I know, I know. I am a couple weeks behind
in my current events with this latest video. But I was gearing up for
vacation right as this story was hitting and didn't quite have time to animate
my snarkery before hitting the road.
Well, technically that's not true. I did
have time, but I had to cancel Bible Class my last Sunday before vacation in
order to go to my cousin's ordination in Iowa. And, you see, one of the
Lutheran Satire Rules is that all of my videos have their world premier in
Bible Class before going up on the webbernets. I do this for two reasons,
those reasons being:
1. If I happen to get a little too mean or
irreverent in my satiricizing, I want to give folks in my congregation the
opportunity to pull me back from the abyss of angry cynicism before I embarrass
myself and my congregation in internetland.
2. This is the core of my evangelism program
where I create a bunch of Lutheran Satire addicts who will leave their high
paying jobs and 6,000 square foot, ocean front mansions for Channahon, IL in
order to be the first consumers of my confessional silliness. You may
think that this is a really dumb evangelism program. And you are
right. In fact, it is so stupid and gimmicky and non-Lutheran that I'm
quite certain I can convince at least half of the mission executives in the
Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod to adopt it by the end of the week.
Zing.
But I digress. My original point was that
my brain came up with the idea to do a video something like what this one ended
up being before I left town. And after my brain came up with that idea,
my brain then thought, "I should probably write a blog piece fleshing out
a bit the Lutheran view of the pope as antichrist and why it's neither news nor
terribly controversial." But then, just a few days into my vacation,
my dear friend Mollie Ziegler
Hemingway wrote
this superfantasticalbodaciouslyawesome piece for the Wall Street
Journal. So then my brain thought, "Sweet! Now, I can just
link Mollie's article instead of thinking!" My brain is lazy like
that.
So there you have it. Read the article and
enjoy. And if you didn't know it before, you will now know why Mollie is
one of the LCMS's greatest living treasures.
A few people in the universe have requested that I provide citations for my accusations of papal bufoonery leveled in my latest video, which is this:
So if citations be what ye want, here they be:
Evolution:
"The
clay became man at the moment in which a being for the first time was capable
of forming, however dimly, the thought of "God". The first Thou
that—however stammeringly—was said by human lips to God marks the moment in
which the spirit arose in the world. Here the Rubicon of anthropogenesis was
crossed. For it is not the use of weapons or fire, not new methods of cruelty
or of useful activity, that constitute man, but rather his ability to be
immediately in relation to God. This holds fast to the doctrine of the special
creation of man."
"There are so many scientific proofs in favor of evolution which appears to be a reality we can see and which enriches
our knowledge of life and being as such. But on the other, the doctrine of
evolution does not answer every query, especially the great philosophical
question: where does everything come from? And how did everything start which
ultimately led to man? "
In other words, for about forty bagillion
generations, there was death in the world.
Then God gave Adam and Eve souls because He finally evolved the species
enough for these two to call Him God.
Then they fell into sin and brought death into the world
but that death was defeated when Christ became sin for us on the cross. Except that apparently there were already
forty bagillion generations of death before this. So, in the end, the death and resurrection of
Jesus are meaningless and the Bible cannot be trusted.
Higher Criticism:
"From
the point of view of biblical criticism, it is necessary to mention immediately
that the first account of man's creation is chronologically later than the
second. The origin of this latter is much more remote. This more ancient text
is defined as "Yahwist" because the term "Yahweh" is used
to denominate God. It is difficult not to be struck by the fact that the image
of God presented there has quite considerable anthropomorphic traits (among
others, we read in fact that "...the Lord God formed man of dust from the
ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life" (Gen 2:7).
In
comparison with this description, the first account, that is, the one held to
be chronologically later, is much more mature both as regards the image of God,
and as regards the formulation of the essential truths about man. This account
derives from the priestly and "elohist" tradition, from
"Elohim", the term used in that account for God. "
In other
words, Genesis was not written by Moses, but was cobbled together over the
centuries by a bunch of guys ("traditions") who weren't prophets but who had developed a deeper view of God throughout the centuries. I can trust that the words of God, given
through His appointed prophets, are true. But I
cannot trust that the words of a bunch of not prophets are true.
Denying that Faith
is Necessary for Salvation:
"With respect
to the way in which the salvific
grace of God — which is always given by means of Christ in the Spirit and has a
mysterious relationship to the Church — comes to individual non-Christians, the
Second Vatican Council limited itself to the statement that God bestows it 'in
ways known to himself'."
In other words, saving
grace can and does come to unbelievers. But it doesn't come to them through faith in Christ because they don't
have faith in Christ. Therefore,
according to Rome, faith in Christ in not necessary for salvation. (This is why it is that the Pope could, in good conscience, get his smooch on with the Koran. Because, according to Vatican 2, God can still bring people to salvation through the Koran's words. You know, those same words that deny the Trinity, the divine nature of Christ, His crucifixion and resurrection. Oh, and also those words that say you should kill people who believe those things about Jesus.)
Condemning Salvation By Grace through Faith Alone:
"If any
one saith, that by faith alone the impious is justified; in such wise as to
mean, that nothing else is required to co-operate in order to the obtaining the
grace of Justification, and that it is not in any way necessary, that he be
prepared and disposed by the movement of his own will; let him be anathema."
In other
words, if you are one of those evil Lutherans who believes that you are saved
solely by the grace of God through faith in Christ, then you are to be anathema, a Greek
word frequently used by Saint Paul, which means "accursed" or "condemned." Which is totally a bummer, since that's what the same Apostle Paul wanted you to believe when he was using that term.
Scriptural
Interpretation Monopoly:
"The task of interpreting the Word of God authentically has
been entrusted solely to the Magisterium of the Church, that is, to the Pope
and to the bishops in communion with him."
In other words, only the Catholic Church can interpret the
Bible. And if their interpretation
completely contradicts the pain words of Scripture, deal with it, Mr. Sola Scriptura Doo Doo Head.
When I was a student at the seminary, a required book in one of my classes was called Just Words. Written by a Lutheran theologian named J.A.O Preus III, the goal of this book is to encourage pastors to dive into the deep waters of Biblical language in their preaching. So, instead of just preaching 20 minutes of doctrinal assertions, don't be afraid to speak of death, condemnation, life and salvation the way the Scriptures so frequently do--with images of deserts and drowning, with themes of making low and bringing up, with metaphors of shepherds and seeds.
As one with a B.A. in English who loves to bit smacked in the ears with a bit of prose from the pulpit, I think Preus' admonition is a meet, right and salutary one. Not only does it enrich the layman's understanding of the Scriptures when he hears these themes expanded and expounded in his pastor's sermon, it also helps the pastor develop a backbone of structure in his sermon, which is vital to any good bit of preaching.
There are times, however, when diving into the deep waters of Biblical language can cause you to bonk your head on the bottom of the pool. And I think that most frequently happen when, instead of using images, themes and metaphors to enhance our theology and practice, we actually use them to establish or justify our theology and practice.
So, for example, pastoral themes, themes of fields and flocks, shepherds and sheep, abound in the Scriptures. But when it comes to these themes and their connection to the pastoral office, they serve to paint a picture of what the office is, rather than to establish what that office is. So from these themes, we can better understand how it is that pastors are to feed their members with the word, how they are to love them and to keep them safe from the wolves of false teachers. But they don't tell us specifically in what way pastors are to drive the wolves away. And because of that, I shouldn't conclude that I have the right to reenact the baseball scene from The Untouchables on any problem members in the congregation because any decent shepherd would bludgeon a wolf to death with his staff, given the chance. Rather, I follow the clear, non-metaphorical words of Paul, such as Titus 3:10-11, in order to know how to be faithful to the image of shepherd painted in the Scriptures.
And just as you don't establish doctrine on Biblical themes, imagery and metaphors, you also don't justify novel practices with them. So if a congregation or pastor has something that they would like to do, whether in the Divine Service or as a kind of community event, they ought to be able to demonstrate from the clear, direct words of Scripture that this will promote pure proclamation and understanding of the Word and that it will accurately reflect the love of the God who bought us through the blood of Christ.
And whenever you depart from that guideline (or whatever you want to call it), it becomes really easy to lather yourself up in any practice you want and then claim that it's justified by citing figurative language from the Bible.
And yet, that's precisely what's happened in some circles where Christians have cited the Scripture's use of spiritual warfare language in an attempt to justify the Church embracing the hyperviolent sport known as MMA (Mixed Martial Arts). If you're not familiar with the stuff, here's the YouTube link of the first video that popped up when I searched for it. Classy stuff.
1. Well, no, Jesus didn't tap. But He also didn't fight back. To use the imagery of MMA, the way Jesus defeated the devil was to get kneed in the face until He was dead. As Isaiah 53 puts it, He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth. So if you want an MMA fight to accurately portray the manner in which Christ fought against the devil, I suppose you could try having one guy refuse to punch back until he was brain dead. But I doubt that would make the cut of 2011's Greatest MMA knockouts.
2. Just because we are called to be soldiers of the cross does not mean that we are free to kick our neighbor in the head. The figurative language of spiritual warfare is meant to enhance our understanding of what it means for the devil to try to rip you away from the faith. It's not meant to prescribe how to deal with our neighbor, in particular, whether we may or may not kick him in the head. If you want to know if you may kick your neighbor in the head, there are plenty of clear, non-figurative verses that deal with that issue directly. Such as this one. And this one. And this one. And those verses teach us that Christians shouldn't beat the crap out of each other, even if that's what real life warriors do. Just as they teach us that pastors shouldn't hit troublemakers in the head with big pieces of wood, even though that's what a real life shepherd does to the real life wolves.
So, when it comes to your preaching, don't be afraid of images of deserts and drowning. When it comes to your teaching, wrap yourself in the themes of making low and bringing up. And when it comes to your prayer life, your devotional life, your worship life, dive headfirst into the metaphors of shepherds and sheep.
But don't dive so far down that you bonk your head hard enough to think you're doing the kingdom any favors by encouraging those clad in the armor of God to bionic elbow each other in the throat.
I'm a week behind with posting some thoughts on this video. So I'll just put it very simply:
If Jesus were to appear before you in all His glory, you would not greet Him in a relaxed manner. You would not call Him your Homeboy. You would not point to Him and say "there's my co-pilot." And you would not try to make him laugh by exercising some terrible pun as His majesty shone around you.
Instead, you would fall on your face and wet your pants. Because our God is a consuming fire.
And if we want people outside of the Church to know how to approach Him with reverence and godly fear, then we ought not use our church signs to speak about Him in such a silly way.
Of all the Sunday morning services that I attended in my youth, the one I remember most was when I was in fifth grade.
Unlike many congregations, which have two seats on opposite sides of the chancel for acolytes, the congregation my father was serving at the time had the practice of requiring acolytes to sit next to each other in the front row. Like many other practices in life, this practice generally worked out just fine. Except for when the people involved sinned. And that's what I was doing that morning when, instead of listening to my father's sermon, I was joking around with my friend and co-acolyte, Michael.
I'm not sure what we were snickering about. But whatever the source of the laughter, it was loud enough to cause my father to stop in the middle of his sermon and tell me to be quiet because what he was saying was important. And while I certainly was terrified in that moment (I know it was a long time ago, but the good folks at St. Peter's might want to give that acolyte robe one more trip to the dry cleaners), the emotion I remember feeling most strongly was embarrassment.
But as embarrassing as this was for me, what I didn't realize until I had kids of my own was that this was even more embarrassing for my father. You see, no decent father ever wants to bring attention to the fact that his child is being terrible. And he especially doesn't want to bring attention to that when he's doing his job. But any decent electrician father in the world in the world would dive headfirst into that embarrassment if that's what it took to stop his daughter from sticking a fork in a light socket. Any loving chemist father would scream at the top of his lungs to stop his son from taking a sip of hydrochloric acid. And any pastor father worthy of either vocation would call out his kid from the pulpit if that's what it took to let the kid know that busting a gut over Jeffery Dahmer jokes during the Divine Service is not acceptable.
So while, at the time, I loved my father in spite of that moment, as I've grown older and grown in the faith, I've come to love my father even more because of that moment. Because that was a moment in which my father taught me that, more than anything else in the world, he wanted me to be a Christian. And if the only way he could smack some Christian piety into me was to embarrass himself in front of the entire congregation, then so be it. Because my soul was that important to him.
And so, if you want to be an awesome Lutheran father, that's how you do it, folks. And, in the offhand chance that you don't have a pulpit from which to yell at your rotten kids, here are a few other ways to increase your concordiawesomeness:
There's been a pretty nice discussion going on in the comments section of this post. Informative, respectful...you know, pretty much exactly the opposite of how most internet discussions go. All of this despite the fact that conversation has really boiled down to this:
Calvinists: Calvinists CAN be sure of their salvation.
Lutherans: No they can't.
So the Calvinist says that, for certainty of his election, he can simply look to the cross. But the Lutheran says the Calvinist can't because the Calvinist can't be certain that Jesus died for him. The Calvinist says he can, by virtue of the fact that he believes that Jesus died for him. The Lutheran responds by asking the Calvinist how he knows that his faith is sincere, since Scripture makes clear that many who believe themselves to be among the elect actually won't be.
So how does the Calvinist respond? Commenter Nathan provides an answer straight from the lips of Calvin himself. Which just goes to show in all it's big, fat, hideous glory what happens when you do what the Calvinist does, when you twist and contort and smoosh and smash all sorts of Gospel comfort into soul-crushing law in your attempt to fit God into a perfect box of sovereignty. Kudos to Nathan, who writes:
As a former Calvinist, I was thoroughly amused by your accurate representation of my high-school and college aged self! I believe you owe me some royalties for character theft. I could not think of a better summary of my college years than: "I am a Calvinst, I am sure of everything........except if Jesus died for me."
For those Calvinsts who doubt whether this is a fair representation, I would encourage you to read Calvin's Commentary on Hebrews 6. There, he attempts to fit apostasy into his system by postulating that God grants to some of the unelect just enough grace to believe themselves Christians. These individuals will receive the sacraments, believe the Christ died for them, and do good works...for a time. Then, when God has fulfilled his hidden purpose, he withdraws said grace and the person plunges into ruin with all the other reprobate. After reading this gloomy hypothesis and seeing how it inevitably results from Calvin's logical premises, I realized that it was impossible to find anything which could convince me that I was not among the reprobate. Everything could have been of part of the ruse by which God was tricking me into trusting myself to be saved when I actually had no hope at all.
To make a long story short, I am now a Lutheran and I am liberated by the assurance of trusting Christ's words to me in my baptism.
So congrats, Nathan, on winning the Comment of the Year Award. You don't get a prize or anything. But if you're ever in my neck of the woods, I'll buy you a beer.
For the most part, the purpose of the Lutheran Satire videos is to teach. The hope is that, by making fun of false doctrine, bad theology and the like, viewers can learn why such things ought not be confessed/practiced. I suppose the motto of Lutheran Satire could be Teach the faith by making fun of stuff.
