For the Wonders that Astound Us

I am deeply grateful to David Rhoads, who edited the last two issues of Currents in my honor, and for my colleagues on the faculty at LSTC who wrote essays about doing theology for the sake of the church. But now I’m back once more as editor,
charged with introducing the rich fare contained in these covers.

At my home congregation we have been singing “For the Fruit of the Creation” at the Offering, which contains in stanza three the clause printed above. These words of thanksgiving describe our daily discovery in the Christian church. The wonders of creation and the miraculously wondrous faith and life of those whom we serve come to us, like God’s mercy, new every morning. During my thirty-five years at the editor’s task I have often been astounded by new insights,
new opportunities, and new admonitions that flow from the essays I read. In this issue the first two deal with Mark, the lead Gospel in 2008-2009, the second two are in honor of Mark Bangert, whose retirement we observed in the June issue, but for which there was not room for these two gems, and the fifth is a celebration of the conversation that made and continues to make Christianity.

Leroy A. Huizenga shows that the Gospel of Mark proclaims God’s grace and mercy to those of us who, like the Markan disciples, suffer fear, incomprehension and faithlessness and are nevertheless kept in the circle of God’s chosen. The stories in Mark 2:1-3:6 show rising tension between Jesus and his disciples on the one hand and the scribes, the disciples of John, and the Pharisees on the other. Mark 8:27-10:45 makes up the “discipleship” section, in which discipleship is taught by word and deed. The Gospel of Mark heightens the contrast between the faithful Jesus and the frightened Peter: at the precise moment Jesus is making a bold confession of his identity, Peter denies that he even knows Jesus. As the reader comes to the end of the Gospel, every human being has failed. Only Jesus endured to the end. The disciples in Mark do not function as foils, as if Mark were encouraging hearers to attempt to succeed in their discipleship when the disciples chosen by Jesus himself failed. Rather, Mark would have his hearers look to Jesus, who alone was faithful unto the end.

Nicholas Perrin observes that the word “beginning” in Mark 1:1 hearkens back to the story of creation and points forward to all the yet-to-be-taken journeys of those who would follow Christ. The first verses of Mark also point back to the Exodus, and Exodus images abound in the opening chapters. The climax of the new Exodus theme comes in the account of the Last Supper, where Jesus refers to the blood of the new covenant. Messiahship according to Mark’s Jesus was decidedly unlike anything anyone was looking for. Jesus is recognized as messiah by unlikely and peripheral characters: Blind Bartimaeus; the anonymous woman who anointed him; and the Roman centurion. In attempting to vitiate Jesus’ messianic claim, his opponents are unwitting collaborators in establishing that claim. For Mark, the “way” is not just the path of Jesus, but it is also the path along which he invites us to follow. The disciples failed to recognize that God’s plan extended beyond the borders of Israel. The centurion’s confession confirms that Jesus is Son of God for the nations. Mark was answering two questions which his readers must have been asking themselves: If we followers of Christ are the people of God, why are we suffering such hostility? In the face of such hostility, should we pull back?

Kurt Hendel discusses Luther’s views on the Eucharist as he expressed them in his debate with Zwingli and Oecolampadius about the real presence. According to Luther the “right hand of God” does not denote a specific location but, rather, God’s power. Luther insisted that all material things are God’s good creation in which God is intimately present. On the basis of John 6:63 the Swiss reformers had argued that the physical presence of Christ in the sacrament is neither necessary nor beneficial. Luther countered that if Christ’s flesh is not beneficial in the sacrament, it is also not beneficial on the cross. Precisely by means of flesh Christ has accomplished God’s redemptive work. Luther warned that questioning the reality of God’s presence in the material has dire consequences for the heart of the Christian message. Luther was convinced that the physical and the spiritual are intimately yoked in God’s saving and life-giving work. Body-and-blood and bread-and-wine are present in the Eucharist. Luther was an ardent proponent of the spiritual nature of the material as the unique means of God’s intimate presence in the world and as the instrument of God’s redemptive and justifying activity. Luther’s idea about the finite being the vehicle of the divine has implications for the arts, both visual and musical, and for the ecological crisis today.

Craig A. Satterlee points out that while worship practices are adiaphora, they are also the ritual through which God accomplishes salvation. Chapel at a seminary forms leaders for the church and that formation is enhanced by the shape of the worship space itself. The new Augustana Chapel at LSTC has students enter under a map of the world, reminding them that Christians worship for the sake of the world. Windows to the north reveal a Presbyterian seminary, those to the south, a busy city street and the world. These windows remind worshipers of the holy catholic church and the world’s need for God’s mission. The large baptismal font reminds future leaders that they are a community of the baptized. When the gospel is preached, the sound of the baptismal waters is amplification and applause. The chapel has one reading desk, for lectors and preachers alike, symbolically breaking down the distinctions between laity and clergy. The table around which worshippers gather clarifies and transforms relationships. Through music and song the Spirit provides the community with words to address God and confess its faith.

Jennifer Hockenbery assures us that Epiphany celebrates the fact that Christianity from the beginning is not about one culture, one custom, one tradition, and that the future of understanding in the church depends on continued intercultural conversation. The Gospels are influenced by Jewish culture, Roman tradition, and Greek philosophy. Augustine said that the writings of the Platonists were the first to bring him from skepticism toward understanding. Philosophically, Christianity says that conversation between cultures is possible. Much of this characteristic of Christianity is rooted in the incarnation: The true God does not reside in a separate realm of thought, but walks with us in space and time. When truth can speak in human words, human words can speak the truth.

The hymn referred to above stuns me every time I sing its next grateful clause: “for the truths that still confound us.” Clauses like this race through my brain: I am God’s child. Christ died for all. In Christ there is neither male nor female. God’s final word is always yes. Just one more surprise. After all the great thoughts I have read (and a few I have had), these truths still leave me both speechless and eager to talk. A college professor once told me about his first trip to Berlin. As the tour bus passed the church where Paul Gerhardt had been cantor, the fellow across the aisle was sleeping. How could one sleep at a time like that? How could one not be confounded?

Still confoundedly yours,

Ralph W. Klein, editor

With this issue we welcome Ann Rezny as Assistant Editor. Ann, who has already served LSTC and ELCA publications in a number of capacities will assume the role previously taken by Peggy Blomenberg.

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