292 - Schism and Renewal in American Lutheranism

Schism and Renewal in American Lutheranism
By Richard J. Neuhaus

Was a real Jonah really swallowed by a real big fish? Do you affirm the absolute historicity and facticity of Adam and Eve as taught in the verbally-inspired, inerrant Scriptures? Such were the questions dominating the biennial convention of the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod in New Orleans, July 6 to 13. Non-Missourians viewed this apparent re-run of the modernist/fundamentalist controversy with mixed feelings of amusement, puzzlement, and alarm. Questions long since assigned to the archives of American Protestantism came out of the historical closets with the vigor of newly-discovered theological insight. And yet the old controversy bad several new twists.

Here was no loose gathering of Bible Belt anti-intellectualism, but a 125-year-old, three million-member church body, widely admired for its organizational sophistication and a system of theological education equal to any in quality and rigor. The conservative juggernaut that overtook Missouri at New Orleans was directed, not by an unlettered yahoo appealing to The Fundamentals of 1910, but by a reputable student of Martin Chemnitz and seventeenth century Lutheran orthodoxy, who invoked the Book of Concord of 1580 and insistently denied any connection with American fundamentalism. However President Jacob Preus framed his argument in historical erudition, the political potency was in the demagogic appeal to the fears of many Missourians, who thought they saw effete intellectuals undermining their Infallible Bible. For all the distinctive wrinkles that marked Missouri's battle, historians of American religion will be essentially correct when they write that the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod was done in by a theologically dreary and unimaginative atavism of the fundamentalist spirit.

I

While Jonah and the alleged horrors of historical-critical methodology received top billing in the public debate, the fatal choice made at New Orleans was not really in the area of scriptural authority or interpretation. The basic decision at New Orleans was in the realm of ecclesiology. Although never notorious for its ecumenical enthusiasms, the history of the Missouri Synod had been marked by an almost schizoid indecision about being sect or church. By this I mean not so much the sociological distinction between sect

Richard J. Neuhaus, pastor of the Church of Saint John the Evangelist in Brooklyn, N. Y., prepared this article after observing the biennial convention of the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod. Mr. Neuhaus is also an associate editor of Worldview magazine and the author of In Defense of People: Ecology and the Seduction of Radicalism (1971).

293 - Schism and Renewal in American Lutheranism

and church, but the theological consciousness that either holds a group in the tension of accountability to the larger Christian community or leads it to protect the pure doctrine by isolating itself as the band of true believers. The conclusion seems inescapable that at New Orleans the Missouri Synod chose, at least for this generation, to be a sect.

The sectarianism that has taken Missouri captive should not be confused with the laudable desire to sustain a certain particularity within an American religious scene vitiated by a theological loss of nerve. Within the larger church, various organizations and orders have the right, even the obligation, to keep alive particular traditions of theology, worship, and life. Of course, the congregations and pastors of the Missouri Synod had joined up originally on the understanding that they would be bound only by the Scriptures and the Lutheran confessions of the sixteenth century. Now Preus's own "Statement of Scriptural and Confessional Principles" has, by a narrow but unmoveable majority, been made normatively binding. But even this might lead to nothing more than complaints about changing the rules late in the game, and would hardly warrant the charge of sectarianism, were it not for the fact that submission to the theology of Jacob Preus determines not only membership in the Missouri Synod but sacramental fellowship in the Christian community. This is the development that warrants, indeed compels, the conclusion that the Lutheran Cburch-Missouri Synod has wandered into schism from the church.

II

The sect side of Missouri's schizoid self-consciousness has a long history of theological rationalization. The rationalization turns around the distinction between the "visible church" and the "invisible church." The distinction has been in disfavor during recent years of Missouri's history but has now returned with a vengeance. The idea is that the creedal affirmation of the one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church refers to the invisible church, the body of true believers of all times and places. The invisible church tends to become a highly platonic, spiritualized reality with little or no historical referents. The visible church, on the other band, is made up of organized churches of which, according to one strain of Missourian thought, the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod is the "true visible church." When the New Testament speaks of the existing unity of the Body of Christ, it is, according to this view, referring to the invisible church. The gutting of any imperative toward realizing Christian unity is an obvious consequence of this line of reasoning. The conflict between Missouri Synod's 1965 "Mission Affirmations" and their emphatic historical understanding of the church is clear and inescapable.

294 - Schism and Renewal in American Lutheranism

By virtue of the visible/invisible split, it becomes possible for the New Orleans convention to say to the majority of professors at Concordia Theological Seminary in St. Louis: You are guilty of teaching false doctrine; this does not mean you are not Christians, but it does mean you cannot belong to Synod unless you repent of your errors and submit to the theological position asserted in President Preus's "A Statement;" if you choose not to submit, there is no coercion involved; you should simply find another church body or you mill be expelled; and, of course, if you are not a member of the Synod we cannot be in sacramental fellowship with you.

Missouri has in its history often asserted that it cannot be in "pulpit and altar fellowship" with those who are not "in complete doctrinal agreement." What has changed as a result of New Orleans is that, for every practical purpose, the doctrinal basis upon which agreement is mandatory has been expanded to include doctrinal resolutions of the Synod. Another dramatic change is the use of a mechanistic majoritarianism to silence and exclude the forty to forty-five percent of convention delegates who disagreed with the direction pointed by Preus. The rationale by which Missouri has isolated itself from other Lutherans and other Christians in the past has now been brought home to divide the Synod itself.

Some observers believe that, due to the excessive representation of small rural parishes, the delegate strength of the Preus forces was disproportionate to their actual support in the Synod. The nature and tactics of the Preus convention majority might well be an issue in possible court actions, but there is no doubt that, through election and appointment, the Preus forces now control every synodical agency of power and possible arbitration, giving the President an almost absolute command that is perhaps unparalleled in any major religious body. In a sense, Missouri was healed of its schizophrenia at New Orleans by the radical expedient of amputating the church-consciousness that confused its sectarian identity.

The most immediate victims of the Preus onslaught are John Tietjen, President of Concordia Seminary in St. Louis, and the all but five faculty members who have publicly resisted Preus' theological line. It is expected that those who do not submit will, within the year, be forced into an academic diaspora, many no doubt relocating at Lutheran seminaries and universities outside the Missouri Synod. Many teachers, pastors, and congregations that have opposed Preus leadership clearly hope that New Orleans was only a temporary setback, but already there is a more sober determination among some that the forced exile from Missouri must be turned to good ecumenical account and not result in a mere dribbling away of Missouri's finest. If they have their way, the loss at New Orleans might mean a gain for American Lutheranism and the larger church.

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III

Depending upon the boldness and solidarity of those who are being excluded from Missouri, a major realignment of American Lutheranism could be in the works. For years the idea of "regional churches" has been discussed in some Lutheran circles. It is now possible that disenfranchised Missourians could intensify their cooperative and structural connections with other Lutherans in their regions and move toward bringing the idea to fruition. The consequence could be an American Lutheranism united, if not in one organization, at least in sacrament and mission. Preus's Missouri Synod and the much smaller Wisconsin Synod would then remain in their comer until, as is to be hoped, a resurgence of confessional and catholic consciousness one day persuades them theycannot live unto themselves. Such a realignment through the building of regional churches is at least one option that will be earnestly explored in the months ahead.

Meanwhile, and as long as we are still in Missouri, the theologically minded will have to ask hard questions about what it means to belong to a sect. Beyond the individual decisions that win soon be forced by the synodical administration looms the larger question about the ecumenical destiny of Lutheranism within Christ's church. What happened at New Orleans may be viewed simply as a debacle, or it may signal a kairos leading toward a revitalized Lutheranism within American Christianity. I suspect that within the year we will have some solid evidence as to which judgment is the more plausible.