The Video at Last! The Form of the Divine Service

The video is finally done! Over a year in the making, we have at last completed our work of preparing our instructional film, The Form of the Divine Service: an instructional video for pastors and seminarians. This is footage of an actual Divine Service with voice-over of how-to commentary. This service shows a full contingent of Celebrant, Deacon, Sub-deacon, and servers, with an acknowledgment that services having less than this full contingent may easily abridge these instructions accordingly. Better to show too much than too little, we thought.

To view the video online, right now, click here! We hope to have DVDs of this available soon as well.

As the opening words accompanying the video declare,

"The editors of Gottesdienst are pleased to present this video recording of a Divine Service, together with rubrical instructions to assist men who are preparing for the ministry and pastors who might desire further assistance in these matters. In 2014, the editors were collectively musing on how we might better serve the churches and pastors who wanted to know in some greater detail how to conduct a reverent observance of the ceremonies of the Divine Service, and this project was begun. We thank the people at Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod Worship, at the Office of National Mission, who agreed that the project would prove a blessing to many pastors and seminarians. They have been generous and gracious in providing funding for this project. This is a video recording, with commentary, of a Divine Service held in May of 2016 at St. Paul’s in Hamel, Illinois, during a Gottesdienst conference."

Uncompromising Genuflexion

by Burnell F. Eckardt Jr.

This is an article that was written and printed in the Michaelmas 2002 issue of Gottesdienst, in my Liturgical Observer column. It seemed an appropriate piece to republish, in view of the kerfuffle that has arisen in LCMS circles since this summer's convention that featured genuflecting clergymen at the Divine Service.

Now they even have lobbies, gyms, boutiques, banks, and McDonald’s restaurants on their premises.  The megachurches have certainly not gone away; they have merely become more mega.  The rationale for making the churches into marketplaces is generally the idea that the gathering of people to exchange greetings over coffee is to be considered a “meaningful” part of Christian worship.  Maybe the Golden Arches haven’t yet become Golden Steeples, but they certainly aren’t very far away from the chancel.

Since this is so, it behooves us who know better about what is the truly meaningful part of Christian worship to make our confession all the more bold.  As we believe and teach, so must we confess.  Since Christian worship must be the worship of Christ, and since Christ’s sacramental presence is at the heart of Christian worship, what is called for here is a re-evaluation of our liturgical ways of confessing the faith, as we seek continually to be faithful.

What appears to be at issue in the worship wars waging across America these days is how, or whether at all, we may liturgically insist upon the Gospel.  There is considerable pressure being placed upon churches and pastors to declare that it is improper to insist upon anything liturgical at all, saying, rather, that the freedom of the Gospel means that we can worship any way we see fit, so long as the words expressed in worship are consistent with the Gospel.  The battleground finds the proponents of liturgical leniency contending for a separation between form and substance, while the defenders of orthodox liturgical practice maintain the old maxim lex orandi, lex credendi (literally, the rule of prayer is the rule of believing): the rubrics governing the conduct of our worship have direct bearing upon the essence of our faith.  More simply put, we contend that the way one conducts himself at prayer is tied to the focus and heart of his prayer.

Liturgical worship recognizes that the posture and behavior of the participants is a reflection of what they profess.  To cite the extreme case, if someone enters the church with a pink spike hairdo, rings of one kind or another piercing his body in various places, a swagger in his gait, a smirk on his face, and perhaps a chortle at every reference to Jesus that he hears, it becomes apparent that he does not really wish to be present, or associated with the Christian Church.  Therefore, on the contrary we find it fitting to dress properly for church, to carry ourselves with decency, to make the sign of the cross, to fold the hands, to stand erect, to bow the head, or—notwithstanding its increasing unpopularity—to bend the knee.

Which brings me to the topic of this essay.

Of the fact that genuflexion is biblical and apostolic there can be no doubt.  Daniel “knelt down three times a day” to pray (Daniel 6:10), Solomon knelt in the presence of all Israel at the dedication of his temple (1 Kings 8:54), and Esdras knelt in prayer (1 Esdras 9:5).  The Wise Men knelt before the Christ (St. Matthew 2:11), a leper knelt to beseech His mercy (St. Mark 1:40), Stephen knelt (Acts 7:59), St. Peter knelt (Acts 9:40), St. Paul knelt (Acts 20:36) and maintained the significance of genuflexion (e.g., Ephesians 3:14; Philippians 2:10), and most importantly, Christ Himself in Gethsemane knelt down to pray (St. Luke 22:41).  Tradition relates that St. James’s knees, from his continual kneeling, had become callous as those of a camel (Eusebius 2,23: 76).  Genuflexion is certainly a matter of form, and it ought to be self-evident that it is directly related to substance.  Although we ought never consider a failure to genuflect in itself a statement against what it professes—for that would be judgmental—we always recognize that genuflexion is itself a statement of faith.  It is unmistakably a way of adoring Christ.  In the worship setting, it is also unmistakably a way of adoring Him in the Sacrament.

We must learn to do liturgically what we say theologically.  Most especially lex orandi, lex credendi is true in a sacramental sense, and this leads me to offer this particular application.  In view of the liturgical malaise we face, and especially the evidence of manifest disregard and disdain for the Holy Sacrament, a liturgical response is in order.  It’s high time that we who call ourselves confessional all got used to genuflecting before the Sacrament every Sunday.  For this more than any other liturgical action demonstrates the object of our worship and allegiance.

This assumes that we offer the Sacrament every Sunday.  The rise of the megachurch makes it all the more imperative that we set before our people what we know to be the heart of Christian worship, namely, Christ on the altar.  And this is no more legalism than to insist upon Christ.  To offer the Sacrament every Sunday to those who desire it is to offer them Christ.  It is simply a matter of faith: lex orandi, lex credendi.  The Christian, according to the Catechism, should be admonished and encouraged to receive the Sacrament frequently by “both the command and the promise of Christ the Lord” and by “his own pressing need, because of which the command, encouragement, and promise are given” (Section 4: “Christian Questions with Their Answers,” Luther’s Small Catechism 43).  Should not the churches therefore be offering the Sacrament for frequent reception?  How can one receive it frequently if it be not offered frequently?  If we are teaching and confessing the importance of frequent reception, yet persistently adhere to the Rationalist/Pietist innovations of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries which allowed some Sundays to pass without even offering the Sacrament, then there is a clear contradiction between what we say and what we do.  We really have no right to call ourselves “confessional Lutherans” if we do not seek to correct this blatant deviation from the sacramental and, until well into the sixteenth century, universal practice of the Christian Church.

And given the current sacramental crisis, genuflexion before the Sacrament is becoming more difficult to see as an entirely indifferent matter.  This is not to say that it ought to become a law for Christians; this is not and should not be a matter of forced submission.  Though Christ’s Body and Blood are truly present here, we make no laws out of the Gospel, though we are commonly charged with doing just that. I find, rather, that because genuflexion is an adoration of Christ in the Sacrament, I can scarcely do otherwise than to bend the knee.  If I find myself recognizing that the impetus for genuflecting is a strong one, it is not because I feel constrained to follow some law, but rather because I desire to confess my faith boldly.

And our wanting to do so is not only because of the megachurch phenomenon, but in view of another consideration pertaining to our own liturgical milieu.  Even among those who like to think of themselves as more traditional and confessional in worship preferences, there is still—there has been for a long time—a critical bone of contention over the issue of receptionism.  The receptionist position holds that the words of Christ apply only to those parts of the elements which are actually received. The receptionist view is that whatever is not consumed is mere bread and wine, since it is not included in the entire sacramental action.  The Formula of Concord’s Article VII (“The Holy Supper”) declares that

if the institution of Christ be not observed as He appointed it, there is no sacrament . . . And the use or action here does not mean chiefly faith, neither the oral participation only, but the entire external, visible action of the Lord’s Supper instituted by Christ, the consecration, or words of institution, the distribution and reception, or oral partaking of the consecrated bread and wine, of the body and blood of Christ.  And apart from this use, when in the papistic mass the bread is not distributed, but offered up or enclosed, borne about, and exhibited for adoration, it is to be regarded as no sacrament (SD VII: 83-87, Trigl. 1001f. ).

What the Formula means to reject is the abuse of the Sacrament, where the Host is enclosed in a monstrance for adoration only and is never eaten.  But the receptionists have taken this to mean that only that portion of the elements actually used in the Distribution are truly Christ’s Body and Blood.  They have taken this usus statement from the Formula of Concord to mean that the Body and Blood of Christ cease to be present in every instance where the Sacrament is not being eaten and drunk, and have forgotten the logic of abusus non tollit usum—let not the abuse determine what ought to be done—and so have come to the conclusion that Christ’s true Body and Blood may or may not be present in this or that particular element.  No longer can the celebrant with complete conviction repeat the words of Christ, This is My Body, for now we must wonder, what is this? when is is operative? or what, for that matter, is truly meant by is?

No wonder they have grown sloppy at the altar, and unwitting bedfellows of the megachurch promoters, who, like them, give evidence that their true affections lie somewhere other than there.  No wonder they rush through the Words of Institution with such haste that we wonder what train they have to catch after the service.  No wonder they have no trouble with plastic individual Communion cups: it isn’t really Christ’s own very Blood in there; it only might be, and at that, only when consumed, or, come to think of it, only at the moment it is consumed!  For after consumption, by the same token, it is no longer in use either, since the use has ended; and therefore, it is no longer Christ’s Blood.  But now, alas, we must wonder when, if ever, the elements are truly Christ’s Body and Blood.  Not before, not after, only during!  But what is “during”?  At the moment it passes the vertical plane of the opened lips?  At the nanosecond it sits on the tongue before digestion begins?   Thus is becomes virtually never.  Meanwhile the megachurch promoters would retort, “Who cares? Let’s go to McDonald’s for some real fellowship.”

But we take Christ at His word. He simply says, This is My Body.  Now let us consider: lex orandi, lex credendi.  How are we to behave, in consequence of this truth, especially knowing there are those who deny it, or who don’t care about it?  They are saying that Christ’s Body does not, or may not, truly sit on the altar.  How can we be idle here?  The Scriptures declare, “I believed, therefore have I spoken” (Psalm 116:10).  What does our posture say?  What do our actions say?

Here is one confessional Lutheran who believes it is time for all who have not yet done so to take a serious look at genuflexion.  The bending of the knee is a clear and unambiguous gesture of adoration, such as we offer to Christ alone.  Yes, we believe that Christ is here, that He sits on the altar because of His own words, This is My Body, and that He is here worthy to be adored.  Lex orandi, lex credendi.

Certainly, apart from the use there is no Sacrament, which is why as Lutherans we reject the use of the monstrance, an ornate case intended only for the exhibition and adoration of a Sacred Host.  But we do not by this token deny that the Sacrament, as properly administered, is worthy of adoration.  It is the true Body and Blood of Christ!  Of course it is worthy of adoration, as nothing else on earth.  Moreover we affirm that the chief thing in the Sacrament, besides the bodily eating and drinking, are the words “Given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins” (“The Sacrament of the Altar,” Luther’s Small Catechism, 31).  But by genuflexion we affirm that what is “given and shed for you” is indeed the Body and Blood of Christ, by His own words.

Surely it is not wrong to adore Christ’s Body, which is Christ Himself.  His purpose is not to present His Body here for adoration but for oral reception, to be sure, but is it not proper to emphasize in our ceremony the truth that it is His Body that we are about to receive?  Do we not agree that His true Body is where He says it is?  These ceremonies are most appropriate settings for the mystery that is Christ among us, and for us.  “No one, unless he be an Arian heretic, can and will deny that Christ Himself, true God and man, who is truly and essentially present in the Supper, should be adored in spirit and in truth in the true use of the same, as also in all other places, especially where His congregation is assembled” (FC SD VII:126. Trigl. 1015).

Receptionism seeks to slice and divide which of the consecrated elements are His Body and Blood and which are not, or worse, to put off the moment of the change until the bread is received.  This amounts to a new reading of Christ’s words, as if He had said, “This will become My Body when you eat it, but is not yet at this moment of consecration My Body.”  But Christ said is, and He cannot lie.  Once is is denied, the Zwinglian position wins.  The receptionists put off the effect of is until later, whereas the Zwinglians put it off until never, a difference only in degree.  Even transubstantiation, the Thomist invention and philosophical construct which maintains a distinction between the substance (Christ’s Body and Blood, truly present) and the accidents (the taste, appearance, etc., of bread and wine, which they hold to be no longer substantially present), is nowhere near as bad as this.  Though both constructs are unacceptable, the rejection of Christ’s is is far worse than the impropriety of its philosophical analysis.  As Luther once put it, “Sooner than have mere wine with the fanatics, I would agree with the pope that there is only blood” (AE 37: 317).

In about the year 1200, a new view of the Sacrament became prevalent in the teaching of Peter Comestor and Peter the Chanter, who held that the bread was not consecrated in the Mass until the Words of Institution had been spoken over both bread and wine. As a matter of protest against this view, there arose the practice of elevating the Host before the consecration of the cup.  Those who confessed that the presence of Christ was effected by the words This is My Body supported their confession by at once adoring it, without waiting for the words to be spoken over the chalice.  At Paris, this elevation even became a matter of synodal precept (see www.newadvent.org/cathen/05380b.htm). Certain superstitions also began to arise in connection with this elevation, which nevertheless ought not detract from the fact that genuflexion was understood as a bold act of adoration, of refusing to concede the adversary’s contention.  This was uncompromising genuflexion. 

Similarly, in the days of the Reformation, there arose a telling liturgical difference between the Lutherans and the Reformed, reflective of their respective views of the Sacrament.  Since the Reformed held that it was a mere symbol, they were content to discontinue the practice of genuflecting.  Their strong emphasis on the sovereignty of God brought with it an iconoclasm and disdain for anything which might be considered idolatrous worship of “graven images.”  Hence genuflexion became particularly odious.  But the Lutherans parted company here, and insisted not only upon the real presence of Christ’s Body in, with, and under the sacramental Host, but also upon a rejection of any view of God which separated Him from the Incarnation. For the Lutherans at the altar, genuflexion became a means of affirming their faith in Christ’s real presence in the Sacrament, as well as a liturgical means of rejecting the errors of the Reformed.  The Reformed refused to kneel; the Lutherans consequently made clear their desire to bend the knee at the altar rail.  This too was uncompromising genuflexion.

It is this aspect of the genuflexion which is particularly appealing, and a comparison to our milieu can hardly be missed.  Both the receptionists and those who favor liturgical leniency find genuflexion odious, and generally for the very same reasons we find it proper.  They do not see, as we do, that Christ is on the altar for us to eat and drink, and that this is critical to our faith.  Friends, Lutherans, countrymen: Let us now respond to these errors in a simple, free, and unambiguous way.  Heedless of the megachurchgoers, the receptionists, the critics, the naysayers, and all torpedoes, let us likewise make our confession by serene, sincere, devout, and uncompromising genuflexion. 

The Lutheran Church is Massional!

The Rev. Mark Surburg has written a helpful overview of celebrating the sacrament of the altar every Sunday: viewed in light of scripture, tradition, the Lutheran confessions, and contemporary American Lutheran practice.

You can read it here.

A Few Minutes with Fr. William C. Weedon, LCMS Director of Worship and International Center Chaplain

I recently had the pleasure of spending a few minutes chatting with Fr. William C. Weedon, newly installed LCMS Director of Worship and International Center Chaplain, to ask him a few questions about his new post. Here's his response.

Fr. William C. Weedon, LCMS Director of Worship and International Center Chaplain

GOTTESDIENST: As Director of Worship and IC chaplain, what will some of your duties entail?
WEEDON: Let's start with the easier one: as IC Chaplain I'm responsible for coordinating and planning the services that take place in the International Center Chapel (it needs a name!), and in general finding ways for "the Word of God to dwell richly" among the employees in the building as they seek to seek to serve the needs of the Church. In today's Chapel, President Harrison spoke of the three meanings we find in the NT for "confess" - confession of sins, of the faith, and the confession of praise. As chaplain in this place, it's my calling to assist the workers in embracing all three meanings: learning what it means to live together under the forgiveness of Jesus – and so forgiving one another, building each other up in our wonderful doctrinal heritage, and also growing in the joyous praise of God. They are all tied together as we learn to "say back" to God what He has graciously said and revealed of Himself to us.

As Director of Worship, I'll hope to entice the pastors and parishes of the Synod into a joyous, reverent, and intentional embrace of our heritage as Lutheran Christians – a heritage that virtually drips with the sweetness of the Gospel at every turn. One wonderful thing about that heritage is that it is always open-ended: the Lord of the Church is never done giving His gifts. He always has more: new gifts, new songs, new joys for His Church. But (and this is crucial) these "new" gifts never come by way of replacement of the heritage that has gone before but always as its natural unfolding and growth. "One generation shall declare your works to another." This happens as the song of previous generations lives on on our lips and in our hearts, and as we teach that song to the next generation, and add whatever new the Lord gives in our own day along with it. Also, keep your eye out for workshops for hymn-writers, continued publication of the Let Us Pray series – AND the addition of a set of historic, one-year Let Us Pray cycle, ongoing Lectionary Summaries and perhaps a revival of the Lutheran Musicians Enrichment opportunities.

GOTTESDIENST: You’ve said before that we have a “rich, intentional and beautiful liturgical heritage” and that within that heritage “we possess a wide range of freedom.” What does that mean for LCMS congregations?
WEEDON: The sainted A. C. Piepkorn once famously wrote that the responsible exercise of freedom is itself a catholic virtue. He was right, of course, and yet the chief freedom we are concerned with when we speak of Christian worship is not the freedom from our liturgical heritage, or even the freedom to mold our liturgical heritage, but the freedom that that heritage bears such sublime witness to: the liberation of creation from its bondage to decay, sin and death! Freedom isn't making up a new liturgy each week – in fact, that can end up being bondage to the itch for the novel that Luther decried in the intro to the German Mass. On the contrary, the freedom to which our liturgical and hymnological heritage bears witness is the freedom to live in the Spirit where all is gift from the hand of the Crucified and Risen One (even the sufferings!) who IS the Forgiveness of our sin and the Destruction of all our death, and so where all of life is referred in thanksgiving to His heavenly Father, who has now become our Father. This is the freedom to be the children of God that our Baptism has made us, the freedom to which absolution constantly restores us, and that the most venerable Eucharist strengthens within us every time we receive it in the joys of repentance and faith.

GOTTESDIENST: How can pastors be more purposeful in cultivating a rich liturgical life within their congregation?
WEEDON: First let them be men of prayer. The Daily Office should be no stranger to our pastors. We have rich resource here. I think of Treasury of Daily Prayer or The Brotherhood Prayerbook among others. Let the pastors be men of prayer and among their concerns in prayer, let them pray for the renewal of their parishes (that they might truly become outposts, colonies of the Age to Come)and for a growing and deep reverence and love for the Blessed Eucharist in their congregations. Let's also watch HOW we conduct ourselves in the service of bringing the gifts of God to the people of God. Not stiff and wooden and choreographed, certainly not casual and comfortable, but with fear and trembling, commingled with the unutterable joy of being in the presence of the Lamb of God with all the saints and angels. When pastors orient themselves toward this great present but unseen reality in our worship, it will then invite the congregation along with them into the holy presence. We also need to remember this: the liturgy is at its heart simply prayed confession, prayed doctrine. Discomfort with our historic liturgy may sometimes be a sign and symptom of discomfort with the Lutheran doctrine embedded in it. That needs then to be addressed for what it is: not a quarrel about worship style, but a struggle to confess the truth of God.

GOTTESDIENST: What can the pastors of the LCMS be doing or praying for that will assist you in your new role?
WEEDON: The pastors of the LCMS need above all to attend to this: the preaching of the Word entrusted to them. The preaching of God's law in such a way that the sinner is not merely irritated but slain; the preaching of the Gospel in such clarity that the slain are raised from the dead by the life-giving Spirit. I have said for many years that what we face in the Synod is not so much a crisis of liturgy as a crisis of preaching. Lutheran liturgy tends to take care of itself when the preaching is strong. There is nothing that would so strengthen the worship life of the congregations of our Synod, nothing that would so delight our Lord's heart, as more careful attention to our preaching. If there is one thing we should ask the Lord of the Church to grant us, it is renewal in the pulpit. That will lead, I firmly believe, to renewal at the altar, in the choir loft, and out in the community.

Fr. Weedon's installation as LCMS Director of Worship and International Center Chaplain

The Baptism and Chalice of Christ

For those pastors and congregations using the Three-Year Lectionary, the Holy Gospel appointed for this Sunday (Lent 5, Series B) is from the 10th chapter of St. Mark. It is a pivotal point in the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ. The immediate context includes His Word concerning marriage and divorce; His encounter with the rich young man (John Mark); and His healing of blind Bartimaeus at Jericho. And at the center of this significant chapter, in this Sunday's Holy Gospel, is the Lord's clear forthtelling of His Cross and Passion, His response to the bold request of James and John, the sons of Zebedee, and His preaching of His sacrificial servanthood as the ransom for us all.

It is profoundly significant that our Lord describes His forthcoming Cross and Passion, the culmination of His earthly life, in terms of the Holy Sacraments: It is the Baptism with which He is baptized, and the Chalice which He drinks. Not only that, but the faith and life of His disciples is a matter of being baptized with His Baptism and of drinking His Chalice. It is by the sharing of these Sacraments of His Cross and Passion that His disciples live with Him in the glory of His Kingdom. Only, what is death for Him, and judgment and the wrath of God, is forgiveness and life and salvation for His disciples. Everything crescendos, for Him and for us, in Holy Baptism and the Holy Communion. St. Paul also says as much in his discussion of Holy Baptism in Romans 6, and in his discussion of the Holy Communion in 1 Corinthians 10 and 11.

Such sacramental emphases have served as an important key to my reading and preaching of the Gospel. Indeed, it has seemed obvious to me that the Church's faith and life are founded on the Sacrament of Holy Baptism and centered in the Sacrament of the Altar. For these are the very things that define our Lord's own life and ministry, even unto His death upon the Cross. Of course, the Sacraments would be nothing apart from His Cross and Resurrection, but, the fact is, they could not be more intimately united than they are with that great Victory of Christ, our Paschal Lamb who sets us free. We are baptized into His death, and we eat the Feast of His sacrifice — His body given, His blood poured out — proclaiming His death until He comes.

From time to time, I have wondered and worried whether this sacramental understanding of the Scriptures, and of the Christian faith and life, were simply my own perspective or idiosyncrasy. If so, that would not be a good thing; for true theology is not overly clever, unique or peculiar, but consistent with the teaching and confession of the Church catholic. There is always the danger that what seems very clear to one or another of us, may have more to do with our own imperfect perceptions than with the sure and certain Word of Christ. Thus, we do not stand alone in our reading and preaching of the Scriptures, but we abide within the House that our wise Lord Jesus Christ has built upon the Rock. Attempting to stand upon the Rock outside of that House will only get us swept away by the storms of life that rage against us.

With those concerns in mind, I have been encouraged, as well as edified, by my reading of the early church fathers. For there, too, I have found (or, rather, received) a beautifully consistent sacramental emphasis, over and over again, in one father after another, from the "Apostolic Fathers" to the great champions of the first three ecumenical councils (Nicaea, Constantinople, and Ephesus). Not systematic treatises on the doctrine of the Sacraments, but a decisively and distinctively sacramental view of faith and life. For the fathers, it is clear, Holy Baptism and the Holy Communion are not simply practiced as a given in the life of the Church; but, as such, they actually serve to shape and define the Christian's life in the world. Perhaps the following examples and broad summaries will illustrate what I mean.

For St. Ignatius of Antioch and St. Polycarp of Smyrna (early second century), participation in the Sacrament of the Altar is a real participation in the fruits of Christ's Passion; which means the theology of the Cross. Eating and drinking the crucified body and shed blood of Christ, the Lord, conforms one's own body to bear the cross and to suffer for the sake of holy love. The culmination of the Christian life and discipleship, therefore, is expressed and experienced especially in martyrdom, as Ignatius anticipates for himself in writing his seven letters, and as Polycarp demonstrates in his own heroic martyrdom. And for those who are not put to death in this way, even so, their bodies are offered as a living sacrifice of love within their own proper vocations. Either way, the Christian who lives and dies by faith in Christ becomes a kind of holy wheat, ground into eucharistic bread, and fills up the chalice of suffering.

For St. Irenaeus of Lyons (late second century), the Sacrament of the Altar demonstrates and testifies to the goodness of God's Creation, since He gives to us the very Body and Blood of His incarnate Son by way of the created gifts of bread and wine. As such, participation in the Holy Communion is a sharing in the bodily reality of the Incarnation. This Sacrament transforms the Christian's mortal flesh and blood into the image and likeness of Christ, in preparation for and anticipation of the Resurrection of the body to the life everlasting. In the meantime, along with giving thanks (eucharistia) for God's good gifts of Creation, the Christian already lives by faith and love precisely in and with his body, within his vocations in the world, serving his neighbors according to their own bodily needs. This charity of the body is one of the key things that sets the orthodox Christians apart from the various gnostic sects.

Likewise, for St. Justin Martyr (mid-second century) and Tertullian of Carthage (early third century), the remarkable love of the Christians for one another and for their neighbors — the community and charity of the Church — is rooted in and inseparable from the gathering of the Christians for the Divine Service of the Word and Sacrament. It is in that liturgical context that alms are gathered; and as the deacons distribute the body and blood of Christ to the faithful in the congregation, so do they distribute the Church's charity to the poor and needy in the world.

Tertullian eloquently emphasizes that the soul is neither cleansed nor redeemed apart from the body. For the body is washed in the waters of Holy Baptism, and it is fed with the Body and Blood of Christ Jesus in the Sacrament of the Altar. Thus, the life of the Christian in the body is significant; it is in and with the body that faith and love are exercised.

For both Tertullian and Origen of Alexandria (also third century), the sacramental oath of Baptism defines the Christian life in contrast to the idolatry of the world and its temptations. For the renunciation of the devil, all his works and all his ways, and the confession of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, completely redefine the Christian's relationship to the entire world in which he lives. These rites and ceremonies of Holy Baptism testify to a clear distinction between faith and unbelief, between life and death. There simply is no middle ground between darkness and light, no place for any compromise on the part of a Christian. His participation in the Baptism and Cup of Christ necessarily rule out a participation in the demonic rites and ceremonies of the pagans.

By the same token, St. Cyprian of Carthage (mid-third century) warns that, for those who have renounced the faith by sacrificing to idols and participating in the altars of demons, it is not only wrong but dangerous and deadly to participate in the Holy Communion apart from repentance. There is a very tangible and practical seriousness about all of this, and therefore an equally serious practice of pastoral care for those who have fallen, that they may be healed and restored. And restoration to the Church means, specifically, restoration to the Holy Communion.

Cyprian understands that a common sharing in the Body and Blood of Christ constitutes the unity of His Church. It is, indeed, the Holy Communion of all His saints in His one Body, by their participation in these holy things of His Body and His Blood. Even the elements of the Sacrament signify this: As the bread is made from many grains of wheat, and the wine produced from many grapes, and these are gathered from hither and yon into one Meal of Christ, so are His disciples called and gathered from all nations into His one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church.

For St. Athanasius of Alexandria, St. Cyril of Jerusalem, the Cappadocian Fathers, and St. Cyril of Alexandria (in the fourth and fifth centuries), the Incarnation of the Son of God by the Word and Spirit of God — and especially His conception in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary — is foundational for the parallel mystery of His Holy Communion. Therein bread and wine, again by the Word and Spirit of God, become the selfsame body and blood of Christ that were conceived and born of St. Mary, in which He also suffered and died under Pontious Pilate. Likewise, the reception of this Body and Blood of the incarnate Lord Jesus Christ, crucified and risen for us men and our salvation, tranforms our mortal flesh and blood through communion with Him, and so also vivifies our bodies for life with Him, both here in time and hereafter in the Resurrection.

One of the Cappadocian Fathers, St. Basil the Great (mid-fourth century), beautifully explains that the Church's theology is confessed and practiced and manifested in her doxology. That very point is particularly obvious in Basil's eucharistic rite, which celebrates by way of thanksgiving his confession of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Specifically, the saving work of the Holy Trinity continuously culminates for us Christians in the Sacrament of the Altar, wherein the Holy Spirit reveals the incarnate Son of the Father to us, and whereby we are brought to the Father through Christ in the Spirit. Thus, where others theorize and speculate, Basil prays and praises and gives thanks, and he receives the Holy Communion.

It is not only implicit in Basil's eucharistic rite, but explicit in his great treatise On the Holy Spirit. There he persistently maintains that the foundation for all Christian prayer and doxology is the form and confession of Holy Baptism, as taught and given to us by Christ. That is to say, we are to pray in accordance with that great confession of the faith into which we have been baptized: in the Name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Having brought us through the water by His Name, the Lord is our strength and our song, for He has become our salvation.

Do This

Here follows the summary conclusions from my recent post on the Blackbird's Blog, stemming from my presentation on "Consecrationism vs. Receptionism" at the Indiana District Church Workers' Conference in October 2011. Of course, you are welcome to read the entire post, but these three points are the bottom line.

To begin with, only as much bread and wine should be prepared upon the Altar for the consecration as may reasonably be expected to be necessary for the distribution. Exactness is difficult, if not impossible in some cases, but close approximation should not be hard: certainly not where regular pastoral care of the congregation is being exercised. In any event, deliberately preparing and consecrating far more bread and wine than will be needed for the distribution is irreverent and inexcusable. Better to estimate too low on occasion, and then to consecrate additional elements as needed, than deliberately to aim too high.

Following the Word of Christ Jesus, "This is My Body," and "This is My Blood," then, whatever a pastor's particular ceremonial may be, let his posture, movement, demeanor and conduct confess the truth of that Word! Please, dear brothers in Christ, do act like you believe it. Not only for the sake of a clear confession and consistent catechesis, but, above all, because it is true. Not as though the Lord would punish you for any frailties or mishaps, but because it is "truly meet, right, and salutary" that you should take care, and behave with dignity and decorum, as you handle and administer the holy Body and precious Blood of Christ.

The third specific thing that I do want my colleagues to do is really nothing more nor less than what our Lord Jesus Christ has given us Christians to do, namely, to eat and to drink His Body and His Blood. That seems so simple, and so obvious, and yet it isn't followed when it comes to the reliquae. Questions concerning what to do with the consecrated elements that remain at the conclusion of the distribution — which is to speak of the Body and Blood of Christ, as He Himself has declared, also concerning this bread and wine — are easily answered with the same Verba: "Take, eat." "Drink." Either immediately at the Altar, before concluding the Divine Service with the Post-Communion, or as soon after the Service as reasonable possible. For Luther and his followers in the 16th-century, the Sacrament extended from the consecration to the consumption of all the consecrated elements.

This practice, in harmony with our doctrine, rests solidly and simply on the Word of Jesus. So, yes, brothers, I do want you to do that. Because I want you to do what Jesus says. "Do whatever He tells you," the Blessed Virgin Mary also spoke to the servants of the feast. If care is taken in the quantities of bread and wine that are prepared for the consecration, it isn't difficult to consume whatever may remain. If, on any given occasion, more of the precious Blood of Christ remains than a pastor should consume by himself — since it is also wine, which is intoxicating — then he should enlist the assistance of other communicants (as the early Lutheran Church Orders also instruct).

This is that I want you to do. Not as a matter of ceremonial preference, but as a faithful and reverent administration of the Lord's Supper. Let's talk about ceremonies, too, as belonging to the catechesis and confession of the Sacrament. But do not suppose that I'm attempting to lay any weight upon your conscience concerning adiaphora. What God has left free, is free. But my real concern is with a more fundamental stewardship of this sacred Mystery of God.

To Glorify Christ by Adorning His Bride with the Beauty of His Gospel

All our performance, be it little or much, has in the past had no other intention and has no other now, than to honor the creative words of our most holy Consecrator in the Sacrament of the Altar. We poor people of [Gottesdienst] desire to dedicate all our entire work as a trifling but ever-blooming wreath of gratitude and praise to His Altar (Wilhelm Löhe).

These words describe my own conviction and central concern, which is, I believe, one that I hold in common with my fellow editors. I don't know how I could summarize my intentions any more pointedly and precisely than Löhe did; although, if his great work in Neuendettelsau was a "trifling," then I have not yet begun to contribute anything. I am here by the kind consideration and patient tolerance of my brothers in Christ, who have carried the weight of this blog, and me along with it, for the past several years now. I count it a privilege to be numbered among them, because what we are about is worthwhile; because Christ and His gifts are worthy of reverent attention, and His dear Bride ought to be treated like a lady.

As pastors of the Lord's Church, we are called to preach and administer His Gospel within our own respective congregations, and so to serve and care for His people with His means of grace. That is so much the focus and priority of the pastoral office, and such a consuming responsibility, it is tempting for any pastor to keep his head down, to put his blinders on, and to ignore the rest of the Church. Indeed, it is quite right that we should not intrude upon another man's office, nor interfere with another man's servant. Yet, we are not free agents or independent contractors, and the office that we serve did not originate with any one of us. We are recipients and ministers of a sacred tradition, which has come down to us from the Father through His incarnate Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, by the way of His Apostles and Prophets, and pastors and teachers before us. So, too, the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church that we are called to serve within our respective congregations is a holy fellowship in the Gospel across all times and places.

We are heirs of the faithful fathers who have gone before us, and we are all brothers in Christ with those who serve His Church in this generation. That is not incidental but integral to who we are and what we are called to do. We belong to one another, as we belong to one Lord. Not only that, but, as we are entrusted with a stewardship of the Mysteries of God, so are we to hand over the sacred tradition that we have received to faithful men who will come after us.

The heart and center of that sacred tradition is the Sacrament of the Altar. St. Paul makes that clear in 1 Corinthians 11, but it is already given by our Lord Jesus Christ when He says, "Do This in remembrance of Me." Of course, it isn't handed over on a blog, nor in a journal; no more than it is carried out in the offices of the IC, the stockrooms of CPH, or the classrooms of a seminary. It is not even in the Holy Gospels or Epistles that the Sacrament is handed over and received, but in the life of the Church, in the administration of the Holy Communion. By the grace of God, that is happening all over the world, from the rising of the sun to its going down, on the basis of the Word of Christ, recorded in the apostolic Scriptures. Thence we know the rubrics, rites and ceremonies established by the Lord, the words and actions prescribed by His "Do This." But the actual tradition of the Sacrament itself is at the Altar. We do not presume to hand it over here.

What we are doing here, through a mutual conversation of brethren, is serving and supporting one another in the faithful handing over of the Sacrament with all that it entails. Doing so on a blog doesn't take the place of doing so in person, whether at official gatherings, around tables, or in confession. But this sort of forum is a tremendous blessing. Like any of God's good gifts, it can be misused and abused in evil ways that hurt or destroy the neighbor. It can also be idolized or demonized, thereby either worshiping the creature instead of the Creator, or else despising what ought to be received from the Lord's hand with thanksgiving. But as a means of communication, as a medium of words, it facilitates discussion and debate, whereby we sharpen each other and learn from each other. It broadens the table and furthers the conversation. I am so very grateful for that, and I am convinced that many others are, too.

With this blog, with "Gottesdienst Online," we are chiefly aiming to serve and support what happens not here but in the parish: the right administration of the Sacrament in accordance with the Gospel. As simple as its fundamental basics are — bread and wine, the Words of Christ, a pastor to administer, and communicants to eat and drink — this awe-full Mystery is the most profound thing in all of creation. Not just "a thing" unto itself, but the very beating heart of the Church, on earth as it is in heaven. It belongs to a larger living context, which it also defines. And, because it is the most precious thing of all, it is subject to constant attack by the devil, the world, and our own sinful flesh. We dare not take it lightly or for granted, and we dare not rely upon our own wisdom, ingenuity and competence for the right administration of this Holy Sacrament.

To address the right administration of the Sacrament calls for a lively discussion of weighty and significant matters. The preaching of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, and the ongoing catechesis of the Word of Christ, both belong to the right administration of the Sacrament. So it is that Gottesdienst is concerned with liturgical and sacramental preaching; that is to say, not so much a preaching about the Liturgy and Sacraments, but that preaching which is an integral and necessary part of the Liturgy, preaching which is itself a means of grace and forgiveness of sins. And Gottesdienst is concerned with faithful catechesis, which goes beyond academic pedagogy to the way of life in Christ, which is rooted in Holy Baptism. Such catechesis brings sinners to and from the waters of the font, to and from the Body and Blood of Christ, in repentant faith, as Christian disciples.

As editors, we are not simply discussing and dispensing whatever wisdom we may already have gained along the way, but we are truly searching to become more faithful preachers and catechists, ourselves. For the preaching of the Gospel and the catechesis of Christ Jesus are the glory of His holy Name and the most beautiful adornment of His Church.

The right administration of the Sacrament in accordance with the Gospel is the height of pastoral care, which also requires and calls for an ongoing context of pastoral care. That is what faithful preaching and catechesis properly are, but the care of souls proceeds from there, from the font, the pulpit, and the Altar, into the lives of the people. It searches out the lost and wandering sheep, in order to rescue and bring it home rejoicing, to the Feast at the Good Shepherd's Table. So Gottesdienst is concerned with pastoral care in all of the various ways and means by which it is exercised, each of which is catechesis and a preaching of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. It includes the practice of closed Communion and church discipline, and especially the teaching and practice of Individual Confession & Holy Absolution. It means that even the little children are catechized, cared for, and communed as Christian disciples of Jesus. It means that hymns are carefully chosen with the same consideration that accompanies the writing of faithful sermons.

Ceremonies, too, are a means of pastoral care in the administration of the Sacrament, especially because they are such a powerful means of catechesis. Ceremonies teach, as our Confessions indicate. They confess with the body what we believe with the heart and profess with our lips. Although our hearts are never as faithful and sincere as they ought to be, godly ceremonies, like orthodox words, remain objectively and outwardly true. As a kiss, a hug, a bouquet of flowers or a box of chocolates express a man's love for his wife, so do the sign of the cross, beautiful vestments, and bending the knee confess our love for Christ and His Gospel. Necessary? No. Beneficial? Yes. For ceremonies like these embody our faith, in such a way that little children and adults are able to recognize and grasp the significance of what is happening.

In any case, it is impossible to administer the Sacrament of the Altar without ceremonies of some kind, because we are bodily creatures living in space and time, and because the Sacrament itself is an external ceremony. Therefore, it isn't a question of whether or not to have ceremonies, but only a question of which ceremonies will best confess the truth of the Sacrament.

Consequently, Gottesdienst is concerned with advocating ceremonies that are worthy of the Gospel. We cannot add anything to the Gospel, but surely we should honor it with our actions as we administer and receive the Sacrament. To bend the knee at the Name of Jesus, for example, confesses that He is our Lord, and that our bodies are in the presence of His Body.

For myself, I find that the deliberate use of ceremonies helps to curb the frailties of my own fallen flesh, and to focus my heart and mind on what I am given to do. On any given Lord's Day, whether I am weary or worried, depressed or distracted, this discipline of my flesh in the conduct of the Divine Service pulls me back to the Mysteries of God. It reminds me, and it demonstrates for the congregation, the seriousness of what we are gathered for.

There's frankly a lot to consider and manage in the administration of the Sacrament, which is easier to grasp theoretically than it is to practice in the cut and thrust of parish life. The pastor is a finite mortal creature with temptations and sins of his own, with heartaches and hurts to contend with. He is sent with the Gospel of Christ to love and serve people who may or may not appreciate his efforts. Introducing a better practice in the conduct of the Liturgy may be met with apathy, resistance, or outright hostility.

Where does one begin? How does one proceed? These are not easy questions, and the answers are often not easy, either. Many a pastor has been left feeling very much alone, beleaguered, confused, discouraged, and utterly at a loss.

I still remember how it was for me, as a new and relatively young pastor, well equipped with lots of knowledge but with very little experience. My seminary training had taught me how to think theologically, how to approach the Scriptures, and how to prepare and preach a faithful sermon. My professors had given me a working knowledge, understanding and appreciation of church history, of the ancient Creeds and the Lutheran Confessions, the "what" and the "why" of the Holy Sacraments, the Office of the Holy Ministry, and the Divine Liturgy. I would not trade those tremendous gifts for anything, for I do not know how I could function as a pastor without them. But translating all of that knowledge into pastoral practice was another matter altogether, and, even now, after sixteen years of trial and error, I am still growing into this office and vocation.

I knew what I did know about being a pastor, to begin with, from my field work with Pastor Ledic and my vicarage with Pastor Briel. I observed in them the actual practice of what I had been learning in the classroom, and I am forever grateful to have had such excellent supervisors. Pastor Briel was a most excellent mentor in the study of the Holy Scriptures, in the preaching and teaching of the Word. And Pastor Ledic was like having a modern-day Wilhelm Löhe as my own personal example of liturgical practice and pastoral care. So they had given me a good lead on what to do when I was ordained; and not only what to do, but how to go about doing it.

The challenge is that every congregation is different, and every pastor is different, each with his own personality, his own strengths and weaknesses. Pastor Ledic and Pastor Briel are both wonderful pastors, but they are quite different from each other, and I am neither one of them. Even if I had been able to emulate one or the other of them exactly, Emmaus was a different place with different people than either Immanuel, Decatur, or St. John, Maple Grove. There is no one example, model or strategy that covers all the bases and answers all the questions. I had been given a good starting point, but it wasn't long before the path ahead included twists and turns and obstacles I'd never seen or considered before. So, what then?

Seminary training is mainly a matter of learning how to think and speak theologically. In a similar way, growing into the pastoral office is really a matter of learning how to think and act pastorally — and of learning how to think and act liturgically. No one else can learn that for you, but neither should a pastor go it alone. He needs a father confessor, for one thing, to absolve him and care for him with the Word of Christ. But he likewise needs brothers in arms, lest he simply stew in his own juices and breathe only his own air. He needs to give and receive, with his fellow pastors, the wisdom that comes through the experience of shepherding the flock of Christ with the means of grace. Gottesdienst cannot take the place of such conversation within circuits and between the pastors of neighboring congregations, but it aims to contribute along the same lines.

The mutual conversation and consolation of the brethren is necessary, not only for navigating the unique challenges that each pastor faces, but for the fostering of unity and harmony in the midst of so many differences across the congregations of the Church. For there is but one Christ, one Gospel, one Holy Baptism, and one Sacrament of the Altar. As there is one orthodox catholic faith, which is the worship of the Holy Trinity, so there is a common confession of that one faith. Pastoral practice and parish life cannot be identical in every time and place, nor should they be forced into a one-size-fits-all container. Yet, we are the children of one God and Father, and we bear the same divine Name, the same Holy Spirit. We live and move within the one Body of the Lord Jesus Christ, as we all eat of His one Body and drink from the New Testament of His Blood. As such, our words and actions — our rites and ceremonies — derive their content and character from these sacred Mysteries, even as we ourselves derive our life and every blessing from them. And as they proceed from that which the Lord has said and done and given, so are they always returning to that fountain and source of Life and Light and Love. Therein resides our true unity, from which resounds our common confession of Christ and His Gospel.

Traditional rubrics, rites and ceremonies belong to that common confession. They deliver to us the collective wisdom of those who have gone before us, and they guide us on the way forward. As the Creeds and Confessions emerged as testimonies of the truth in response to questions and challenges, so have rubrics, rites and ceremonies developed in the course of the Church's life, in order to clarify and confess the glory of the Gospel of Christ Jesus. Other options and practices, other words and actions, when measured against the apostolic doctrine and fellowship, must be ruled out and removed. Even within the broad range of adiaphora, there are those things which are better, and those things which are worse, for the clarity and free course of the Gospel.

It is the Gospel that Gottesdienst is contending for; because the Gospel is the Glory of God in Christ, and the Gospel alone brings comfort and consolation to distressed hearts and troubled consciences. We do not presume to mandate what God has left free, but we dare to oppose and speak out against those practices that contradict, compete with, distract from, or undermine the Gospel. We advocate practices that confess the Gospel in its truth and purity. We do so, not as the first or final authorities, but as heirs and ministers of the sacred tradition of Christ Jesus. We challenge and contend with one another, in order to serve each other, in order to be sharpened in our consideration and conduct of the pastoral office to which we have been called. We invite the questions and comments of others, as well, that we might learn from them, and continue to grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ, and serve our neighbor with a confession of the faith once delivered to the saints, as it has now been handed down to us in our day.

Luther and Chemnitz vs. Walther and Pieper: Sorry, but, no contest

In preparing to speak on "Consecrationism vs. Receptionism" at the recent Indiana District Church Workers' Conference (17-18 October), various points became increasingly obvious, some of them new and surprising to me, and others already familiar, confirming and clarifying what I already knew and understood from past reading.

It is certainly clear enough, and really beyond any reasonable doubt, that Luther and Chemnitz were "consecrationists." That is to say, they consistently taught and confessed that, by and with and at the speaking of the Verba, the bread becomes and is the Body of Christ, and the wine becomes and is the Blood of Christ. It is the Word and work of the Lord Jesus that does this and gives this. As Herman Sasse, Tom Hardt, Bjarne Teigen, Scott Murray, John Stephenson, et al. have pointed out, this "consecrationist" theology of Luther and Chemnitz flows from and with the doctrine of justification and the authority of the Word of God. It is not only what I was taught, or at least understood, from my seminary professors, but what I have always understood and believed from the Words of Christ Jesus, my Lord. And, as it is the clear teaching of Luther and Chemnitz, it is likewise clear that "consecrationism" is the teaching of the Formula of Concord, which was authored chiefly by Martin Chemnitz (echoing much of what he wrote in his Examination of the Council of Trent), and which explicitly cites Dr. Luther as the foremost interpreter of the Augsburg Confession.

It is also clear and straightforwardly obvious, that Walther and Pieper, following the 17th-century Lutheran scholastics, were "receptionists." That is to say, they taught that the Body and Blood of Christ were present only in and with the actual eating and drinking, and neither before nor after nor apart from that eating and drinking. This "receptionist" teaching follows from the emphases of Melanchthon, which stood in tension with Luther's emphases while both men were still alive, but which developed and sharpened in Melanchthon, in his students and beyond, in the years following Luther's death. Resulting controversies over a right understanding of the axiom, that "nothing has the character of a Sacrament outside of its intended use," were addressed by the Formula of Concord. However, in spite of the Formula's clarification, and in spite of Luther's and Chemnitz's understanding and explanation of the axiom in question, subsequent generations of Lutheran scholars adopted and taught a "receptionist" interpretation of the axiom, and, therefore, of the Sacrament. This view was fostered and solidified by a reliance on Aristotelian philosophy, or, rather, on a misunderstanding and misuse of Aristotle's "four causes." Walther and Pieper followed the Lutheran scholastics in this vein, and read back into Luther and Chemnitz and the Formula of Concord that "receptionist" view, which came to predominate.

It is a daunting thing to be in the position of saying that Walther and Pieper (and the 17th-century Lutheran scholastics) were wrong, but, on this point, they were. I'll stand with Luther and Chemnitz vis-a-vis Walther and Pieper, eight days a week. Even more important and to the point, I'll stand with the Words of our Lord Jesus Christ against anything and everything else in heaven and on earth. What He speaks, is so. It is, at once, the most profound Mystery and the simplest thing imaginable.

To answer the question that was put to me at the end of my presentation: No, I don't think that Walther and Pieper were Zwinglians, and I have no desire or intention of making any such claim. They certainly taught and confessed that the true Body and Blood of the Lord Jesus Christ were received and eaten with the bodily mouths of the communicants, and in this faithful confession they were as far from Zwingli as the heavens from the earth. But in their "receptionist" position, they weakened and undermined the fundamental power and definitive authority of the Word of Christ, and allowed human philosophy and participation to intrude upon the Mysteries of God. It was one of Pieper's famous "felicitous inconsistencies" that preserved their faithful confession of the "Real Presence" alongside their "receptionism." Perhaps in largest part because their practice preserved a care and reverence for the consecrated elements that belied their theoretical teaching on the presence. Carefully consecrating only as many elements as would be needed for the Holy Communion, but also using a second consecration whenever additional elements were required to complete the distribution, and then consuming any and all remaining consecrated elements, rather than ever mixing consecrated with unconsecrated elements, made a strong ceremonial confession of the central and definitive significance of the Verba-consecration.

In subsequent generations, a breakdown in practice, supported and defended by an appeal to "receptionism," has eroded confidence in and reverence for the Verba and the Body and Blood of Christ. Thus, the historic Lutheran doctrine and practice spiral downward together.

In saying that Walther and Pieper were wrong on this point, in deference to Luther and Chemnitz and our Lutheran Confessions, and above all in deference to the clear Words of Christ, I do not dishonor those faithful men, who were far stronger and much better theologians than I am. But those who would appeal to Walther and Pieper (over against Luther and Chemnitz) in defense of a careless, sloppy, or otherwise irreverent practice, do those men a grave injustice. Worse is the dishonor that is perpetrated against the Word and Sacrament of Christ, our Lord.

Hoc Est Corpus Meum

When God, the Son of God, has wed

His holy Body to the bread,

By the Word which He has said,

We take and eat, and we are fed,

From His own hand, who is our Head

The Deacon after the Priest

As I was musing on St. Laurence, whose martyrdom we celebrated yesterday (August 10) at mass, I got to thinking about the apocryphal story of the exchange between him and Sixtus, who was himself being led off to martyrdom on August 6 of the fateful year 257.

The story goes that Laurence was grieving over the fact that he could not accompany his bishop to martyrdom: "Father, where are you going without your son? Have I not ever followed you wherever you have served? Have I not been faithful to you in all things? How can you leave without me?" To which Sixtus prophetically replied, "Yet three days and you will follow, the deacon after the priest."

This led me to thinking about a related matter, one we tend to be rather loath to talk about in the Missouri Synod, because our established practice is already so entrenched. I refer to the matter of lay assistants at the distribution of the Sacrament.

I'm fully aware of the parish nightmares that tend to arise when a pastor institutes change too abruptly or without forethought or warning. Gottesdiensters already have a bad reputation in this regard, though I would submit that it is largely undeserved. We do not endorse foolhardy revolutions in the parish; but we do take issue with those who deny the need for certain changes, especially regarding the Sacrament.

So on the matter of lay assistants at the altar, of course we have to deal with the century or so of the use of this practice--and I'm probably being generous in my assessment; it may be far less than that, but I'm not going to go look it up right now--which means that practically speaking there will be a need for much education, catechesis, preparation, etc.

But what I find unsettling is the popular notion that this is a matter we can altogether ignore. Here's the other side of the matter. AC XIV is not the first time the Church has insisted that no one should administer the Sacrament without a regular call. If you think so, you might be able to dismiss its more "rigid" interpretations by saying that when a lay assistant is handed the chalice, then in fact the one distributing is still the pastor (though even this is a stretch; I mean, distribution has to do with, well, distributing). But the Church catholic has, prior to the sixteenth century's Augustana, always insisted that only ordained men should do the actual distributing of the chalice (to say nothing of the Host!).

St. Laurence was a deacon, and one of the most prominent diaconal duties was the distribution of the chalice. This was widely known and indisputable in the third century and well before and beyond. The deacon was ordained to do this. St. Laurence did not need ordination to tend to the needs of the poor and look after the church's treasury, though he did those things too. He was ordained to distribute the chalice and to read the Gospel (there's another matter we can perhaps take up at another time).

To make matters worse for the confessional Lutheran's conscience, consider this: it was among the Protestant churches--specifically those churches with a low view of the Sacrament--that the use of laymen to distribute first became popular. It's a kind of Pietist invention. While it is true that this is one area in which (sadly) even the Roman Catholic churches have at last been influenced, it was not always so. It's only since Vatican II, if I'm not mistaken, that their "extraordinary ministers of the Sacrament" have arisen, among whom today one can even find women.

In St. Laurence's day it was unheard of; as also in Luther's day.

I will grant on the one hand that this is not a matter that must be changed this instant: having lay assistants at the altar does not make one apostate, after all, and no Gottesdienster would say such a thing. On the other hand, I think it needs to be considered; it needs at least to be on the radar screen. With the acknowledgment that we've come a long way in the Missouri Synod comes a rider: We can do better.

+ BF Eckardt

High Mass Without Communion, Part Deux (or Del Två)

By Larry Beane

Back in January, this post concerning communion frequency in Sweden as reflected through the pastoral eyes of Bishop Bo Giertz generated a good bit of discussion.  The Rev. Eric Andrae, the Swedish-born LCMS pastor, scholar, author, translator, and president of the International Giertz Society has provided some additional insight, which he has graciously permitted to be published here.  Pastor Andrae is perhaps the world's leading scholar on the life and writings of Bo Giertz.

[Note: for full access to the recently-held conference on Scandinavian Lutheranism held at the St. Catharines Seminary, in which Eric Andrae was one of the speakers, click here - or as they say in Sweden: klicka här.] 

Fr. Andrae writes:

An excerpt from my first essay in A Hammer for God:

Giertz continually stresses the centrality of the Lord’s Supper in the life of the corporate Church, the body of Christ, and bemoans the lack of frequent celebrations in the Church of Sweden: “To where has Communion disappeared?”[1] “The Sunday morning service [högmässa] without communion is and will continue to be...an unsatisfactory expedient emergency measure.”[2] Because of its gifts, Giertz calls for weekly Communion or, at the very least, bi-weekly.[3] “Therefore the Church calls for courageous sons and daughters...so that God can give a stream of life in our devastated congregations and give us a wave of devoted spirituality, which can teach our Swedish people again to experience the Christian mass[4] [mässan] as the soul’s saving meeting with God.”[5] This is what a truly sound “awakening” is: It leads “people into a regular worship life and a faithful use of the sacrament of Communion.”[6]  (49).

An excerpt from Giertz’s Kyrkofromhet:

A service [högmässa] without communion is a drama where the last act is missing.  It is maimed worship [gudstjänst], both from the perspective of history and of a living piety.  To remove communion means to twist the development back to the synagogue’s position, to be satisfied with the service of the Word and abandon that which is Jesus’ own new creation, the genuine Christian sacrament with its deeper fellowship with God and its intimate and fervent experience of Christ. (99).

See also Giertz’s Christ’s Church, chapter 8 on “The New Covenant,” esp., 111-112, 119-121.

Along with Gunnar Rosendal, Giertz was one of the leaders of Kyrkligförnyelse, which sought to renew the liturgical, sacramental, and prayer life of the church.  See Giertz’s reflections as recorded in, again, my first essay in A Hammer for God, 23-25.

Eric R. Andræ, IGS President

16 June 2011

---

[1] Giertz, Kristi Kyrka, 154, my translation.

[2] Giertz, Kyrkofromhet, 100, my translation.

[3] Giertz desires the Lord’s Supper to be celebrated weekly, but because of the great number of members of one Swedish parish, he states that a sole pastor – in the interest of time - might not be able to commune everyone every week if the number increased dramatically.  See Giertz, Kyrkofromhet, 101. [This footnote does not appear in A Hammer for God.]

[4] Changed translation:  “service” appears in A Hammer for God.

[5] Giertz, Kyrkofromhet, 102, my translation.

[6] Giertz, Liturgy and Spiritual Awakening, 30.  Olof Herrlin, Bishop of Visby 1962 – 1980, adds that “the liturgy itself can awaken people.  Since God’s word is active within it, from the Introit to the Benediction, it possesses the power of the word to seize, to arrest, to regenerate” (Divine Service: Liturgy in Perspective, trans. Gene J. Lund [Philadelphia: Fortress, 1966], 24).

High Mass Without Communion?

by Larry Beane

A strange turn of phrase is found in today's devotional reading from To Live With Christ by Bo Giertz (translated from Swedish into English by Richard Wood and Bror Erickson:

"The Divine Service Jesus experienced in the synagogue was the basis for the Swedish high mass without communion" (page 103).

The word commonly translated as "High Mass" from Swedish is actually an amalgamation of "High Mass" and "God's Service" (German: Gottesdienst).  In Swedish the whole word is: Högmässogudstjänst.

But the idea of a "Mass without communion" is not only an oxymoron, it is also a concept as alien to the Lutheran Confessions as the "Non Communion Sunday" - a creature that ought to exist, like the unicorn, only in myth.  But the rarification of the Holy Sacrament among Lutherans is not limited to Americans and Germans, as it also infected the Nordic churches as well - in spite of their overall greater emphasis on the catholic tradition of Lutheran ceremony and rite.


Our own American version, of course, comes from The Lutheran Hymnal, page 5, a service known officially as "The Order of Morning Service Without Communion," but also bearing the affectionate unofficial moniker: "The Dry Mass."  

But how can it be a Mass when there is no Mass?

I can't read the words "High Mass without Communion" without calling to mind Uncle Remus's paradox: "How can there be a tale, when there ain't no tail?"

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The purpose of this manuscript is twofold: first, to present the Divine Liturgy in such a way as to highlight its beauty and dignity, and second, to show the liturgy's necessity by making the connection between Christ’s fulfillment of the entire Old Testament and the proclamation of this fulfillment by the liturgy. It is not accidental that the term “new testament” refers both to the canon of apostolic books arising after Christ’s ministry and to the Holy Sacrament of the Altar. There is an integral connection between word and worship, between faith and the reception of the incarnate Christ. And just as the written New Testament is the word of God, and therefore the ultimate norm and rule for all of Christian life, so the new testament as sacrament, in Christ’s blood, must be the heart of truly Christian worship, from which all other forms of devotion and piety flow.

Job #1 Is Preaching

The first and foremost thing a pastor is called to do is preach Christ.

Such preaching is faithful when it is a confession of the Word of Christ.

This faithful preaching of Christ is catechetical, because it is the preaching of repentance for the forgiveness of sins in His Name.

This faithful preaching of repentance is always sacramental, because it is a preaching to and from the dying and rising of Holy Baptism, to and from the Body and Blood of Christ at His Altar.

This sacramental preaching is likewise liturgical, not so much because it is "about the Liturgy," but because it is a fundamental and constitutive part of the Liturgy. As the Holy Communion is the heart of the Liturgy, so is faithful preaching the lungs of the Liturgy.

Everything else the pastor does, in the Liturgy or otherwise, is (or ought to be) a continuation or an echo of his faithful preaching of Christ. Hence, everything the pastor says and does, as well as the way he says and does it, ought to be a faithful confession of Christ and His Word. The pastor also lives liturgically, that is, by repentant faith in the forgiveness of his sins, to and from his Baptism, to and from the Lord's Altar.

So, too, the rites and ceremonies of the Liturgy, in their own way, are to be a faithful preaching of Christ. They should confess His Word. They should catechize the people in repentant faith, that is, in the humility and confidence of the Cross of Christ. They should move to and from the font and the Altar in harmony with the evangelical heart and lungs of the Liturgy.

Where the preaching is not faithful, the rites and ceremonies of the Liturgy will falter along with it; they will fall short and fail to confess Christ, whether they are outwardly extravagant or impoverished. For it is impossible to confess Christ where His Word is not preached.

But where the preaching is faithful, there the rites and ceremonies of the Liturgy will also be lifted up and will rise to the high and holy occasion of Christ in His great high priestly service. Whether in simple or elaborate elegance, the rites and ceremonies of the Liturgy will serve as a reverent and courteous confession of repentant faith in that sacred Word and work of Christ.

Where the lungs and the heart are healthy and working properly together, the body also will live and move in the health and strength of Christ, not only surviving but thriving.

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The purpose of this manuscript is twofold: first, to present the Divine Liturgy in such a way as to highlight its beauty and dignity, and second, to show the liturgy's necessity by making the connection between Christ’s fulfillment of the entire Old Testament and the proclamation of this fulfillment by the liturgy. It is not accidental that the term “new testament” refers both to the canon of apostolic books arising after Christ’s ministry and to the Holy Sacrament of the Altar. There is an integral connection between word and worship, between faith and the reception of the incarnate Christ. And just as the written New Testament is the word of God, and therefore the ultimate norm and rule for all of Christian life, so the new testament as sacrament, in Christ’s blood, must be the heart of truly Christian worship, from which all other forms of devotion and piety flow.