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.

On Form vs. Content: Musical Style and the Overemphasis on Texts

I've been to a couple of WELS Worship Conferences, and one School of Worship Enrichment. One theme that has consistently bothered me has been the (over)emphasis of texts, to the possible exclusion of music. Now, they don't say it like that, nor will they probably admit that this is happening, but in the context of our synod as a whole, I've seen even the conservatives quickly change the subject when the issue of musical style is raised.

The oft-repeated WELS worship principle is this: The texts must dominate, the music is subordinate, and we should set standards of excellence.

In principle, I have nothing against this. But it only addresses half of the issue. When we refuse to address matters of style, it leaves a hole in our worship principles large enough to drive a tour bus through. We typically call this hole "Christian freedom," but I'm not convinced that's the case.

In little more than a decade, Koiné has become a household name in the WELS, and their music is a good case study in regard to the WELS worship principles. One of my favorite hymns is Jesu meine Freude, and it is also one of my favorite Koiné arrangements. It takes the text, tune, and even the traditional harmonies of the Johann Franck hymn and gives them an upbeat tempo and contemporary instrumentation. The result is a fresh look at a centuries-old Lutheran hymn. The reason Koiné is an ideal case study here is because they allow us to isolate a single, key variable—style. The text, melody, and harmonies are undeniably excellent and therefore fit the WELS worship principles. But there is a palpable difference between the Koiné recording and a Bach setting of the hymn, and it's a difference of style.

The common wisdom WELS offers in regard to style is, "If it offends someone, don't do it." In my opinion, this is too simplistic to be of any use, and easily ignored or misapplied. For instance, it seems to imply that congregational (or worse, individual) tastes should set our worship standards. So the question needs to be asked: In worship, can we make judgments on matters of style without restricting our sacred Christian freedom? I think we can, and we must.

Aesthetics in Art and Music

Credit for this revelation goes to Dr. Gene. E. Veith, who gave a series of lectures at CCLE XV that I was privileged to attend a few weeks ago. His lectures centered on the matter of aesthetics, and after having read State of the Arts: From Bezalel to Mappelthorpe and heard his lectures, I would guess that there are probably few Lutherans alive who have as much insight into aesthetics as Dr. Veith.

One of the major premises of his lecture was that in a great work of art, content and form relate to, and compliment, one another. He used a negative example of a beaming smiley-face emoji with the word "Awesome" written underneath it. The cartoon smiley is so antithetical to the actual meaning of the word (i.e., inspiring great admiration, apprehension, or fear) as to be ridiculous. Another example Veith cited was "praise" music. How often do they talk about how "awesome" and "holy" God is, but with banal, repetitive, trite music? The form doesn't reflect the content, so the work of art is a failure. Contrast with "Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty" by Reginald Heber and its tune by John Dykes, which builds a sense of awe as the notes "ascend" to God. The aesthetic form of a work has as much to do with its success or failure as does the message or content.

Note: Just to clarify, I am not fully equating style with aesthetics, even if I seem to use them interchangeably. Style is one part of the whole aesthetic experience. Sometimes there is an almost total overlap, and sometimes the stylistic impact is minimal. For instance, a contemporary praise song's melodic and harmonic patterns are determined in large part by the style of the genre. Whereas, in the Koiné arrangement of Jesus, Priceless Treasure, the new stylistic contribution is relatively small and related mostly to instrumentation; whereas its meaning, poetry, melody, and harmonies were still retained in spite of the stylistic facelift.

The point is that it isn't totally honest to separate the text (content) from the music itself (form) and evaluate each separately. The style and performance of music is where much of the art exists. It can make the difference between a holy and reverent hymn, and an ironic one.

Flickr: by TinkerTailor

Let's pull this discussion into the realm of the visual arts to look at it from a different angle. An artist could render a crucifixion using a fractured cubist style that relates in no way to the content. Few Christians of any stripe would be convinced to hang it above their altar simply because the subject matter (content) is ostensibly Christian. And if they did consider hanging it, it would probably be because they personally like the style (form) and think it will make a statement about how non-traditional their church is. But a bad work of art isn't redeemed by good intentions or even a good message. The success of a work of art rests on the harmonious interaction of content and form.

We regularly make major qualitative judgments based on aesthetics. As we should. Why then, does our synod refuse to enter into discussions of aesthetics and style when it comes to worship?

Concerns About Christian Freedom

2014 Ntl. Youth Rally, courtesy WELS Facebook page.

The short answer, I suspect, is that we are oversensitive towards legalism. I readily grant that this is a legitimate concern, given that WELS still struggles to overcome its pietist roots, and because progressives use the label as a weapon against their conservative brothers. But if we're too afraid of the right ditch, we've over-corrected and landed in the left. We've watched our National Youth Rallies become increasingly like rock concerts, so we can only suppose that the synod must be endorsing it. Even the WELS Worship Conference last summer, which was mostly wonderful and awe-inspiring, featured a scene straight from "Sister Act." The result was that raucous and offensive worship was offered up beside excellent and reverent worship as acceptable alternatives for WELS congregations.

On some level, we've convinced ourselves that this is okay. If the texts are good (which isn't always the case), and if there is some liturgical structure, and as long as everything is of excellent quality, it still fits those guidelines, right? The style can be tossed in with Christian freedom. The biggest pitfall before us is that this cafeteria approach to worship ("As long as the texts are good, choose whichever style you feel comfortable with") will inevitably lead to a cafeteria approach to doctrine. You don't have to take my word for it; ask our brothers in the LC-MS trenches. They've been fighting this battle longer than we have.

To be fair, WELS hasn't been completely silent on the topic of style. Jonathan Hein's plenary address at the 2014 WELS Worship Conference, Compelling Worship, at least addressed that music can have "stylistic baggage." But I think he worded his argument poorly when he said that we have the Christian freedom to "set the Nunc Dimittis to 'gangsta' rap or the Kyrie to heavy metal," only that it's unwise to do so (p. 17). But if it is unwise (read: unloving), do we really have freedom to do it? St. Paul says, "For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another" (Gal. 5:13).

Hopefully I'm incorrectly characterizing the synod leadership's views. This is one of the many cases where I would be happy to be proved wrong. There is absolutely a place for Christian freedom in worship. But an uncritical stance toward musical style has allowed a steady migration of unworthy music into our worship. Excellence is a worthy enough goal, but it makes no explicit comment on style. What aspects must be excellent? Do they mean only excellence of craftsmanship, or of performance value, or of artistic merit? Who defines excellence? Judged by its own standards, surely a rock song can be excellent. So can an abstract painting or a minimalist sculpture. It's good to say that we want to achieve excellence in all things, but then we have to follow through. We have to be willing to define our terms, and then make judgments accordingly; "This is good and excellent; this needs improvement; this is deplorable."

In the case of Koiné, I preface my analysis by saying that I like their music. More than a matter of taste, it's excellent, because a talented group of Lutherans taking good Lutheran hymns and giving them a modern arrangement could result in nothing less. Even their original music is quite good. But I have to qualify that by saying that these are excellent for a certain purpose, and that purpose is not the divine service. I would like to believe that there's nothing inherently inappropriate about guitars and amps in worship. However, they've consistently pushed the limits of what is fitting for corporate worship, until their worship events look and sound no different from their concerts, and that should cause concern. The cubist crucifixion may be a perfectly valid art form and a deeply felt expression of someone's faith, but the aesthetic distorts the content and subverts the order and beauty of the liturgy—and worse, clouds the clear proclamation of the gospel. It thus may be fine in a public arts venue or in your home, but the things we use for worship in God's house are different, holy, and set apart.

As difficult and sometimes painful as discussions of aesthetics and style can be, I think it's good medicine. We need a more nuanced and responsible approach to worship than, "Just worry about the texts," or "If it offends someone, don't do it." We need an approach that addresses Christian freedom, but is also true to the historical Christian faith and the rule of love. The Book of Concord describes such an approach, and I encourage everyone to become familiar with it.

Worship is a Lifestyle?

I saw a link on Facebook recently that intrigued me: How do you define Worship? It's a devotional post by Christian musician Michael Schroeder (whom I believe to be WELS, although I could not find any information on his website or blog to verify this.) Here's a portion that I want to discuss:

"I am here today to tell you that worship isn’t a service style. Worship isn’t a music style. WORSHIP IS A LIFESTYLE! It’s important for us to understand that whether we prefer to worship in the style of David with harps and dance before the Lord unashamed, — or whether we prefer to use an organ and a service style from the 1600’s,— or whether we prefer to use a piano and guitar in today’s contemporary style, it’s Important to understand that this is not the source of our worship, but merely an expression of our worship."

I somewhat balk at calling Sanctification a "lifestyle." But taken at face value, I agree with what Schroeder is saying. Worship is not only something we do for an hour on Sunday and then abandon for the rest of the week. This is indeed true and biblical, and we need to hear it often. We need to realize that our entire day-to-day life is sanctified by the in-dwelling of the Holy Spirit, and is offered to God as worship. So not only can singing hymns be worship, but also making oil changes, bagging groceries, getting kids into pajamas, and even changing diapers. If that was the extent of the message, I could add a hearty "Amen" to it!

But I think there's something else going on here. Schroeder cites Romans 12:1, which says, "Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship." It's a beautiful passage, and I refer to it often when I write about the intersection of art and worship. Unfortunately, I see this passage being misused at least as often as it is used correctly. And that seems to be the case here:

"If you look at the topic of worship in Romans 12, you find it doesn’t say anything about worship being a music or service style, but describes worship as a lifestyle, as it tells us to live a life of worship by using the gifts we’ve been given..."

Two Kinds of Worship

A basic premise of my current thinking of art in worship (see: Vehicles of the Gospel) is that we are not properly recognizing that there is more than one kind of worship mentioned in the bible. When St. Paul spoke of this "spiritual worship," he wasn't offering an acceptable alternative to the divine service. It's a both/and arrangement. Yes, worship God when you gather together "teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord." But also "do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him" (Col. 3:16-17). Ro. 12 is meant to expand the definition of ritual worship that everyone in the ancient world was familiar with. (But really this isn't new information—both concepts are present in the Old Testament as well.)

What you often see in liberal theology and worship is a failure to acknowledge the two kinds of worship (corporate worship + sanctified living) as being distinct from one another, which allows for a bait-and-switch. This may not always be done intentionally. Maybe it's a failure of the church at large that we haven't taught clearly and consistently what worship is. But regardless, we are often taken by it. It usually goes like this:

In a conversation about corporate worship, Frank says that what Dillon does is not conducive to worship. Dillon replies by producing Ro. 12:1, which of course says that our entire lives and bodies are worship, and therefore his worship is as valid as Frank's. If Frank knows his Bible, he will point Dillon to 1 Cor. 14, where the Holy Spirit provided guidelines on what should and should not be done when we are gathered together for worship, thereby drawing a distinction between corporate worship and the rest of our lives.

If Frank isn't familiar with 1 Cor. 14, he may just concede the point and say nothing. Or perhaps he will insist on the point regardless, and Dillon will think him a legalist.

Conclusion

Above all, I think this shows how important Scripture is to any discussion about worship. Even though ceremonies and "worship styles" may rightly be considered adiaphora, it doesn't mean that there are no guiding principles in the Word, or that anything goes. It isn't a matter of styles—it's a matter of theology.

I think all Lutherans need to embrace both teachings about worship, without confusing the two. I'm not comfortable with the potential for confusion due to calling worship a "lifestyle." But even if understood correctly, that worship cannot supplant the divine service, or any attempt at reverence therein. Worship should indeed describe every moment of our lives. But it also describes that special place where God comes to us in a unique way through Word and Sacrament with the forgiveness of sins. We cannot have one and not the other.

Ad Orientem or Versus Populum?

Liturgical variety can be a wonderful thing. It is proof that Christians are not a homogenous body of cultists, but the wonderfully varied Body of Christ, expressing their faith in a spectrum of languages, cultures, and rites.

That isn't to say that all variety is welcome or desired. I think any Christian would accept that while variety can be good, it is necessary to strive for purposeful and meaningful variety. In worship, we don't usually do things arbitrarily or at random, because randomness cannot serve the purpose of the gospel—or any purpose.

During the WELS Worship Conference this summer, I had the opportunity to see one particular aspect of liturgical ritual put into practice. Though the altar was freestanding, the altarpiece that I designed for the Festival of Transfiguration made it impossible for the liturgist to stand behind the altar and face the congregation (versus populum). Apparently, not all parties involved were aware of that practical necessity until the night before, and I took some heat for it. But regardless, it was decided that the liturgist would have to do parts of the liturgy ad orientem (facing liturgical East), which has been almost universal church practice for centuries.

(Just to paint a clearer picture, the chapel at Carthage is a cruciform, central-plan church, with the four wings radiating out from the chancel area. The wing "behind" the chancel was occupied by the organ and an empty balcony, with the other three wings housing the congregation. The chancel was comprised only of a raised, square platform, and furnished with portable ambo, font, and altar.)

It isn't my intent to tell Christians that this is how the liturgy must be done, or that they should get rid of their freestanding altars and build high altars. But every action of the priest/pastor, every liturgical response, every symbol is a teaching opportunity. So I'm only advocating that we take the opportunity to ensure that the orientation of the pastor isn't an arbitrary decision (i.e., well, that's how it was always done in my church), but one with meaning.

For instance, this was the first time that I became acutely aware of how appropriate it was for prayers that are addressing Christ to be made facing the altar and Christ. The symbolism is somewhat fractured when you have portions of the congregation facing in opposite directions, but imagine a church with a longitudinal nave. The pastor faces in the same direction as the congregation, because it is their prayers he is carrying to Christ.

It is sometimes said that ad orientem should only be used in conjunction with a wall altar, and versus populum should only be used in conjunction with a freestanding altar. I would advocate neither. Lutherans have often taken up the practice of facing the altar during the sacrificial portions of the service (prayers, canticles) and facing the people during the sacramental portions (the absolution, the words of institution, Scripture readings, benediction). This can be done whether using a high altar or a freestanding one. Again, consider the appropriateness in context: the minister says, "In the stead and by the command of Christ, I forgive you all your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son + and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." He does this facing the congregation, but standing between the congregation and the altar, representing his role as mediator and vicar of Christ.

I think it is an unfortunate development in the post-Vatican-II environment that the pastor feels obligated to always stand behind a freestanding altar and speak the entire service towards the congregation. On non-Communion Sundays, the altar serves little more purpose than a podium or hymnal stand. On Communion Sundays, it gets promoted to table.

Although the freestanding altar is something of a late innovation in the Lutheran church, Luther is often cited as the source of this practice. He writes,

Here we retain the vestments, altar, candles until they are used up or we are pleased to make a change. But we do not oppose anyone who would do otherwise. In the true mass, however, of real Christians, the altar should not remain where it is, and the priest should always face the people as Christ doubtlessly did in the Last Supper. But let that await its own time (AE 53:69).

But the Lutheran church didn't take this opinion very seriously, it seems, because it retained wall altars and ad orientem as the norm in the intervening centuries. Perhaps it valued the symbolism of the priest facing the altar, or perhaps it thought that corporate worship in general should not strive to model itself after the informal meal atmosphere of the Last Supper. A third factor could have been that ministers in the Reformed churches spoke the Words of Institution versus populum with their backs to the elements, since they had no doctrine of the Real Presence. (Lutherans obviously would have wanted to distance themselves from those who didn't acknowledge the Real Presence.) But regardless, we can say without reservation that Luther was only human, and that his opinions were not meant to be made into rubrics, as Luther himself hints in the above quote.

Simply put, the Church's traditions are bigger than one person. Christ has given his members the freedom to make innovations to worship that are born from the gospel. Certain innovations have been weeded out over the centuries as being harmful and contrary to scripture (e.g. the agape meal, the Canon of the Mass). Others have been good, and our fellowship has kept them. Whatever your church practice is, I would only suggest that you strive for ritual that is meaningful. See that it communicates truthfully to your parishioners, and that they understand what is being done, and why. Finally, may Christ be glorified in all things! Amen.

Severing Doctrine from Practice

A recent post at Brothers of John the Steadfast criticized the contemporary worship services at Concordia University Nebraska. I can't fully defend the article, because it was written from the perspective of a one-time visitor, and some of the points were not entirely accurate. However, the comments it generated, especially by many offended CUNE students, were of special interest.

The recurring themes, repeated over and over by students who were lifelong LCMS Lutherans, some of whom were Pastors' kids, were:

1. We can't expect non-Lutherans to worship like Lutherans.
2. Traditional liturgy is off-putting to unbelievers.
3. Not everyone is edified by liturgical worship.
4. As long as we are true to the Word (or at least don't preach false doctrine), the worship style is irrelevant.

So based on these premises, the students feel convinced that having CoWo chapel is not only acceptable, but is to be preferred over traditional liturgical worship. Unfortunately, the premises are made of straw and don't hold up to scrutiny. Let's examine them one at a time.

1. We can't expect non-Lutherans to worship like Lutherans.

In what universe would a Baptist walk into a Greek Orthodox church and expect to find a gospel choir? Ours, apparently, because that is the argument being used here. Lutherans are worried that non-Lutherans might pay to attend a Lutheran college, be taught Lutheran theology by Lutheran faculty, but then be shocked and disgusted that they worship like Lutherans? If a person has decided to attend a Lutheran school, then let's be honest to him and to ourselves about our heritage and our Confessions (even that troublesome Article XV of the Apology to AC).

2. Traditional liturgy is off-putting to unbelievers.

So what happens if a demographic of Wiccans starts attending a Lutheran college? Can we mutilate the divine service enough to appeal to them? This line of thinking is dead wrong for two reasons. The first is that worship is not an outreach tool. The second is that it assumes that God's Word and the gospel have no real power over the soul, placing the importance instead on "style."

3. Not everyone is edified by liturgical worship.

Yes, everyone is edified by liturgical worship, unless he has hardened his heart to the Word. What this argument is really saying is, "I don't like liturgical worship [it doesn't make me feel good]." Again, this is wrong for two important reasons. The first is that it attempts to drain the Word of God of its power. The liturgy is not an empty set of rites that might as well be a bunch of nursery rhymes. In large part, it is the Word of God. It is assembled from the inspired songs of Scripture into a regular structure that administers law and gospel at every service. It must edify us. This argument is like saying that a person who does not like spinach will not be nourished by it, which is obviously not true. God's Word is efficacious without our "spicing it up" with drums and guitars.

The second error is in thinking that my feelings determine what is good for me and what is not. If what I like determines what is good, Twinkies are just as good for me as steak. And if the emotional high I get in CoWo really is edifying, then so is being told that I just won the Powerball, even if it isn't true.

4. As long as we are true to the Word (or at least don't preach false doctrine), the worship style is irrelevant.

Wrong x 1000. Worship flows out of theology. Lutherans cannot worship like Quakers, Methodists, Pentecostals, Reformed, or Evangelicals. Not only because our Confessions forbid casting aside the "customary rites," but because our theology naturally produces worship that is liturgical, participatory, gospel-oriented, edifying, and centered on Word and Sacrament. From my experience at morning chapels at CUNE, there seems to be at least a substantial portion of students and faculty who want to foster a complete disconnect between theology and practice. But that disconnect cannot be maintained long before cognitive dissonance sets in. The tail will start wagging the dog, and doctrine will conform to practice.

I don't mean to pick on CUNE or even the LCMS here, because it's a widespread problem among Lutherans. We can't fool ourselves into thinking that we can maintain pure doctrine and law-gospel preaching while entertaining non-Lutheran worship styles.

Do This if You Want to Live

This Easter Sunday, we enjoyed a wonderfully Christ-centered worship service at our home church, Grace Lutheran in Seward. The hymns all were rich and powerful, the liturgy played a key role, and the sermon delivered law and gospel just as it should have. The choir did not overwhelm the service with special music. And with an attendance of about 70, the congregational singing was unusually boisterous for our small parish.

That will give you some perspective when I tell you about the conversation that took place at our table during the Easter brunch that followed. Some relatives of a parish member were visiting from Lincoln, and the husband could not seem to contain his pride in his church. You see, about eight years ago their church was doing very poorly; membership was declining, and it looked as though the end was in sight. But then they got a new, energetic pastor, and everything changed. They started a new, "very contemporary" service, and now the church is bursting at the seams. Now it seems that they cannot find enough parking space, and even their brand new facility proved to be too small. Well, you see, it is quite obvious that God is blessing this church.

Or so this visitor boldly claimed. I asked him which church it was that he was talking about, and he informed me that it was Christ Lutheran in Lincoln. So afterwards, I looked it up. Christ Lutheran apparently grew so large that its contemporary service split off into its own church, called Room211.  It seems this guy was not the only one who was proud of the church's rags-to-riches story. The Christ Lutheran website flaunts their attendance records online (while burying their LC-MS affiliation), and with numbers topping 1000 for Good Friday and 3000 on Easter Sunday, it's enough to make your average Lutheran church envious. Like maybe they're doing something right.

And that's what this visitor to Grace thought, too. He was laying it on pretty thick that our little church with a weekly attendance of less than 50 needs to get with the program. He stopped just short of saying, "Here's what you're doing wrong: your traditional hymns, liturgy, and law-gospel preaching are a death sentence. If you want to grow, do what we do."

What exactly do they do? The Room211 solution is to have gourmet coffee and cookies, a praise band, "multisensory worship," huge projection screens, videos, drama performances, fog machines, and sermons based on Pixar Movies. Is it possible to judge the success of a church's ministry from a distance? True, we can't judge hearts, but consider the following:

1. The 5 minute intro video on the home page only mentions Jesus one time—with the word "freak" appended to it. No cross. Just stories about alcoholism and depression and needing to belong.
2. The pages and pages of testimonials on the Room211 site mention "Jesus" a total of three times, and "Christ" only ten times, six of which refer to the parent church's name.
3. Nowhere does Room211 list its affiliation with the LC-MS. Even the word "Lutheran" is only mentioned in connection with its parent church.
4. Nowhere does Room211 have a statement of beliefs, or even a link to a statement of beliefs.
5. Read any of the archived sermons about Despicable Me, Duck Dynasty, the Princess Bride, or Michael Jackson, and see if you can find one with both law and gospel in it. (I couldn't. But I suppose if you have enough patience, you might find a couple.)

So am I envious of this church's success? Not in the least. Because there was never any doubt that if you give people whatever they want, you'll fill your church every Sunday. We could stand at the doors and hand out free birth control, and that would sure bring 'em in. But the question is, how can we best minister to souls in need of a Savior? Room211 is not ministering. If hand-picked testimonials only produce heart-warming stories about wanting to belong, and being moved to tears by the music, and finding the messages to be super relevant, and feeling like you can trust the people around you even though you don't know any of them—this is not ministering. If not one of those enthusiastic re-churched members can boast in the cross of Christ, then they are not being ministered to. This is pandering, entertaining, and manipulating. Why would we want to imitate this? For the numbers? Is that how God measures success?

Kyrie Eleison.

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.

The Liturgy as Soundtrack

Many of you probably don't know this about me, but I am a soundtrack lover. At some point in high school I was so moved by a John Williams score that I just had to own the soundtrack. From that point on, I have collected a moderate library of movie scores and soundtracks by some of the most prolific composers of our time—Ennio Morricone, Jerry Goldsmith, Michael Kamen, James Horner, and of course, John Williams. If you listen often enough to movie scores without the movie, it really improves your ear for musical story telling. I think it also makes you more consciously aware of that thing that most people think of as "background music," but which has an uncanny ability to manipulate your emotions and make you feel what the composer wants you to feel.

As much as I love good movie scores, and as much as I love Lutheran worship, I have no desire for the two to mix. Whenever the sphere of entertainment bleeds into the sphere of Christian worship, it subverts true worship. And I will be so bold as to say that it does so as a rule. The more we try to make worship like a night at the movies or a pop concert, the less our minds are drawn to Christ through Word and Sacrament. I've talked about contemporary Christian music before, but today, I am referring to something else. Specifically, I have in mind two liturgies from Northwestern Publishing House, published in the Christian Worship Supplement (CWS), called "Gathering Rite on Holy Baptism" and "Gathering Rite on the Word of God."

(On a side note: I have no clue what the historical significance of a gathering rite is, if indeed there is any. I have a hunch that it is a relatively recent product of Vatican II. Five bucks to the first person who can cite a source.)

I first experienced the gathering rites in Georgia, when our church was using the CWS quite often. (In fact, it seemed like we exclusively used liturgies from the Supplement, and never from the hymnal. My wife and I had to be very persistent with our pastor in order to get the Common Service back into the rotation.) The texts are quite good, and the hymn verses are appropriate. But musically, they are utter failures. If you have never been made to participate in the CWS gathering rites, count yourself lucky. I will try to recreate the experience for you.

Start by imagining that you are not in worship, but in a Hallmark movie, which happens to be set in a Lutheran church. (Alternatively, imagine you're in a WELS Connection video.) Instead of the pastor and the congregation reading and singing responsively, they are speaking over the top of choreographed music, which transitions into a hymn verse between each section of the response. The congregation awkwardly fades in, because the only one who knows when to start singing is the pastor—and only because he has rehearsed it dozens of times. But sometimes the pastor's timing will be a little slow in speaking the absolution, and then the MIDI player will have started the refrain already. The gathering rites completely frustrated a life-long Lutheran such as myself, and I can only imagine the total resignation of a first-time visitor.

Of course, what might have gone more smoothly with a live organist who can constantly adjust tempo and volume was sabotaged completely by a mindless computer. But that's another topic. The point is that even if there had been an organist and a pastor who had rehearsed the liturgy to perfection, and even if life was like a Rogers and Hammerstein musical where everyone knew exactly when to sing, you still have demoted the liturgy to the role of soundtrack. Now I'll explain why that's a bad thing.

First, the liturgy is designed to bear the texts of Scripture. It is not there just to sound beautiful, or to fill dead space with sound. If that was the case, we could just insert our favorite Bach CD and proceed as normal, with the confidence that our worship is being adorned with the best music mortal man has to offer. But problems always result from people thinking that music and the arts serve only a superficial purpose—that of pleasing the senses. Such an approach naturally causes confusion between worship that employs the arts, and entertainment, which also pleases the senses.

Second, someone who would plan for "quiet keyboard music" to be played while people are engaged in spoken liturgical responses has no real appreciation for the power and art of music. Luther wrote,

It was not without reason that the fathers and prophets wanted nothing else to be associated as closely with the Word of God as music. Therefore, we have so many hymns and Psalms where message and music join to move the listener's soul. ... After all, the gift of language combined with the gift of song was only given to man to let him know that he should praise God with both words and music, namely, by proclaiming [the Word of God] through music and by providing sweet melodies with words.¹

Music is just so much emotional sensation without the addition of human language in the form of song. So the composer of these gathering rites is not using music for the purpose God gifted it for—that of elevating the truths of scripture. Instead, he is striving for "ambiance," making it the musical equivalent of wallpaper.

Except that to call it musical wallpaper is being overly charitable. Because wallpaper can be pretty, or it can be distracting. But it could never so actively compete with the liturgy as does the musical accompaniment to the CWS gathering rites. Ask any film composer what he would do when there is important dialogue, and he'll say that the music has to get out of the way—there are plenty of other opportunities for a composer to show his skill. Experienced composers know that if the music is not supporting the dialogue by way of song, it is competing with it. But it is also common sense; two signals that are not in harmony result in noise. And when you have something as important as confession and absolution happening, it should not have to compete with anything.

For the above reasons, the CWS gathering rites do not show the high respect for music in general, and the liturgy in particular, that Luther showed for them. Their existence reflects little more than our synod's general infatuation with variety. "Variety to enhance a sense of the season" is touted as the first useful feature of a gathering rite in the WELS worship resources for Advent. The trouble with this intended use is that when you use a single, poorly-written rite for a whole season, say, Easter, or Lent, you'll never want to hear it again by the end. It seems that the authors of the above resources must have been aware of this, commenting that one particular gathering rite may not have a "life span" of more than a few years.²

Is there anyone who needs variety so badly that he must push these piecemeal soundtrack liturgies over on his congregation? (Put your hands down; it was a rhetorical question.)

The (potentially) good news is that the WELS is asking for input on its new hymnal. Polling the public for advice on hymnal-making could be disastrous, or it could be good. Or it could mean that the person currently in charge of the hymnal project isn't really sure how to go about it. I'm not sure, either. So I encourage you to go and submit to him good, sensible, biblical advice as to which hymns and liturgies to continue using, and which to avoid.

_______________

¹ LW 53:323-24, quoted in Carl F. Schalk, Luther on Music: Paradigms of Praise (St. Louis, MO: Concordia Publishing House, 1988), 37.
^{2 "}Gathering Preparation," WELS Connect (Oct. 24, 2011), https://connect.wels.net/AOM/ps/worship/Church%20Year%20Planning%20Documents/1%20Advent%20through%20New%20Year/Advent/Advent%20Gathering%20Rite%20-%20Browning/Gathering%20Preparation.rtf (accessed September 2, 2013).

Operation (Body of Christ Edition)

In Lutheran churches, it has become relatively commonplace to have a lay-led worship committee. Personally, I think it's a good practice. Historically, it performs some of the functions that were often carried out by the cantor. The cantor was not only responsible for conducting the choral music program,  but was himself a competent performer. He also enjoyed responsibilities such as chief music instructor, and planning the entire musical program for the liturgy. It was a very prestigious position, second only to the clergy, and was awarded only to the most skilled musicians. In some modern Lutheran parishes, they still employ a cantor.

The advantage of having a lay-led worship committee (or cantor) is that it allows one or several people to give the worship service the attention it deserves. Ideally, the result is that the liturgy, hymns, readings, and sermon become a coherent whole, rather than a patchwork. The pastor does not have to divide his attention between service planning and his pastoral duties, and the chances of an incoherent service being thrown together at the last minute are eliminated.

I've been to churches that suffered from the lack of any worship planning. In one situation, a pastor adopted a policy to let the organist pick a "wild card" hymn every Sunday, while the remainder were picked seemingly at random from the appropriate section of CW. In another, the pastor used a hymn chart that recorded how many times the congregation had sung each hymn in CW, with the policy that the congregation should never sing more than one "unfamiliar" hymn on any Sunday. The result was that they sang certain "favorite" hymns far too often, while entire sections of the hymnal remained unfamiliar to them.

But I've also been to churches where the practice of having a worship committee was torpedoed by the insistence that one person with no musical experience sit on the committee. The intent was to give the uneducated congregation a "voice" on the worship planning. But for all practical purposes, an individual who couldn't find middle C on a piano had veto power over musical selections. The result was that some beautiful Luther hymns were deemed "creepy" because they were in a minor key.

So what's the big deal? Aren't you being an elitist? Well, sort of. There are places where democracy is wholly inappropriate. Imagine if the fans determined the calls in a baseball game by means of vote. Whichever team had more fans present would obviously win every call. Or imagine making someone umpire who knew nothing about baseball. Now, this individual might claim that because he has no experience with baseball, he has no biases and is therefore more likely to make fair calls than a seasoned veteran. While that makes some sense at first glance, without any experience, he has only his instantaneous whims and emotional reactions to guide his calls.  Besides that, this person actually has no idea what a fair call is if he doesn't know the rules of baseball.

Insofar as Jesus insists that every part of the Body do the work he designed it to do (1 Cor 12:15-18), sure, I guess some might call that elitism. We aren't all called to be worship leaders, just like we aren't all called to be pastors or teachers. But anticipating the elitism objection, St. Paul continues, "On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor" (1 Cor 12:22-23). He further argues in Rom 9:21, "Does not the potter have the right to make out of the same lump of clay some pottery for special purposes and some for common use?"

It is not our place to ask why God didn't give us this or that talent, much less to surgically implant ourselves into a different part of the Body of Christ. Our vocation is to serve with the talents he has given only to us, in the particular niches in which he has placed us. We are not all called to be worship leaders—but we are all called to worship. Whether or not we have a "voice" in the choosing of worship music, every one of us has a voice in the worship of our Redeemer. Believe it or not, we are perfectly suited to that and every vocation by the people and circumstances that God has placed in our lives to shape and form us into his special creations. Thanks be to God! He has not only redeemed us and asked for lives of worship, but he gives us the gifts, the motivation, and the grace to perform those acts, and sanctifies them by the work of his Holy Spirit!

The Church and Motion Media

There's a lot of buzz about motion media and video these days. It's hard to find a website that doesn't have some kind of animated graphics, video, or at least a slide show. Nothing has changed overnight: it's only the latest step in the evolution of media. But technology and a consumer-driven market has accelerated the rate at which these media are evolving and the ways in which they effect our day-to-day lives.

The new media discussion has by no means bypassed the church. Mega-churches have been dressed up like a Super Bowl halftime show probably for as long as projection screens have been around. More conservative churches have been slow to jump on the big screen bandwagon, but the times are obviously changing, and even my small-town confessional Lutheran church is discussing whether (or how) to use video in the worship service. I can't answer the question myself, and I haven't found many discussions on various media in worship. But now is the best time to have them. A decade ago was probably too soon; a decade from now it will probably be too late.

With video in particular, we aren't dealing with a medium that is totally new and foreign to us—just more accessible. We can literally pull a device out of our pockets and watch Justin Bieber's latest music video, or this week's episode of our favorite network sitcom. We can access music, video, and information at any time and any place. So is it realistic that we can find these media everywhere but in church? I'm not sure yet. But it is the people who aren't sure who will probably do the important research, search the Word, and proceed cautiously into uncharted waters. We have hindsight on our side—we can learn from the successes and mistakes of other churches in dealing with new media (not just video). The two easy mistakes would be to either put up barriers and resist any form of newness, or to charge ahead without any theological direction or regard to consequences.

Yet again, I don't presume to be an expert on this subject. But since I deal with the visual arts in worship, the discussion is inevitably going to turn this direction. So perhaps I need to become more familiar with this. But for the time being, I can at least submit some observations and ask some important questions. Perhaps they will eventually help us avoid some of the many pitfalls that are lurking in the storm of new media ahead.

1. The Medium is the Message.

Marshall McLuhan is a well known philosopher of media theory, whose work became foundational to modern theories about communication media. In the 1960s, he was writing about what we now call social media—long before Facebook and Twitter were ever conceived. A foundational concept found in his work is also the title of one of his books: "The Medium is the Massage."¹. I managed to find a short interview with Shane Hipps that addressed video technology in churches, and not surprisingly, he cites McLuhan:

"The content of any medium is the juicy piece of meat carried by the burglar to distract the watchdog of the mind" [McLuhan]. What he's saying is that the medium itself has a power, a bias, and a meaning regardless of what message you put through it. He's challenging the metaphor that we often assume: Media are simply pipelines, a neutral conduit through which information can be put through. I think it's crucial for Christians to begin to perceive the media forms themselves, rather than just looking at - and understanding - the content. We're too easily distracted by the content, and we miss the power of the medium.

If media are not just "neutral conduits," then this obviously raises questions: What message is the medium sending over and above the content I want to communicate? Is it possible that this message is contrary to the message of God's Word, or to the purpose of worship?

The interview that I linked to above explains how easy it is to manipulate people through video media. The reason TV commercials are so effective is that they easily stimulate the emotional functions of our brains and stifle the portions that make informed and logical decisions. Whether we intend them to or not, motion media have a high capacity for manipulating. That should make us at least very cautious in how we use them.

2. Faith Comes by Hearing the Word.

God is truly wonderful in his works. He presumably could have revealed himself to us by visions, by giving us signs in the heavens, by e-mail, or perhaps by any other hundreds of media. But he chose something so simple that it has been accessible to little children, illiterate shepherds, and professors of law, in every age since the creation. It was written down to preserve its accuracy over the millennia, but it was transmitted orally for generations. God wants us to hear his Word. Regardless of what new media will appear 50 years from now—inconceivable to us now—that truth will never change. "Faith comes by hearing the message, and the message is heard through the Word of Christ" (Romans 10:17).

If McLuhan's theories are right—and I suppose they manifestly are—then any medium other than spoken word is altering or affecting the message, however unintentionally. Sometimes this cannot be avoided. We print the Bible in braille to make the Word readily accessible to the blind. We webcast or e-mail sermons to make them accessible to shut-ins. There is even a ministry that gives audio recordings of the Bible to deployed soldiers on portable USB drives. Even setting God's words and works to song has an effect on the message. Part of why God's Word is so wonderful is that it can be transmitted in so many different ways. However, we need to be aware of how the medium changes or affects the message. For instance, webcasting worship services has evolved into the phenomenon of "religion online." The result is that a person becomes a congregation of one, and can pick and choose what he wants to hear and when—just like he would surf TV channels. This touches on one of McLuhan's four "laws" of media: "What does the medium reverse into?" Hipps explains,

This means that every medium will always reverse into some form of its opposite when it is overused. So for example, when the automobile, which is designed to increase speed, is overextended or overused, it actually reverses into traffic jams and even fatalities.

We can see this law at work in "religion online." What may have been intended as an outreach with the gospel has become a crutch for laziness and consumerism. In addition, it turns the objective substance of the Word and Sacraments into little more than a subjective emotional experience. Check out these online videos (oh, the irony) by Jeff Hendrix that summarize some of the problems encountered in these media: Material Beliefs and Virtual Presence.

We are best off when worship remains what it is and always has been: Christians gathering together in one place to hear the Word proclaimed and to receive the Sacraments. Technology will never change that.

3. The Church Adapts, But Cautiously. 

The Christian Church is not inherently indisposed to using new technologies. During the Reformation, the church was busily utilizing a recent (re)invention—the printing press.² Since 1455, the Bible was being mass produced. Pamphlets were being circulated that discussed the theological issues at the heart of the reformation. Catechisms were distributed into the home for instruction. And collections of hymns were published and distributed as early as 1523.

But the earthly church isn't infallible, either, and hasn't always wielded media appropriately. For instance, medieval morality plays and pageants quite probably began in worship contexts as "liturgical drama." What began as priests enacting the gospel lesson evolved into a costumed pageant featuring bastardized parables. By the time the dramas were transitioning out of the church and into the public, they had little to do with Scripture and more to do with spectacle. Does this sound at all familiar?

Or consider another medium: sculpture. Art and theology have always enjoyed an intimate relationship in the church. When the cult of the saints was at its height in the Romanesque and Gothic periods, every church—especially those on major pilgrimage routes—boasted of gilded, bejeweled statues and reliquaries of the saints. If the medium is the message, what does the medium say about the saint being portrayed? Does a golden statue containing a bone fragment say, "This was a person who submitted himself to Christ and the gospel," or "This is a holy figure who is worthy of your worship"? An argument could be made that the medium influenced the theology of the church at least as much as the theology necessitated the medium.

Fast-forward to today. Pastors, musicians, and churches are working overtime to get video technology into the sanctuary. Some, because of a superficial desire to be seen as "with the times," and others, because they genuinely want to share the gospel in any way, shape, or form. For instance, the music group Koiné leads worship services that are a total audio/video experience, even including live sand art performances on some occasions. And from what I have seen, they appear to be very conscious that everything be as reverent and Christ-centered as possible. It would be hard for a person to go to a Koiné service and say, "This is disrespectful to God." It is that kind of caution and temperance that will make it possible to see what the liturgical potential is for these new media.

Here's another one for your consideration. What does the medium of a plastic disposable cup communicate when it contains the blood of Christ? (I am using "media" in an increasingly broad manner, I realize, but perhaps it is necessary.)

It may be that some media are not appropriate in worship ever, because of a categorical contradiction between entertainment, for instance, and Christ-centered worship. It may also be that some media will grow out of their common associations that might currently prevent them from being used in worship, as has occurred with certain instruments. (The difficulty with that thesis is that in order for something to "grow out" of its secular association, it presumably has to be used in sacred settings before that point has been reached.) And it may be that some media are appropriate in worship, but must be used cautiously. I think any medium has to be sanctified—set apart—and considered in light of Scripture before it is imported into worship. Because just like the structure, music, liturgical articles, and everything else we use in worship, it is being used for a new and special purpose. That's part of our historical understanding of being "not of the world" (John 17:16)—we don't cut-and-paste secular culture into our sacred culture of worship.

I didn't promise to provide an answer to the question of whether video is appropriate in church, and perhaps I'm not any closer to getting one. But at the very least, it cannot hurt to begin having informed discussions about new media and their use or misuse in worship. I think that with careful study of his Word and prayerful consideration, the Holy Spirit will guide our actions as he has in the past.

_______________

¹ The title is a triple pun on the words message, massage (which describes what media do to our brains), and mass-age (that is, the age of mass media).
² It is commonly overlooked that the moveable type printing press had been in use in China since the 11th century.

Ecce Homo and the American Idol Complex

"Ecce homo" by Elías García Martínez left; the damaged fresco, center;
and the botched restoration by Cecilia Gímenez, right.

The story isn't news anymore; pretty much everyone has heard about the Spanish fresco, Ecce Homo (Behold the Man), which was ruined when amateur artist Cecilia Gímenez tried to restore it, without the knowledge or consent of the church. The story went viral about five months ago, appearing on comedy shows and even inspiring some Halloween costumes. The fresco has been jokingly referred to as Ecce Mono (Behold the Monkey) in the blogosphere. Now the painting was not a masterpiece by any means, and the artist was barely known except in this small Spanish town. But still, the story is so horrifying from an art historical standpoint that if we didn't laugh, we'd have to cry.

But let's take a moment to consider this issue seriously, especially as it relates to liturgical art. The obvious question that this raises is: who is qualified to make art for the church? I'm not trying to be an elitist. I think that art is wonderfully democratic in the sense that everyone can view and appreciate it—but not in the sense that anyone can make sacred art.

So if you're asking yourself what American Idol could possibly have to do with liturgical art, here it is. The American Idol phenomenon has sparked dozens of spinoff talent competitions and reality shows, all of which seem to have the effect of fueling the belief that anyone can be a millionaire pop star. When my wife Emily taught voice lessons in Savannah, she had at least a dozen teenagers who were taking lessons to prepare for Idol tryouts, or to start their pop music careers. One 23-year-old with no musical experience whatsoever apparently thought that she could take piano and voice lessons for a month or two and then play and sing at a professional level. When my wife informed her that this was probably not a realistic goal, she asked, "Well, how long do you think Alicia Keys has been playing piano?" Emily answered, "Probably her whole life."

The disappointment was palpable. The student's dreams hit the floor like a wet sandbag.

While I don't think American Idol had any effect on this 81-year-old woman's attempt to restore a damaged fresco of Christ, I can't help but feel that Idol (and shows like it) have contributed to a feeling that talent is irrelevant, and that all that is necessary is the will to act. That's the American dream, right? That anyone can pick up a violin or a brush or a microphone and become the next big hit? Well, here's one opinion to the contrary, and I think Miss Gímenez is exhibit A. However well-intentioned she might have been, and however well we appreciate love, determination, and the will to act, an ear cannot will itself to be a hand.

This brings us to the doctrine of vocation. 1 Cor. 12:12-17 explains that the Christian Church is the body of Christ—one unit with many different parts. We celebrate our variety in Christ. We are not all pastors, teachers, musicians, or artists. We are not all contractors, homemakers, engineers, or administrators. Each of us has a calling that is specific to only himself or herself, and for which God has bestowed talents upon each individual. St. Paul addresses the necessity of each part, as well as the attitude of each part to another.

But God has combined the members of the body and has given greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it (1 Cor. 12:24-26).

So here's where I often find myself standing on a soapbox. I believe this problem has two causes. I often feel as though artists within the church have been marginalized, to the point where the eye says to the hand, "I don't need you." This is unfortunate, because Christian artists are members of the body of Christ just like anyone else. The second cause is the "American Idol Complex," which grants the first person who volunteers the occasion to do whatever it is he desires. Thus, choir is led by people with no experience in directing or in church music, anyone with a guitar and a few months of lessons can lead worship, and banners and vestments are made by the ladies' group with scissors and leftover felt. (Typically, it seems that Lutheran churches expect these positions to be volunteer-only, so there's also an argument that you get what you pay for.)

I don't think anyone should feel guilty in saying, "I thank you for your earnest desire to help, but this doesn't appear to be your calling," as long as it is done with love and not with condescension. Perhaps we can encourage these people to rally support for whatever job it is they feel needs to be filled. Being a "helper" is certainly a fine vocation in itself (Gen. 2:18).

You will probably say that some churches are too small to have talented artists, musicians, etc. contributing to worship. This is true. But we are not islands existing apart from the other members of Christ. If a church really values the vocations that it is missing, it can find the means to obtain them. Where is it written that if a church wants artwork, it has to be provided by a member of the congregation? Or that it has to have a choir, even if there is no one qualified to lead it? I think reexamining our assumptions about ecclesiastical artwork in light of the doctrine of vocation should make us embarrassed of the way we have treated the talented members of our fellowship in past decades.

Holy Spirit, help each of us to build up the body of Christ! Amen.

The Church is Not a Restaurant!

One of the prevalent themes of the church growth movement is the idea that the church needs to accommodate the tastes of the unchurched: if they want a praise band, get the best praise band you can afford; if they want you to entertain their children while the adults worship, then you had best get a "children's church" program going; if your guests are needing a cappuccino before worship, set up a Starbucks franchise in your lobby. The church growth movement has spawned over 1,500 megachurches in the past 30 years, some with as many as 40,000 attendees weekly. These churches are known to be great at providing programs and facilities, but poor when it comes to the shepherding of souls. An interesting article looks into this trend, asking, When Will The Bubble Burst?

It is saddening to see many confessional Lutheran churches jumping on the bandwagon. While in past decades it was fairly common to find established churches experimenting with contemporary Christian music, the new norm is churches that are founded entirely for the purpose of praise-band-type worship. They have names like, "The CORE," "The ROCK," and "The Alley," with no "Lutheran Church" included in the name. (We wouldn't want to scare them away, would we?) Almost universally, they sport Christian rock bands, "come-as-you-are" atmospheres, video screens, splashy websites, and pastors in bluejeans. They use catch-phrases like "relevance" and "acceptance," and target the unchurched youth. My first close encounter with this kind of church was at the "Hearts and Hands of David" workshop hosted by Wisconsin Lutheran College. And, true to church-growth form, the pastor gave a stirring sermon about how we need to ask ourselves, "What's on the menu?" (The application was that we need to have things on our church's "menu" that people will keep coming back for—namely, the gospel. But it left the impression that the gospel was only the "chips and salsa" at a Mexican restaurant; you expect it to always be there, but it isn't the main course.)

From a church leadership perspective, it is probably difficult to counter this false doctrine as long as these pastors are still preaching the gospel (and hopefully the law, too). Church growth doesn't often give itself away like the "Mexican restaurant" sermon. It's an undercurrent, an agenda, an attitude. And while we cannot judge people's hearts and attitudes, we can judge a tree by its fruit, as Christ instructs us to do in Matt. 7:15-17. From what I have seen, the bluejeans and rock bands, while not sinful in and of themselves, are bad fruit that give evidence to a crisis of faith. We cannot permit this dangerous teaching to continue under the guise of Christian freedom and evangelism. Christians must insist that the church not be made into a franchise. The church is a hospital, not a restaurant! We go to worship in order to have our broken hearts bound by the life-giving gospel, not to satisfy our consumeristic appetites.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Matt. 11:28

Dedication Prayer

My family and I are reading through the book of 2 Chronicles now in our daily devotions. This portion of Solomon's dedication prayer (2 Chronicles  18-21, 41-42) seems a fitting prayer for dedicating new churches or commissioned artwork:

"But will God really dwell on earth with men? The heavens, even the highest heavens, cannot contain you. How much less this temple I have built! Yet give attention to your servant’s prayer and his plea for mercy, O Lord my God. Hear the cry and the prayer that your servant is praying in your presence. May your eyes be open toward this temple day and night, this place of which you said you would put your Name there. May you hear the prayer your servant prays toward this place. Hear the supplications of your servant and of your people Israel when they pray toward this place. Hear from heaven, your dwelling place; and when you hear, forgive. ...

"Now arise, O Lord God, and come to your resting place,
      you and the ark of your might.
May your priests, O Lord God, be clothed with salvation,
      may your saints rejoice in your goodness.
O Lord God, do not reject your anointed one.
      Remember the great love promised to David your servant."

The most magnificent structure ever built was too humble a dwelling place for the Lord of Sabaoth. How much less our churches of concrete and drywall? How much less a stable? A cross? Yet he took all of these willingly. The prayer of Solomon is the message of the cross. It is prayed with confidence in a loving God who places himself in the presence of sinful men, because they cannot come to him. We have so much motivation to praise him in so many ways!

Adiaphora and Worship

The issue comes up again and again in discussions of worship: adiaphora. Some would argue that in matters where God has neither commanded nor forbidden, we are permitted in Christian freedom to do whatever we like. This has become the mantra of many contemporary artists, whether in architecture, art, music, or other aspects of worship. Several pastors have stretched Christian freedom to the point of saying, "I will do anything short of sinning to reach people." In some of my recent experiences, when raising concerns over contemporary worship, the response has been one of, "If you place restraints on my Christian freedom, you are a Pharisee and a legalist."

Since this is such a pivotal issue, it bears closer study. This is perhaps why Forward In Christ published a three-part series last year on Christian freedom, the final part of which dealt particularly with adiaphora. I was happy to see the WELS coming down on the issue in a manner that consisted neither of fence-riding nor mandating. Below are some selected quotes from the article.

[T]he major mistake many people make when it comes to adiaphora is to assume that, since God's Word doesn't prescribe a specific course of action, God doesn't care what people do in these matters. That is dead wrong. Everything matters to God! Even in cases of adiaphora, God cares about the decisions we make. 

"You, my brothers, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the sinful nature; rather, serve one another in love" (Galatians 5:13, emphasis added). 

Love. It's what God is. It's what God does. It's what God wants to see in his people above all else: love for God, love for the Scriptures, love for our fellow man, love for our soul. Every decision we make gives us the chance to demonstrate love. In that sense, there are no "indifferent things." Everything matters to God, because love matters to God. 

… 

Love is what makes Christian freedom so different from political freedom. When we think of political freedom we tend to think in terms of rights. "I have the right to do what I want, when I want, provided I don't hurt anyone." Christian freedom is so different. Christians are not concerned about themselves or their rights but about love. … Just as Jesus placed himself below us, we place ourselves below family, friends, coworkers, neighbors, the lost, and even enemies. When making decisions, even in matters of adiaphora, we think about what serves others before we think about what we want. "Though I am free and belong to no man, I make myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible" (1 Corinthians 9:19). That's how we show love. 

Someone might ask, "If God wants us to show love, wouldn't it be easier if he just spelled it out?" One might beg, "I don't like this adiaphora business! Tell us exactly how you want us to worship, God. Tell us what we can and cannot wear. Then we'll know precisely how to make you happy." If God did that, he'd be like the wife who tells her husband exactly what she wants each anniversary. She receives that present, but that present displays little love, for it took little thought. But if she said nothing, now her husband has to think. "What would show the woman that I love how much I treasure her?" He is free to choose whatever he wants as a gift. Yet, he is thinking only of his wife's happiness. His thoughtful token of love will be more meaningful than if that token had been dictated to him. 

So it is with our marriage to the heavenly Bridegroom. God leaves much of our lives as adiaphora, but it's not because he doesn't care. Instead, God allows us to exercise our Christian freedom in a manner that demonstrates thoughtful love. "So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God" (1 Corinthians 10:31). 

(Rev. Jonathan Hein: Forward in Christ, November 2011)

There are many reasons why a Christian might object to a particular style of worship out of Christian love. For one, many people consider guitars and drums in the front of church to be irreverent, because of the kinds of music associated with them. They might be wary of a pastor's gung-ho attitude about contemporary worship styles that appears to have no regard for burdened consciences. Or they might wonder why centuries' worth of good hymnody and liturgies are being unceremoniously tossed out the window because someone thinks they are not relevant to today's culture.

It is true that only God knows hearts, and so speculating as to the motives of either side in this debate may be overstepping our bounds. But it has not been my experience that those who object to contemporary worship do so out of Pharisaical legalism. To the best of our abilities, we should try not to project willful ignorance or sinful legalism onto the other parties in this discussion. I am sure that most everyone sincerely believes that he or she is really doing God's work in the worship service.

Now if both sides correctly understand Christian freedom, and both sides are acting out of love, it must be a matter of scriptural inferences that separates one side from the other. Of the WELS pastors whom I have heard promote contemporary worship, they all aspire to the same goal of "removing all barriers possible to reaching people outside the church" (e.g. http://www.gotocore.com/ see "About The CORE"). In other words, they infer from scripture that evangelism is the primary goal of the church. This is certainly a worthy goal. But I see at least two major problems with this inference:

1. The first is that they assume ex nihilo that a "traditional worship style" is an obstacle to the gospel. But this can only be true if everyone who comes to church does so in order to hear a particular kind of music, and nothing else. If such people exist, they are not wounded souls looking for Christ, but consumers of the most shallow sort. (And in fact, studies of unchurched people who become regular church-goers show that only a very small percentage of people count "worship style" as a contributing factor in choosing their church—let alone the deciding factor.)
2. The second problem is that in trying to "remove all barriers possible to reaching people outside the church," the focus on gaining new members is likely to marginalize current believers. The purpose of the church is not to grow its numbers, but to make disciples—baptizing and teaching them. That means feeding the flock is more important than filling the pews. If praise bands can offer a nourishing substance on par with most of our hymnal and the historic liturgy, I have yet to see it.

Of course we should love the unchurched and want for them to know Christ. That much anyone would agree with. But it is debatable whether pandering to what (we think) the unchurched want is really showing love to them. A parent may think she is showing love to her child by allowing him to live on a diet of marshmallows and fruit snacks. She probably thinks it is better for him to eat junk food than nothing at all, and that she is therefore removing barriers between her son and nutrition. But in actuality, she is teaching him that food has to be sweet in order to be nourishing. And if that is not bad enough, she gives the same diet to all of her children, including the 19-year-old.

Granted, not all contemporary worship music is "junk food." Some of it is quite good. I am simply attempting to show the flawed logic of the "remove all barriers" principle that guides the worship practices of many Lutherans today. But if we can get beyond the ignorant assumptions that adiaphora means "I can do what I like," or "God doesn't care," then we may begin to have discussions on worship that might actually accomplish something.