[1] When the Journal of Lutheran Ethics invited me to
consider how Lutheran theology informs ethical preaching, I was
curious to know where this question came from, undoubtedly because
I understand both preaching and ethics to be contextual. The
background to the question is the ethical issues that surround the
events of September 11, 2001. Months after planes went down in New
York, Washington, D.C., and Pennsylvania, Lutherans, like people of
most religious traditions within American society, are reflecting
upon what we preached and what we heard in the days and weeks
following these tragic events. "In light of September 11. . . . "
The phrase crops up in nearly every sermon preached in recent days,
providing the quintessential touchstone, reference point and
illustration for proclaiming the gospel. Talking with people from
across our church who have heard this preaching reveals that some
among us are fatigued by "911 sermons." Others are thirsting for
something more or something other than what they heard. Few feel
satisfied with the way the gospel was brought to bear on this
tragedy.
[2] In the aftermath of the devastation that we experienced last
September, and in the face of the fear mingled with certainty that
such a catastrophe will be visited upon us again, both pastors and
parishioners are asking, what do we as Lutheran Christians have to
say to the world that is worth hearing? Or, more precisely, what do
we as Lutheran Christians believe God is saying to the world that
we need to hear?1 In the first section of this
essay, we will briefly review one way that preachers might reflect
theologically on crisis situations and critique "911 sermons" in
light of this template. In the second section of this essay, we
will assert that, from a Lutheran theological perspective, boldly
proclaiming Jesus Christ is the way we respond to crisis. We will
then suggest how this response might take shape in preaching. In
the concluding section of this essay, I offer for consideration one
of my own attempts at preaching "in light of September 11."
Reflecting Theologically on Crisis
[3] Ronald Allen suggests that, from a theologically
perspective, crises are of two types: crises of understanding and
crises of decision.2 Crises of understanding cause
people to question the existence, identity and nature of God. Is
God all-knowing, all-powerful and all-loving? If so, how could this
crisis have happened? Since this crisis did happen, what is God's
nature? Could God have intervened to minimize or even prevent this
crisis? Could we have done something to persuade God to intervene
in this crisis? Do we know what that is? Why would God need to be
persuaded? If God could intervene, why didn't God intervene? If we
could do something to persuade God to intervene, why didn't we?
People question God's will in the crisis. They also question God's
existence.
[4] Crises of decision arise when people do not know how to
respond to a situation or issue with which they are unavoidably
confronted. These situations and issues escalate into crises of
decision when people do not have time to consider their response,
when there is no clear way to respond, when the way people want to
respond conflicts with the way they know or are told they should
respond, or when people are confronted with circumstances unlike
anything they have previously experienced and there is no precedent
to guide them.
[5] Although we have discussed crises of understanding and
crises of decision independently, they are inseparably linked. Our
understanding of God influences and may even determine how we
decide to respond to a crisis. We respond one way if we trust a God
who is with us in suffering, bringing life out of death and light
out of darkness. We respond another way if we are convinced that
God is distant, indifferent, and even dead. We respond a third way
if we conclude that the crisis is the result of divine activity and
judgment. From a theological perspective, how we decide to respond
to a crisis is shaped, if not determined, by our understanding of
God. On some level, a crisis of decision results from a crisis of
understanding. If our understanding of God remains unaltered by a
crisis, we will be able to discern and decide how to respond to
that crisis.
[6] Much Lutheran preaching that I hear "in light of September
11," and much Lutheran preaching that I hear about, presumes that,
for the faithful at least, people's understanding of God remained
intact after the events of September 11. Preachers therefore
approached this terrible day singularly as a crisis of decision.
Time and again, people reported that what they heard last September
and October was how to respond to September 11, whether that be by
reaching out to those of the Islamic faith and not stereotyping
people of Middle Eastern descent or by draping the cross in red,
white and blue and calling the church to pray for and rally around
the government of the United States. Many described "911 sermons"
as instructions on how to react to the crisis as they lived their
daily lives, lectures on the Islamic faith, and biblical analysis
of U.S. military and foreign policy. I did hear of preaching that
approached the events of September 11 as a crisis of understanding.
Unfortunately, the message was that other preachers, who saw the
events of that day as divine judgment, had misunderstood God's will
in the crisis and we should not understand September 11 in this
way. While this message is imperative, it was not enough. We need
to be helped to understand God "in light of September 11."
[7] I am not contending that the gospel was not preached, only
that, in many instances, the gospel was not heard. People were not
overwhelmed by what Richard Jensen eloquently described as the
connection between Calvary and Manhattan, God's loving, saving
presence in both.3 Did we presume the gospel?
Did we assume that people's understanding of God remained intact?
Perhaps we took for granted that our hearers knew God's will,
nature and identity as it is revealed in Jesus Christ, and that
their faith would not falter as the Trade Towers fell. For whatever
reason, sermons moved quickly to gospel-centered response.
[8] Unfortunately, many in our pews (myself included) were
(are?) experiencing a crisis of understanding, as well as a crisis
of decision. Although we do in fact know our Lutheran theology and
Christian doctrine, we find it difficult to connect this knowledge
with, let alone allow it to penetrate, the shock, chaos and
confusion that we experience both within and around us. We need
help sorting out our questions to and about God. We need to be
assured that the love of God revealed in Jesus Christ is available
to us and to the world here and now. We need to hear again God's
word of promise. When we do not hear this good news, the call to
respond is often heard and received as law, something that we as
Christians "should," "must," and "ought" to do. One person observed
that going to church felt like going to a funeral and being told
not to be sad or angry because it showed lack of faith. A second
mused that it would be nice if the pastor extended the same grace
and forgiveness to Americans that he asked us to extend to the
world. A third was alarmed that the line between church and state
had so completely disappeared that faithfulness was equated with a
certain style of patriotism, which she didn't happen to
share.4
[9] Preachers were correct in helping their hearers decide how
to respond to the crisis. Shock, fear, anger and revenge had seized
us. The situation was being cast in religious terms. It was easy
and tempting to see our nation either as God's mighty hand and
outstretched arm or as the hand of the world's oppressor. We needed
reminding of who our neighbor is and of what it means to love. We
needed to ask hard questions about justice and peace. But before
any of this, we needed to be reminded who God is for and with us in
this crisis. Until we had regained our equilibrium regarding God's
nature and relationship with us, we were not able to tackle these
ethical issues. It is not that the church was called to respond;
the call to respond came just a bit too quickly.
Proclaim Jesus Christ: Lutheran Response to
Crisis
[10] More important than how to respond to a crisis, the good news
that we as Lutheran Christians have to share is that, in the person
of Jesus Christ, our loving God is for and with us (the entire
world) in all that we face. As Lutheran Christians, we further
confess that the way we live, the way we respond to a crisis, is
our response to God's love for us in Jesus Christ and not something
we do in order to earn or secure God's love or favor. "The Augsburg
Confession" declares that
human beings cannot be
justified before God by their own powers, merits, or works. But
they are justified as a gift on account of Christ through faith
when they believe that they are received into grace and that their
sins are forgiven on account of Christ, who by his death made
satisfaction for our sins.5
[11] Lutheran theology reminds us that our relationship with God
is not something we earn or achieve but is God's gift to which we
respond in faith. John Stumme rightly observes that our Lutheran
witness "takes on a critical edge (not "by our own merits, works,
or satisfactions") when we trust our moral activity to achieve what
comes only as God's gift of faith."6 Restated using the terms we
have been considering, our "decisions" are the result of our
"understanding."
[12] From a Lutheran perspective, proclaiming Jesus Christ is
the purpose of all preaching. "Jesus Christ is the living and
abiding Word of God. By the power of the Holy Spirit, this very
Word of God, which is Jesus Christ, is read in the Scriptures,
[and] proclaimed in preaching."7 For Lutherans, the essential
good news is that, in Jesus Christ, our loving God joins us in our
suffering and brings us to new life. Therefore, the heart of a
Lutheran response to crisis, especially a response made from the
pulpit, is to clarify, reinforce, restore, and announce an
understanding of God as gracious by bearing witness to Jesus
Christ. Our Lutheran theology reminds us that, before we call
people to respond, we boldly proclaim that the answer to our
questions of God's existence, identity, nature, and will is Jesus
Christ. Preaching Christ and Christ crucified empowers us with the
good news that God is gracious and reconciling. Rather than
removing suffering and death, God in Christ enters into suffering
and death for and with us. God's response to us and to the world is
to forgive and to give love and life. This good news frees us from
thinking that we can and must persuade God or that we can and must
build the realm of God by our energy and will. This good news frees
us from the burden of struggling to discern what God is doing in
the world. As in all the events of our lives and of our world, our
first response and our ultimate decision in crisis is to have
faith, to trust in the God revealed in Jesus Christ.
[13] And even our faith is God's gift. The "Apology of the
Augsburg Confession" declares that faith
takes place through the preaching of the gospel, which makes
known the name of Christ and the Father's mercy promised in Christ.
The proclamation of the gospel produces faith in those who receive
the gospel. They call upon God, they give thanks to God, they bear
afflictions for their confessions, they do good works on account of
the glory of Christ.8
[14] That our faith is God's gift is expressed even more
eloquently in the "Formula of Concord":
God comes to us, first, out
of God's immeasurable goodness and mercy. God causes God's holy
gospel to be preached, through which the Holy Spirit desires to
effect and accomplish this conversion and renewal in us. Through
the proclamation of God's Word and meditation upon it the Holy
Spirit ignites faith and other God-pleasing virtues in us so that
they are the gifts and activities of the Holy Spirit
alone.9
[15] Our faith restored through the preaching of the gospel, we
trust the gracious and loving God revealed in Jesus Christ. Moved
by this trust, we decide to respond to the crisis in love. "For
love is the fruit of faith. The faith that trusts God's saving love
in Jesus Christ binds us to do freely 'the good works . . . God has
commanded.'"10
Our response to any crisis is a response to the gospel.
[16] But how do we faithfully respond to the gospel in concrete
ways? In order to concretize our faithful and loving response,
Lutherans often turn to the Ten Commandments.
Following Luther, they exposit the Decalogue not only in its
negative formulation but also in its indeterminately positive
thrust. . . .11
There is structure and form to the Christian life. Love is the
leaven and salt that enriches these structures without violating
them. For the mainstream Lutheran ethical tradition, however, there
is no third use of the law that stipulates a specifically Christian
form of existence replete with distinctive patterns of
obedience.12
[17] Lutheran social ethics does not lead in a specific
ideological direction, if that is taken to mean a fairly detailed
blueprint for public policy.13 Nevertheless, Robert Benne
lifts up four "perennial themes" that constitute the Lutheran
ethical tradition as it applies to public life:
(1) a sharp distinction between salvation through God in Christ
and all human efforts,
(2) a focused and austere doctrine of the church that follows from
the first theme,
(3) the two fold rule of God through law and gospel, and
(4) a paradoxical view of human nature and history.14
[18] Benne's first theme asserts that no human effort or social
or political transformation can claim salvific significance. God
saves us through God's gift of grace in Jesus Christ. We need do
nothing other than accept this gift in order to be transformed.
Though they may improve our lives in relative ways, all human
efforts at transformation will fail to ultimately save us. Lutheran
preaching does not confuse or equate any human response to crisis
with the gospel.
[19] Benne's second theme reminds us that "the essential and
unique mission of the church is its calling by God to proclaim the
gospel in Word and Sacrament."15 The church's responsibility
is to proclaim the Christ event, particularly Christ's cross and
resurrection, as the most important event in human history.
Although the church is concerned with justice and public policy,
its primary mission is not to be a political actor, a maker of
public policy, or an agent of social transformation. While faith in
Jesus Christ leads Christians to obey the Ten Commandments, to love
and to do justice, to regard all created life redeemed by Christ as
precious, and to honor the covenant nature of God's creation, this
moral vision flows from the church's proclamation of Jesus Christ
but does not replace it.
[20] The twofold rule of God, Benne's third theme, reminds us
that Christians live in both the new realm in Christ and the old
realm of law and sin. We must take both realms seriously because
God is active in both. In the old realm, God governs and seeks
justice through the administration of law and the maintenance of
order. In the new realm, God announces and brings about ultimate
and everlasting salvation and life in and through Jesus Christ.
Rather than distinct spheres, these two realms describe God's two
ways of acting in the world. While the church's primary calling is
to proclaim the gospel, the church is also called to address the
world according to God's law, applying the dynamic law of God to
all the structures of social life by lifting up the ways that God's
radical love revealed in Jesus Christ are relevant to the affairs
of the world. For Lutherans, there is no separation of church and
state when it comes to proclaiming Jesus Christ and the life he
intends for all people.
[21] Benne's fourth theme, a paradoxical view of human nature
and history, reminds us that, both as individuals and as a society,
we are simultaneously saints and sinners. Our efforts,
undertakings, accomplishments and visions reflect both our devotion
to ourselves and the desire for justice, love and freedom that
comes from faith. Inasmuch as our motives and endeavors are mixed,
only God can bring history to its completion and fulfill its
purpose. We are free from attempting to manage history according to
some great scheme. Our calling is to trust God and strive for
relative good. We expect neither too much nor too little from
society and its institutions.
[22] Both the Lutheran confessions and Benne's perennial themes
of Lutheran ethics make clear that, when responding to crisis, our
emphasis is not on specific actions but on proclaiming Jesus
Christ. From a homiletical perspective, when preaching in the
aftermath of crisis out of a Lutheran theological tradition,
providing specific directives on how to respond to the crisis is
the last "move" of the sermon, and this move is made very
carefully. The first "move" of the sermon is to boldly, clearly and
concretely proclaim the good news that our loving, saving,
forgiving God, made known in Jesus Christ, is with us in this
crisis, experiencing our shock, chaos and confusion, that nothing
will take God from us, and that God in Christ will bring us to new
life. The second "move" of the sermon is to assure the congregation
that this God is trustworthy, and to call and invite them to
respond to the crisis by having faith in this God. It is only when
these two moves have been made that we can dare to speak of how we
are free (not "should" or "must") to respond in concrete ways. In
order to illustrate how this kind of sermon might be constructed,
we conclude our discussion with a sample homily.
Sample Sermon: "Not Taken, But
Left!"16
[23] "But understand this," Jesus says, "if the owner of the house
had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would
have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into."
Jesus' image is so much more real this Advent. In October I
returned to my beloved Notre Dame for a football game and was
struck by how much sleepy South Bend resembled Hyde Park. Police
were everywhere - in cars, on horses, walking in the crowds. People
were alert, watching one another. I sensed them ready to reach for
their whistles, so to speak. As I have flown around the country
this fall, having my briefcase searched and my body hand-patted
have become a matter of course. I am told it is because I am
legally bind. One security person explained that they are keeping a
special eye on people like the disabled, who are often assumed to
be powerless. I am still struck when I see the folks in our mail
room wearing gloves and realize that, if I open the wrong envelope,
I will be dead because I put everything in my face in order to read
it.
[24] Now on our fourth "terrorism alert" from the White House,
we have become a more vigilant people. Jesus tells us that, as we
are watchful in this life to protect ourselves and our property, so
we ought to be vigilant for the coming of the Son of Humanity. For
the Son of Humanity will come at a time that no one expects. No one
- not humans, not angels, not even the Son himself--knows the day
and the hour when heaven and earth will pass away. So we must
remain vigilant. We must remain ready. For every day and every hour
have the potential to be charged with eschatological significance.
Any hour could be the hour.
[25] But how do we remain vigilant? How do we stay ready for the
Christ who will come? The temptation in preaching on this passage
is to rev us up to be raptured. After all, it is right there in the
text. Jesus says it: "One will be taken and one will be left."
Raptures are tempting. Confronted by bombs in the Middle East and a
war in Afghanistan, and aware of so much more violence that will
never make the news, who is not tempted not only to turn away from
the television but also to flee from the world? But when Jesus
likens the coming of the Son of Humanity to the "days of Noah," his
point is not that everybody else is so sinful that God regrets ever
creating them, and we few righteous folk will be hauled to safety
in a heavenly lifeboat. In fact, being "taken up" from mill or
field may not be desirable, even if it were possible. Elsewhere in
Matthew, those that are taken or "plucked up" are likened to weeds
that are destined for the fire.17 If this is the case, we
should all hope to be "left behind." There is nothing here to
suggest a rapture or rescue of faithful Christians in advance of
the end.
[26] When Jesus speaks of "the days of Noah," his point is that
ordinary activities - eating and drinking, marrying and giving in
marriage, working in the field and grinding at the mill - these
things do not distinguish the faithful from others. In fact, we are
expected to be about our everyday tasks when the Son of Humanity
comes. The distinction is that we strive to conduct our everyday
tasks and our everyday relationships as a response of faith and an
act of discipleship.
[27] Advent calls us to get beyond rapture, to get beyond being
taken, to get beyond the big ways that we serve the Christ who
comes - giving up everything in order to come to seminary and going
wherever it is that Christ's Church will send us. Advent calls us
to consider what we are about when we are left to our everyday
lives. Advent calls us to embrace the tasks at hand - as well as
our leisure - as arenas for service to God and our neighbor in
anticipation of the Christ who will come. I don't know about you.
But in this last week of the quarter, I'm not so sure that I want
to be left to all that I have left to do. I would find it much
easier and a lot more fun if Jesus commanded me to leave my nets
and follow than if Jesus left me here to faithfully tend and mend
the nets that are before me. But Advent reminds us that the tasks
of this hour are the way we get ready for the last hour.
[28] For Christ will come in the last hour as Christ comes in
this hour. Christ will come to claim us as Christ's own. Although
we don't know when it will happen, we do know that this is our
future. For the difference between the days of Noah and the days of
Jesus is that, in the days of Noah, everyday life was flooded with
destruction. In the days of Jesus, everyday life was flooded with
God's love as Jesus poured out his life for the world. And when God
raised Jesus from the dead and us from the font, the certainty of
God's promise became far more important than God's timetable for
fulfilling it.
[29] Advent invites us to be aware of God's promise, to trust in
God's future, as we eat and as we drink, as we marry and are given
in marriage, as we work in the field, grind at the mill, and tend
our nets, whatever they may be. And we will be alert. We will be
ready. We will be vigilant. For, rather than looking for the end
time, we will live our lives anticipating the next time. The next
time that Christ comes to claim us as Christ's own. For although we
don't know when it will happen, we do know that it will.
© April
2002
Journal of Lutheran Ethics (JLE)
Volume 2, Issue 4
1 Cf. Joseph R. Jeter, Jr., Crisis Preaching: Personal and
Public (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1998), p. 21.
2 Ronald J. Allen, Preaching the Topical Sermon
(Louisville: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1992), pp. 21-22. In the
following discussion, I am indebted to Jeter, Crisis Preaching, pp.
25-26, 38.
3 Richard A. Jensen, Sermon preached at the Lutheran
School of Theology at Chicago, Chicago, IL, November 6, 2001.
4 These comments are a sampling of electronic
correspondence from across the church.
5 "The Augsburg Confession," IV, The Book of Concord: The
Confessions of the Evangelical Lutheran Church, eds. Robert Kolb
and Timothy J. Wengert (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2001), pp
38-41.
6 John R. Stumme, "A Tradition of Christian Ethics" in The
Promise of Lutheran Ethics, eds. Karen L. Bloomquist and John R.
Stumme (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1998), p. 1.
7 Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, The Use of the
Means of Grace: A Statement on the Practice of Word and Sacrament
(Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1997), 1.
8 "Apology of the Augsburg Confession," XXIV, The Book of
Concord, pp. 264.32.
9 "Formula of Concord Solid Declaration," II, The Book of
Concord, p. 557.71.
10 Stumme, "A Tradition of Christian Ethics," The Promise
of Lutheran Ethics, p. 1; "The Augsburg Confession," VI, The Book
of Concord, p. 41.
11 Luther presents the Decalogue as a guide to the
Christian life in both the Small and Large Catechisms.
12 Robert Benne, "Lutheran Ethics: Perennial Themes and
Contemporary Challenges," in The Promise of Lutheran Ethics, p.
17.
13 Ibid., p. 18.
14 Ibid.
15 Ibid., p. 20
16 Craig A. Satterlee, sermon preached at the Lutheran
School of Theology at Chicago, Chicago, IL. The scripture text is
Matthew 24:36-44, the gospel appointed for the First Sunday in
Advent, Year A. The sermon was edited into a literary rather than
an oral style for incorporation into this article.
17 Mark Allan Powell, Proclamation 5: Interpreting the
Lessons of the Church Year, Series A, Advent/Christmas
(Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1992), p. 10.