Who am I? Who are We?

Currents in Theology & Mission
April 2004, Volume 31, Number 2

The answer to that question begins with our baptism, but there are many detours and parentheses along the way. I grew up in a Lutheran parsonage in Central Illinois, in a town so small we used to go watch the cannon rust in the town square for excitement. My grandparents were emigrants from Germany. My grandmother died long before I was born, and my grandfather, who lived long miles from our family, died when I was five. I really only knew my nuclear family of origin.

I’m about to head off to Marburg, Germany, on a writing leave, and planned on checking out my genealogy by going to the tiny town in Germany from which my grandparents came. So I wrote by email to the pastor of the church in that town, and she handed my name to a local retiree, who sent me seven additional generations of my genealogy, going back to Peter Klein, born about 1600 of the Common Era. All my male ancestors were carpenters, save for my grandfather, who built baby buggies in Germany before he took off for America, possibly to find better work in making tires.

My grandfather’s name was Jacob Isaac, and I had always wondered whether at some point my family had moved from Judaism to Christianity. Now I know—for better or worse—that we have been Lutherans for the last four centuries. Now I know who I am. What am I going to do about it?

Craig L. Nessan talks about the identity of Wartburg Theological Seminary and notes that Wartburg has a strong missionary history, beginning with the missionary theology of Wilhelm Loehe. After first supporting Christian ministry in Michigan, Loehe turned to Iowa, and this soon led to the founding of Wartburg. Much of the early work was in German settlements in Iowa, but there was also significant outreach to Native Americans in Montana. After numerous frustrating experiences on this front, the remaining funds helped launch Lutheran missionary work in Papua New Guinea, a connection between Wartburg and Papua New Guinea that continues until this day. Two Fritschel brothers, who were early professors at Wartburg, prepared hundreds of students for pastoral service. Another pioneer, J. Michael Reu, had wide influence both as a teacher and in his many publications that gave substantive shape to Christian education. After World War II, Wartburg’s president helped forge a liaison between the Allied Military Government and the German churches. In subsequent decades women joined the student body and the faculty in significant numbers, and international students came from more than a dozen countries. With today’s many challenges, all church leaders need to recover and reclaim their missionary identity. This requires a deep understanding of the faith and a commitment to careful and caring listening. Concern for the wholeness of the community, beginning with its most vulnerable members, reflects God’s own concern for our salvation. Every seminary graduate today needs to be a missionary.

Christian Weber rehearses the story of the life of Wilhelm Loehe, assessing his identity and accomplishments in his own time (1808-1872) and laying out his significance for the church of today and tomorrow. Loehe lived at a time of great turmoil, due in no small part to the radical changes brought about by the industrial revolution. His wife died at an early age and Loehe was often on the outs with the Lutheran Church in Germany. But he helped create a number of social institutions and was responsible for as many as 185 pastors and other church leaders deciding to come to work in North America. Wartburg Seminary was founded by co-workers of Loehe in the 19th century. Loehe was alert to the needs of his time and accepted the reality of emigration and the challenges it posed to the church. His daily reading of the Bible stimulated in him a vision of the ministry of women and of the social justice dimensions of congregational mission. Despite his own painful experience in the church, he loved the church dearly. He affirmed that the church must confess the faith, serve others humbly, and leave its walls and reach out to the unchurched.

Timothy J. Wengert delves into Luther’s understanding of the Ten Commandments in his two catechisms, an identity-making educational experience for many of us. Trusting God above all things is at the heart of Luther’s understanding of the Decalogue. Luther did not think the Third Commandment applied in a literal fashion to Christians although he concluded that God wanted people to come together on the Lord’s day to hear the word that frees us from work(s). Luther often expanded the meaning of the commandments so that the Fourth included school teachers and employers as well as parents, and the Eighth alluded to lying and gossip as well as to perjury. Christians were permitted to “break” certain commandments. Hence Luther defended his attack on the Pope against the charge that he was breaking the Eighth Commandment. In expounding the Sixth Commandment Luther does not provide descriptions of activities that would violate this commandment, nor does he mention any inequality between men and women with regard to this commandment. We can do nothing worse than to ignore the main function of the commandments: to put us to death by showing our sin and driving us to the one place where there is help: the gospel.

Jennifer Hockenbery finds a helpful word for Good Friday in the writings of Friedrich Nietzsche, not someone with whom we often identify. According to Nietzsche, Jesus did not love the victim and hate the victor, but he, as a victim, died only with love. Even those who pride themselves on tolerance are quick to blame others or themselves, an attitude reinforced in some of our Good Friday worship practices. Nietzsche reminds us that when we feel guilt we blow open the chasm that Jesus preached had been closed. Jesus suffers with you and me rather than for you and me. We are to love and not resent our fellow material beings; we are to love and not resent ourselves.

Gerald H. Anderson talks about our identity as missionaries and points to a number of important mission themes, in a sermon preached last year at LSTC. The Great Commission, for example, was given by an Asian (Jesus), to Asians, in Asia. God’s redeeming activity from the beginning sought to restore and reconcile the whole creation. Another missionary text in Matthew (10:1) reminds us that many have died for their testimony to the faith, including more than 164,000 in 2002. The unity of the church is not an end in itself, but it has a missionary purpose—so that the world may believe. The fragmentation and disunity of the church is a scandal that impedes the mission given by Jesus to his followers.

We also include a sermon by Richard A. Jensen, which he preached on the occasion of his retirement from the Deanship of the ACTS Doctor of Ministry in Preaching program. He used this occasion to preach on Luke, but also to reflect on the many (positive) changes that have occurred during his forty-three years of ministry that have shaped his identity. How have we preachers been challenged by the inclusion of women in ordained ministry, the new voices of Liberation theology, and the new perspectives of our Postmodern era? Listen to a colleague who wisely has welcomed and embraced these changes.

Peter Klein begat Jerg begat Hans begat Johann begat Jakob begat Johann begat Johann begat Jakob begat George begat Ralph. That is important for me. Much more important for me and for you is that we have all been born again to a living hope and a lively testimony by water and Word. For the 180th time on my watch, the serious and creative essays in this issue are my living letter to you.

Ralph W. Klein, Editor