Voice: A Lutheran Resource for Worship (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1885), 8–9. This resource was intended to be used alongside a principal worship book like LBW. 8 Gordon Lathrop, the liturgical theologian and worship professor for many years at the ELCA’s seminary in Philadelphia (now retired), argued for this pattern as the constitutive biblical pattern for worship in his work,

Concordia Journal/Winter 2010

Holy Things: A Liturgical Theology. For Lathrop, what is particularly Christian about the pattern is not the content of Word and meal per se but the juxtaposition of the two which necessitates death and resurrection or the encounter with God in the crucified Jesus. See Gordon Lathrop, Holy Things: A Liturgical Theology (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993), 50.

9 Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, The Use of the Means of Grace: A Statement on the Practice of Word and Sacrament (Chicago: Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, 1997), 41.

10 ELW, 335.

11 Consider that, though the goal was not fully achieved, the LBW project had brought North American Lutherans toward a liturgical/ theological uniformity in a great number of worship resources. Instead, ELW demonstrates a tendency to move away from historical Lutheran expressions.

BOUND CHOICE, ELECTION AND WITTENBERG THEOLOGICAL METHOD: From Martin Luther to the Formula of Concord. Lutheran Quarterly Books. By Robert Kolb. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005. 381 pages. Paper. $35.00.

In this work, Robert Kolb makes a study of the tension between the roles of God and man in salvation as this theology formed a part of the thinking of Wittenberg University from the time of Luther’s dispute with Erasmus to about 1600. More precisely, Kolb asserts that the tension between the total responsibility of man for sin and the total responsibility of God for salvation is a major theme from the 1525 production of The Bondage of the Will to the establishment in the late sixteenth century and early seventeenth century of the Formula of Concord and Lutheran Orthodoxy. Kolb links this Wittenberg theology to predes-

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election, the cross, and the two tination, kinds of righteousness in demonstrating its prominence.

Kolb divides his work chronologically into explorations of the situation between Luther and Erasmus, a period of relative hiatus regarding the discussion of predestination and the role of human will, and finally a period of renewed interest, beginning with the Confessions and moving through the period of Orthodoxy. Kolb argues that the The Bondage of the Will was initially central to Reformation thought, as eight different publishers printed it. I would gently take issue with this, as there were no reprints, which more likely indicates that the book did not sell out, meaning that there was probably less interest than usual by those not directly associated with Luther in the early period. Nevertheless, Kolbâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s central pointâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;that the issue of the total accountability of man for sin and the total accountability of God for salvation was a strong theme, even at that early dateâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;is well established by the author.

Kolb makes a strong case for the late Reformation resurgence of themes from The Bondage of the Will and the importance of predestination and election in the Confessional/Orthodox period, especially in the formulations of Cyriakus Spangenberg, Martin Chemnitz, and Jacob Andreae.

Kolb uses the following ten criteria as a synopsis of the major themes taken from The Bondage of the Will, for the sake of comparison with later periods: let God be God, God hidden and revealed, God chooses his own, God saves through the means of grace, human beings are dependent creatures, all things happen by necessity, human beings are sinners,

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human creatures are totally responsible agents, believers live a life of repentance, God is not responsible for evil. Again, it is clear from the above themes that Kolb argues that God is responsible for salvation and man for sin in the God-man relationship.

The book has numerous strengths.

Kolb has obviously immersed himself in his subject matter and draws from a wide variety of sources. He writes in a dense but lucid style that sets forth his points clearly (perhaps a bit too clearly in terms of thesis and conclusion for historians, but quite appropriately for a somewhat apologetic work of historical theology). I found his section on the influence of the work of God and man in salvation to be particularly useful when applied in his explanations of how this teaching influenced various controversies that generated the various articles of the Formula of Concord. Here the work provides explanations that get to the central point on matters such as the Majoristic and Synergistic Controversies, and the work of Nikolaus Selnecker and David Chytraeus.

So while Kolb cannot fully put to rest the issue of the centrality or periphery of The Bondage of the Will for earlier and more general Luther studies, he does establish its importance for understanding the Reformation, especially its centrality in making salvation completely the work of God and in no way about the work of man in the Wittenberg theology of the day. This is a muscular, but worthwhile study that brings the particulars of an important Reformation argument to the fore. Moreover, it assists readers in understanding how election and predestination, when properly connected to

can enhance the teaching of the cross, the Gospel. Professors and others with a thoroughgoing interest in the subject would do well to read the whole book.

Pastors might do well to read the earlier and later parts of the book, as they provide more information on the subject of salvation’s link to election itself. These readers might be less interested in the bridge period (chapters 3 and 4) between The Bondage of the Will and the Formula of Concord, chapters which largely fill in a chronological gap in the predestination story.

Timothy Dost

TRANSFORMING WORLDVIEWS: An Anthropological Understanding of How People Change. By Paul G. Hiebert. Grand Rapids: Baker Academics, 2008. 367 pages. Paper. $24.99.

Few people can be credited with founding or refashioning an entire discipline. Paul Hiebert is one of those few. Out of his experience as a missionary in India, while teaching at Fuller Theological Seminary and then Trinity Evangelical Divinity School, he published seminal studies that profoundly shaped late-twentieth century mission anthropology. This opus magnum, published in the year after his death in 2007, sums up not only his work but the broad sweep of anthropological insights and other points of view that affect how Christians view the world and analyze its cultures and societies for the purpose of proceeding with the theological task and the commission to bring the Gospel to the nations.

Hiebert begins with an extensive overview of anthropological theories and counter-theories from the past century, Concordia Journal/Winter 2010

assessing and applying insights of a wide range of Christian and non-Christian students of human cultures within the context of his concern for spreading the biblical message. His approach to twentyfirst century mission presumes that conversion to Christ involves more than a change of belief and/or behavior. It must move beyond these vital components of the faith to change in the fundamental “worldview,” the paradigm for interpreting the whole of reality, from a view of life that is centered in idols to one that focuses on the true God. Hiebert aids readers in assessing the worldviews they encounter (also within themselves) epistemologically and with sensitivity to the relationships between the various systems that guide and direct daily life in every culture. Readers also gain insight into several vantage points from which to read the cultures in which God calls them to serve. With a threefold focus on cognitive, affective, and evaluative themes, the author presents masterful summaries of the salient features of recent investigations and analyses of band and tribal societies, village or peasant societies, modern societies, the post-modern world, and the post-postmodern world, into which he sees church and culture lurching at the beginning of the twenty-first century. (All historical periodizations have shortened the length of periods the closer they come to their own time, defining as distinct periods the most recent profound changes in humankind; it is a matter of perspective!)

Hiebert provides help in assessing these cultures’ worldviews diachronically and synchronically.

This volume is, however, much more than a textbook for mission anthropolo-

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gy. It is a confession of faith, prepared by a theologian of deep commitment to the spreading of the gospel. Hiebert’s final two chapters are designed to call readers “toward a biblical worldview” and to aid them in “transforming worldviews,” both their own and those to whom they bring the gospel of Jesus Christ. Hiebert confesses that scripture, God’s Word for his people, recites events that “are part of one great story—in other words, a central diachronic worldview theme. On a synchronic level, it affirms that the God who spoke to Abraham and David is the same God who revealed himself in the person of Jesus, that all have sinned and come short of the glory of God, and that there is no salvation apart from God’s divine plan (266). That plan embraces his incarnation as Christ Jesus, who as Lord and Savior is bringing the rule of God in the midst of a rebellious and sinful world.

Hiebert also emphasizes, as a counterbalance to the toxic individualism of modern societies, that Christians who stand individually before their heavenly Father are bound to his other children in the community of faith. God turns individual Christians and their communities outward to the world that still stands in need of conversion to the Christian faith, that is, to the biblical view of the world.

The book’s chapter on the biblical worldview can serve this journal’s readers as an aid for catechesis as well as in the midst of our ever-changing surroundings.

The final chapter assesses what “conversion” means in terms of moving beyond changes only in belief and behavior. They will remain planted in shallow and thirsty soil unless the framework of the convert’s(s’) worldview is also brought in line with thinking that com-

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prehends what it means that reality flows from the creative Word of our Creator and from the re-creative Word of the Holy Spirit. This Word of God brings us the benefits of the death and resurrection of the Word made flesh. Our readers will miss accents from our understanding of the dynamic power of God’s Word in its oral, written, and sacramental forms— present perhaps implicitly in these pages—and the proper distinction of law and gospel, which takes place in every evangelistic conversation and can only be improved when Christians are conscious of how the distinction is to work. The absence of these concepts is attributable in large part to the fact that Lutherans of our tradition have been so little involved in missiological discussions.

This volume represents a gift and legacy from a dedicated missionary, teacher, and scholar, whose scholarship will enrich the witness of all who read his work.

Robert Kolb Editor’s Note: The following group of reviews by Dr. Lessing reflect his latest research into issues related to preaching the Old Testament, a timely topic given that this year’s Homiletical Helps cover the Old Testament readings.

MORE THAN MEETS THE EAR: Discovering the Hidden Contexts of Old Testament Conversations.

By Victor H. Matthews. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008. 198 pages. Paper. $25.00.

Victor Matthews, who teaches at Missouri State University, is a recognized expert on the social world of the Old Testament. A prolific author, in

he takes up speech act theory, this book discourse analysis, spatiality theory, and cognitive linguistics in order to more fully comprehend Old Testament narratives. Matthews defines the communication theories in the first chapter and then employs them in the interpretation of specific Old Testament texts.

In chapter two Matthews uses several literary methods to interpret Judah’s encounter with Tamar. His attention to social, spatial, and rhetorical components in Genesis 38 opens up new insights as to how, driven by his own lust, Judah is sexually tricked by the woman he thought he controlled. When Tamar changes from a widow in Judah’s house into a roadside prostitute she sits at “the entrance to Enaim” which literally means “the opening of the eyes” (Gn 38:14, 21). It is ironic that at this very place Judah’s eyes are closed to the woman’s true identity! Thinking that Tamar is an available female he abruptly propositions her, “Come, let me come in to you” (Gn 38:16a). This statement, without any introductory chit-chat, implies that Judah was familiar with prostitutes and knew how to pick them up. Then, when Judah asks Tamar, “What pledge shall I give you?” (Gn 38:18a), his identity is changed from the male head of the house into a powerless sexual client. Tamar asks for everything that would identify Judah, short of the clothes off his back!

Why does Judah consent to giving her his “seal, chord, and staff in his hand” (Gn 38:18)? Apart from obvious sexual arousal, perhaps it was because he saw Tamar as a cult prostitute (Gn 38:21) and sought the blessing of foreign gods. So Judah’s abandonment of his insignia represents a deeper rejection of his heritage, Concordia Journal/Winter 2010

identity, and God. After Tamar becomes pregnant, Judah, still clueless, declared, “Bring her out and have her burned to death” (Gn 38:24b). Once she shows him the truth he responds, “She is more righteous than I” (Gn 38:26).

In chapter four Matthews provides another engaging study of 1 Kings 22 where Michaiah ben Imlah faces a ruthless empire that makes no room for Yahweh. As demonstrated in 1 Kings 21, when he kills Naboth in order to confiscate a plot of land, the Northern king, Ahab, has no room for Yahweh’s claims.

Four hundred prophets went along with Ahab’s reign of terror (1 Kgs 22:6).

Then Matthews slows down the discussion with an analysis of 1 Kings 22:10 to describe one of the most extreme exhibits of power in the OT. “Now the king of Israel [Ahab] and Jehoshaphat the king of Judah were sitting on their thrones, arrayed in their robes, at the threshing floor at the entrance of the gate of Samaria, and all the prophets were prophesying before them.” What more could be done to intimidate Michaiah into submission? But the prophet will not back down. He describes another assembly and another King (1 Kgs 22:19). Earthly powers and authorities are secondary to the majesty and rule in the divine realm.

Ahab’s reign is replaced with another King, Yahweh. The wise person will recognize this and not be led astray by the lie (1 Kgs 22:22–23). Yet Ahab refused to humble himself before Yahweh’s mighty hand, and it costs him his life (1 Kgs 22:29–37).

Throughout his work Matthews pays close attention to communication theories, yet he jettisons the idea that these conversations really happened. They “are

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of the storyteller rather than a creation a faithful transcription of the words as they were spoken” (17). The belief that biblical narratives are not historically authentic is an ongoing plague in biblical studies and short-circuits the authority of Yahweh’s word.

At any rate, Matthews careful attention to social, linguistic, and political frames within a narrative provides penetrating results that go far beyond superficial readings. Anyone interested in the study of biblical dialogues will glean important insights by reading this book.

Reed Lessing

WE HAVE HEARD THAT GOD IS WITH YOU: Preaching the Old Testament. By Rein Bos. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008. 384 pages. Paper. $28.00.

The relationship between the Old and New Testaments is not one of many problems faced by interpreters of the Bible; it is the central issue that touches every doctrine embraced by the church.

A correct understanding of how the testaments interconnect is imperative, for upon it hangs the meaning of the entire Christian faith. Bos believes that though the early church rejected Marcion’s connection between the God of the OT with “the God of this world” (2 Cor 4:4), the church has yet to arrive at a satisfactory method of preaching from the OT. True, the early church was convinced that it would be a fatal mistake to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ apart from the OT, but why is it then that the Apostles’ Creed jumps from creation to fall to Jesus without a any confession about God’s will and ways with Israel? And

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the church still lives in the long shadow of Adolf von Harnack’s famous quote in his 1921 book, Marcion: The Gospel of the Alien God: “To reject the Old Testament in the second century was an error which the great Church rightly rejected; to retain it in the sixteenth century was a fate which the Reformation was still unable to escape; but to preserve it during the nineteenth century and beyond as a canonical document for Protestantism is the result of religious and churchly paralysis.” In the face of this ongoing opposition to the OT, Bos points out that Deuteronomy 5:3 actualizes the OT for the church. Moses says, “Not only with our fathers did Yahweh make this covenant, but also with us, who are all of us here alive today.”

Christian preaching from the OT actualizes God’s word for the church by means of what Bos terms four senses; the Israelite, Christological, ecclesiological, and the eschatological. He argues that this model is superior to the more frequent OT preaching strategies that consider only Messianic prophecies, types, catchwords, thematic linkages, and theophanies. In this way the author breaks with the popular method put forth

by Sydney Greidanus in his 1999 book, Preaching Christ from the Old Testament: A Contemporary Hermeneutical Method. Bos wants to claim the entire OT for Christian preaching.

Bos’ approach to the OT is animated, in large part, by Karl Barth. In his theological context Barth understood the relationship between the OT and NT in a revolutionary way. Gone was the idea that the NT offers a higher and deeper knowledge of God; both testaments witness to the one God—the God of Israel

and the God called Abba by Jesus Christ.

Barth stood against any system that embraced a gradual development of God that culminated in Christ. He advocated a hermeneutic in which the NT is not a richer and deeper revelation. Rather, both testaments center in Christ as God’s ultimate revelation; Magnalia Dei are Magnalia Christi. Yet whereas Barth’s program has Jesus as the one and only speaking Subject in the Bible, which tends to flatten the unique character of the OT, Bos gives full weight to all of the “strange” features in the first testament.

Following at least one strain of Barth’s teaching about Israel, Bos embraces a two-covenant theory, one for Gentiles and one for Jews. The author’s ongoing refrain is that in our postHolocaust era it is a reproach to call the church the “new Israel.” Bos consistently takes issue with those who interpret the Bible in ways that replace the Jews as God’s people with the church. While he exhibits an strong aversion against what he calls “supersessionism”—the view that the church has taken over the place and role of Israel—Bos never discusses his interpretation of passages like Galatians 3:7, 3:29, 6:16, or Philippians 3:3. I find this troubling.

A major strength of this book is the author’s numerous sermon examples, coming from a wide variety of contemporary preachers. Also helpful are his methods for OT preaching that are more than predictable discourses that run roughshod over the text and then move quickly to the NT. Bos persuasively argues against OT preaching that is more like a visit to a museum that exhibits interest in irrelevant ancient artifacts.

“When listeners don’t hear anything Concordia Journal/Winter 2010

about their own lives, when a sermon lacks relevance for our own questions and quarrels, our hopes and expectations, it fails its calling and task” (162). A sermon that only speaks about a past-tense God who appeared in past-tense events implies that this God is largely absent in our present-tense experiences of life.

The author’s goal is for OT sermons to get listeners off the sidelines and become participants in God’s living word.

Though readers will find themselves disappointed over Bos’ two-covenant reading of the Bible, there are enough fresh ideas and illustrations to make this a worthwhile homiletical study.

Reed Lessing THE WORD MILITANT: Preaching a Decentering Word. By Walter Brueggemann. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007. 212 pages. Hardcover. $35.00.

Walter Brueggemann is Professor of Old Testament Emeritus at Columbia Theological Seminary and one of the seminal Hebrew Bible scholars of our day. This is a compilation of eleven of his best articles on preaching and they continually confront the accommodated, culture-bound, tamed, status-quo, therapeutic preaching of our day. The author observes that pastors too often design sermons that narcotize congregations and assure them that nothing odd will happen. For all of the ranting about “the authority of Scripture” pastors very quickly become schooled in silencing the voice of the text. Ironically most preaching puts a cover over the danger of the text. Pastors would rather preach some idea, some cause, some experience—anything but the text.

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Brueggemann notes, “The dominant description of reality in U.S. society is that (a) democratic capitalism is the wave of the future that is sure to produce peace and prosperity; (b) the United States is God’s chosen agent in the spread of the gospel of democratic capitalism; and (c) the United States is by divine assurance immune to the threats of history” (18). “Most ‘acceptable’ preaching in our society is an echo of this dominant culture that remains without critique, so that even in the church there is a lack of awareness that there are alternatives available and that there are choices and decisions to be made” (17).

The dominant version of reality is so powerful that often it appears too costly to critique. Pastors excise skandalon from the biblical lexica. “How is a pastor to give voice to this scandal in a society that is hostile to it, in a church that is often unwilling to host the scandal, and when we ourselves as teachers and pastors of the church are somewhat queasy about the scandal as it touches our own lives?”

(35).

Brueggemann provides the answer with three words: the Old Testament.

Israel’s texts consistently offer alternatives to Egyptian, Canaanite, Philistine, Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian construals of reality. Their texts are not only alternatives but seek to subordinate, threaten, and finally conquer the dominant culture.

The part of the Old Testament that Brueggemann urges upon the church are Israel’s texts of exile. “I believe that in ‘the Christian west’ the baptized community is now in something like exile, a place I characterize as hostile or indifferent to our primal faith claims” (157).

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Just like any government, Babylon did not look favorably on any announcement that unsettled her present arraignment of power. The books of Isaiah and Daniel demonstrate that the empire sought to eliminate Yahweh as a reality. Many exiles accepted Babylon’s propaganda that Yahweh was no longer a player in the world. Babylon (here Brueggemann would have the reader substitute “The United States of America”) threatened to assimilate the exiles and with that, wipe out Israel. “It is unmistakable that Babylon was not only a political-military superpower; it was also an advanced, sophisticated, winsome culture with its own theological rationale and its own moral justifications” (126). Babylon trafficked in fear and intimidation.

But Israel countered with Isaiah 40–55 where the prophet reduces Babylon to a non-power, a hopeless bully. In the end, Babylon is sheer folly (Is 46–47). The empire was all a hegemonic delusion that could not defeat Yahweh (e.g., Is 52:7). Isaiah offers a counter-text that offers a counterdescription of reality. The exile and Babylonian hegemony would not be the final chapter in human history. Babylon, at best, is penultimate; Yahweh is ultimate.

The author asserts that Pax Americana and the “American Dream” have nothing to do with Jesus. But in making this assertion time after time he fails to note that the ultimate enemy are “rulers and authorities in heavenly realms” (Eph 3:10). “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly

realmsâ&#x20AC;? (Eph 6:12). When placed in this fuller biblical context, Brueggemannâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s essays offer numerous ideas that will empower the pastor to take a text and charge into enemy territory!

Reed Lessing

Concordia Journal/Winter 2010

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Sunday, March 21, 3:00 p.m.

The American Kantorei, with soloists Jeral Becker, Evangelist, and Jay Willoughby, Christ, present J. S. Bachâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s The Passion of Our Lord According to St. John. Aria soloists are principals of The American Kantorei. A celebration of the birthday of J. S. Bach.

Sunday, May 2, 3:00 p.m.

J. S. Bach, Mass in B Minor. Soloists are principals of The American Kantorei.

Concordia Seminary, 801 Seminary Place

St. Louis, MO 63105 â&#x20AC;˘ 314-505-7362

Eighth Annual Day of Homiletical Reflection Concordia Seminary, St. Louis Featuring Rev. Dr. Paul Scott Wilson Professor of homiletics at Emmanuel College in the University of Toronto and the Toronto School of Theology.

May 5, 2010, 9:00 a.m. to 4:15 p.m.

The Day of Homiletical Reflection combines the annual Wenchel Lecture that promotes critical thought about preaching and practical enhancement in this art with the Ernie and Elsie Schneider Endowment for Excellence in Preaching that fosters support for innovative 21st century proclamation.

Designed for pastors, students involved in homiletical education, and all others interested in the proclamation of the Gospel in todayâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s world.

Cost is $25 (not including lunch) A total of .4 CEUs is available To register, call Continuing Education at 314-505-7486 or email ce@csl.edu.

801 Seminary Place St. Louis, MO 63105

Concordia Journal

801 Seminary Place St. Louis, MO 63105

Winter 2010

volume 36 | number 1