I wouldn’t post this if it weren’t for the fact I see too many friends on Facebook expressing the same opinion in not so many words. “Sacrifice the weak. Reopen the economy.” A simple, utilitarian approach is antithetical to Christian faith.
No, we need not unnecessarily “martyr” the economy nor “sacrifice the weak.” Yes, I understand that sacrifices will need to be made, among all, and these sacrifices won’t always be perceived as fair. Life isn’t fair. Yet, we do need to remember the “least of these” and the most vulnerable of our society as we seek a way forward. They must remain an important part of our “equation.”
Out of love for our neighbors, some freedoms and prosperity might need to be given up freely; not out of obligation but in love, at least for a time. There is no other way forward if we want to walk with Christ. Loving your neighbor cannot be based solely on death counts or the perceived liabilities of “others.” Who rightly judges who is “weak” and without worth? That’s the way of that past in Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union.
Tough economic decisions can’t be based solely on fear of the virus nor fear about where our daily bread will come from. We can and must do better. Jesus said, “…But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous” (Luke 14:13-14). If you hope to someday celebrate an economic recovery, you might just want to invite these folks as well.
We’ve been talking a lot about saints in our recent podcasts, “What the Halo?!” and “Halo2,” and St. George is among my favorites. Of course, slaying dragons is cool. (OK, maybe that didn’t happen.) Yet, it is also on his feast day in 2001 that I slayed bachelorhood. (That did happen. Kristine and I became engaged.)
Why get engaged on his feast day? It was during a visit to Barcelona for Taizé’s European Gathering that I recognized Kristine was my true one and only. In Barcelona, St. George’s Day is a kind of St. Valentine’s Day, a day for romance.
Spain’s tourism department explains why: “This curious festival comes from a mixture of traditions from different periods. It coincides, on one hand, with the fact that Sant Jordi has been the patron saint of Catalonia since the 15th century and on the other hand, it comes from the famous legend of Saint George and the dragon (the knight defeats the dragon, who was terrorizing the village and the princess, and after penetrating the dragon with his sword, Saint George gave the princess one of the beautiful red roses that spilled out of the beast’s body) and the old medieval tradition of visiting the Chapel of Sant Jordi in the Palacio de la Generalitat, where a rose fair or ‘lovers fair’ used to take place. This is why Sant Jordi is also the patron saint of lovers in Catalonia.”
In 1926, Spain declared the 23rd of April, the anniversary of the death of Miguel de Cervantes, the most famous Spanish writer, as Book Day. These two notable anniversaries (St. George’s Day and Book Day) became marked as one celebration. The most common gifts between those in love remains books and roses often wrapped in the colors of the Catalonian flag.
Although this year’s public celebration is hampered during this time of COVID-19, love need not be. Enjoy your day and the sites and sounds of last year’s festival in Barcelona below.
The following is my Ash Wednesday sermon (2020) reflecting upon the findings of the investigation of Jean Vanier, founder of L’Arche, in relationship to our Lenten and life’s journey. It was preached at Christ Lutheran Church in Fredericksburg.
As last week ended, I learned of some horrifying, disappointing, maddening news. A man, Jean Vanier, who had earned enormous, international respect for starting a non-profit centered around those with intellectual disabilities…who was deemed a living saint by many and inspired a worldwide movement…whose books were often assigned reading in seminaries and among social workers…who was known to be friends with Mother Teresa, Br. Roger of Taizé, Popes and Archbishops of Canterbury as well as international political figures…was discovered after his death to have misused his place of authority to abuse at least six female coworkers or volunteers who had come to him for spiritual care. He had used his position of trust not only to do good over many years – and there was and still remains much good being done in those communities called L’Arche – but ultimately, he also greatly harmed others who were extremely vulnerable. His actions still negatively impact those victims’ lives and likely will for years to come. The sin perpetrated, as sin always does, had a ripple effect. Many of those who looked up to him or were inspired by him suddenly felt violated themselves. Their volunteering or vocation, perhaps even their personhood, felt threatened. Their faith itself often came under assault. If this supposedly great man couldn’t be trusted, then who can be? People are rightly grieving openly at their sense of betrayal, disappointment, anger, and loss.
I didn’t personally know Jean Vanier, but I have known throughout my later adult years many who served in L’Arche…who are L’Arche. I worked very closely with those who formed L’Arche Metro-Richmond as they sought to successfully create a community where people with and without intellectual disabilities can be found living, working, praying, and playing together. That’s a good thing, the work of many loving people and not just one person. Ultimately, I believe the love and joy found there is evidence of the Holy Spirit at work. The Ark (L’Arche means “ark” in French) might be badly scorched, but it hasn’t been consumed. It is a work that must remain ongoing no matter who might sin and fail among us or in whatever new form the future might bring. God intends to make good come from even the ash heaps of our lives.
I remain glad that my faith is in Jesus and not in humanity. I learned as a police officer long ago that people can always let you down, sometimes in shocking ways, as they struggle with their own darkness….or perhaps start perpetuating wounds they themselves have received. Knowing this doesn’t make it easier when we are hurt by sin, but it might help us accept that bad things can happen to good people in a fallen world. In time, it might even help us forgive or move forward.
The failures of others to love need not stop us from looking to Jesus who asked us to serve as light among the darkness. This is a real darkness at work in the world often through ordinary people. Yet over those years, I also came to recognize that sin and death were also always at work in me. That’s why I came back to the Church. I needed more than just comfort or correction, some plan for doing better. I needed grace, forgiveness and salvation. I needed it not just once, but time after time each day. The darkness that we face or struggle with as Church should never keep us from striving toward the Light which is Jesus. You see, God desires to help us. Its why Jesus came to us.
That human condition reflects a bit about why we gather here tonight. No matter who we are, we as Lutheran-Christians understand that we are at our best sinner-saints. We tend to be bent inward on ourselves, Luther argued, always struggling with sin and never proving quite enough on our own to be the people we hope we can be…the people God desires us to become. Whether large sins or small sins, they come with a cost. We separate ourselves from God and neighbor. We hurt others, sometimes unintentionally, but its real hurt none the less. We experience the heavy reality of sin through bullies in school and negative, condemning self-talk in our heads, in addiction, misuse of what God has given us (even friendships and family relationships meant to be a gift from God are abused) and so much more.
This is largely unavoidable as humans, but it isn’t because we are a total mess or unredeemable…it is because we are human. Still as much as we humbly accept this fallen reality, we are asked by God to accept even more. We are fallen yet loved humans. Each year as we enter Lent, we are asked to contemplate how Jesus suffered and died for us (“for our sin” some say) in order to free us from the power of sin, death and the Devil. We are invited, not forced, to practice the disciplines of Lent: to cooperate with the grace offered us through prayer (justice towards God); fasting (justice towards self); and almsgiving (justice towards neighbors). We are called to repentance, to serve others, to offer ourselves up before God and ask God to transform our lives and community. God does so through his Spirit; making us holy.
In the early days of Christianity, the ancient practices of mourning in sackcloth and ashes became a new symbol of this season called Lent. It is a word meaning springtime, and it is meant for renewed life through loving God and neighbor as ourselves. Its not that we are asked to literally sit in ashes and dress in sackcloth like the prophets of old, but we are invited to receive a small cross made of oil and ash on our foreheads. Much like those who had been excommunicated in the early church for grave sin, we wear ashes as a sign of our modern regrets and hope for restoration. We remember the promises of our baptism where, yes, we made promises to God…promises we often fail in…but also where God made lasting, perfect promises to us. The Holy Spirit has claimed us. We have become by God’s power and proclamation beloved children of God, and God will never let us go.
I will never condemn anyone for crying over sin in the world or in ourselves. We have much to regret, and life often hurts. There’s much evil to contemplate, fear and cope with. Still, all is not lost. Jesus suffered and rose for our sake. The cross he bore…the life we live with all its problems and our fears…leads us to one certain end… Resurrection Day with a new and eternal life shared with Jesus.
As Paul so powerfully argues, we are as the dying, and see, we are alive. We might seem to have nothing, and yet we have everything. Yes, we have the love of Jesus, our Savior, our Redeemer, our God. We can open wide our hearts to God and neighbor with courage, even as we might grieve sin and death. For with God, all things are possible including new starts and our salvation as gift. No matter what we see, feel, or fear, we can trust that God is making all things new. We can trust in Jesus even when we cannot trust ourselves. Amen.
For those who attend our theology on tap meetings, Three Priests Walk in a Bar, you might recall that we originally created a special Facebook group so conversations could continue. Our producer and facilitator, Nick2, similarly invited folks to “pick apart” our gatherings conversation at a later date. We invite you to join our Facebook group and join the ongoing conversations related to our gatherings and podcasts. Here’s the second of two essays that I am sharing regarding the Lord’s Supper in response to issues raised. The live event’s topic was “Can Christians Worship Together or Not?,” Episode 3.
When I was a child long ago, it was a common practice to have those coming to the Lord’s Table for the first time to dress in white. It was to serve as a reminder of our baptism. Baptism and the Lord’s Supper, both means of God’s grace, are intricately linked almost as if one sacrament. Fr. Adam (Orthodox), Fr, Nik (Episcopal) and I (Lutheran) agree on that understanding.
As our last live gathering came to a close, Father Nik offered last words, passionate and extensive ones, in defense of common liturgical practice and Apostolic tradition: the unbaptized should not receive communion. I can’t say I explicitly disagree with his argument. Nor is it the first time that I’ve heard it. Yet, I do wonder about the certainty of his biblical interpretation, particularly as it comes to the Parable of the Wedding Banquet (Matthew 22:1-14). God might surprise us yet.
Fr. Nik, as many others before him, argued as if the meaning of the parable is both clear and specific. (At least to my ear, that’s the way I heard it.) One of those guests let in to the wedding banquet had refused to wear the appropriate wedding garment to the feast. Traditionally, such wedding garments were provided by the host, much as baptismal candidates were presented a white robe upon their baptism to remind them of their now being clothed in Christ. Many see the wedding banquet, an End Time symbol when we will live in the fullness of God, as also representing the Lord’s Supper, “a foretaste of the feast to come.” So, the argument goes, our faith and Baptism (the grace-filled garment) must be worn to the feast (the Lord’s Supper).
I accept the tradition and polity of the historic Church as understood by the ELCA. We do save communing for baptized members of Christ’s Church. Yet, I think it immensely important to point out (but we did not have the time to do so at our gathering) that parables are teaching stories. In Jesus’ time, they were commonly riddles and short stories used as a tool by instructors of all kind. They are meant to be wrestled with and often can have multiple answers and meanings. Despite the apparent certainty of Fr. Nik’s argument, isn’t it possible more is going on here? Isn’t it possible he (and others) have misapplied it to fit their already held liturgical and religious dispositions? What else could God be saying?
Certainly, there is no one way to understand this famous parable and its component pieces. Yes, as mentioned above, baptismal garments were offered the newly baptized (who entered the waters naked) to reflect our “putting on” Christ, our rebirth and regeneration – at least in a number of communities. Yet, that practice only became a norm after Jesus’ resurrection. In the scriptural account, Jesus was speaking to a crowd who would not necessarily make such a connection, even though later Christians might. In this point of his ministry, most of the original audience would likely have interpreted Jesus’ parable through the lens of Jewish scriptures and experience.
If you side with some scholars that argue the story might reflect later teachings of the community of Matthew, you might be assuming a great deal. Even with each Gospel witness being somewhat different, sometimes quite different, I’ve not been convinced by anyone that the writers played with Jesus’ central teachings freely to better fit their specific geographic, cultural context or the current theology. Jesus certainly could have intended elements of the story for future disciples, but that too, is hard to prove. It might be best to look for allusions and connections to the Jewish scriptures; something Jesus’ original audience (and the original audience of Matthew’s Gospel who are widely thought to have been Jewish Christians) would be familiar with. Let’s consider what he is saying to them, and that might help us make better applications today.
In Genesis 3, God made garments of skin to cover Adam and Eve, a sign of God’s grace amidst their rebellion. There are many instructions and commands regarding the use and care of religious garments in the Jewish scriptures. Garments could reflect one’s tribe and one’s purpose. In the Psalms, God’s loving activity and light is often compared to a garment. And the prophets speak of putting on the Lord’s splendor like a garment. So, the original listeners could have made many complimentary interpretations while excluding any particular allusion to Baptism or the Lord’s Supper.
Many argue that the garment at some level represents God’s love, grace, protection and works. It defines who we are and who we trust in through faith; faith itself being a gift. The garment in this parable need not be explicitly or solely connected to Baptism and the Lord’s Supper. Indeed, many scholarly and historic interpreters do not limit it in such a way. One modern Orthodox resource alluded to Baptism, but more so, the author argues we will be examined at the End of Time to see if we have shared in a life of repentance within the Church (in their mind, the Orthodox Church alone). Did we desire and accept God’s mercy? It isn’t so much about the Lord’s Supper as much as it is about our entire lives lived in faith within the holy community. Explicitly, the author asked, “Have we lived in the light we have been given?” Perhaps that proves a better understanding of the passage.
Indeed, Pope Gregory the Great argued in a sermon that ultimately the garment is God’s love. “[Jesus] came as a bridegroom to unite Himself to the Church. There was no other means than God’s love by which the Only-begotten could unite the souls of the elect with Himself. This is why John tells us: God so loved the world, that He gave His only-begotten Son (John 3:16). He who came to men for love’s sake, calls this love the wedding garment.” To him, this garment has two threads: the love of God and neighbor. As Jesus taught and recorded in Matthew, this is the greatest commandment. This doesn’t necessarily exclude one referencing the Baptism or the Eucharist, but that explicit connection seems a bit forced if Gregory the Great’s argument and many others like it hold true. Indeed, the Jewish foundation of Matthew’s Gospel might promote the greatest commandment being the preferred interpretive lens over any sacramental focus.
So, is it wrong for Fr. Nik and others to use this parable to defend the sanctity of the Lord’s Supper and how we should participate? I don’t think it necessarily is so, but there is a need for caution. It appears this parable might primarily be aimed at something quite different – a simpler application. Trust or faith in Jesus Christ might prove the preferable focus. Love and grace in light of “the fulfillment of the law” might serve as a better, more direct interpretive key. The parable might even be best understood as a warning for Christians not to take their salvation for granted as in Bonhoeffer’s arguments against “cheap grace.” Yet if one believes it to be primarily about Baptism, the Lord’s Supper, and the risk of being cast out for receiving the Lord’s Supper improperly (without being baptized, or while being ignorant or ill prepared) then there remain important questions to be addressed.
Does this mean only those who are baptized or who died as martyrs are saved? If someone receives the Eucharist in error or with bad intention or practice, are they without hope? Would that be a mortal sin? (As Roman Catholics understand it, this is a sin that leads to damnation if not confessed and repented of, but Lutherans reject such a hierarchy of sin. All sin separates us from God and one another.) Can faith be enough to save us, even the faith of those who are not yet baptized for whatever reason? Could not God choose to save those who are unbaptized whether infants or those who have not heard of Jesus yet for extenuating circumstances, even as we remain certain that through our faith and participation of the Sacraments we are saved by grace?
And what about those who have had members of the Church act as stumbling blocks to the faith, keeping the “little ones” who would otherwise believe away from Jesus, the Church and the Sacraments? In this last case, one might recall Jesus’ comment that it would be better to die with a millstone around one’s neck and be cast into the sea than be the one who kept the “little one” away. The sin appears to be on those who keep people away from Jesus, not those who are kept away (Matthew 18:6-9). There exist people historically and today who have been kept away from Christian faith through individual abuse and poor witness as well as the corporate power and influence of political and family systems in the Church. If we share in that sin as part of the Church or explicitly, does that mean we will found naked at the feast? I trust from the promises of Christ that will not be the case for us, and I suspect greater grace will be offered to others “outside” the Church than many Christians expect.
In the West (and perhaps the East), it appears historically common to have at times simply interpreted the parable as a call for faith, Baptism, and active life in the Church to include the Lord’s Supper. This doesn’t mean it is the best interpretation. In truth, pastors and theologians, Popes, Patriarchs, Bishops and councils have erred when addressing important issues. This parable was not always deemed explicitly about the Lord’s Supper, and I think it improper to present it as if it was.
To reject the garment was thought to reject God’s grace. But what is the garment explicitly? Anyone out of communion with the Church (as defined by varied dogma, councils, and cannon law; East verses West; Orthodox, Roman Catholic, Protestant or Radical traditions all interpreted differently) was often declared doomed. To not be baptized would doom you. To not receive the Sacraments “rightly” and regularly would doom you. To not believe in approved dogma and previous interpretations of scripture (even when it might be wrong) was believed to doom you. Unfortunately, real life like the parable is never so cut and dry as our too often simplistic interpretations. God’s love is cut from a broader clothe, and I am not sure any of us humans can fully discern the scope and full intentions of God’s grace in the present.
Perhaps like Martin Luther, it is best to trust in, remember, and encourage others to believe in what we know saves us (as promised by Jesus). Through revelation, we know that we are saved by grace through faith in Jesus Christ, but God might yet have mercy on whomever God wants to. If these folks are saved (shown mercy), I believe it would ultimately be because of Jesus’ sharing our lot through his life, death and resurrection. Yet with our finite wisdom, we can never really know in this life God’s full plan.
Rather than act as if we are God, proclaiming and arguing about who is or will be cast into the pit, perhaps we should be more humble. In condemning others to hell, we risk being unscriptural and walking astray ourselves. (We can address the power of the keys at another time.) Let’s not limit the power of amazing grace, when we don’t understand its full limits.
As the Church already has often done, we of varied denominations might develop policies and procedures regarding the administration of the Sacraments for good order, right theology, or for other good and loving reasons, but we need to always be prepared for grace, a gift that is often unfair and not ours to give. There might just be something more going on in the parable and with the Spirit’s activity in our lives. After all, “for now we see in a mirror, dimly” (see 1 Corinthians 13:12). Certainly, all things remain possible with God (see Matthew 26:25-26). Regarding the Lord’s Supper, God could be doing something new. It is worth talking about even as I listen to the arguments and teachings of the past.
Post Note:As with any of our theology on tap events or podcasts, please remember we are limited by both the time and format. When someone speaks authoritatively, whether me (as a Lutheran Christian), Fr. Nik (as an Episcopalian Christian), or Fr. Adam (as an Orthodox Christian), we are speaking for ourselves as best as we understand scripture and tradition from our context. We certainly can err in the moment as well. To those who listen, our teachings might unintentionally become conflated or we can appear to be in full agreement when we are not. Feel free to ask us questions after the event for further clarification.Also, keep coming back!
For those who live elsewhere, we invite you to listen to the Three Priests Walk in a Bar podcast on Apple Podcast, Spotify and more.
For those who attend our theology on tap meetings, Three Priests Walk in a Bar, you might recall that we originally created a special Facebook group so conversations could continue. Our producer and facilitator, Nick2, similarly invited folks to “pick apart” our gatherings conversation at a later date. Here’s a few more items I wish to share after listening to the recent podcast of the live event held on “Can Christians Worship Together or Not?,” Episode 3.
Source: Pixaby. Used by Permission
During our recent discussions, I told a story of a young man in high school who came forward to the altar in order to commune. As I provided him the body of Christ, he said, “Amen,” consumed it, and added excitedly, “This was my first time!” I did not know this young man or his mother kneeling beside him at the time, but she appeared visibly dismayed. Traditionally, Lutherans prepare young people and new adult members for sharing in the Lord’s Supper. Her body language and facial expression indicated she and her son had done something wrong. In response, I simply said, “Welcome to the Lord’s Table.” Then, I continued to commune others and preside over the closing of our worship together.
Normally, I try to be in the narthex (the entrance area of the church building) to greet both visitors and returning church members to our Sunday service. This mother and son were visitors, but they came in as the service began. In our bulletin, we had an invitation to commune which outlined not only how to commune but also who can commune. (It specifically invited all baptized, communing members of any Christian church to do so.) I approached the mother and son after the service, not only to greet them formally, but to invite the mother and son into deeper relationship with our congregation. I didn’t overtly accuse or correct. I didn’t lecture. I just met them where they were in order that we could walk forward together with Jesus Christ.
It turned out that the family had fallen away from church attendance after moving to our area, but they desired to be one with the church again. How wonderful! Why would I put additional stumbling blocks before them to hinder them from coming to Jesus? Instead, I conversed with them, properly instructed them (especially the son regarding the Lord’s Supper), and we welcomed them into our congregation. The previously baptized young man went on to not only commune regularly but also to become a young adult leader in the congregation – one who continued in relationship with the Church through the rite of confirmation and beyond.
If he had not been baptized, it might have been a mistake or a shame, certainly improper by our polity, but I argue it would not necessarily be a sin for him to commune. A sin and a human mistake are not always the same thing. No evil or affront was intended. In 1 Corinthians 11, Paul does indeed argue against receiving the sacrament unworthily (as Fr. Nik noted), but it seems Paul is primarily addressing disunity in the community and not baptism or knowledge of the Sacrament. He never indicates how often the community should commune, but he expresses concern that some have privatized a communal act. Paul appears most concerned with how our lives relate to Jesus’ own and how love ties us in one body together.
As a result, he encourages self-reflection and examination more than present some theological argument over the form and substance of the elements or whom should be admitted to the supper. (Although some of that might have been assumed by Paul, it isn’t his main point nor preserved in writing.) The good news is that we can repent and be renewed even when facing judgement for our lack of discernment regarding love and unity. “Paul’s counsels are driven not by a veneration of the supper properly observed, but by the Corinthians’ failure to have the supper function among them as it should, namely as a beacon by which to keep their lives on the proper path of faith” (The New Interpreter’s Bible Commentary, Abingdon Press, 2002, p. 938). In Paul’s mind the illness and death in the community is a sign of eschatological judgement for disunity, not some sudden, wrath of God, superstitious punishment for lack of understanding while consuming the Eucharist. He seems to believe it is better not to participate in the meal than to dishonor it with disunity. To receive it improperly (in disunity) profanes the life and death of our Lord (Harper Collins Bible Commentary, Harper San Francisco, 2000, p. 1088).
Perhaps this is why “the kiss of peace” and confession were deemed critical to the Lord’s Supper and reserved only for the baptized in some early communities according to some Roman Catholic sources I’ve read in the past. Yet, this particular passage might not prove a great argument against who should commune or changes in practice. It isn’t really about that. Indeed, Christian communities including the Orthodox have changed some practices regarding the Lord’s Supper over time. For example, even when catechumens are dismissed in certain Orthodox liturgies, they actually don’t leave any more. (Listen to our podcast for more on this.) Reserving reception of the Lord’s Supper to those whom are baptized is primarily based upon the earliest known church practices as observed in and interpreted from scripture. It is a tradition handed down to us. Yet just as the “kiss of peace” (now “the sign of peace”) is now open to all, and catechumens are not actually dismissed any longer, perhaps other changes might be discerned by the Church in who should receive the Eucharist. (I’m not saying we should change, as I value the voices of the past, but people aren’t necessarily evil for raising the question.)
In rebuttal to my personal example above, our Orthodox friend, Fr. Adam, spoke about the necessity of knowing whom you commune and protecting the sanctity of the eucharist by overseeing (if not controlling) who participates. In ordination, the Orthodox priest promises “unto death” to protect the Sacrament. They are thought stewards of this mighty, miraculous gift. Those outside of the Orthodox Church, the only true expression of Church in their understanding, cannot and must not commune. He argued this is not exclusionary but a sign of hope that in the future we may all commune. To have someone unprepared or unworthy to commune is anathema, a grave sin in his tradition. Therefore, he must seek to welcome unfamiliar persons, and it is the responsibility of visiting Orthodox to present themselves to him. The expectation remains that only those properly baptized, confirmed and confessed, free of grave sin, participate. Thus, he inferred that the error in this case was not ultimately the young man’s but the priest’s (mine). In the Orthodox view, I should have stopped him from communing. In fact, he never should have even had the opportunity.
Meanwhile the Evangelical Church in America (ELCA), our pastors when ordained or installed promise to love, serve, and pray for God’s people, nourishing them with the word and sacraments. While respecting the sanctity of the Sacrament and the need to preside in a meet and right way, there is no explicitly, strong guardian language as with the Orthodox, although we understand that we are stewards. We recognize that the Sacraments are a means of grace, not an end in themselves. We understand that we share this responsibility with the congregational council and the people of the congregation as well. The sacrament belongs ultimately to Jesus and is our gift and honor to share.
Among those who commune, Martin Luther and our confessions condemn any requirement for preparatory acts such as confessing or fasting in order to do so. We can perform such practices as a personal spiritual discipline, but they aren’t required, and we receive no merit for salvation with any of our efforts. No one is worthy on their own or by their own efforts of receiving the Lord’s Supper – ever. No one can properly prepare to receive what is this pure gift of grace. At some level the sacrament as a means of grace always remains a mystery. It doesn’t truly belong to any bishop’s office or any pastor, but it remains a gift from Christ left in the care of the priesthood of all believers, administered in accordance with scripture, our confessions and polity. In that sense, we all are stewards of it.
Again, following Apostolic tradition, only those baptized commune. (Although, this is now being debated by some.) We instruct those baptized about to commune for the first time in scripture, our confessional beliefs, and our practices, so that they might better participate and value what they are receiving. The methodology and scope of this training varies widely by community. Hopefully, faith will increase through the training and education (by cooperating with the grace being offered), but no specific training is explicitly mandated or outlined by scripture. Though, it appears to have been a practice to educate new members of the community. Our modern model for it based on early Christian communities, early writings and traditions, but again, they vary widely within our denomination and the wider Church.
Traditionally, many if not most Lutherans appear to have communed upon confirmation. Yet with changes in the Roman Catholic Church under Pope Pius X in the 1920s regarding the age for communing and growing ecumenism, it appears discernment over these issues continued. A pan-Lutheran meeting in the 1960s settled on fifth grade as an appropriate age to commune, or nearly settled, for this wasn’t a mandate. Lutherans began to commune youth members at earlier ages as time passed, fifth grade, and still at confirmation. Today, you still find a wide variety of practices with children communing even younger than second grade at times. Even in some Confessional Lutheran bodies, it is left up to pastoral discretion. As for my practice, I enter conversations with parents to discern what might be best for the Church and the individual child. We remember that the age requirement isn’t scriptural but a practice discerned, developed even changed over time. Through our baptism, we are “qualified” in a sense or made worthy by the Holy Spirit’s presence and claim upon us (received through baptism) to be welcomed at the table. We are saved in Baptism and receiving the Eucharist through grace by faith alone. These Sacraments are deemed special means of grace.
Although requiring preparation and sacrifice for communing is condemned, I have actually heard of some American Lutheran pastors (especially in the 1940/50s) requiring confession before communing. This appears contrary to our common understanding of our confessions, the Book of Concord. We do have a rite to offer private confession, and we most often include confession as part of our Sunday liturgy or other times we share in the Lord’s Supper, but it isn’t required. Like the Orthodox, some Lutherans do require visitors present themselves before communing, and I have even been told of congregations expecting some form or written confirmation of denominational participation before one can commune. Still other Lutheran bodies will not let anyone outside of their denomination participate and refuse altar fellowship between Christian bodies if they don’t accept our Confessions fully. These more restrictive measures prove often to be taken by Confessional Lutheran congregations in my experience and the testimonies I have heard, not members of the Lutheran World Federation and ELCA (90+% of all Lutherans globally.)
In contrast, most congregations seem to just include requirements for communing in the Sunday bulletin or make announcements, and we hope and trust visitors will comply. Some of the common wording will invite any baptized communing Christians to participate. Others add that participants must also affirm the real presence of Christ in the Sacrament. We often explicitly explain our understanding of the Sacrament and mention our expectations for communing before weddings, funerals and community worship services where we sometimes celebrate the Eucharist and know many from other traditions might be present. Like the Orthodox, offering the Lord’s Supper at weddings and funerals remains rare, but it is allowed.
Whatever our policy, the majority of Lutherans do not usually challenge people at the altar rail from what I have seen and heard, although perhaps some Confessional Lutherans might. In practical terms, we do not always have the capacity (especially in a 200+ person church) to engage everyone before the service. So, again, trust might be required that people will accept our training, requests and guidance. Ushers, greeters and people in the pews are also asked to help with the welcome and orientation to the service. If people come to the rail, we usually commune them. If they did so in error and we come to know this, pastors tend to meet them later to offer future guidance and instruction. It might be deemed sloppy if not wrong by Fr. Adam and our Orthodox brothers and sisters, but I suspect God has a way of “protecting” the Eucharist better than we do. Here, my supposed “error” providentially led the young man and his family into deeper faith and rootedness in the Church likely because I responded pastorally; taking our theological and scriptural stances seriously while seeking to meet people where they are.
As much as I hear our Orthodox, Roman Catholic and Confessional Lutheran friends framing the need for theological, denominational compliance prior to communing as a hopeful thing, I struggle to accept that. It focuses on division more than welcome. It puts into question the power of our shared baptism. I accept the historic teaching and guidance that only baptized, believing Christians should commune, but if we worship the same Lord and share in baptism, why not commune together? No one properly and fully understands this mystery. I agree with John XXIII that there is more that unites us than divides us. I have witnessed grace in the way pastors and communities welcomed outsiders to the table – sometimes making pastoral exceptions to the common rules. Some communities such as Taizé seem particularly creative in their welcome. Therefore, I accept the benefit of communal standards while arguing for sensitivity and grace.
It brings to mind a story shared by Jean Vanier, founder of L’Arche:
“A young girl with a mental disability made her First Communion during a beautiful celebration of the Eucharist. After the ceremony her uncle said to her mother: ‘What a beautiful liturgy! The sad thing is that she did not understand anything.’ The young girl overheard this remark and said to her mother: ‘Don’t worry, Mommy, Jesus loves me as I am.’”
Perhaps, just perhaps, we self-assured bishops, pastors and lay leaders could learn something about the Eucharist from her?
For those who attend our theology on tap meetings, Three Priests Walk in a Bar, you might recall that we originally created a special Facebook group so conversations could continue. Our producer and facilitator, Nick2, similarly invited folks to “pick apart” our gatherings conversation at a later date. Here’s a few items I shared after listening to the recent podcast of the live event held on “Can Christians Worship Together,” Episode 3.
Our producer and facilitator, Nick2, will likely address this later in a future podcast, but the word filioque is pronounced in classical Latin as “FIL-ee-oak” while ecclesiastical Latin is “FIL-ee-OH-kway.” (There was some discussion over this during the podcast.) What is Ecclesiastical Latin? It is Latin developed in Medieval times, particularly in the West according to some, that was a simpler form and reflects the Vulgate’s use of Latin. I confess that I don’t remember exactly how my seminary instructors said the word. They likely used the Ecclesiastical Latin, but the filioque isn’t a huge issue for modern Lutherans if not most modern Christians in general (day to day anyway). Also, Lutherans aren’t usually big “liturgical nerds” as many Episcopalians on social media self-identify, and if it weren’t for Fr. Adam, who is Orthodox, I don’t know if this specific theological split between East and West would even have come up explicitly again in my life after seminary.
Saying that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son (“and the son” is “filioque” in Latin) is considered one of the major causes of the schism between the Eastern and Western churches. Unfortunately, it remains a lasting, important theological issue in certain contexts. Fr. Adam, again an Orthodox priest, still argues, “FIL-ee-NO-way.” Fr. Nik, an Episcopal priest, argues primarily that it is “FIL-ee-OK.” As an ordained minister in the ELCA, I have options. In the Nicene Creed, the West added the “filioque” phrase unilaterally during the Middle Ages. The ELCA and Lutheran World Federation has agreed to recognize the unilateral nature of the addition and allows for it to be removed for ecumenical purposes. More about that later, but here is partly how we got to that decision:
In a half-joking way, I stated the Lutherans could do pretty much anything in worship as long as it isn’t explicitly prohibited in scripture. Yes, the Lutherans have rubrics (“a direction in a liturgical book as to how a church service should be conducted”), but we take them seriously, not rigidly. In general, good Anglicans I know would be horrified at changing any of the words of the Book of Common Prayer which guides and informs their worship. It can happen with prior approval of a bishop in extraordinary circumstances, but not often. They are in a way centered around and unified by the Book of Common Prayer as it reflects scripture. (Although Fr. Nik has joked scripture stole things from the Book of Common Prayer.) The majority of Orthodox and Roman Catholics I have known would be more than horrified to have words changed in the liturgy unless (at least in the West) there is explicit options offered. I know of a Roman Catholic priest disciplined for changing a small phrase in the communion prayers. Lutherans are a people with theological, formal confessions called the Book of Concord (meaning unity). Thus, scripture and theology (why we do things) tend to have more import than liturgical rigidity (the way we do things).
With the Reformation, Lutherans, Reformed and others were reconsidering worship in light of scripture. On the Reformed and “Radical” (Anabaptists and others) side of the house, there were arguments over what instruments to use. Some wanted only those mentioned in scripture. Others only wanted psalms as prayer during worship because they are in the Bible. Stained glass, icons, crosses and crucifixes were often condemned. Lutherans took a different track. Although valuing the liturgy, again we are not rigid about it. For pastoral concerns and other reasons, the pastor may choose changes beyond the approved options in the rubrics. We can adjust further if deemed necessary or helpful.
As I said previously, this is not to be done willy-nilly. We are accountable to our bishops, council and congregation, guided by scripture and liturgical catholic (universal) traditions. So if for good reason and complementary to if not grounded in scripture, we can introduce a wide variety of music, dance, art and icons, as well as alternative liturgical practices and rituals at the congregational level without approval from any “higher-ups” in our polity. We can wear or not wear certain traditional vestments and religious items. In some Lutheran communities, the pastor does not wear a collar for example. European Lutherans tend to be more like Roman Catholics, while American Lutherans tend to be lower church. In Europe, Lutherans can call our worship the mass (understanding that we don’t get extra credit for heaven nor is is a sacrifice) while Americans tend to call it “worship” or a “service” not wanting (historically) to sound too Papist and likely conforming to their low-church Protestant neighbors.
Thus, we do allow for variations in practice based on context and some times (to be honest) preference – which of course, can prove dicey. Pastors and worship committees can err. Still, I say all this because it reflects an agreement that we have with the Orthodox regarding the filioque.
In short, ELCA Lutheran are allowed to omit the filioque for ecumenical purposes. Episcopalians may as well if the context requires it, but they need approval of the bishop. I imagine many if not most Episcopal priests, including Fr. Nik, would hesitate to omit it as long as the Orthodox and Anglican Communion and/or Episcopal Church are not in full communion. Currently, I do not know of any other such accommodation in other denominations. (If you know of any, please let me know in the comments or contact me directly.) Here’s a link to the ELCA document which does a much better job than me in explaining the discussions and end result in detail:
Not wanting to copy Fr. Nik’s practice of being “real quick” before entering a nine-minute soliloquy, I will end briefly this way: I believe we are one Church even amidst our divisions and differences whether we like it or not. Our shared baptismal identity assures me of this. I trust in the end of time, God will make us fully one. In the meantime, we should strive to live in unity as much as possible. (I’m sorry, Fr. Adam, if this makes you shudder.)
It is November and Thanksgiving is
coming. Yet this year, I’m filled with thanksgiving for one primary reason.
Twenty years ago, I became a Lutheran right here at Christ Lutheran.
Like many young adults, I wondered and
wandered in my journey with God. As I began to refocus my life with the help of
friends, someone recommended I check-out this faith community. Coming from my Roman
Catholic background, I found the theology sound and grace focused. The liturgical
worship was familiar and like home to me. The music and preaching encouraged me
to trust in God and rejoice. They didn’t just entertain. Yet among my greatest
reasons to join the congregation was the people I found here – people willing
to engage with the word, the world, and me.
Every seeker’s needs and ultimate experience
will be different. Some might benefit from moving on, but they can still be
blessed on their way. Others might find hope here and remain. Every visitor’s
contact with us – no matter how short or seemingly insignificant – matters. For
in welcoming them, we welcome Christ, and potential miracles lie before us. Lives
can change for the better.
In Matthew 8, there was a centurion who
desired to see his servant healed. Jesus responded that he would come to the
centurion’s home to heal the servant. Understanding the honor this represented,
the centurion protested, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof;
but only speak the word, and my servant will be healed.” With this sign of
faith, the servant was declared immediately healed.
We might not be worthy of Christ
entering our home (spiritual or otherwise), but Christ desires to come in
anyway. Through our experiences in welcome and hospitality, we don’t just meet cultural
expectations. We don’t just bring joy to others or ourselves. We are offered the
opportunity to meet Christ in a new and vibrant way. Christ is seeking to do
something new through our experiences with every visitor.
As we begin to see holiday visitors, I invite each and every one of us to recommit in our authentic, gracious welcome of people who are new to us. Make the time to welcome them with a heartfelt graciousness. Get to know them a bit. Let them know you. Open your hearts; vulnerably sharing your faith and struggles. Just as happened with me, you might prove just who the person needs to have their lives changed eternally. Also, in my experience since, you will likely find that welcoming Christ in others will bless you as well.
Originally published in the June 2019 newsletter of Christ Lutheran Church, Fredericksburg, VA.
“By the end of the seventeenth century, many Lutheran churches celebrated a festival commemorating Martin Luther’s posting of the Ninety-five Theses, a summary of abuses in the church of his time. At the heart of the reform movement was the gospel, the good news that it is by grace through faith that we are justified and set free.” (Bread for the Day 2019, p. 414)
What is Reformation Day? Historically, it marks the day when Martin Luther called for reforms in the church on October 31, 1517, All Hallows Eve (All Saints Eve).
On November 1, All Saints Day, and November 2, All Souls Day (no longer observed by Lutherans), the Church traditionally celebrated the saints while pondering human mortality. Martin Luther chose this specific time to challenge the theological status quo. He provided ninety-five reasons (or theses) as to why no purchased or earned indulgences (a kind of pardon) were needed to save us from damnation. He argued that Jesus’ death and resurrection had opened the door to heaven for us as a free gift. All one needs to do is to hear, believe and claim this gift as our own. Trust in the promises given us in Christ.
Many noble reforms came out of the resulting theological debate. There was an explosion in personal faith. Both religious and secular institutions changed forever. Yet occasion for sin came as well. Christians began to divide and accuse one another of error. So today, we tend to say that we “mark” the day instead of “celebrate.” Christ’s universal church continues to be transformed and reformed led by the Spirit even as we seek to be reconciled with God, one another and the world.
As important as the historic Reformation events remain, perhaps we should use this day to ponder God’s activity today. What changes are God calling us to make?
Originally published in The Hub, a weekly email of Christ Lutheran Church, Fredericksburg, VA.
This
Sunday, I presided at a bittersweet wedding. The bride’s beloved grandfather
had died unexpectedly this past year, and he was sorely missed. The
grandfather’s absence was palpable, but there was a lot of joy as people shared
stories about him. As part of this celebration of ongoing life and love, the
bride’s grandmother gifted the bride with a Bible given to her at her own
wedding over 60 years ago as a remembrance to be used during the service. Among
the texts chosen was the popular John 15:9-12 where Jesus invites us to abide
in his love.
The
bride’s grandfather, John, was a very intelligent, loving, Italian grandfather,
the kind who could lovingly dote on children without spoiling them. Indeed, he
often became a surrogate grandfather to many children at my former
congregation. Not only would he give them little penny candies, he often asked
questions about their week. He would offer them advice and encouragement in
response to their answers. He was never too busy for a child.
It
had become John’s habit long ago with his own children to jokingly offer a
grade whenever a task was performed, or a challenge met. No matter how well
they did, it was a C (an average grade) – maybe on a very good day a C+.
Perhaps this was meant to challenge people to increasingly do better, or perhaps
it was offered for the laughs and smiles it would solicit as they heard this
grade and saw his smile again, and again, and again. Whatever the reason, I found
in it a loving reminder. We are all human. We can always do better, love
better, be better, and we need one another.
The
liturgical wedding service reminds all of us through its words that although life
is filled with love and excitement, it can become overcast and hard. Yet, the
service, especially the Gospel, also reminds us of an A+ kind of love. It’s a love that we can rest in and find
strength from. It is a love that helps us bear all things patiently, to wait
with hope, to accept one another as we are and not for what we would hope to
be. It is a love that grows and lasts; always protects, always trusts, always
hopes, always perseveres. It is a love that forgives and never fails. It
reflects our God who is love and loves us.
As individuals, couples or community, we
might only reach the grade of C+ on our own (even at our best), but God’s love
is transformative. It is an A+ kind of love that we can abide in each and every
day. It has the power to make our lives significant and declare us perfectly
forgiven and free.
Originally published in The Hub, a weekly email of Christ Lutheran
Church, Fredericksburg, VA.
Everyone has a unique call from God. Ultimately, we are to glorify God by
loving God with all that we are and through loving others as ourselves – no
matter what we do or where we find ourselves. Yet, the Devil is often in the
details! How do we know which way to go?
Interests, hobbies, varied experiences and talents all come together to
help clarify our way. Some of us end up in overt care, teaching or service
professions. Others might find their primary place is in the home building
family life. Still others might find themselves placed in jobs which seem far
removed from faith. Indeed, our call may even change over time as we learn more,
encounter new people and experiences, or our abilities change.
Yet not surprisingly, if love for God and our neighbor is present in
the way we fulfill our duties, we will discover sacred moments in ANY
job. If faith shapes how we treat others in business, Christ will be there with
us. God wants sacred light to shine throughout the world, even where we work or
study. Our intended vocation (at its root meaning “sacred call”) often will be discovered
where our passions and God’s purpose for us cross.
Last Sunday, we exposed our youth to a “Wheel of Service.” In one
station, a Fredericksburg medic taught them about emergency medical care for
serious, bleeding wounds. He also shared about volunteer opportunities for
teens with his department and the joys of his career. In a second station, our
youth group served other youth by packing “Feed the Children” bags. These bags
help food insecure students in our region. They also learned about the
operations of our Food Pantry and how it helped our neighbors. Finally, Pastor
David Casey, our Campus and Young Adult Missioner, led us in a discussion about
campus ministry. Not only are such ministries an opportunity for food,
fellowship and relaxation, such programs can help one grow in faith and find
one’s way forward to the place Jesus is trying to lead us. Retreats, spiritual
direction, volunteering (such as with Young Adults in Global Mission or the
Lutheran Volunteer Corps), service projects, presentations about other people’s
calls and our shared ministries, and yes, even attendance at Sunday worship can
all come together to plant seeds for tomorrow.
However, don’t think such discernment is only for the young. Each and every day, we have a new adventure instore when following Jesus. No matter how old we are, our perceived abilities or disabilities, our assets or struggles, Jesus is calling us. Jesus is calling you. Seek to intentionally discern that call and follow Jesus. There might be a time of waiting. Perhaps we will only understand looking backward. Yet, Christ will get us to where we each need to be for the sake of his Church and the world.
Originally published in The Hub, a weekly email of Christ Lutheran Church, Fredericksburg, VA.
Husband, Pastor, Law Enforcement Chaplain, and member of the Clerical Errors (aka "The Three Priests"), I'm sharing my two cents with anyone who cares...
You can also find me on social media as Loudluthrn (Lou-d-Luthrn or Lou the Lutheran). It is a moniker given me while attending a Presbyterian Seminary, but I'm a loud and proud Lutheran too (just not too loud and proud, mind you).
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