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Evangelical Catholicity
Eric Hageman on a Name Change for the Lutheran Church–Missouri Synod
In the October 2018 issue of First Things, Robert Benne detailed the ongoing collapse of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA), by far the largest American Lutheran body. Among other things, Benne described a demonic mockery of baptismal vows ("Do you renounce the lie that Queerness is anything other than beauty?"), a church-sanctioned renaming ceremony for a gender-dysphoric child, and the eschewing of evangelical work to combat white colonialism. More recently, in February, The New Yorker profiled Nadia Bolz-Weber, an ELCA pastor who bragged about divorcing her husband of twenty years (and father of her two children) in search of better sex.
These developments are by no means unusual among Lutheran bodies. Like the ELCA, the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Finland endorses legalized abortion. At least sixteen bodies of the Lutheran World Federation—representing well over half of its 74 million members—condone "same-sex marriage."
Some smaller Lutheran bodies remain much more orthodox. In addition to Benne's North American Lutheran Church, the Lutheran Church–Missouri Synod (LCMS) is arguably one of the most conservative religious bodies in the United States. Among other things, the LCMS rejects homosexual behavior as "intrinsically sinful," speaks out strongly against abortion and euthanasia, and refers to transgenderism as a "grave disorder."
Given these positions, one may fairly wonder why the LCMS shares the name "Lutheran" with some of the world's most liberal religious bodies. I certainly have. I am a born-and-bred LCMS Lutheran, the son of an LCMS pastor. My current pastor is a vice president of the LCMS. After over a year of prayerful discernment, my then-fiancée was confirmed into the LCMS from another denomination.
The question why we call ourselves Lutheran came closer to home last year when a dear family friend converted from orthodox Lutheranism to Roman Catholicism, in part because of concerns with Martin Luther's character (concerns Luther himself recognized). Likewise, explaining Lutheranism to my in-laws was made difficult by their (quite fair) assumption that to be Lutheran means "to follow Luther."
That explanation was made more difficult still by a large and growing epistemological gap between orthodox Lutheranism and the mainline Protestant traditions in which my wife and in-laws were raised.
Confessionalism & Anti-confessionalism
In addition to taking culturally conservative stances, the LCMS insists that its adherents confess its beliefs purely and uniformly. Those beliefs, regarding everything from communion to baptism to justification before God, are found in the Book of Concord, a sixteenth-century compilation of writings by Luther and Philip Melanchthon. To ensure confessional unity, the LCMS employs "close communion," such that visitors to our congregations, no matter how frequent or faithful, cannot participate in the Lord's Supper. And, as I have written in The Catholic Thing, the LCMS requires pastors praying in public to "avoid terminology that would allow those of other religions to conclude that they have the same faith or belief as the one offering the prayer."
Some American Protestants worry much less about such unity. Benne writes of a controversy that arose when it was discovered that the director of the ELCA's United Lutheran Seminary had once resisted the legitimization of homosexuality. Despite her timely "evolution" to more progressive views, she was removed from office.
Buried in the account was a fact that may seem anodyne: the director was a pastor in the Presbyterian Church (USA). She held these two positions simultaneously, apparently without protest from either body—despite pointed disagreements between Presbyterians and Lutherans regarding justification, predestination, and a host of other issues. The ELCA and the three largest American Presbyterian bodies similarly practice open communion and ordain pastors of other denominations.
Astonishingly, many of the same churches do not require new members to renounce their prior beliefs or confess new ones. It seems not to matter whether their followers hold contradictory beliefs. Thus, I've been asked—unironically—whether I may someday decide that I'd like to try being Baptist, Episcopalian, or Presbyterian. As if choosing a church were tantamount to altering one's diet or buying a new car. As if it were not a matter of cold, hard facts about God. In a word, as if faith were about taste, not truth.
While it may seem harsh, orthodox Lutheranism's insistence on true, uniform confessions—call it confessionalism—reflects assuredness that its beliefs are true. The ELCA and others seem content to proffer their views as mere options, not as actually correct. This is beyond practicing tolerance, which requires us not to impede others' beliefs but allows us to reject those same beliefs as wrong.
In a way, then, the ELCA's decline is an example not only of American Protestantism's liberalization but also of its subjectification. This rejection of truth claims—call it anti-confessionalism—has found a comfortable home in contemporary American culture, which speaks not in terms of the truth but in terms of our truths. Justice Anthony Kennedy put it best when he decreed, "At the heart of liberty is the right to define one's own concept of existence, of meaning, of the universe, and of the mystery of human life." It does not matter that Episcopalians and Lutherans hold different views. Each of us is entitled to his own truth.
The Accommodationist Ethic
In the May/June 1998 issue of Touchstone, prominent LCMS writer Gene Veith correctly noted that, to other Christians, orthodox Lutheran confessionalism can be "formidable, even off-putting." Aware of this fact, many well-meaning LCMS pastors and congregations have tried to make themselves more lenitive to Christians uncomfortable with wrought confessionalism. Veith noted that many "accommodationist" Lutheran churches had done away with traditional worship in favor of "singing 'praise songs'" and "preaching sermons on pop-psychology." The incidence of these practices has only increased since he wrote.
Some accommodations have been less cosmetic. Recent visits to dozens of LCMS churches across the country reveal that a critical mass of our pastors have watered down their close communion policies and given up Christ-centric sermons in favor of feel-good TED Talks. The same pastors have oversimplified the rite of catechesis—one LCMS church near my home has reduced its catechism class to a single Saturday morning (this compared to the months and years of study most new orthodox Lutherans undergo!).
I am deeply sympathetic to the accommodationist ethic. Many fellow Christians see our confessionalism as an instrument of superiority and exclusiveness, and we must show them that it is not. But the accommodationist response does not serve that end. Instead, as the ELCA has shown, it erodes the identity of the church in order to meet the demands of contemporary culture.
The real solution is unearthed when orthodox Lutheranism stays true to its confessionalism. When it does, it offers something other faiths do not: catholicity.
Embracing Catholicity
Unlike the truly Protestant faiths, orthodox Lutheranism lays claim to the one, holy, universal, apostolic church. We track our tradition not to the Reformation but to Christ and his apostles. Accordingly, orthodox Lutheranism does not view its confessions as matters of taste or convenience. Instead, in a real sense, orthodox Lutheranism is a series of truth claims.
This confessionalism makes orthodox Lutheranism catholic. To claim catholicity is to claim universality. And the claim to universality entails a claim to truth. Orthodox Lutherans are therefore catholic in part because we believe our confessions are universally true. This explains why we do not practice open communion or share ministers with other faiths; to do so would be to ignore the contradictions between our confessions and others'.
Rather than shrink from this extraordinary characteristic, I propose that orthodox Lutherans embrace it. Among other things, this could mean doubling down on close communion or moderating our celebrations of the Reformation. (More on that later.) But the most obvious way to embrace our catholicity is to call ourselves catholic. Doing so would distinguish our faith not only from mainline Lutheranism but also from contemporary American Protestantism. It would signal to the world—and, just as importantly, to ourselves—that our claim is not simply to a "flavor" of Christianity.
Our catholicity is the best answer to accusations of exclusiveness. In his 1844 essay, Concerning the Name "Lutheran," C. F. W. Walther, the first president of the LCMS, wrote that in adhering to our confessions, "we disassociate ourselves . . . from the errors in which so many of our brothers are captured." Doing otherwise, failing to "loudly witness against that which keeps them in such danger of souls," would be to act "without love." With that, Walther echoed Paul's teaching that the unity of the Church will be marked by "speaking the truth in love." When we change what we are to accommodate the world, when we hold ourselves out as something we are not, we deceive and disserve our neighbors. Paradoxically, we love our neighbors by explaining why they are wrong.
Today, the errors in which our brothers are captured are not only radical heterodoxy but also pernicious anti-confessionalism. And the best way to disassociate ourselves from these evils is to hold ourselves out as precisely the opposite: orthodox, confessional, and catholic.
Catholicity as Evangelism
Applied to Christianity writ large, catholicity is a method of evangelism. We spread the gospel by proclaiming it to the world, by confessing it to be universally true. This is especially important for orthodox Lutheranism, which is particularly gospel-centric. We reject all attempts to supplant or supplement Christ's sacrifice with human effort. This includes Roman Catholic penance, and the Anabaptist view that to be saved, one must make a decision to "accept Christ." We believe Christ has done everything for our salvation and that we can do nothing. Even our faith in him is the gift of God, such that no man can boast.
For this reason, I would qualify the term "catholic" with "evangelical" (which means "gospel-centric") and propose that the LCMS adopt the name "Evangelical Catholic Church." This qualifier would also deflect confusion with the Roman Catholic Church. Walther expressed this concern, rejecting the label "catholic" in part for this reason—even calling the pope "the archenemy of the Lutheran church"!
That aside, I worry less about confusion with the Roman Catholic Church, which holds itself out as confessional (and, of course, as catholic), than with mainline Lutheranism, which may very well be the most anti-confessional, heterodox denomination in contemporary Christendom. And while in Walther's time Roman Catholicism may have posed a great threat to our faith, today, the far greater threat is anti-confessionalism. (Of course, today, as in 1844, the real archenemy of the Lutheran church—and all Christians—is not the pope but Satan and sin.)
I would not stop with our name. In all respects, I would have the LCMS embrace its catholicity. In addition to renaming the body, I propose doubling down on close communion practices. I would implore synodical leaders to seek out noncompliant policies and make their instigators decide whether they wish to remain in the body.
I would also end our garish adoration of the Reformation. Although our intent is to celebrate rediscovery of the gospel, our annual observance of Reformation Day and 2017's lavish celebration of the 500th anniversary of the Reformation signal that we are a Reformation church. (They also gleefully—and disturbingly—ignore the great tragedy of Christian schism.)
In all these proposals, I would be careful not to confuse the LCMS's claim to catholicity with a claim to exclusivity. Consistent with the Book of Concord, Paul Robert Sauer wrote in the Fall 2007 issue of Lutheran Forum that "there are faithful children of God in all church bodies." Lutherans have never claimed to be the only Christians or to possess exclusively the keys to heaven. This is one of the myriad confessions that separate us from the Roman church.
Serving the Great Commission
Fellow orthodox Lutherans will agree that of all the lurid details in Benne's piece, the most disturbing is the ELCA's decision to stop spreading the gospel. This defies Christ's command to "go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit." It is the nadir of the Lutheran tradition.
Embracing Lutheran catholicity and renaming the LCMS would serve this commission. Rather than shrink from our confessions, we must adhere to them loudly. We must insist that they are true not only for us but for everyone. We must be—and present ourselves as—catholic. To do otherwise would be without love.
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more from the online archives
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31.4—July/August 2018
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