Return to Wittenberg 2016

This past week I was privileged to be a part of the first Return to Wittenberg (R2W) conference, entitled “What Does This Mean?” The event was held at Wisconsin Lutheran College in Milwaukee, on July 26-29. Since this was the event’s debut, I’ll spend a little time explaining what R2W is before reviewing my experience.

Last fall I was invited by several WELS pastors and laymen to consider presenting at the conference and help with the planning. Much of the groundwork had already been laid, so I can’t claim to have contributed much more than a graphic identity. In the early planning stages, the conference was conceived of as an alternative to WELS youth rallies that would be recognizably Confessional and Lutheran. While that may be the easiest way to explain it, it would be an oversimplification to say that R2W is just a WELS knockoff of Higher Things. What it became was a conference focused on the catechism, aimed at teens through 30-somethings, with the intent that all ages would be welcome.

What a conference on the catechism might look like, I had no idea. And although I try to be more involved in Lutheran doctrine and practice than the average layman, I have to admit that it didn’t sound all that exciting. There weren’t really any hot-button issues on the docket, and the only session that intersected with my area of interest was the one I was presenting. I decided I would hope for the best, and take it in stride if it didn’t live up.

Sessions

I’m happy to say that my reservations quickly evaporated. The plenary sessions were meaty, yet engaging and even enjoyable. The plenary speakers (Pr. Johann Caauwe, Pr. Nathaniel Seelow, and Pr. Jon Zabell—pictured left) were all well practiced in their material. The catechism was presented as a guide to Christian living in every area of life—as opposed to a systematized book that will get us through confirmation, but which has little else to do with us. It made me see the Lutheran faith through new eyes. Often-glossed-over areas of the catechism were expounded upon and given a renewed importance, such as private confession and absolution. It’s surprising how many things we tend to think of as being “Catholic,” but which are actually viewed as a necessary component of the faith in Luther’s catechism. In short, Lutherans who endeavor to make the study of the catechism a life-long process will find an inexhaustible wealth of wisdom and guidance, as opposed to studying the scriptures alone.

One of the unexpected advantages of having a small conference (around 40 attendees) is that there was plenty of productive discussion during the sessions. There were four sessions on each full day of the conference, and a panel discussion on the last day. It wasn’t strictly lecture-format, as is typically the case at larger events. Because we all went to the same sessions (there were no break-out sessions), there was a kind of camaraderie that developed between the attendees.

Worship

The worship services formed the backbone of R2W, and they were quite refreshing. The opening service featured a processional cross (Pr. Luke Boehringer pictured at left), which I rarely see outside of worship conferences. There was kneeling, making the sign of the cross, and the singing of wonderful Lutheran hymns—some of which rarely see the light of day (e.g. the Lutheran “Kyrie,” “Isaiah, Mighty Seer,” and Luther’s “Wir Glauben All in Einen Gott”). Daily offices included Matins, Vespers, and Compline. Liturgical responses that are often read in the WELS were chanted. All of this took place in the WLC chapel, which (I just learned) was originally built as a convent. Arched ceilings, marble paneling, ornate columns, and stained glass provided a beautiful space in which to gather around the Word and sacraments and proclaim God’s wonderful works through song.

I think what distinguished worship at R2W from the WELS Worship Conference is that R2W pulled out very little material that would be unfamiliar to someone who uses Christian Worship: A Lutheran Hymnal. In other words, while everything is done very well, it is still attainable at the congregational level. There isn’t anything that a good cantor, organist, and small choir can’t pull off. That’s the beauty of Lutheran worship: it doesn’t require a professional choir, virtuoso soloist, or a variety of instruments. At its heart, it really is the congregation that carries Lutheran worship. With only about 40 voices and a fine organist, we filled the chapel with God’s praises.

Because we had a 10-hour drive to Nebraska ahead of us, my ride decided to head out after lunch, so unfortunately we missed the closing service. From the service folder, it looks to have been as good as the opening service. The intent behind having the closing service after lunch is so that the last thing attendees would receive before heading home would be the Lord’s Supper. I think that’s a wonderful goal, and one I don’t wish to diminish. Hopefully there’s a way in the future to still end with the Sacrament and wrap up the conference by noon on Friday to accommodate travel time.

Food and Fellowship

The food service at WLC was excellent. I didn’t get to taste everything, due to dietary restrictions, but to that point, the kitchen staff was very accommodating. For every meal, they cooked me tasty alternatives that were free of gluten and dairy. (There isn’t really a dairy-free substitute for cheesecake, but fortunately I’m also a fan of fresh fruit and berries.)

The one-hour meal slots provided a good opportunity to get to know our fellow conference-goers and chew on the material presented during the sessions. There was also about two hours of free time each evening before Compline. We enjoyed games, discussion, and fellowship each evening. Again, the strength of having a small group was getting to pick the brains of the presenters. Compared to worship conferences with over 1,000 attendees, you would never get that chance. At the end of the 4th day, most of the attendees were on a first-name basis with the others. This was totally unique to my experience.

Conclusion

Mountaintop experiences are important. I still count the worship conferences I’ve attended as high points in my journey towards heaven. But if we just attend these occasional worship events in order to achieve an emotional high, then the rest of our lives will feel like drudgery. It’s not about escapism. I think I’ll look back on this first Return to Wittenberg conference fondly, and I hope many more will follow. But the beauty of R2W is that it focused on the daily life of the Christian in a way that nothing else I’ve seen has done. It didn’t feel like an escape from the daily grind as much as it was a recharging station. Christians talk a lot about “relevance” these days, but I doubt many are looking for it in the catechism, or in the sacraments. But arguably there is nothing more relevant or necessary.

I think it's safe to say that Return to Wittenberg is going to stick around. Look for it again next summer, and tell your congregation. Anyone is welcome to come.

CCM and the Shotgun Wedding

A few weeks ago, I came across a great post at BJS by Eric Andersen: Parallels of Pornography and Praise Music. He shares a quote from C.S. Lewis (The Four Loves) in which Lewis describes what "lust" does and does not seek after. He says,

We use a most unfortunate idiom when we say, of a lustful man prowling the streets, that he “wants a woman.” Strictly speaking, a woman is just what he does not want.

He wants a pleasure for which a woman happens to be the necessary piece of apparatus. How much he cares about the woman as such may be gauged by his attitude to her five minutes after fruition (one does not keep the carton after one has smoked the cigarettes).

Andersen's post builds on the premise that so-called "Praise" music is like pornography in that it is all about aesthetic—not content. We don't want the whole package; we want the part that makes us feel good. And for the most part, Christian Contemporary Music (CCM) has very little to offer in terms of content. Andersen quotes the lyrics from a handful of truly insipid praise songs. They repeat empty refrains over and over, and romancing God seems to be a common theme. (I know of at least a few songs that I heard 3 or 4 times on internet radio stations (for example) before I realized that they were supposed to be "Christian" for exactly this reason—they sounded like every other popular love song, with a few allusions to Jesus/God that are easy to miss.)

Father = Church Growth?

Andersen mentions in passing that there are exceptions, and I want to address those. Because it appears to me that the exceptions are being used to "soften up" the traditionalists for a flood of non-exceptional, Haugen-flavored hogwash. While there are a few cases of good texts paired with Praise music, it is not a natural pairing. It's a case of theology being forced at gunpoint into a style of music that doesn't care for it. In the rare instance where a CCM group takes the time to put some semblance of theology into the music, Lutherans who dream about tattooed vocalists, colored spot lights, and glittery drum sets get the butterflies. "Hey, now we can sell this to the curmudgeony old Lutherans who insist on having good theological hymn texts!" So naturally, "In Christ Alone" by Getty-Townsend becomes the poster child for CCM among Lutherans. It should go without saying that the shotgun wedding between sensual Praise music and sound theology produced an ill-matched couple. But for appearances' sake, it might be good enough for a Trojan horse. As soon as we concede to publish Getty-Getty-Townsend in the new WELS hymnal, a horde of well-groomed, dressed-down, microphone jockeys will jump out and start singing the full gamut of Christian Contemporary Music. (Okay... so it is possible to take a metaphor too far.)

Is "In Christ Alone" a good text? Yes, as far as the theology goes. But it is terrible poetry. Which makes it at best an okay text. And moreover, it is not a hymn for congregational singing. It is a song, written for a Praise band and a professional soloist. Just like every other Praise song I've ever heard. And it could never be any other way, because CCM is modeled on the aesthetic of the popular non-sacred music you'd hear on the radio. It's "ear porn." People like it for the feeling it gives them, not for the theological depth of its content. If CCM didn't sound like pop music, it would simply have no appeal to the church growth movement.

Some of you will probably think that I have a chip on my shoulder. How can I be one of the two dozen Lutherans who doesn't at least begrudgingly condone singing "In Christ Alone" in worship? I must dislike everything contemporary.

On the contrary, I actually do like some of it. After all, I like a lot of popular music. Why would I dislike popular music that is also Christian? Most of it is quite catchy, sometimes has well-crafted poetry, occasionally good theology, and (to use one of those "trendy" adjectives) can even be uplifting. It is designed to be easily liked (again, not unlike pornography). But unlike many Lutherans, I hope that I am able to distinguish "what I like" from "what is good," and especially from "what is good for worship."

• I like a good leather recliner, but I don't need or want one in church.
• I like Phil Collins, but I don't want to hear his music in church.
• I like a good beer, but it would be completely inappropriate in worship.

See? We do this all the time. We distinguish between what we like and what is good for worship and beneficial to our fellow believers. But for some reason, this logical decision-making process is checked at the door when it involves Praise music, and we are called curmodgeony legalists for consistently testing everything.

Jaroslav Vajda: Concerning Poetry and Hymnody

If you're like most Lutherans, you've probably never heard of Jaroslav Vajda. So I'll fill you in a little bit, then tell you why I'm writing about him. Vajda was an LC-MS pastor and hymn writer, who began writing hymn texts in the 1960s. He is credited with giving American hymnody a "new voice" in an era that was dominated mostly by British poets. This article credits him with being much more interested with writing hymns for the liturgy and Church year than the hymn writers from across the Atlantic. Vajda died in 2008 at the age of 89, having written and translated over 200 hymns that appear in many hymnals of various denominations, including Christian Worship and its supplement (WELS), the Evangelical Lutheran Hymnary (ELS), and the Lutheran Service Book (LC-MS).

So here's why I'm writing about Vajda. I had never heard his name until a few years ago. I kept hearing pastors reverently mentioning his name, always followed by glowing reviews of his beautiful hymn texts. He is even said to have been "the greatest Lutheran poet since Paul Gerhardt" (Schalk: Wonderful hymns of Jaroslav Vaija). Having been made aware of his name and his illustrious reputation, I was able to take note whenever I would see him listed as the author of a hymn. So admittedly, my experience with Vajda's hymn writing is limited to what has been included in the aforementioned Lutheran hymnals.

Because I have not read all of his hymns, part of me feels that it is unfair to pass judgement on them based on the dozen or so that I have read and sung. However, I would also like to think that the various hymnal committees have sifted through his works and selected only the best for inclusion in their respective hymnals. Unfortunately, if this is the case, it does not really help my opinion of Vajda's hymnody. (And here comes the part where I sound snooty and judgmental.) Of the eight Vajda hymns included in CW, half of them rank among the worst hymns in the hymnal, in my opinion.

What criteria could cause me to reach such a conclusion? Allow me to elaborate. First of all, I won't produce a bulleted list of criteria that every hymn should meet, or else be thrown out. Dealing with art and music probably necessitates an organic process. (And, by the way, critique is part of that organic process of inclusion/exclusion. Just because a hymnal committee included it does not necessarily make it worthy of inclusion within the Song of the Church.) By contrast, a concrete list of criteria would prove overly restrictive and rule out some very good hymns, or else be too short to be effective. But, that being said, there are some basic unwritten rules that Vajda seems to frequently break.

The biggest one is theological clarity. I can't argue with Vajda's theology, because when it comes out it is spot-on. But in hymn writing, there is often a balance struck between poetry (artistic expressiveness) and theology. In the great hymns of the Church, the poetry is minimal, because being too abstract or too "artistic" will get in the way of the clear proclamation of the gospel. (This is essentially what I have argued about the visual arts in the Church, as well.) So let's look at a few cases-in-point. The first is "Now the Silence," which I would say is tied for worst hymn in the CW with "Then the Glory." It's a one-verse hymn which reads as follows:

Now the silence
Now the peace
Now the empty hands uplifted
Now the kneeling
Now the plea
Now the Father's arms in welcome
Now the hearing
Now the pow'r
Now the vessel brimmed for pouring
Now the body
Now the blood
Now the joyful celebration
Now the wedding
Now the songs
Now the heart forgiven leaping
Now the Spirit's visitation
Now the Son's epiphany
Now the Father's blessing
Now
Now
Now

The major fault of this hymn is that its theological content is extremely thin—sort of an abstract outline of some scriptural truths: grace, atonement, heaven, etc. But what little content there is almost completely lost in a barrage of repetitive adverbs, which I can only suppose is intended for poetic effect. But while I can appreciate this poem to a degree when it is read aloud, it becomes tedious and even exasperating when set to music and sung by a congregation. 

A second unwritten rule of good hymn writing is to avoid sentimentality. Being sentimental should not be confused with being emotional. Here's what I mean: "Lord, Thee I Love With All My Heart" is an extremely emotional hymn. The text and music come together so powerfully to describe the relationship between a broken soul and a gracious God. And when verse three describes the resurrection in the prophetic words of Job, who can hold back tears of joy? This emotion comes from the beauty of the gospel itself more than from the artistry of the hymn writer, and touches each believer on a personal level—because we have experienced it. Sentimentality, on the other hand, has been described by some as "emotion unearned." We sang the Vajda hymn "Peace Came to Earth" on Christmas Eve, and it illustrates my point:

Peace came to earth at last that chosen night
When angels clove the sky with song and light
And God embodied love and sheathed his might—
Who could but gasp: Immanuel!
Who could but sing: Immanuel!

And who could be the same for having held
The infant in their arms and later felt
The wounded hands and side, all doubts dispelled—
Who could but sigh: Immanuel!
Who could but shout: Immanuel!

I should point out that the third line of the first verse is a very deep and beautiful statement, and were it not for the last two lines (repeated in each verse, but with different verbs), I could be persuaded to include this hymn in the hymnal. But those last two lines are deal-breakers for me. Sure, they are intended for poetic effect. But first of all, it is pure sentimentality. The poet is so overcome with emotion that he projects his sighing and gasping on the whole Christian Church. Why can we not be allowed to have our own emotional responses? And furthermore, how can I have an emotional reaction to something I have not experienced? Vajda is asking me to imagine holding the infant, then to imagine touching his wounds as my doubts melt away. But I cannot really do any of these things, so my emotional reaction is ultimately unearned. So while parts of this hymn are certainly praiseworthy, it is difficult to overlook its glaring faults.

The third and last unwritten rule that Vajda often breaks is tied in closely with the second, and that is that they are overly personal. Again, this may be a desirable thing in poetry, but it does not make for good hymnody. For instance, verse two of the above hymn text is substituting a personal (albeit imaginary) experience for the universal experience of the Church. There is a better example in one of Vajda's more well-known hymns, "Where Shepherds Lately Knelt."

Where shepherds lately knelt and kept the angel's word,
I come in half-belief, a pilgrim strangely stirred;
But there is room and welcome there for me,
But there is room and welcome there for me. 

In that unlikely place I find him as they said:
Sweet newborn Babe, how frail! and in a manger bed,
A still, small voice to cry one day for me,
A still, small voice to cry one day for me. 

How should I not have known Isaiah would be there,
His prophecies fulfilled? With pounding heart I stare:
A child, a son, the Prince of Peace for me,
A child, a son, the Prince of Peace for me. 

Can I, will I forget how Love was born, and burned
Its way into my heart unasked, unforced, unearned,
To die, to live, and not alone for me,
To die, to live, and not alone for me.

Adoration of the Shepherds, Hugo van der Goes

It's a good sign that a hymn is going to be overly personal if it is written in the first person singular. (Luther's hymn, "From Heaven Above to Earth I Come" is written in first person, but from the point of view of the Angel, who shares only God's message, not his personal feelings.) At the risk of sounding repetitive, sharing your personal feelings, experiences, etc. may be perfectly fine in the art of poetry, but hymnody demands more. Hymnody is the Song of the Church. If it does not build her up, it does not belong (1 Cor 14). We don't need to imagine that we are a shepherd, staring into the manger with throbbing heart, in order for Christmas to be "real" for us. I realize it's statements like this that give Lutherans a reputation for having no stomach for emotion. Let me just reiterate—having emotions is a good and natural thing. But seeking an emotional high for its own sake is worlds away from having a genuine emotional reaction to the message of the gospel. In "Where Shepherds Lately Knelt," Vajda does include some wonderful theological truths—but they are lost amidst the sentimentality of swooning shepherds.

I did not pursue a degree in literature, and my experience with poetry as an art form is extremely thin. So I cannot say with any authority that Jaroslav Vajda was a either a good or a bad poet. I do think it is an exaggeration in the extreme to say he was the best Lutheran poet since Gerhardt. As a Christian, I think his poetry is at times good and meaningful—even beautiful. But on the whole, I have to conclude that a good poem does not necessarily make a good hymn. Maybe we should reconsider whether these hymns should really be included in our hymnals.

Anyone know of some good Christmas hymns written in the past 50 years?