A reply to Fr. Eckardt

It’s perhaps inevitable that some of the same issues that led a number of us out of Lutheranism and into the Church should continue to work on newer generations of Lutheran pastors and on those who remained. By no means least of these issues is the ongoing discussion of so-called “infant communion”—a misleading designation, since infants are not communed in the Church because they are infants, but because they are baptized members of the Church. As St. Paul said to the Corinthians, “For I do not want you to be unaware, brethren, that our fathers were all under the cloud and all passed through the sea;  and all were baptized into Moses in the cloud and in the sea; and all ate the same spiritual food; and all drank the same spiritual drink, for they were drinking from a spiritual rock which followed them; and the rock was Christ.” (1Co 10:1-4 NAU, emphasis mine.)

In the last few months, another kerfuffle about communion of the baptized  (hereafter COTB) has arisen amongst confessional circles of the LC-MS. I don’t take all defenses of the LC-MS status quo equally seriously. Publishing house blogs and radio-based grilling of guests are often propaganda, not rising to the level of needing response. But two documents are worth responding to. One is the recent set of theses by Prof. John Pless of the Ft. Wayne seminary. The other is a little article in Gottesdienst by the Rev’d. Dr. Burnell Eckardt. I hope to address the Pless statement at a later time, when I have more leisure. But I would like to make a few remarks about Dr. Eckardt’s article.

The article in question does not address the issue head-on, but uses it as an occasion to reflect on the status of preaching within Lutheranism. According to Eckardt, there are two new things about this iteration of the discussion. First, one young Lutheran pastor has, in his words, “gone off the reservation” and begun actually practicing COTB. Second, the rise of social media means that the discussion runs more swiftly than it has in the past.  Dr. Eckardt is correct about the swiftness of the debate. And it will be very interesting, from the outside, to watch what happens to the young pastor in question. If he is disciplined in some way, it may help others to recognize that Lutheranism has no place for their ilk. If he is not disciplined, it suggests just another fault line along which the LC-MS may eventually split. (I mean no offense to my friends who remain there.)

One of my Antiochian brothers and colleagues has suggested that preaching, not the Eucharist, is the heart and soul of Lutheranism, and that this is symptomatic of a systemic flaw, doctrinally and liturgically. My colleague cites AC Article 24, which says, “People go to Gottesdienst to hear the sermon.”

Fr. Eckardt claims that the citation is taken out of context. And in a formal way, he may be correct. Let us grant that the intention of AC 24 was not to show the sermon is central, but to set the sermon as a key element in “the devout use of the Sacraments.”

It’s noteworthy, however, what Eckardt himself grants. He grants that “there is a flaw in Lutheran sacramental piety, but it is not the fault of the Lutheran Confessions” (p. 16). He continues, “There are all too many Lutherans for whom the Sacrament is not of critical importance for faith, and their woeful lack of piety shows this sad reality for what it is, all too clearly” (p. 16). I don’t intend to criticize Lutherans for their sacramental piety or lack thereof; I merely cite the words of Dr. Eckardt here.

But I do want to make a couple of points about his article. First, no Orthodox priest or bishop could or would quarrel about the use and value of the homily in the context of the divine liturgy. We are, after all, the church of St. John the Golden-mouthed, and even on occasions when the priest presiding might not preach, the Vespers, Matins and Liturgy are full of distilled homilies called “kontakia,” and other theologically rich verses. Each Sunday morning, for example, we sing the words of Emperor Justinian: “Only begotten Son and immortal Word of God, who for our salvation didst will to be incarnate of the holy Theotokos and ever-virgin Mary, who without change didst become man and was crucified, who are One of the Holy Trinity, glorified with the Father and the Holy Spirit, O Christ our God, trampling down death by death, save us.”

Second, what my Antiochian brother is focusing on is not the statements Lutheran documents make about the centrality of the Eucharist, but rather their actual practice. Orthodox people and theologians have a delightful empirical bent, which was reflected at one time in the Lutheran confessional documents themselves.

I recall now-Metropolitan Elpidophoros speaking to a group of us about his work in Lutheran-Orthodox dialogue. When he wanted to know what Lutherans believe about the real presence of Christ, he didn’t get into deep discussion about confessional statements. He watched what was done with the reliquae.

One need only try a couple of thought-experiments to see whether, in fact, the Eucharist is the heart and soul of Lutheranism. Imagine a regular Sunday morning across the entire range of those who call themselves Lutheran. Let us narrow the universe of this discussion to that range of Lutherans who call themselves “confessional”—i.e. those who take a quia subscription to the Confessions seriously. Does that group of Lutherans, in fact and not in theory alone, mark the Eucharist on that given Sunday? A “heart” that does not, in fact, beat is not a heart in any meaningful sense.

Again, if on a given Sunday a parish did not mark the Eucharist in a Lutheran context, would the people who attended still claim that they had been to church? What if the sermon were omitted? It seems to me beyond dispute that of the two elements, sermon and Eucharist, sermon clearly predominates.  It is, in any meaningful sense, the heart of Lutheranism.

I recall a discussion a colleague of mine and I had with a visiting German Lutheran professor back in the days when I taught at a Lutheran seminary. The visiting scholar claimed that no one could properly distinguish Law and Gospel in less than 30 or 40 minutes of preaching. I replied that if I had thought through what needed saying, I could preach a decent Law/Gospel homily in under 10 minutes. As the visitor’s face began to redden, my friend said “I think the homily is so special we should only have one four times a year.” We had to work hard to calm the visiting German down and explain we were--mostly--joking.

The problem for many who remain in Lutheranism is that the confessional documents are no longer what they started out to be: a description of what actually takes place “on any given Sunday.” Note the claims of Augustana 24. They are not “we’d like to” or “we used to,” but “we do” and “we practice.” When Dr. Eckardt cites AC 24’s saying that “none are admitted except they be first examined,” does he forget that the examination in question was individual and private confession? It is ironic that for Lutherans, who pride themselves on the centrality of the Gospel, their confessions have changed from a description of evangelical practice to a Decalogue of distant memories.

Fr. Eckardt also addresses the question of whether the problems diagnosed are “systemic.” His claim is that “the best of Lutheran sacramental catechesis and piety demonstrates that they are not.” He cites AC 24 to support his case. Lutherans refuse to commune baptized infants because, he says, it is “…an integral part of what constitutes the dignity and use of the Sacrament, namely, instruction and examination.” If he worries that defenders of COTB are “charging the entire Western Church, including all of Lutheran history, with the same ‘sin’,” may it not be countered that he himself charges the Eastern Church and the pre-Fourth Lateran Council Western church with the opposite sin? Robert Taft, an eminent Roman scholar who has no axe to grind in this discussion, says “…the plain facts of history show that for 1200 years the universal practice of the entire Church of East and West was to communicate infants” (Liturgy in the Life of the Church).

Eckardt cites the plague of pietism as the cause for present Lutheran distress. Pietist movements did not simply affect Lutheranism; they also had an impact on Orthodox practice. But it is noteworthy how that impact differed. In Lutheranism, pietism led to an abandonment of the weekly Eucharist—making it so rare that, in the end, Luther’s statement of the importance of communing minimally four times a year was taken as a de facto maximum practice for many years. The Eucharist itself was offered only four times a year. In Orthodoxy, pietist strains led to less frequent communing on the part of the laity—but never to the abandonment of the Liturgy itself.  I leave it to the reader to judge which was a relatively minor and accidental impact, and which a major and substantial one.

It has now been a little over a decade when, after the Synodical Convention of 2001, I phoned a number of Lutheran pastors whose Internet posts suggested we were on the same wavelength. I asked them two questions: first, do you agree that the LC-MS has significant problems? All of them answered “Yes.” The second question was, “Do you believe these problems are accidental or genetic?” Nearly all of them said “genetic.” And nearly all of those men are now Orthodox.

Two men, an optimist and a pessimist, were sitting on a park bench. The optimist said, “It doesn’t get any better than this.” The pessimist sighed and answered, “I’m afraid you’re right.” The election of Matthew Harrison as president of the LC-MS instituted halcyon days for those who call themselves confessional Lutherans, like Dr. Eckardt. It doesn’t get any better than this. Whether in the end the optimist’s perspective or the pessimist’s perspective is correct, remains to be seen.

Homily on the Rich Man and Lazarus

            It wasn’t like he didn’t remember the name. In Hades, being in torment, the rich man cried out, “Father Abraham, send Lazarus to dip his finger in the water and cool my tongue.” If, during his life of leisure he had been summoned to a police station, he could have picked out Lazarus from a lineup.

            The problem was, though he remembered the name, he didn’t remember Lazarus himself, when it counted. There lay the poor man at his gate, hungry, outranked not just by the rich man himself but by the rich man’s dogs—they, at least, got what fell from the table. But the poor man got nothing but the dogs’ mercy. They, at least, saw his wounds; they, at least, helped him the only way they knew, by licking his wounds.

            Why do you suppose the rich man forgot Lazarus? I think it was because he was buried already when he was alive. Elsewhere the Lord speaks of seed that gets choked by the cares and pleasures of life. Well, this rich man was buried by the things he had: covered by fine clothes, good food, a wonderful house, servants, pets—all those things he had, really had him. His mind was preoccupied with them. So it had no space for Lazarus. He couldn’t see the needs of his neighbor. He simply forgot.

            So Abraham says to him, Son, remember. Remember the good things you enjoyed in life. That was then. This is now.

            I have a sneaking suspicion that during his earthly days, the rich man didn’t think of all his fine clothing, and food, and all as good things. I think he probably experienced them as burdens, not as joys. He worked to gain them. He worried about losing them. And after a while, all the so-called “finer things” in life aren’t so fine. If you saw the movie “Citizen Kane,” you’ll remember the rich man’s last word was “Rosebud.” Everyone tried to figure out what that word meant; it was the name of the sled he had enjoyed when he was a child.

            I think that about the rich man, because that’s how I treat so many of the things I’ve gotten, over the years. They’re not fun. They’re just more to take care of, more to protect, more to worry about. If I’m not careful, I can grow attached to things instead of to my neighbor. How easy to forget…how hard to remember!

            And when I care for things more than I care for people, brick by brick I build a wall, shovel by shovel I dig a gulf and cut myself off. Note what Abraham tells him: “Those who would pass from here to you may not; and no one can pass from you to here.” Nothing traps us, nothing cuts us off more effectively  from God and each other than our own passions and desires.

            If we are to escape the rich man’s fate, beloved, we must remember, while there is still time. “Your life is given you for repentance,” says St. Isaac the Syrian, “do not waste it in vain pursuits.” And St. James says, “True religion and undefiled before God the Father is this: to remember the widows and orphans in their affliction, and to keep ourselves unstained by the world.” Now, while we are in the flesh, is the time to repent, to return, to remember.

            For God, in his mercy, has not forgotten us. In Exodus 2, it says, “Then the children of Israel groaned because of the bondage, and they cried out; and their cry came up to God because of the bondage. So God heard their groaning, and God remembered His covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob. And God looked upon the children of Israel, and God acknowledged them.” The rest of Exodus shows what that remembering means. God sent Moses, who freed them from bondage and made them a people fit for God.  God’s delivering Israel, foreshadowed his great remembering, when he took on flesh for us in the Virgin’s womb, and served, and shared, and suffered.

While Christ suffered, on the cursed tree, the wise thief cried out, “Jesus, remember me when you come in your Kingdom.” He was assured, “Today you will be with me in Paradise.” In Isaiah God says, “I will not forget you; you are engraved on the palms of my hands”—powerful words when we remember they come from one who is crucified for us and alive again.

            In this time and space, God remembers us. Let us call on him. Let us bring him our cries and our tears for all the ways we have forgotten him and our neighbor. Let us relax our grip on things, and on passions, so that we may receive him as he comes to us in his body and blood.

            “Do this in remembrance of me,” he says in a few moments, and by that he doesn’t mean “Think of long ago and far away,” but rather, “Here I am, as I promised. Remember whose flesh and blood you receive, and for what purpose.” Remember. Remember. Remember.

Infant communion redux

The issue of infant communion (communion of the baptised) is apparently coming up once again in the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod. Rev'd Todd Wilken talks about it on his blog and says, in part: "That is what is behind the push for Infant Communion, you know: a romantic fascination with Eastern Orthodoxy."

I find it intriguing that LC-MS apologists routinely refer to pastors' examining the Church in terms of "romance" and "infatuation" and the like. On the one hand, I don't care for such terminology, because it seems to imply that one's journey to Orthodoxy is a matter of mere emotional attachment and not of cold, sober reflection. In my case, for example, I studied the issues involved for 18 years, and read a wide variety of sources: Lutheran, other Protestant, Catholic and Orthodox. For seven of those years I served as a professor of systematic theology. I have a PhD. I think my intellectual bona fides are not lacking.

On the other hand, perhaps Wilken and his ilk are on to something. The Church engages us as a whole person. Orthodoxy is a lifestyle, not simply a confession, and the fullest response to the truth is not to write confessions but to worship Father, Son, and Holy Spirit and share the divine life imparted in the Mysteries to all the baptised faithful, of whatever age and attainment. God's grace is a gift, not an attainment.

The Church is open, and welcoming. Come and see!

Nisi rite vocatus: Revisiting something I wrote a while ago

Apparently my former ecclesial body, the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod, has rejected all attempts to affirm that only those "rite vocatus" may administer the sacraments--a claim its key confession makes. It brings to mind one of the "bread crumbs" I left behind before I left that body for the Church. I'm attaching it here, in part because some may not have seen it, and in part because it bears repeating. I do not mean to rub salt into the wounds of those who would try to be faithful Lutherans.

There is no Lutheran Church

Propositions concerning the Lutheran Church
1. The Augsburg Confession and those other writings assembled in the Book of Concord (1580) were initially the confession of a group of territorial churches in northern Germany.
2. These territorial churches were not merely congregations, but trans-parish entities, each united by the same administration and the same liturgy within itself, and all alike were trans-parish entities.
3. These territorial churches did not understand themselves as a new denomination, but as the continuation of the catholic Church in the west.
4. They intended their writings to be understood as an unalterable confession of faith, with which they would stand before the judgment seat of Christ.
5. These confessional writings constituted them not merely as a corporation, but as a living, organic entity, as “the churches of the Augsburg Confession.”
6. The principle of unity of the churches of the Augsburg Confession is the quia subscription to, and confession of, the articles of the Book of Concord. (To develop this point a bit: the principle of unity in Rome is the papacy. The principle of unity in the Pentecostal churches is the baptism of the Holy Spirit. Other features may change, but the principle of unity is essential to each body and may not be changed without the body's being essentially changed. Remove the papacy, and Rome is no longer Rome. Remove the Baptism of the Holy Spirit, and pentecostalism is no longer Pentecostalism.)
7. This act of subscription and confession is not mere intellectual assent, but the ordering of the lives of congregations according to this principle of unity.

Propositions concerning change
8. There are two sorts of change: accidental and essential.
9. Accidental change occurs when a thing is modified, yet remains what it was before. For example, when someone paints a blue chair red, it changes (color), yet it remains what it was (a chair).
10. Accidental change occurs to living entities when they grow, move, or alter in any way which still allows one to say, "It remains what it was."
11. Essential change occurs when a thing is modified in such a way that it no longer is what it was before. For example, when a chair is run over by a steamroller, it is no longer a chair, but a pile of wood, or metal, or plastic.
12. Essential change occurs to living entities when they change in such a way that one can no longer say, "It remains what it was." For example, a human being changes into a corpse at death, or (if it were possible) the humans making up Frankenstein's monster were essentially changed when they were sewn together to make the monster.
13. It is not necessary fully to know or to understand the circumstances of a substantial change in order to affirm that such a change has taken place. All that needs to happen is to show that what was essential to the being of a thing has altered.
14. In the case of a living being which appears to have undergone substantial change (i.e. death), charity requires us to make efforts to restore quickly what was lost.
15. There comes a time when those making such efforts recognize that the patient has died.

Propositions applying the latter to the former
16. The churches of the Augsburg Confession have changed since the Book of Concord was adopted.
17. Some of those changes have been accidental: they grew, they moved etc.
18. Some of those changes have been essential--i.e. the principle of unity (the Lutheran Confessions) no longer describes any existing trans-parish entity.

Lutheran Confessions
a. "Churches" of the Augsburg Confession refers to trans-parish entities, i.e. territorial churches.
b. The true body and blood of Christ are present under the bread and wine.
c. Luther excommunicates a pastor who mixes consecrated wine with unconsecrated following the service.
d. Private confession ought to be retained. Practiced as the norm. No one is admitted to the Sacrament unless he is first examined and absolved.
e. Only those rightly/ritely called should administer the sacraments and preach.
f. The traditional usages of the Church *ought* to be observed, which may be observed without sin. Uniformity of liturgy within territorial churches (i.e. not merely a parish-by-parish decision).
g. The Mass (i.e. the historic liturgy) is maintained, observed with greatest reverence, and ceremonies exist to teach the unlearned.
h. The right to excommunicate belongs by divine right (a very strong phrase!) to the pastoral office, and the people are bound by divine right to follow them. (AC 28)   
i. Mary is and remains a virgin after Christ's birth (FCSD 8.24, added by Chemnitz to reject the Reformed Peter Martyr Vermigli's denial of the semper virgo).
j. Prayers for the dead are not forbidden, and are not useless. (Ap)
k. The Scripture principle ("The Word of God alone shall establish articles of faith") is maintained in tension with the catholic principle ("In doctrine and ceremonies, we have received nothing new against Scripture OR the catholic church"). These two principles are not, of course, two "sources" of doctrine.

Present-day
a'. "Churches" refers to congregations, but not to trans-parish entities.
b'. Grape juice is offered in many places as an alternative.
c'. Plastic disposable cups are used widely, tossed out unwashed after the service.
d'. Private confession scarcely exists; in most parishes, not at all, in some parishes, just barely. Open communion the norm.
e'. Unordained laity do both (administer the sacraments and preach).
f'. The traditional usages of the Church *need not* be observed (NB: "ought" and "need not" are logically contradictory).
g'. The Mass is not maintained, reverence is discouraged by creative services (See, for  example, http://www.thefellowship.com /ow/outreachworship.html), and ceremonies are instituted to entertain the bored.
h'. The right to excommunicate belongs by divine right to the congregation, and the pastors are bound by divine right to announce such excommunications. (Blue Catechism)
i'. The semper virgo is at best a pious opinion.
j'. We must not pray for the souls of the dead (Blue Catechism).
k'. The catholic principle is gone.

Let me add another, from my own experience. I was a doctrinal reviewer for the new hymnal (now I won't be one much longer, when this gets to the eyes of others--but I digress). In reviewing the baptismal rite, I suggested that we ought to use Luther's 1526 baptismal rite as a paradigm of what constitutes a baptism from a Lutheran point of view. No-brainer, right? After all, that rite is even included in some editions of the BOC. I was overruled, and it was said that the 1526 rite carries NO normative significance for the Lutheran Church.

19. In some cases, these aberrations can be dated, and the scope of their acceptance be fixed--e.g. the abandonment of AC 14 happened in the LCMS in 1989. In other cases, these aberrations cannot be dated, and the scope of their acceptance cannot be fixed. But it is not necessary to explain *how* a thing dies in order to affirm *that* it died. We bury people without autopsies all the time.
20. Efforts to change these aberrations and return to the teaching of the Confessions have proved fruitless. The time has come to check the clock, note the time, and call the morgue.

Conclusion:
21. The quia subscription to, and confession of, the doctrine of the Lutheran Confessions in its fulness is the principle of unity for the churches of the Augsburg Confession, and hence is essential for their existence.
22. There exists no trans-parish Lutheran entity which maintains a quia subscription to, and confession of, the doctrine of the Lutheran Confessions in its fulness.
23.  In the sense that the Confessors understood themselves as 'church'--i.e. a trans-parish entity united by a common confession--There is no Lutheran Church.


Revised April 22, 2005

Homily on the centurion's faith

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            Much of what our Lord Jesus did made others marvel. The disciples marveled when he calmed the storm with a word, and when he withered the fig tree. The people marveled when he cast out demons, and healed the sick. Even his enemies marveled when he avoided their traps with a clear and powerful answer.

            But only once in the Gospels do we ever read that Jesus marveled—and this is that text. “When Jesus heard

            Note first, that the centurion didn’t ask for himself. He was concerned about others…in this case, for his slave. Slaves had no status in Roman Israel. They were expendable, replaceable. But still the centurion cared for him.

            And not only for him! We read in Luke’s account that Jewish elders approached Jesus on behalf of the centurion. They told the Lord, “He is worthy for you to heal his servant. He loves our people, and built us a synagogue.”

            How refreshingly different from our culture’s self-absorption and victim mentality! Last year I read the book, “I’m Proud of You,” the story of Fred Rogers’ friendship with a Dallas sportswriter. The man’s life was turned upside down because he found in Mr. Rogers a person who was genuinely concerned about him. Friendship, for Fred Rogers, was about the other person. How about for us?

            When I focus on “me,” it only makes life harder. None of us lives to himself, St. Paul reminds us. When we turn our attention to our self, we miss the mark God sets for us. We sin. We can learn from the centurion. When we focus on others, and their needs, we find God’s deepest will for us. By losing myself, I find myself.

           

Earlier I mentioned that the Jewish elders told Christ that the centurion was worthy. And that’s the second thing about him. When the topic turned to himself, the centurion could only say, “I am not worthy.”  

            We live in a culture of victimhood. I am a victim when I think I’ve not been treated as well as I think I deserve. That leads to anger, and pain, and more hurt. It leads to nothing good.

            How much better to acquire true humility! True humility doesn’t come from comparing myself to others. True humility comes from comparing myself to God. When the words “I am not worthy” are spoken from the heart, it’s a clear sign we’re drawing near to God. Remember when St. Peter caught the great shoal of fish at Jesus’ word, he fell at his feet and said, “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” And when St. John, when he was old, saw the Lord Jesus, he tells us, “I fell at his feet as though dead.” When we pray, let us draw near to God in firm faith, because of who he is; and with deepest humility, because of who we are. “Lord, I am not worthy.”

           

True humility confesses an infinite gap between God and me. But firm faith confesses that God has bridged that gap in Christ…and that’s the third thing about the centurion’s words. He believed that Christ could act without needing to come to his house.

There’s an interesting comment made by one of the fathers on the Lord’s response, “Not in Israel have I found such faith.” Israel, as you know, was the other name for Jacob. In the Old Testament, when God appeared to Jacob at Bethel, Jacob said, “This is the house of God.” Jacob understood that God could appear at one place. But the centurion understood that Christ is everywhere present, and able to act by his word alone.

So come to him now, as he comes to you in his life-giving flesh and blood. Bring him the needs that press so hard on you—especially the needs of others. Lay aside your anger, your bitterness, that victim mentality that blocks his love. Come to him as you are, humble, unworthy of his mercy. Come to him with great faith, trusting that he who made all things from nothing can surely grant more than you could ever ask or think.  And he will work all things together for his glory and our good, who love him because he first loved us; in the name of the Father, Son,  and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Raskolnikov's dream

From the Epilogue to Crime and Punishment:

"He dreamt that the whole world was condemned to a terrible new strange plague that had come to Europe from the depths of Asia. All were to be destroyed except a very few chosen. Some new sorts of microbes were attacking the bodies of men, but these microbes were endowed with intelligence and will. Men attacked by them became at once mad and furious. But never had men considered themselves so intellectual and so completely in possession of the truth as these sufferers, never had they considered their decisions, their scientific conclusions, their moral convictions so infallible. Whole villages, whole towns and peoples went mad from the infection. All were excited and did not understand one another. Each thought that he alone had the truth and was wretched looking at the others, beat himself on the breast, wept, and wrung his hands. They did not know how to judge and could not agree what to consider evil and what good; they did not know whom to blame, whom to justify. Men killed each other in a sort of senseless spite. They gathered together in armies against one another, but even on the march the armies would begin attacking each other, the ranks would be broken and the soldiers would fall on each other, stabbing and cutting, biting and devouring each other. The alarm bell was ringing all day long in the towns; men rushed together, but why they were summoned and who was summoning them no one knew. The most ordinary trades were abandoned, because everyone proposed his own ideas, his own improvements, and they could not agree. The land too was abandoned. Men met in groups, agreed on something, swore to keep together, but at once began on something quite different from what they had proposed. They accused one another, fought and killed each other. There were conflagrations and famine. All men and all things were involved in destruction. The plague spread and moved further and further. Only a few men could be saved in the whole world. They were a pure chosen people, destined to found a new race and a new life, to renew and purify the earth, but no one had seen these men, no one had heard their words and their voices."

Sunday of the Fathers of the First Council

            In our day and in our country, when you don’t like something about your church, it’s no big deal. You just move on down the block and start a new one. It’s happening here in Dorr: there are little break-off groups from local congregations meeting, one at the township hall and another at Sycamore Elementary.  And all that makes sense, if church is something we create. No wonder that according to a recent Pew study, there are about 41,000 different denominations in the US today!

            But that’s not how they saw it in the early days of Christianity. Christianity became legal in 313 AD, and soon thereafter, a priest of Alexandria named Arius began to deny that Jesus is God. St. Paul had warned the Ephesians, “from among your own selves will arise men speaking perverse things, to draw away the disciples after them.” Why didn’t Arius just try to start his own church? Why did he try to upset the faith the whole world knew?

            It was everybody knew--even him-- that the church isn’t something we create. It’s something we receive from the hand of God, through the hands of those who served before us. Christ doesn’t have many bodies, but only one body. And that body isn’t some spooky spiritual thing. Just as, in the days of our Lord’s ministry you could point out his body, so also when he ascended into heaven you could point out his body, the Church. And the Church was one.

            It’s worth noting how the issue was dealt with. Arius didn’t try to start a new church.  Nor did all the other bishops  just ask the Roman bishop to tell them what to believe. No; just as happened in the time of the apostles, the leaders of the church got together to discuss the issue. And so, 318 bishops from all over the Christian world gathered at Nicaea.

            What was at stake was nothing less than eternal salvation. For if Christ is merely a good man, the first and greatest creature, then God remains infinitely distant from us and we are on our own.  You cannot give what you do not have, and if Christ is not true God, how could he give us the divine life and glory?

            Guided by the Spirit, the holy fathers proclaimed the truth: Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, begotten eternally from his Father without mother, and begotten in time from his mother without father. Our God is not a vague force or power, an abstract concept.

            Nor do we call God “Father, Son and Holy Spirit” because we project earthly, human ideas onto that which cannot be known. We call God “Father” because he has been revealed to us by his Son made flesh. The Son poured out the Spirit from the Father onto us, to make us what we are: children of the Triune God. As we sing each Sunday morning in Matins: “God is the Lord and has revealed himself to us.”

            Eternal salvation is to know and love and live in the life of the Holy Trinity: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. As the Lord says in today’s Gospel: “And this is eternal life, that they know Thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom Thou has sent.” And we know the Father through the Son by the power of the Holy Spirit, as Paul says elsewhere: “No one can say that Jesus is Lord except by the Holy Spirit.”

            That one God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, is known in Christ’s one body: the Church. See how Christ prays in our Gospel: “Holy Father, keep them in Thy Name, which Thou hast given Me, that they may be one, even as we are one. Just as Father, Son and Holy Spirit are one in essence and undivided, so also the Church is one. And just as Father, Son and Holy Spirit live one undivided life of love, so also with those joined together in one Lord, one faith and one Baptism.

            So let us love one another, that with one mind we may confess Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Let us not grow cold in love, uncaring and insensitive to each other’s needs. But let us grow in prayer, in works of mercy, giving special honor to those who are weak and struggle. Let us not love in word only, but in deed and truth, and show ourselves to be children of the one true God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit.