Help for Mrs. Federline

With the rest of America I've paid notice to the train wreck that Britney Spears' life is becoming. It's an old story, the story of the rich and famous who, having too much, lose it all as they spiral downward into the abyss of self-destruction.

The talking heads all seem to know that she needs help. What they don't know, or at least don't say, is the help she needs. Our help is in the name of the Lord who made heaven and earth.

Doubtless Britney Spears knows the meaning of a restless heart, but she has not clue where to find its Rest. Nor, I hasten to surmise, is it likely that her rapper husband does, in spite of the confident airs with which he likes to strut around on stage. Nor did Anna Nicole Smith, whose end we hope will not be a harbinger of Mrs. Federline's future.

I don't say this to be judgmental, but to muse on how richly blessed the players on this tragic stage would be if only they would find their Rest, learn the meaning of Lent, and be enlightened by something as simple and small as the Gospel of a Suffering Christ for the sin of the world.

Or, to put it in the words of Blessed Augustine's famous prayer: "Thou hast made us for Thyself, O God, and our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee."

The Hallowed Ground of the Scientists

When the recent report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change confidently declared that it's over 90% sure that global warming is not only a significant problem, but that it's being caused mostly by human activities like driving cars and running power plants, it naturally convinced a lot of people. Even John McCain and Joe Lieberman declared it as fact in the Boston Globe last week, referencing "broad consensus in this country, and indeed in the world," and concluding, "This report puts the final nail in denial's coffin about the problem of global warming."

Actually, what it does for me is put the final nail in objectivity's coffin about anything the scientific community comes up with. I had always suspected that much of their aura of scholarship was a rich mixture of things they actually knew and things they only wanted people to think they knew. Now it’s abundantly clear.

About as soon as the ink was dry on this IPCC report, convincing rebuttals came forth from The Wall Street Journal and elsewhere, exposing the politics behind the scenes. When significant scientific opposition is banned from participating in the panel, it’s hardly a thing of wonder that consensus can so easily be reached by the remaining scientists, though word has it that even then it took some lobbying. Consensus was very a very important goal to them, as even they admitted. How odd that consensus should now be a determining factor in scientific analysis.

Their report, purporting to knock the objections over the matter out of the ring once and for all, turned out to be nothing more than another bell between rounds.

It’s in the very same light, I hasten to add, that we ought to see any declarations of the “scientific community” on matters in which they alone seem to have privileged access.

Like evolution, for instance. It’s hard to get them to even debate the matter, which suggests to me that for them it’s some sort of Holy Place where questions of legitimacy are blasphemy. If on a rare occasion they do debate, their talk is peppered with technical language no doubt meant to get the rest of us poor idiots wondering not only about our objections, but why we ever questioned such geniuses in the first place. As in the case of the IPCC, the matter seems for them to be settled by the mere confidence with which they make their pronouncements. You’d question us? And who are you? Don’t you know consensus has already been reached?

The age of relics, or of the earth itself—an integral component of evolution, of course—is another matter in which I am amazed that it is so hard to find ever, anywhere, or by anyone, an explanation of just how they arrive at the dating of artifacts. You’d think museums would have an exhibit on this somewhere, but I’ve never seen one. Carbon-14, unanium half-life, and the like, are notoriously flawed, even by their standards. So instead, the hallowed ground simply becomes a place of silence. And the rest of us are supposed to have an instinctive awareness that faith is the substance of things not seen.

And while we’re at it, here’s one more matter on which I have long mused. Admittedly I’m going out on a limb here, because I have never seen anyone question this, ever. Did you ever look up at the stars on a summer night and wonder how far away they really are? Gazillions of light years? Well, people like our bright friends at the IPCC have me second guessing even those kinds of scientific assertions. I mean, how do they know? Don’t tell me it’s parallax view. On something that far away? I can scarcely believe their instruments can make any such distinction in degrees, even if measurements are taken from one side of the earth, or solar system, to the other. I’m guessing—yes, purely guessing—that their determination has to do with the color of the light they see coming from a star. But what if their base assumptions are flawed here, as they are in so many other areas? What if those stars are of an entirely different nature, and much closer than a number of years with as many zeroes behind it as there are evolutionary hoaxes? Somebody tell me if I’m all wet on this one; I certainly could be, I readily admit. But I’d really like to know.

One thing I do know, and the jury is in: the scientists are as religious about their dogma as the rest of us are about ours, and about as dedicated. On any given matter on which they make confident assertions it is virtually as likely that they do as that they do not have scientific proof to back it up.

I can say it better than God did, IV.

Then Peter said unto them, Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost. Acts 2:38.

It's been reported that our squeamish Baptist friends like to rephrase this logion, because of the uncomfortably clear indication, given by the little word "for," that Baptism forgives sins. So there has been some re-rendering of the passage, thus: "Repent, every one of you, and be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ, because you've already received the forgiveness of sins."

You at least have to give them credit for trying, I guess. Hat tip to Kelly Klages for this one.

I can say it better than God did, III.

But now the righteousness of God without hte law is manifested, being witnessed by the law and the prophets; even the righteousness of God which is by faith of Jesus Christ unto all and upon all whem that believe. - Romans 3:22 KJV

Thanks now to all the helpful exegetes who have somehow ignored the genitive case ("of Jesus Christ"), here and elsewhere (Gal 2:16, 20, 3:22, Eph. 3:12) to make us better aware that it is our faith in Jesus, rather than Jesus' faith, that renders us righteous. Might it not be, though, that faith of Jesus is not a reference to Jesus' faith, but to the faith is of Jesus, i.e., about Jesus, having Jesus as its object, the faith which is about Jesus? Faith of Jesus is then not meant to be a reference to anyone's condition of believing, but rather to the content of faith (for the Latin lovers among us, that's fides quae creditur), thus defining what the true saving faith is. Which, of course, our experts have missed. Ah, what would we do without experts?

I can say it better than God did

The road to hell is paved with good editorial intentions. I have nothing against editors (I know one pretty well), but sometimes the editor goes a bit too far, as when he feels the need to correct the Scriptures so that they don't offend or lead people astray. It seems innocuous at first, but actually it's quite offensive. It's saying the Biblical writer, though moved by the Holy Ghost, should have been more careful. Now the all-wise editor has come to the rescue, in effect correcting God. I'm sure there are some of you who have examples of this folly. If you can think of one, put it in as a reply, or send it to me privately (put "I can say it better than God did" in the subject line) and we'll see if we can keep the list going. I'm providing the first two here.

I can say it better than God did, I:

I will praise thee with my whole heart: before the gods will I sing praise unto thee. (Psalm 138:1)

That's KJV, but the New International Version (still the favorite of our good friends in the Wisconsin Synod) prefers this:

I will praise you, O LORD, with all my heart; before the "gods" I will sing your praise.

Notice the quotation marks around "gods"? Well, isn't that helpful? We wouldn't want Bible readers to get the impression that David is saying there is more than one true God, now, would we. So the NIV editors put in their quotes, and even add "O LORD," so that nobody gets confused. The problem is that Biblical Hebrew knows no quotation marks. It's just elohim, which means "God." Context has translators rendering the word in the plural (gods) though it would normally be translated in the singular as a reference to God. That part is proper translating, but as for the quotation marks, they're awful. Are the editors saying David should have been more careful? No one has had a problem misunderstanding the KJV version for hundreds of years, to say nothing of the inspired Hebrew. So here's the first instance of I can say it better than God did.

I can say it better than God did, II:

We preach Christ crucified, unto the Jews a stumblingblock, and unto the Greeks foolishness. - I Corinthians 1:23.

I've seen more than one Lutheran church pick up on part of this logion, "we preach Christ crucified," and make it their slogan, but with a little editorial fix: "We preach Christ crucified and risen."

Oh yes, we do need that corrective. Heavens, we wouldn't want people to think we deny the resurrection, after all! Have to make that fix, for sure. But St. Paul didn't. So, did he mess up here? Should he have said it with the "and risen"? Actually, if he had, he'd have been messing with his whole point. It's not the resurrection that is foolish to the Greeks, but the cross. Nor would the Jews stumble over the resurrection. But never mind. Nice to know we Lutherans can do better than the Apostle here. Which in effect is saying I can say it better than God did.

McCain and Gottesdienst

This I can’t resist. It’s just too good. Back in late January, Fr. David Petersen, freshman editor at Gottesdienst, put this up on his blog: “Promoting Gottesdienst: Do you subscribe to Gottesdienst? Why? What do you like about it?” and then this enticing little question, “How many of you do not subscribe on purpose? That is, how many of you have read Gottesdienst and thought it not worth the money? Why?” Well, that bait brought out a rather interesting catch, from Rev. Paul McCain:

“Tweeking the nose is one thing, allowing a certain former Lutheran pastor to publish what amounts to near hallucinatory "reviews" and in the process slandering persons and institutions is quite another. In this way, Gottesdienst stands in good company with both Christian News and JesusFirst, but I don't think that is a particularly positive achievement.

“In spite of whatever Gottesdienst wishes to be doing that is good, I can not in good conscience recommend it to anyone. Sometimes I can't help but wonder if the little magazine is not more a forum for the pecularities and quirks of its editors who do appear to enjoy amusing themselves with their little quips and such than a magazine that provides a responsible churchly forum for healthy discussion about matters liturgical.”

Now just what, you may ask, is that all about? Well, it turns out that there was a disapproving review in Gottesdienst about a year ago of Concordia, the newest edition, with notes, of the Book of Concord. The review, by former Missouri Synod pastor Michael J. Hill, takes McCain to task for some of the editorial decisions he made. It turns out that Hill’s review was not only thoughtful but prescient, as some time afterwards the LCMS Board of Doctrinal Review had second thoughts and revoked its certification for the book, requiring that changes be made (and as I recall there was another review by Concordia Seminary in St. Louis which expressed some similar sentiments). I guess that might have bothered McCain a bit, and Concordia Publishing House, which had already printed a gazillion copies. Oops. Meanwhile a review also came from Jesus First, a journal of LCMS “moderates” (who, I think, like to think of themselves as “conservative” but actually behave like liberals, if you’re into political labels), which also panned the book, but for entirely different reasons (as Hill explained succinctly in a follow-up article—see what you’re missing, all you non-subscribers? To subscribe, click here).

So now McCain says he feels justified in throwing Gottesdienst in the same trash can as he throws Jesus First and Christian News, but of course, there’s a difference. We send out a few complimentary copies here and there, but generally you aren’t going to get it if you don’t subscribe. I wonder who gave him a copy in the first place.

But what I find particularly rich is this: “I can not in good conscience recommend it to anyone.” Holy cow, in good conscience? Wow, there’s something serious going on there. Like, that Gottesdiesnt must have some real bad stuff in there that might lead people astray. Hmmm, what stuff, I wonder? Is there some error we need to retract somewhere? I mean, he speaks of slander too. Who was slandered? McCain? Or . . . (you be the judge).

I wonder why it bothers him so much if, as he says, Gottesdienst is a “little magazine . . . for the pecularities and quirks of its editors who do appear to enjoy amusing themselves with their little quips and such.” No doubt that’s the pejorative “little,” rather than a reference to the conciseness of our journal. What a hoot.

But for all this exchange we owe a debt of gratitude not only to Fr. Petersen, but to Rev. McCain himself, because ever since, well, we’ve been getting a slew of new subscribers. Way to go, Paul!

The Marvelous Old Collect for the Transfiguration

Without even looking at Lutheran Service Book, the new LCMS hymnal, I'm willing to bet that their version of the collect for Transfiguration Sunday is not as good as the traditional one in The Lutheran Hymnal. It couldn't be, because as a rule they have a tendency to remove 'heavy' subordinate clauses, to make things simpler, to sacrifice poetry for clarity, etc. And in so doing, in my opinion, they lose something really fine. Granted, the collect for the Transfiguration is a really complicated one. I think it's the longest; it certainly has the longest subordinate clause preceding its petition. But for all that, it's not only great poetry, but it tells volumes about the meaning of the Transfiguration, and about the whole Bible. You can structure an entire sermon around its parts. In fact, this morning, I did. Here's the collect:

O God, who in the glorious transfiguration of Thine only-begotten Son didst confirm the mysteries of the faith by the testimony of the fathers, and who in the voice that came from the bright cloud didst in a wonderful manner foreshow the adoption of sons, mercifully vouchsafe to make us coheirs with the King of His glory, and bring us to the enjoyment of the same; through the same Jesus Christ, Thy Son, our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with Thee and the Holy Ghost, ever one God, world without end. Amen.

Unpacking that, we find that the subordinate clause which describes God is itself in two parts. The first (“who in the glorious transfiguration of Thine only-begotten Son didst confirm the mysteries of the faith by the testimony of the fathers”) is a reference to fathers Moses and Elijah who are talking to Jesus on the mount. St. Luke’s account (chapter 9) gives us these details, and tells of how they spoke of His “decease,” actually a weak translation of exhodon, which more literally means “exodus” (here's a nice subtle reference to the Lukan account in the traditional series, which always has the Matthean Transfiguration Gospel). That is, they were speaking about the greater Exodus through death to resurrection through Christ who is the greater Moses. “The mysteries of the faith” are the words of the entire Old Testament, as signified by Moses and Elijah. Most prominently, the Exodus through the Red Sea is a mystery foretelling Christ. This and all the mysteries are “confirmed” by the testimony of Moses and Elijah talking with Jesus. See, Moses and the prophets have always been talking about Jesus; now they are doing it face to face with Him. This confirms what they have always been saying. “Search the Scriptures,” He says; “They testify of Me.”

The second clause (“who in the voice that came from the bright cloud didst in a wonderful manner foreshow the adoption of sons”) refers to the fact that the voice of the Father calling Jesus His Son is an echo of His voice at Jesus’ Baptism, and in one fell swoop makes the connection between our Baptism and the adoption we receive as “sons” of God in the Son of God.

Next comes the petition itself “mercifully vouchsafe”—that wonderful old-world word “vouchsafe” means to grant or give, as by favor, graciousness, or condescension; the word is a summary of the whole Gospel, really; pity it was lost to our tongues—“to make us coheirs with the King of His glory,” which is to say, make us heirs of the glory of the King together with Him, “and bring us to the enjoyment of the same,” which is a cry for the return of Christ in glory.

This collect is brilliant, absolutely brilliant. Count it one of many reasons the old way is better . . .

Correction on the Preus Nomination

Since it has been called to my attention that my brief words describing the reason Rev. Rolf Preus was one of our Sabre nominees were a bit deficient, if not misleading, permit me to make a correction.

It is incorrect to say that his stance against the Evangelical Lutheran Synod was "because they had adopted an unbiblical, purely functional position on the Office of the Holy Ministry." That is rather an inference I drew from their stance, and in retrospect, without sufficient warrant.

On the other hand, it is not too much of a stretch to suggest that the reason the stance of the ELS now accomodates schoolteachers is that there is a long and wayward history among American Lutherans which sees "ministry" chiefly in functional terms, as in, any use of the Gospel, rather than as the office of the Gospel preaching, the Predigtamt. The Wisconsin Synod has wandered deeply into these waters, and the Missouri Synod has, it seems, solved her problems by ignoring AC XIV altogether (ala the Wichita Convention). A good accounting of the history of the matter is summed up rather nicely on Rev. Preus's website and may be better expressed succinctly as an elastic or even evolving view of the Ministry, with a view to accomodating schoolteachers. It is against this view that Rev. Preus took his stand. To be sure, the ELS also accomodates the view of the ministry as Office, as Predigtamt, distinct from "the priesthood of all believers," but inasmuch as it also insists on doling out a portion of this Office to the unordained schoolteacher, one still hopes their bureaucrats have not counted the matter of AC XIV settled just yet. Indeed I'm told that there are some valiant efforts afoot among the faithful there to hold the Synod together, to its confessional moorings, and that their efforts might as well be deserving of the Sabre of Boldness. Three cheers.

Dr. Ronald Feuerhahn Receives Sabre of Boldness

Fort Wayne, Indiana, 18 January 2007. The Hilton Hotel at the Grand Wayne Center was the site for the awarding of the 2007 Sabre of Boldness Award, a recognition given annually by the editors of Gottesdienst for Christian courage and faithfulness in the face of trouble or affliction. This year’s recipient, Dr. Ronald Feuerhahn of St. Louis, a longtime member of the faculty of Concordia Seminary, was cited as one “who has been a rock for decades, providing to an entire generation of confessional Lutherans instruction—in speaking and in writing—as well as stalwart support, encouragement, and aid to the cause of the Gospel, and who has never flinched in the face of hostility.”

There were three other nominees who were also recognized for their faithfulness and valor. They were

• Rev. Rolf Preus, a pastor in Minnesota who took his stand against his church body, the Evangelical Lutheran Synod, because they had adopted an unbiblical, purely functional position on the Office of the Holy Ministry. In spite of bureaucratic warnings, he refused to back down. For this he was removed from the ELS ministerium, leaving him a man without a synod.

• Rev. Eric Stefanski, whose tireless efforts in cyberspace have often made him an easy target for enemies of the Gospel—for which he has suffered personal loss—while the fruit of his networking skills may well prove to be monumental.

• Rev. Thomas Olson, Decatur circuit, Indiana, who during the past year stood toe-to-toe with a high ranking administrative bureaucrat, mano-e-mano, and without flinching told him to repent for manifest and public errors, notwithstanding the headaches he knew this would cause for him in his own situation.

Dr Feuerhahn, who was present at the ceremony, graciously received the award to a standing ovation, and spoke for a few minutes extemporaneously on the importance of the confession of faith in love, and concluded by thanking those present, most especially his wife Carol, who was with him.

The ceremony opened with preliminary remarks made by Chaplain Jonathan Shaw, editor of the Sabre of Boldness column in Gottesdienst. He then introduced Dr. Eckardt, who, prior to the announcement of the nominees and winner of the award, gave the following address.

Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your kairos, as a former synodical president used to like to say. It’s your appointed time. It’s time to stand and be counted, and time to make your stance known. And speaking of time, Time magazine has it right: the man of the year is You. You da man. You have left your homes, you have taken up the call. You have arisen to defend the cause of a faith worth dying for. You were in the field, you were grinding at the mill, you were eating and drinking, you were marrying and giving in marriage, and you stopped everything. You heard the trumpet sound, and you came. To arms! To arms! you heard. You donned your armor, you rose to the challenge, and you prepared to march. Yes, you heard that the grand Sabre of Boldness was about to be drawn, so you came.

Well, okay, maybe that’s overstating the matter just a hair. Maybe it would be more accurate to say that you’re really just here to attend a symposium. Still, I’d like to think there is some truth to the idea that you like to be in the company of compatriots all bent on confessing the same Gospel.

In the year 1095, when Urban II called faithful men to arms, he told them how the infidel Turks were advancing into the heart of eastern Christendom. Christians were being oppressed and attacked; the holy places were being defiled; and Jerusalem was groaning under the Saracen yoke. The Holy Sepulchre was in Muslim hands. To arms! said Urban, for God himself will lead you; you will be doing His work. God wills it!, said he.

Nine hundred years later, it is infidel rock musicians who are advancing into the heart of Christendom. And it’s Christians’ ears that are being oppressed and attacked by the pounding of barbarian drumming and the twang of electric guitars; it’s the holy and sacred liturgy that is being defiled; and it’s Wittenberg that’s groaning under the Willow Creek yoke. The Holy Altar is in the hands of buffoons; and their teenage daughters are dancing around it as before a golden calf; and too many Lutherans are either utterly fooled or utterly tempted by this hedonism thinly disguised as contemporary worship; they can’t help themselves, so they join right in, at the expense of everything they used to call holy.

But today there are no Crusades, there will be army of Red Cross Christians marching to regain our Holy Lands. A sword will be drawn tonight, but only as a gesture symbolic of resistance. The arms to which you are being called are the arms of spiritual warfare, as the Apostle has described it.

Maybe it’s just my own fertile imagination, but it seems to me that this thing gets bigger every year. It started small; it was just a mustard seed, when, twelve years ago a few random Lutheran gentlemen sitting with Lutheran beverages in a Holiday Inn right here in Fort Wayne hatched the idea of handing out an annual award for boldness. In fact, it was just a whim back then, just a twinkle in the eye. But as soon as it hatched, it seemed to catch on. It seems that folks just love nominating people for this thing.

I guess we all still want our heroes. And ever since the greatest ones in our generation died, we have longed for more of them. In the church, there was Robert Preus, and in the world there was Ronald Reagan. So now we look for more heroes, and we rejoice when we see glimpses. We hear of soldiers like Jason Dunham who died last Thursday because he jumped on a live grenade to save his buddies; and we remember churchmen like Kurt Marquart, who never flinched when standing toe to toe with bureaucrats who flaunted their authority. Our need for heroes has never waned, even if the cultural icons of liberalized America would scold us for having it. They have even altered the heroes of our modern mythology. Dirty Harry has almost been forgotten, cowboys have gone gay, and, unbelievably, Lois Lane was last seen saving Superman. Where have all the heroes gone?

The very existence of the Sabre of Boldness is testimony to our perennial quest for heroes. I might add that it’s this very fact that gives us poor, miserable Gottesdienst editors the idea that we can grant anyone an award of any kind in the first place. Whoever gave us that right? I keep thinking—hoping, really—that the longevity of the award, now in its twelfth year, will somehow serve to provide it with a legitimacy which, if the truth be known, we could never provide. Then again, I have to remind myself that this award really has no benefactors. It’s merely something given as a simple acknowledgment, a humble doffing of the hat, toward someone we wish to designate with that lofty and elusive title hero.

And yet, the Sabre’s recipients over the past eleven years would doubtless blush at the very notion of being called heroes. Heroes? they’d say. We aren’t heroes; Christ is our Hero. Saints and martyrs are our heroes. John the Baptist was a hero; the Holy Twelve were heroes; Stephen, Polycarp, Perpetua, Laurence—people like them were heroes. Or even like Martin Luther. They are the heroes, not we. And who could gainsay that correction? Or dare to add to so august a list of heroes as that with the names of our own compatriots?

Then again, what’s the difference between an apostle or prophet who suffers for doing his duty and a simple pastor or layman who suffers as a Christian today? Which of the heroes of old ever stood and said, count me in! I’m a hero too! Rather, they would all said with John, I must decrease. And so too must this award be understood rightly, lest it be misunderstood as a sort of self-congratulatory thing among us confessional Lutherans. We are not here to award ourselves, certainly. And even if we were to admit that maybe there is a tinge of ego that shamelessly arises in the heart whenever a man secretly wishes he were the one picked—you know, like the donkey in Shreck—we who have our theology right can at least recognize the Old Adam for who he is, and wish ourselves rid of him once and for all. No, this award is for someone else. It’s not for us. It’s never for us. It’s for our heroes. And yes, we do still have them, though they often walk among us unnoticed. Indeed, the recipient of the Sabre bears the Sabre not for himself alone, but, we hasten to add, for all of the unsung heroes in the world, who in the simple course of doing their Christian duty, have quietly steeled their chins against the devil, and refused to let him have his way. When threatened, they were not intimidated; when enticed, they were not fooled; when tempted, they did not fall; and when pressured, they did not yield.

It is this multitude of simple heroes that we salute tonight. In granting this award to one, the truth is that we seek to honor many. We can’t name you, for you are too numerous, and too unsung—you are not really known to us; we only see glimpses of you here and there, in the little acts of courage born of a Christian heart which takes its stand, when it can do no other.

Burnell F. Eckardt Jr.
Editor-in-chief, Gottesdienst

Symposium Week Looms

The rest of the world may tour on its merry way, but for me and my beloved, it will stop for a week. We're off to Fort Wayne again. Actually it's again for me, but for her, it's the first time for a symposium in about twenty years.

Some people don't like being there that week, and I can relate. Over the years I have learned to take in only those parts of the week that I want to take in, and leave the rest. Good grief, there are lectures and lectures and lectures, and then there are papers given in side rooms by Persons of Lesser Importance; there's a recitals and a choral vespers, and daily chapel, and there are gatherings and parties, and the big Thursday banquet. Well, I'll take in some of it, but certainly not all.

I'll be there to renew acquaintances and have a good time.

And, of course, for the most important event of all, the great Sabre of Boldness award Thursday night at 8, at the Hilton. Now that one I won't want to miss. I can't; I'm in it. The event has taken on a life of its own by now, somehow, and that's fine, because it's a worthwhile thing. Awarding someone who stands out for courage and confession, someone who represents all the rest.

Nominations are still coming in. Until next Wednesday when the nominations are closed, and the editors of Gottesdienst vote on the winner.

See you there.

How New Year's Day Came to Be

Some time in the 14th century, I think it was, a decision was made somewhere to move New Year's Day to January 1st. It had been Septuagesima Sunday up to then. You can even check this out easily by considering the names of some of the months. September, October, and November, and December ought to be the seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth months, if you go by the significance of the words, but they aren't. They used to be, and February was the twelfth, approximately, depending on Septuagesima Sunday. Historians need to be careful about the dating of events prior to the 14th century because of this.

I haven't researched the reasons for this, but one can easily surmise that the old new year's day was so designated because it was the time of the shifting one's liturgical gaze from the Nativity to the Passion and Resurrection of our Lord. As for the new new year's day, it is sensible to count the years -- anno domini, years of our Lord -- from the Lord's manifestation in the flesh. In the West this is observed December 25th, roughly the winter solstice, though I don't know why it's a few days off.

Perhaps it's because since it's better to start the year with the start of a month, the day of the Lord's circumcision and naming wound up being observed on the day of the year's beginning, January 1st, since it is the eighth day from His birth.

Eight is a big deal: it's the first day of a new week. It's a harbinger of Easter. This day is also a harbinger of Good Friday, of course, since it's the day of observing His circumcision in the flesh, the first shedding of His sacred blood.

So therefore, here's my guess: they counted back to December 25th to observe the nativity, after choosing the first of January to observe the circumcision and name, and to observe the new year. This would also serve to suggest an origin for the practice of making new year's resolutions; rather as if to say, "be renewed by the circumcision of your mind."

Anyhow, that's my unresearched but educated guess.

God Is Pleased with Men

The earliest version of this sermon was preached in 1979 at my vicarage church in Lincoln Park, Michigan. I have been adapting and reusing it ever since. It comes a day early, as a gift to any preacher who still needs to come up with a sermon for Christmas.

Let us consider again the message from the angels to the shepherds. If you were one of them you would surely never have forgotten. You would have heard a message that would have been seared onto your memory forever. Because the grand proclamation made to those Judean shepherds was made by a multitude of angels. What sort of message could require all those angels? If on this one occasion, God sends not one, not two or three, but a multitude of angels, He must have something of utmost importance to say. In fact, it must be the most important thing He ever said to men, because nothing else ever required the presence of so many angels. What was the message of the unanimous and glorious chorus of heavenly messengers? Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men; or, to put it another way: Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men, with whom He is pleased. The message from that multitude of the heavenly host of angels was clear and simple: There is peace on earth, dear shepherds, because God is pleased with men.

For thousands of years after this grand proclamation, men would go on supposing that peace on earth is something accomplished by the ending of all global conflict, when at last all weapons are laid down. If only they had heard and understood the message of the angels, they would have known that peace on earth has already been accomplished. It isn’t something to be hoped for, it is something that is. For the message of the angels was clear: God is pleased with men.

But at this point the objections of reason will sound forth at once. This can’t be right. Some men are wicked, heinous, tyrannical, cruel. Some are murderers, thieves, adulterers. How can anyone say that God is pleased with men, or that there is peace on earth? There must be some mistake.

But to the shepherds there was no hint of a mistake; it was angelic. In fact, even if one considers the absurd impossibility of an angel being mistaken, the message didn’t come from just one angel; it came from a multitude of angels. Could a whole countryside full of angels all bellowing out one unanimous message be mistaken? Listen to the angels, o shepherd in the field: God is pleased with men.

But Satan must also raise an objection to this: How can this be? I have done my work well, I have caused many to fall deeply into sin, I have made them all sons of hell; I have filled them with all manner of wickedness, so that their thoughts are only evil continually. I have trapped them in pride and self-worship; I have made them sell me their souls. This message can’t be right! It’s far off the mark! It’s foolishness! Don't listen to it! It must have come from the mouth of a lunatic!

But it didn’t. It came from the mouths of angels.

And thank God for those angels. For if there are some men with whom God is not please, then surely we are among them! And if you were one of those shepherds, you might easily find yourself wondering—in fact you might be wondering right now—whether these objections may have a point. What about me? I am not worthy of God’s good pleasure, am I? Conscience pricks, and I know I have sinned. I know I am guilty, foul, and unclean. A thousand years of tears would not suffice for once worthily lamenting my wretchedness. How much more am I poor wretched man, who daily sin, continue without amendment, and approach God in sin. And the truth is that if God is not pleased with all men, he could never be pleased with me!

O thank God for those angels! And thank God for all the lights and tinsel of Christmas, and all the carols and cheer, and all the bells which ring out the news which every sinner needs so badly to hear: Peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled! Here we see the reason there is peace on earth, and why God is pleased with men. It isn’t because of what kind of men they are that God is pleased. In fact, it has nothing at all to do with the nature of man. The reason is this: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior which is Christ the Lord. And He didn’t come to be Savior of part of the world; he came to save it all. And if He is Savior of the world, then it makes all the sense in the world to say that God is pleased with men.

Those Bethlehem shepherds undoubtedly never forgot the angelic message on that first Christmas Eve. Would that you might remember it as they must have; that it might be seared into your memory, your heart, and your conscience, that you too might never forget the grandest angelic proclamation ever heard on earth: Glory to God in the Highest, and on earth peace among men, with whom He is pleased!

Just Give the Poor Lady Her Chair Back

A ninety year old shut-in I visited was crying in her bed. This woman had had a number of strokes which made communication difficult for her, but if you listened carefully you could make out her words. So when I asked her what was wrong, it took a little while and then it came clear. She was upset because they had taken her wheelchair away and given her another one. And, she said in the best way she knew how to frame her words, she liked the old one because it had a tray, and a place to put her drink. Hmm, thought I, that's odd. Why would they do that? So I promised her that I'd check into it for her and let her know.

I went to the nurses' station and, yes, they knew about her complaints. Evidently she had lost some weight so that her old chair was a bit too large for her and now she needed a smaller one. OK, I can follow that, but what about the tray, I asked. Well, said the lady, I'm going to look around for one, and if we can't find one within a day or so, well then I guess we'll have to give her back her old chair. But, she said, the reason she wants this is because she wants to have her place to set her glass, and, well, that's not really safe. I said, oh, I see, and, trying be congeniel, said I understood, but, of course, to this poor lady who is very upset, that chair is her whole universe. Yes, they said, we don't want her to be upset, and we'll do our best. I thanked them and reported back to her, encouraging her to be patient, and that they really did care about her, and would do their best, etc. She thanked me, though was still visibly upset.

Not angry, really. Crying. Very sad.

As I drove home, I got to thinking that I could have done better by her today, and I'll certainly have to follow up. I doubt if she has anyone else as an advocate with the people there. What I should have said was: Oh, so she's been spilling her water lately? And then they'd probably say no, but she might. Or even if she had been spilling, I thought, and I could have said, so what? A safety issue? After all these years, a safety issue? Or is it really a convenience issue? I mean, how dangerous can a little water spill be? They're plastic cups, for heaven's sake.

The world will continue to turn, and presidents and world leaders will negotiate treaties. Wars will be fought, and momentous events will continue to take place on a grand, cosmic scale. But to this poor old woman, none of that mattered. Here was a lady I have been visiting for ten years. She never complains, and she usually has a pleasant disposition and a smile, even if she can't talk much. Maybe some of her mind is gone, too, though she still seems lucid enough to me. She is consigned to a nursing home for the rest of her life. Very little if any family remains in her life, as is sometimes the case with nursing home patients. And yet she has never complained about it, which I find amazing. Very little work goes into making this woman happy, it seems to me. I mean, I wonder how I'd do in such a case. She really is a sweetheart, as even the nurses agreed. But today, she was all broken up. Not because of life and death matters, or gut-wrenching, earth-shattering events. She just wanted her chair back. It was her house, in a way.

I don't mean to beat up on nursing home personnel. I think most of them probably deserve medals for the work they do, for which many others (myself included) don't have the stomach. I only mean to offer this little suggestion to anyone who might find himself in a situation where so very little would be needed to brighten up a person's whole day. A word of advice: just do it. Just do the Christmas thing. Ma'am, might I suggest you put your manual aside for a moment, and just give the poor lady her chair back. It may just make this her best Christmas.

Who Is Zacharias?

In the middle of some reseach on the matters pertaining to the nativity of our Lord, I ran across a fascinating bit of information. There can be found in the Protoevangelium of James, which may be the oldest of the apocryphal Gospels (which never gained any recognition as to their authority), quite a number of items which seem to be the source of much of the extra-Biblical tradition concerning Joseph and Mary.

For instance, it is this document which speaks of the ass for Mary’s journey, the cave for Christ's birth, Salome and the midwife verifying a virgin birth (utero clauso), and even the Marian colors of dark purple (blue?) and scarlet (Mary was given these colors of linen for spinning).

In addition, there is an account of the murder of Zacharias, the father of John the Baptist, between the porch and the altar in the temple, by Herod's men, when Zacharias would not (or could not) produce information concerning his son John's whereabouts (John and his mother Elizabeth had gone into hiding in the desert, where a mountain was miraculously cleft to receive her and her son).

The research provides an interesting take on Jesus’ reference to the murder of Zacharias in St. Matthew 23:35 (cf. St. Luke 11:51): "Upon you [shall] come all the righteous blood shed upon the earth, from the blood of righteous Abel unto the blood of Zacharias son of Barachias, whom ye slew between the temple and the altar."

If this is the Zacharias to whom Jesus refers, then the reference in the Protoevangelium of James is to an historical reality. Others who hold to this theory point to the fact that none of the other three Zacharias figures to whom it could refer is as likely. The priest Zacharias of 2 Chronicles 24:20-22 has the wrong father (Jehoiada), the prophet Zechariah seems to have been obeyed and not martyred (Zechariah 6:7), and Zechariah the son of Baruch, though slain by Zealots in the midst of the temple, was not slain until A.D. 67 (Josephus, Wars of the Jews, Book 4, Chapter 6, Section 4), which would require the admission of editorializing on the part of the Evangelist. None of the books of Esdras contain any evidence of any crime so heinous committed in the Temple court.

The account given in the Protoevangelium of James is actually quite believable, in view of the likelihood that Zacharias would have met trouble at the hands of Herod’s men searching for Bethlehem’s Holy Innocents, if indeed his wife and child had gone into hiding from them.

This would certainly help to contextualize Jesus' invective against the scribes and Pharisees: perhaps they were not only guilty of saying bad things, but of murder: it was after all the scribes in Herod's court who first brought Bethlehem into the madman's mind. And when Herod was troubled at the wise men's words, it says that "all Jerusalem" was troubled with him, a likely reference to the scribes and Pharisees in particular. So it is likely that when Herod sent his murderers to Bethlehem, it was with their blessing. Their last act of murder, literally, could well have been the murder of John's father. Jesus is saying that their murderous line began with Cain, as they fill up in their own time the cup that began with Abel's murder.

I'm still pondering all this, so I'm not quite sure, but it makes sense to me for the time being.

Gottesdienst rooms for the Symposium

The annual feel-good-about-being-a-confessional-Lutheran fest is nearly upon us, id est, the Symposium on the Lutheran Confessions at Concordia Theological Seminary in Fort Wayne, Indiana, from January 15-19. In case you haven't heard, the real excitement that happens there during the week is the annual Sabre of Boldness ceremony held right after the seminary's Thursday night banquet.

So please pay attention to this announcement, all you who so love that event (we've been getting over 200 packed into the room in recent years), all you who can't wait to see who will be the honored awardee, all you who get teary-eyed with excitement when we make known our Acadamy-Awards-like presentation. Yes, yoo-hoo, all you who like this so much: listen up:

This year (Hark!) the Gottesdienst Hotel has moved. We are at the Hilton, downtown. That's right at the Grand Wayne Center, where the banquet will be held. The price is the same as the Marriott would have been (a special rate of $89 per night), but for the best hotel in town. The Marriott is remodelling and could not accomodate us this year. OK, fine, so we got a better hotel!

And we need your patronage, because we need to secure a certain number of room-nights so that they'll let us have the ceremony room for our Sabre awarding. Sign up at the Hilton, folks. Call (260) 420-1100 and be sure to tell them you're with Gottesdienst.

While the Hilton is a few minutes farther from the seminary, the upside is that it's a splendid hotel for the same price and it's right at the place where the banquet will be on Thursday night. Cool, huh?

Join the Gottes-gang again for a great week of Symposia events and the great Sabre of Boldness Award.

Say, speaking of the Sabre Award, you may nominate anyone you like for that, even on this blog if you want. Give us the person's address, and the reason for nominating. It's an award which is given for steadfast intrepidity in the confession and defense of the Gospel and at the greatest personal risk. Know anyone who fits the bill? Let me know and we'll consider . . .

Epiphany Choral Vespers and A Day of Reflection

Coming this January:

A Winter Retreat for a day and a half

at St. Paul’s in Kewanee

Sunday and Monday, January 7-8, 2007

Sunday: Choral Vespers: At 7 p.m. January 7 our annual Epiphany Choral Vespers will be held. Join us in song, and to hear our fine choir sing traditional Christmas and Epiphany carols. This year will also feature the repeat of our own cantata “Shepherd of Israel.” Following Vespers, join us in the cafeteria for a wine and cheese reception. Join us, to make glad your hearts during these holy days. (Snow date: Wednesday, January 10, 7 p.m.)

Monday: A Day of Theological Reflection (Eighth in the series), from 8:30 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. on January 8, led by our pastor, the Rev. Fr. Burnell Eckardt, Ph.D.:

“Assuredly Solomon shall reign”

The Christology of the Line of David

There is no charge, but a freewill offering will be taken.

St. Andrew's Cross

St. Andrew was crucified on 30 November, a.d. 60.

Tradition has it that it was because of Andrew's preaching that the wife of a wicked Roman proconsul became a Christian, which so enraged that official that he ordered Andrew's crucifixion upon a cross made in the form of an X. To this day that type of cross is known as St. Andrew's Cross. St. Andrew himself is remembered as one who heard of the Christ, believed on Him, and then willingly followed His bidding. Now the bidding of Christ is often hard, leading to persecution and even death. But what is Christian martyrdom? Behold St. Andrew=s Cross: the X shape is also the shape of the Greek letter Chi, which is the first letter in Christos, that is, Christ. St. Andrew was martyred on that blessed letter! To follow Christ is to be united with Him; so also, surely the most blessed expression of that union is the experience of His holy wounds. Recall the words of Christ in the vision of Saul who had been persecuting the Church: Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me, Me? Therefore let all who suffer for His sake rejoice and be exceedingly glad. This is the highest of honors.

--Taken from Every Day Will I Bless Thee: Meditations for the Daily Office by Burnell F. Eckardt Jr. (Sussex, WI: Concordia Catechetical Academy, 1998), s.v. St. Andrew's Day. To order a copy of this book in time for Christmas, go to www.peacesussex.org, click on CCA Store bar, and download the online catalog. The cost is $21.00.

Fanatics are Always Dangerous

Regardless of what religion's in view, when people get the notion that they have a direct hotline to God, there's bound to be trouble.

The Mormon guy on trial--what's his name, Jeffs?, leader of a fundamentalist Mormon sect--is accused of forcing an underage girl to marry an older man over her objections. One tack of defense he is purportedly arguing is that God told this to him. Hopefully the Utah jury will follow its recent course of impatience with these wierdos.

But let's take on the argument for a moment. OK, so Jeffs heard directly from God that he's supposed to force this girl to marry. I guess his lawyers are going to spin this into a barely more palatable notion of religious freedom.

And what will the prosecution say? Of course, they will simply refer to the letter of the law, and thus no doubt win the case. You can't do things like that around here, fella, no matter who told you to do them.

You know, there's something refreshing about the rule of law. It's a curb to fanatics of all stripes. And it's a warning to everyone. In society we are governed by what is written. In the faith, too, we are, and must be, governed by what is written.

So don't come and tell me that God told you this or that. Don't even tell me He gave you a sign to help you decide this or that. Good grief, that's why you have a brain. Think! Make your decisions carefully, but don't rely on some ethereal "sign" from God. Trust only in His Word, which is a lamp unto your feet and a light unto your path. And if His Word doesn't tell you specifically what to do in a certain situation, beyond giving you the moral direction of His law, then don't go looking for some bedewed fleece. You can do that if you're a prophet, OK? Otherwise, how different are you than Mr. Jeffs? It's only a matter of degree, I say, which is a rather flimsy difference. So, you say that God gave you a sign to help you decide what job to take? Did He really? And how do you know? By what sense did you receive this revelation? And if the sense by which you received it is no different than the sense by which Mr. Jeffs received his, then how are you different? And what would stop you from doing something really crazy, even contrary to God's Word? After all, if God is speaking directly to you, well then, shouldn't it trump what you get out of a book, no matter how holy it is? So what happens when you are told directly that you ought to give in to some sort of immorality? The Bible says no, but God says yes! Ah! Go with God, then, right? And wind up in jail, I say, the sooner, the better. Because you can't do things like that around here, fella, no matter who told you to do them.

But Advent and Lent Are Not the Same Thing

Yes, there are certainly similarities between the two great penitential seasons of the year: the emphasis is on the need for contrtition, and there really should be no weddings scheduled. And, depending on your tradition, some other things are off limits too. Like certain foods. An Advent fast is urged just as a Lenten fast is urged. There are venerable traditions which would agree, and a particular Advent fast is a long-standing custom in some places.

It seems to me, though, that fasting ought at least to be enjoined a bit more seriously during Lent than during Advent; the former is, after all, is even called Die Fasten in German.

The seasons have significant differences, too, which, I would submit, can give us some direction as to how they are to be handled respectively. Lent is a season which tends to grow darker as it moves on, until the darkest time, the Triduum Sacram, is reached. Then, suddenly, at the Great Vigil, Easter arrives and all is instantly brightened. Advent, by contrast, tends to grow lighter from week to week, as is most prominently seen in the lighting of successive Advent candles each week. Advent is a season of penitential hope and expectation, while Lent is a season of penitential sorrow as the Day of Christ's passion approaches.

Inasmuch as Advent has this 'brightening' character to it, it seems prudent to me to allow that certain customs need not be quite as stringently applied as in the case of Lent. OK, so for example, neither season ought to celebrate a wedding, but I for one don't mind if people want to have a Christmas party during Advent. Our choir has one, for that matter.

If it makes you liturgically uncomfortable to sing Christmas carols at parties or in the marketplace before Christmas, I recommend remembering that this isn't church. The Advent hymns can and should still be the standard fare for Holy Mass and any other worship settings; but I'm fine with carolling outside of Mass. After all, it's the only time of year you can actually hear some great hymns about Jesus in the marketplace at all. They want to pipe in Hark, the Herald for shoppers during December? Hey, fine with me! I'll take it any time. That goes for creche scenes and holiday lights, too. I love 'em all! Holiday shopping season have too much tinsel, you say? Nay, I say, bring it on. Don't want to see too much of the Babe in swaddling clothes? Well, I do, and that image is as meaningful to me as the crucifix. Both are saying, Pure Gift from Heaven. Now what can be wrong with that message?

So, at our church, we, um, gradually decorate during December. This is a bit parochial, perhaps (well, come to think of it, maybe not), but we put up a little more each week. The tree goes up some time in the middle of the month. We hold off on the gazillion poinsettias until Christmas Eve, and also the white paraments, and, yes, the Chrsitmas carols. Nevertheless prior to Christmas Eve there's a hint of a difference in liturgical appearance from week to week, consistent with the lighting of another candle each week.

So just try to think of those Christmas parties as times to rehearse the carols meant for Christmas itself. OK? How's that? We're just practicing, see? It's all good!

End Times

There is significant evidence from the first millenium of the life of the Church that there was originally a seven week season of Advent, at least in some locales. The evidence comes out of the period when the church year was in its development stages. Remants of this can still be seen in the current church year pericopal systems, both the Historic and the Three-Year. Themes for the last three Sundays of the church year are eschatological in nature, that is, they deal with the Day of Judgment and the End of all things. So too, this theme is -- or ought to be -- prominent in Advent, particularly for the Second Sunday in Advent.

Some current pericopal emphases tend to deemphasize this eschatological theme, which is understandable, given the refusal of many churches these days even to acknowledge the teaching of a return of Christ in glory, to say nothing of emphasizing it.

This trend is most notably apparent in places where churches cave in to the demands of some that Christmas preparations provide for the singing of Christmas carols during the Sundays in Advent. One could reason that these demands are better than societal demands for a wholesale removal of Christmas, in favor of nondescript celebrations for the winter solstice or kwanzaa or the latest fad. Better perhaps, but not good enough.

Let Advent be Advent. And let the churches remember the high importance of the eschatological theme for the season. Advent is a time of preparation, to be sure; but what better form of preparation is there for the coming of Christ than penitential hearts? The preparations of the season ought primarily to be penitential preparations for His return.

His coming in grace will be all the more welcomed when the need for it becomes evident to us by the preaching of repentance. Hence also the emphasis of John the Baptist for the latter weeks of Advent. And the liturgical color ought to be purple, the color of penitence, rather than blue, which of late has been called the color of hope or expectation. Actually, blue is supposed to be the Marian color, isn't it?

If we wish to celebrate Christmas aright, it must be as gift for the undeserving; and therefore let us be penitent during these days leading thereto.