Machen the Magnificent

There are general stylistic changes that I will not dwell on, but which could be unpacked by someone with greater literary skill than myself. In particular, the style in the proposed revision is too self-conscious. By trying to explain everything on the way, it opens itself up to the charge of superficiality. The concrete and specific is often replaced with the abstract and vague. On the other hand, even the attempt at precise definition in the opening section is a move in the wrong direction, I submit. There was an exemplary vagueness at times in using ordinary language, which left the teeth to judicial precedent rather than precise definition. For example, expressions in the current book like “it is altogether fitting” skate a fine line between requiring something and not. It is not exactly a requirement, yet the fact that the wise men of the church commend something as “altogether fitting” means it should not exactly be regarded as optional either. Where the judicial line falls will depend on precedent, the kind of visitation exercised in a Presbytery, and so forth. But now, the book declares explicitly that such sections “are not mandated” (line 67). If not mandated, why bother with them at all? In short, often the concrete is replaced by the abstract, increasing vagueness when the concrete is superior; and often common-sense language is replaced by precise definitions, revealing however that judicious ambiguity is sometimes superior.

In the remainder, I will offer criticisms and warnings tied to specific sections.

Catholicity and worship

In lines 204-206, the proposal says

No favoritism may be shown to any who attend. Nor may any member of the church presume to exalt himself above others as though he were more spiritual, but each shall esteem others better than himself.

This sounds very spiritual, but a skeptic might call it merely windy. Name one OPC anywhere where this has been a problem? What kind of behavior could be addressed by such a canon? Clearly, it is to sandbag for the more radical suggestion that follows:

The unity and catholicity of the covenant people are to be manifest in public worship. Accordingly, the service is to be conducted in a manner that enables and expects all the members of the covenant community —- male and female, old and young, rich and poor, educated and uneducated, healthy and infirm, people from every race and nation —- to worship together. (208-211)

This has too many modern political buzz-words or concepts not to be suspect. You know that people are going to appeal to this “principle” to advocate a more female-friendly worship service, or a more youth-friendly service, or a “service that is not so stodgy, so waspish — how are we going to attract minorities with this kind of worship service?” But this is a wrong view of “catholicity.” Catholicity does not mean bending to the cultural or age-specific desires of everyone, in a democratic sense. Catholicity properly understood, is a principle of intersection, not union, to use set theory language. It is a principle of conjunction in the logical sense — i.e. that which has been the case everywhere — not conjoining in the sense of appending.

Moreover, catholicity is not the only nor even a trumping principle. We should grant national settlements and some local custom. It is quite wrong to suppose that the “national settlement” should be overthrown by some tendentious appeal to catholicity, even apart from the fact that such catholicity is usually wrongly defined.

In continues:

I.B.4.d. Because God’s people worship not as an aggregation of individuals, but as a congregation of those who are members of one another in Christ, public worship is to be conducted as a corporate activity in which all the members participate as the body of Christ. (213-215)

This is needless. If it means everyone should sing the psalms and hymns, that is obvious — why waste print mentioning it as some highfaluting principle?

But the danger that this kind of vague generality can be used as a wedge for all kinds of appeals to special music, children’s choirs, and what not else is palpable to anyone with experience.

No more long, boring sermons

1.C.3.b. Worship should be conducted with regard to the time, taking care that neither reading, singing, praying, preaching, or any other ordinance be disproportionate one to the other, nor the whole rendered either too short or too tedious. (302-304)

In other words, someone on the committee thinks the sermons are too long.

“Too tedious” is unfitting for a manual. This is pure subjectivity.

Would anyone counter, “no, I think we need some tedium”?

If not (and obviously, not) then this is a canon without objective referent.

Furniture Now Required

I.C.4.a. Because the pulpit, baptismal font, and communion table facilitate the part of worship which is performed on behalf of God, it is fitting that they be positioned so as to draw the focus of the congregation upon the Word and sacraments, and that they be easily accessible and visible to the entire congregation throughout the worship service. Because the Word is primary and the sacraments serve to seal the Word, it is fitting that the pulpit be in the position of prominence. (309-313)

The reference to “baptismal font” and “communion table” assume that these exist and not only exist, but should be “visible to the entire congregation throughout the worship service.” This is certainly debatable, especially in view of the “Reformed tradition,” earlier vaunted. Where in Scripture could one possibly justify the notion that gazing on an unused baptismal font is necessary, and not even just once, but throughout the worship service?!

Note that gazing on the communion table (if one exists) is not at all the same as having communion. This is at best a second order reflection, and I think it would be very difficult to justify this gazing as a proper element of worship from Scripture. And I would like to see someone try.

Let’s examine the issues surrounding these pieces of furniture that are now apparently required — even though it is apparently not even required that one have a building to begin with! (The Covenanters often met out in the woods. We may someday have to do so again.)

I. Baptismal Font

Why does there need to be a permanent “baptismal font” if there is not going to be a baptism?

1. When there is a baptism, there needs to be a source of water. Where did this notion of a “baptismal font” come from, and when did such a thing become a requirement? Where in Scripture is there an argument for a baptismal font?

2. As a matter of convenience, some may choose to have a piece of furniture with a basin that can hold water for use in a baptism. If an architect or someone else wants to refer to this piece of furniture as a “baptismal font,” that is his right. If some other source of water is utilized — a stream out in the woods, a spigot coming out of the wall, whatever — that is also okay.

3. Moreover, it may be deemed convenient, if and when there is such a piece of furniture, to leave the piece of furniture in place semi-permanently, so that people don’t have to lug it back and forth from storage. There is nothing wrong with that.

4. But that is different from assuming that there will be a permanent thing referred to as a “baptismal font” which must be the “focus” of the congregation, “easily accessible” (whatever that means), let alone “visible to the entire congregation throughout the worship service.” Where did any of those unwarranted ideas come from?

II. Lord’s Table

1. For churches that do not have communion every week, there should be no requirement for a permanent piece of furniture, though it might be convenient to have such. I.e. follow the same arguments as above with baptism. The Scottish church, baptists like Spurgeon, and others set up real tables as needed so the people could sit when communion was being served.

2. The table(s) may be left set up semi-permanently if it is deemed convenient to do so.

3. For churches — like most American Presbyterian churches —  that have gone from a table or tables that are actually used, to a single symbolic table, it is far more important that the symbolism of sitting around the table be maintained than some notion of “being visible to the entire congregation throughout the worship service.” The proposed unwarranted pseudo-principle was actually used in a conservative (non-OPC) Presbyterian church I attended to justify placing the “communion table” up on the stage, thereby destroying the symbolism of eating at a table. (The next step was the pastor elevating the bread, “not to venerate it” of course, but so that it would be “visible to the entire congregation.”) This is how shaky foundational principles work themselves out into very bad practice that ends up destroying the actual biblical principle, just as it eventually did in popery.

Though it is out of sequence to mention it here, in passing let me mention that a careful reading of 419-435 shows that the existing principle, “the celebration of the sacraments should be accompanied by the preaching of the Word” has been eliminated. This is a serious shift in a direction contrary to the unified voice of the Reformers.

Congregational Singing

I. Songs and Musicians

I.C.4.b. Because musicians and musical instruments serve the part of worship that is performed by the congregation, it is fitting that they be positioned with or behind the congregation. (315-316)

This refers to something as if it is assumed that it exists. Are Reformed churches now required to have musicians and musical instruments? If not, then statements like this should be qualified with a phrase like “if they are present at all.”

II. The hated reference to “choral”

There is a phrase in the current book that has been subject to endless ridicule by the left wing in the OPC, namely this one:

Let the tunes as well as the words be dignified and elevated. The stately rhythm of the choral is especially appropriate for public worship. (III.6).

The new draft deletes this.

I don’t wish to quibble about the exact wording. Perhaps there could be a better way to describe the matter than “choral,” though I can’t think of how, at least with equal brevity. However, there was great wisdom expressed in the deleted principle, regardless of how it is worded. The writers did not limit the notion to the German chorale, but the Scottish tunes were obviously included within the intended semantic range, and others (French, Irish, and so forth), as can be seen by scanning the selections in Blue Trinity.

The choral is a concretization of two important features of congregational singing, one objective, and the other subjective.

1. The music should be dignified (solemn, grave, stately, regal: pick the best word). There is a semantic range. That is the objective side.

2. The subjective side of the “choral” concept emphasizes sing-ability for a group consisting of all levels of musical training and appreciation, i.e. a congregation. Above all: simple rhythm, simple melodies, and melodies that can be, yet need not be, sung in harmony. Negatively, it excludes syncopation, wide melodic leaps, and aggressive rhythms. In extracting these principles of congregational singing, one can either simply state abstract principles — in which case it is not a directory, it is a chapter from a Systematic Theology — or you can apply the principles concretely. Specifying the choral is the church speaking concretely.

Deleting that in favor of an abstraction is a serious defection. Nothing is established, nothing ratified; in effect, it is now wide open.

The OPC opened the tent door by approving the seriously defective “Red Trinity Hymnal” several years back. Now, the worst aspects of that move are being translated into a “principle.” It is one thing to approve a defective instrument for voluntary usage; it is something else to change a constitution to ratify its worst aspects.

It was a good section, and a serious loss to change it, as we will see even more in the following.

III. The Content of “Songs of Praise”

II.B.2.c. Congregations do well to sing the metrical versions or other musical settings of the Psalms frequently in public worship. Congregations also do well to sing hymns of praise that respond to the full scope of divine revelation. (525-527)

The first sentence is similar to the existing document. The second sentence, however, innovates in two different and very important ways.

A. Many people probably do not realize that the second sentence takes a definite position in  a long-standing debate. The debate is between those that argue that the content of song should be given directly by the word of God, versus those that think that the church has freedom to write its own songs.

The argument is analogous, though not settled, by a hypothetical debate between those that argue for reading from the Word of God, versus those that would suggest there should be just a general reading of something edifying. Many people would rightly balk if the “reading from the Word” were replaced with a general “reading,” which might to be sure be taken from Scripture, but might also be taken from worthy Christian writers, such as C. S. Lewis, or Augustine. I mention this not to engage the debate, but only to help those that have not thought about the song issue to understand something of the sentiment as well as content of one side of that debate.

That is the context of the statement given in the new version.

One of the arguments used by the man-made-song advocates is a modus tollens, that we may schematize this way:

1. the church’s song must include the full scope of divine revelation
2. If church song is limited to Scripture songs then the church’s song does not include the full scope of divine revelation
3. therefore, church song is not limited to Scripture songs

The proposal affirms (2) implicitly, but without proof or debate (at least that we know of). (2) has been denied by many. John Murray argued for limiting worship song to Scripture; the OPC did not ratify his position, but allowed it, taking an intermediate position. The intermediate position resulted in the “Blue Trinity Hymnal” where the hymns approved for worship were limited to Psalm-like in content, and stately and dignified in tune. In view of all this, consider the wise wording of the existing Directory:

Since the metrical versions of the Psalms are based upon the Word of God, they ought to be used frequently in public worship. Great care must be taken that all the materials of song are in perfect accord with the teaching of Holy Scripture. (III.6)

This may be unpacked as the following propositions:

1. The Psalms must be used in worship, frequently

2. Whatever song is used must be in accord with Scripture

Note that these propositions can be affirmed by the Murray-position; they can also be affirmed by the non-Murray adherents, provided they are at least willing to include Psalms in addition to songs of non-inspired composition.

In contrast, the new version expresses these two propositions.

1. The Psalms may be used in worship

2. Non-scripture-songs may be used in worship.

Both of these propositions express a major shift from the previous version.

First, Psalms may be used, but they are not required to be. This represents a backing off from the earlier stance, and in particular a drawing back from the dominant original Reformed “tradition” (which is elsewhere vaunted). Psalms are no longer required; they are only permitted, with some tepid commendation.

Second, non-scripture songs are explicitly permitted. The delicate ambiguity of the present version has been changed. This may seem like a technicality, since it was the animus imponentis that man-made hymns were allowed by the existing wording. However, the words chosen were ones that could also be subscribed by Murray-theory-adherents. The new words could not.

The revision would not only demur from Murray, it would exhume his coffin and drive some extra nails into the lid.

Note that this is a move away from catholicity. Fewer Reformed Christians can subscribe without perjury to this version than could subscribe to the current version. This is a serious defection. It is motion in the direction of (1) loosening the requirement of psalm singing, (2) requiring all to acknowledge that man-made songs may be used. Exclusive Scripture-song advocates will presumably now need to take an explicit exception here. That is a revolution, not a tweak.

B. Second, note that in the new phrase, “hymns that respond to revelation,” even more is being asserted than explicitly allowing non-inspired specific content. It is also allowing something more than non-inspired content consistent with revelation, namely, poetry that “responds” to revelation. In this way, the way is opened up for the kind of Methodist back-woods revival songs that my Methodist father used to scorn as “diddly-dees,” which are all about the feelings that gush forth from my heart. The best of these were put into their own section in the Blue Trinity, with the implication that they were not appropriate for formal worship. (One of the serious defects of the Red Trinity was eliminating this categorical distinction.) However, it is a horrifying thought to think that a “principle” that would allow this kind of junk is now being made part of our constitutional documentation.

IV. Musical accompaniment

An exactly parallel argument should be made with respect to musical accompaniment. There is a strong Reformed inheritance that the singing should be without musical accompaniment. The OPC has permitted either view.

As with the content of song, a parallel shift is proposed.

The current version says, (III.6, middle)

No person shall take a special part in the musical service unless he is …

Again, this is a proposition that can be subscribed to by adherents of either position. The anti-instrumentalist regards this as the empty proposition

for all x, if x accompanies then x must be etc.

As such, this is true. But it leaves untouched, formally, whether there should be any x that accompany. (To use the standard illustration from logic: We can agree that all trespassers will be prosecuted. We can also hope that there are no trespassers.) It leaves the permitting of the referent to the conscience.

Now contrast the new version:

2.e “Musical gifts are properly used in public worship to assist the congregation in its worship of God… No person may take a special part in the musical service unless he is …” (535-538)

Thus, the new version asserts not one but two propositions. The second is similar to the previous shown above.

1. Musical accompaniment is permissible

2. for all x, if x etc.

This is no longer subscribable by the anti-instrumentalist; the previous version was. It is thus less catholic. It now requires the loosened view common in the American, though still resisted even in the nineteenth century by Girardeau, Dabney, and many others. Another departure from catholicity.

Public recitation of a creed

The existing book does not mention the reciting of a creed. Many OPC churches do of course have such an exercise as part of their worship. But the Scottish inheritance did not have it, and “strict” Regulative Principle adhering churches do not have it to this day. There was some kind of gentlemen’s agreement that doing so would not be disciplinable, but it would also not be required or even commended.

The new version innovates, in the section “Confession of Faith” (546-547)

II.B.3.b. It is also fitting that the congregation as one body confess its common faith, using creeds that are true to the Word of God, such as the Apostles’ Creed or the Nicene Creed.

As with the topic of song content and accompaniment, this is a move from one allowing wiggle room (in both directions) to one that takes a positive stand. Before, both positions were allowed. Now, one must admit that public recitation is “fitting” or, presumably, be forced to take an exception.

Apart from the fittingness as such, it can be questioned whether the Apostles’ Creed as originally intended is “true to the Word of God.” William Cunningham, in his Historical Theology, vol. 1, pp. 79-93, gave a number of arguments against reciting the Apostle’s Creed. Have his arguments been answered by the OPC? I seriously doubt it. Most Reformed that defend the Apostle’s Creed are advocating an interpretation of at least two of the clauses that is anachronistic and idiosyncratic. Is it, then, only while holding such a view that the OPC will mean to say “it is fitting”?

In all three topics, one must ask (1) has the issue been isolated and thoroughly debated? and (2) even if so, has the majority pondered not only their strength to be able to pass such a motion, but whether it is consistent with the principle of holy catholic church to do so? Whether it is wise, and prudent to do so?

The Blessing.

The Aaronic benediction has been changed from the existing III.4 which kept the singular second person, “the Lord bless thee and keep thee etc.” to allow the plural “the Lord bless you and keep you.” (447-453) This is a degradation that changes the meaning for the worse and should be resisted.

The Wedding

Predictably, the woman’s vow of obedience is changed (not to mention the defective shift from the singular to plural mentioned above in a different context) from

wilt thou love him, cherish and obey him, so long as ye both shall live?

To:

Will you love him, comfort him, respect and submit to him even as the church submits to Christ, and forsaking all others keep yourself only unto him as long as you both shall live?

In one sense, I have never understood why Christian women, under the influence of feminism, think they prefer to say “submit to” rather than “obey.” Obey is something everyone does that has a boss. (Most men have to obey many men. Most women only have to obey one man.) Submission goes way beyond that, to a bending and accommodation of the will to another that mere simple obedience does not do.

Thus, in an odd way, the new form is harsher, stricter, than the old way.

However, it is so only to those that ponder these things deeply. At a surface level, it is an accommodation to feminism.

Moreover, it replaces a vow that can be easily verified and tested against behavior, with one that is more vague and uncertain outwardly. Obedience can be verified objectively; submission, with more difficulty, if at all.

The theological deep meaning of the marital roles is a proper subject for marriage counseling, sermons, reading, and mortification. But it is not wise to take vows that cannot be kept. It tends to make one a perjurer. One becomes accustomed to not being able to do what one “vowed” to do. Therefore, I am not breaking the vow in a new way, I’m just shifting where I place the inevitable line.

The same comment can be made in respect to the man’s vow, which now states the impossible and thus always false, and thus non-falsifiable

will you love her as Christ loved the church and gave himself for her

instead of the simple and verifiable old version,

wilt thou love her, honor and cherish her, so long…

Conclusion

There are a number of other defections that could be mentioned, but any reader that has tracked with what I have presented will be able to discover them for himself, and anyone that is not with me would not suddenly “click” by reading a few more.

There are some good things that could be said about the document also; however, now is not the time for that. The time for that is when revisions are still being made and makable. Now, it is an up-or-down vote by each Presbytery. At this stage in the process, the only question is, are there objections to the proposal sufficient to vote it down, regardless of any good things that it might also contain. I have highlighted some bad things about the proposal that I think are sufficient to warrant rejecting it, and urge any Presbyters that may read this to carefully consider voting against it.

Putting Reformed in scare quotes sets up an ambiguity from the very beginning — and indeed, one can’t get closer to the beginning than the first word of the title. The predicate, “is not enough,” is also unspecified — not enough for what? Let us unpack each one separately:

1. “Reformed”

Let us consider how Wilson uses the word and how the word should be used. Just getting this straight would, I think, clear up much confusion in the church world today.

Exactly why the word is put in scare quotes is never explained. In the Forward, Wilson clearly wants to define Reformed as a category that can be claimed by someone, apparently anyone, holding to “the teaching of the Westminster Confession” or the “historic Reformed faith” (p. 7). He suggests that “this is a debate between the Enlightenment TRs (ETRs) and the historic reformed” (p. 9).

A little later he implies that the term when scare-quoted indicates a person as above but who has ossified, who has not continued to advance. “Because of the Reformational commitment, it is still necessary to say that to be Reformed is not enough. We must certainly live up to what we have already attained, but together with this we must not be allowed to assume that the last significant attainment was in the middle of the seventeenth century.” (p. 13). He unfortunately then quotes the bogus semper reformanda canard — it is “not something we should all chant together right up until someone actually tries it. ” Haha — but don’t let’s chant it either, shall we?

Thus Reformed in scare quotes seems to indicate that “Reformed” is a label that can be claimed by anyone holding certain beliefs, and moreover this claim to be Reformed is not sufficient to settle the questions in the book since it may harp back to a set of beliefs formulated in the 17th century: something more is needed.

But this move is unclear. If anyone claiming to be “holding to the teaching of the Westminster Confession” gets to be referred to as Reformed, and then Wilson making the same claim gets to say “that’s not enough,” then “Reformed” is indeed just a word in quotes. It has little if any value. Let me explain.

“Reformed” is properly not the designation for Calvinism any more than “Catholic” is a designation for Thomism. There is clearly an association, but the entailment is the opposite of how Wilson is using the terms. (It is not just him; the mistake is commonly made by friend and foe.) Instead, we should say that Calvinism is associated with the Reformed church, because the Reformed church in its judicial decisions historically embraced tenets compatible with Calvinism. Had the Synod of Dordt ruled for the Remonstrants, then Arminianism would be the “Reformed” doctrine. Thomism is associated with Catholicism, because the Roman Catholic Church endorsed Thomism. Now consider the converse.

Does some unchurched guy emerging from his study get to make the announcement, “As a Catholic thinker, I endorse Thomas”? Not at all. Agreeing with every word Thomas wrote does not make one a Catholic. Being admitted as a communing member makes one a Catholic. Then one could say, “Though a Catholic, I demur from Thomas at various points.”

Does some unchurched guy emerging from his study get to make the announcement, “As a Reformed thinker, I say ‘Reformed’ is not enough”? Not at all. His claim is just as presumptuous as the churchless guy (or worse yet, a Baptist) claiming to speak as a Catholic, just because he believes this or that also taught by the Catholic church.

What I am suggesting, in other words, is that a great deal of clarity would be injected into the current discussions by defining Reformed doctrine as “that which is taught by the Reformed church,” and a Reformed man as “a member of the Reformed church.” Reformed (with a capital R) is a name that designates a particular church settlement at the time of the Reformation, which has come down to us today by historical continuity reflected in succession of ordination.

If this seems strained or odd, play the logic out with Catholic (with a capital C) or Orthodox (with a capital O). The logic will immediately be clear.

One does not become “Reformed” in any ecclesiastically-meaningful way by starting a club with the word “Reformed” in it, like the “Confederation of Reformed Evangelical Churches” (CREC). So indeed, putting “Reformed” in scare quotes may have expressed a primal intuition of a real issue.

2. “Is not enough”

Once this is understood, the predicate can now be analyzed. “Reformed” is certainly “enough,” because being in the Reformed Church suffices, so we believe, to be in the holy catholic church “out of which there is no ordinary possibility of salvation” (WCF 25.2).

One could certainly point out that hypocrites should derive no assurance from their church membership. But then, the point would be, not that “being Reformed” is not enough, but that “being a church member” in general is not enough.

One could point out, that “being a member of the Reformed church” is not “enough” to permit one to announce his opinion as that of the Reformed church. Again, that is true but fatuous. It applies to every member of any church, unless it should be the pope (if his claims can be sustained).

One could grant that “being Reformed” or “being Lutheran” or being anything else “is not enough” for this, that or the other thing — like being a good engineer I suppose. But so what?

3. Wilson: what is he?

With that background, it simply needs to be pointed out that Douglas Wilson is not a member of a Reformed Church. If the unchurched man cannot come out of his study and announce, “I as a Catholic think…” nor “I as a Reformed thinker say…” then neither can ten such men band together and say, “we be a Reformed church.” There is only one way to become a Reformed man: and that is to join the Reformed Church. Not announcement, but joining is called for.

What makes the book so silly is that all kinds of analysis is given relevant to what it means to take covenant vows, and so forth, all of which is like a eunuch giving marriage counseling. Auto-ordained Wilson in the self-proclaimed CREC dares to instruct on what it means to be in covenant! As if blabbing on and on endlessly about being in covenant puts one in covenant!

4. “The” covenant

Lest it be thought that I am harping too much on the title, an extension of the semantic analysis can be made in respect to the word that could be said the book purports to be “about,” namely covenant. “One of the great reformational needs in the Church today is the need for us to understand the objectivity of the covenant, and so that is the thrust of this book” (p. 13). So the first point is that Wilson needs to join the Church before talking about what the Church needs to do. But the second is like unto it: “the” covenant is never specified. There are several covenants in Scripture, and even more sub-covenants or covenant administrations. So what possible sense is there in referring to “the covenant” as if there is only one? The “objectivity of the covenant,” so stated, is an empty abstraction.

It may seem like a mere semantic quibble, but it is not. Read the book while constantly asking, “what covenant is Wilson talking about” and you will see the problem.

It is not that the book has nothing good; but when the verbal legerdemain is removed, we must borrow the words of a wag who said “where it is original it is unsound, and where it is sound it is unoriginal.”

Douglas Wilson. “Reformed” is Not Enough. (Moscow, ID: Canon) 2002

Many of the confusions of office in the modern churches are, I suspect, due to replacing the view in which office indexes an authorized function needed for the good of a human society, with something that is more akin to being chosen for an honor society. It becomes a way to recognize certain men — good men, successful men, big-giving men, whatever. Office is confused with and thus degenerates into being something like awarding a medal for bravery in battle. As with all missing of the mark, this error can lead to a praxis which deviates to the left or to the right: it can lead to a lack of exercise of authority or an arrogation of arbitrary power. The Eldership can become nothing but a special place to sit for the men that have been awarded medals, or it can become men imposing themselves based on mere willful assertion of power. Instead, we should always remember that the name of an office is a linguistic designator for the class of functions defined, required, and authorized for that office. In doing so, many of the seemingly difficult questions will resolve themselves quite easily.

The framework that I presuppose for this reflection has not yet in these pages been proved in every point, so this study leap-frogs over those still-owed arguments, taking them as assumptions. The framework may be summarized this way: the Minister, ordained by Presbytery, is the authorized agent of the holy catholic church to consecrate the elements authoritatively and to control the giving of the sacrament. The Ruling Elders are local men ordained locally to join the minister in rule, especially in the regular oversight of the members of the local congregation. The Deacons are local men ordained locally to minister physically to the congregation and world, doing so authoritatively in the name of the church of Christ.

The Ruling Elders are appropriate assistants to distribute the elements, since they, with the Pastor, constitute the Session, which receives members as communicants and pronounces excommunication. That is, their function in discipline is authoritative, and precisely and directly related to the distribution or withholding of the Lord’s Supper. This works itself out both directly, in offering or forbidding the elements to each person present, but also indirectly, in observing and noting members that might be refraining voluntarily, so that such lack of participation can be followed up on and addressed. The function of office thus has admitting and denying as the twin poles spanning a function, which is exercised in several degrees and modes between those poles. Thus, for example, “being under admonishment” is, we could say, a form of being admitted but with the specter of being denied looming more vividly than normally is the case.

Clearly, both the direct and indirect exercise of discipline so defined fall outside the purview of the Deacon. In no sense can the Deacon simply “fill in for” the eldership. If no elders (including assistant pastors) are present to assist, then the officiating Minister will have to distribute by himself, or Communion will have to be forsworn that week. As a basic, governing principle, this much seems clear.

But now, suppose that, it being granted that it must be done in such a way that neither the direct nor indirect function of the eldership were obstructed, it were thought that the bare logistics of the distribution would be materially aided by having assistants: would such a practice necessarily be forbidden?

For example, in many churches, the elements are passed on trays down each pew. Each tray proceeds pew by pew, right to left, left to right, and so forth. An attendant stands on each end of the pew to move the tray to the next pew.  Provided there is at least one Elder in each pair of attendants, would it be permitted to have a Deacon as the other member of a pair, in the function of pure “logistics”?  My friend Steve Hoffmeister dubs this the “ergonomics justification.”

If this seems far-fetched, consider that some churches might not have anyone at one end of the pew: the tray would be passed by the congregant at the end to his counterpart in the next pew, such as one sees even more often in the collection. Now there might be some arguments against this practice as well, hinted at in the next paragraph. The practice is described merely to make plausible an a fortiori, of having a non-elder at the end as tray-passing-facilitator, even though not performing the function of elder.

It must be presumed that if the answer turns out affirmative, then there would need to be some way for the Elder to signal certain commands to the assisting Deacon, such as “do not pass down the next row.” It would need to be understood that in areas, if any, that are served by a single attendant (such as, an overflow vestibule with seating), the single attendant would have to be an elder. At the pews, given the constraints of time and memory, a single  elder would need to be able to scan and oversee the entire pew by himself — i.e. it were not intrinsically necessary to have two elders on each pew just to fulfill their basic function.

Just laying out the ground principles prior to answering the question at hand already raises a pointed question that every elder should ponder: are elders in fact doing the direct and indirect work of oversight, or has their role in the rite degenerated to mere symbolism? The widespread practice of libertarian fencing, whereby the pastor simply explains to the attendees what rule they themselves, in effect, are to use to admit or forbid themselves, is untenable in view of our view of office and its responsibilities. Yet the practice continues, and I dare say leads to an attitude on the part of many elders that they are simply symbolic accoutrements to the ceremony, not actually playing an active spiritual role. They are like a ceremonial, unarmed sergeant-at-arms. Many may be thinking more about the mere logistics of serving, and may not be actively performing the function of admitting and withholding at all. So, before even raising the question of whether a non-elder could help with the logistics, elders need to ensure that they themselves understand the requirements of their office and are diligently carrying them out. At the end of the service, for example, the pastor or Session should receive a report of all church members that voluntarily refrained from participating, and this should be entered into the minutes and followed up on.

This stage of the argument already opens up another aspect of the “Deacon as ergonomics” discussion. If the Deacon is just there for logistical support, if it is understood that he has neither the right nor the duty to perform the overseeing function associated with the Lord’s Supper, then you would expect that he would draw aside to his “station” and not be receiving the plates from the Minister. For, receiving the plates from the Minister for distribution is at once both the act and the symbol of the elders’ function, namely, authoritatively giving and withholding. A weak but perhaps illuminative analogy would be the handling of the tickets at the opera or ball game. Only certain authorized agents have the authority to sell tickets and accept tickets at the gate. In addition, ushers are stationed at various places to help people find seats and keep the flow moving. For an usher to take a ring of tickets and feign to distribute them though not authorized would be confusion. Why would he even give the appearance of doing so? Likewise here, the ergonomic assistants should stand at the station where their service will be rendered (e.g. at one end of the first pew), not participate at the point of official and authoritative distribution.

Once all the wrong ways to involve deacons in the distribution of the Lord’s Supper have been ruled out, then it raises the question, why do the ergonomic assistants need to be ordained (i.e. as deacons) at all? Why couldn’t any layman perform this function?

It is a question that should be pondered carefully. I can think of no reason for limiting the function to deacons, if the function is needed at all, other than for the convenience of the natural selection process that stands behind the ordination of a man to the office of deacon, allowing thereby the dignity of the ceremony to be maintained symbolically.  It would be analogous to a king visiting a town, and needing some assistants for this or that logistical function, and choosing the Mayor and Town Council members to perform it, rather than just any assemblage of townsmen, even though those same townsmen might be on the Council next time. It saves time, it capitalizes on a selection process that has already taken place, and which moreover tends to weed out participants that were scandalous, and adds to the general dignity.

To summarize the results so far: when proper function of office is kept in view rather than simply honorific right, probably the need for non-elder assistants would be seen to be non-existent in almost every case; and in the few cases that remain, it would probably be done differently than what we often see, and would not necessarily need to involve Deacons per se, though that class might be the best to utilize for reasons of expediency and dignity.

This reflection on a practical question has keyed on examining the actual function of office directly: asking, what is required to do in order to fulfill the calling of one’s office. This approach leads to further results, one of which is surprising and initially counter-intuitive.

First, note that there is no principial reason why the minister (or assistant ministers) may not assist with the distribution of the elements. I can think of two reasons why, given that there are enough elders to carry out the distribution effectively, it might be deemed good for the minister to remain at the table and not distribute further than to the Elders. (1) To maintain the symbolism of office, emphasizing his function as executive agent of Presbytery, reflecting the principle of the holy catholic church as the controller of the sacraments, and that in distinction to the office of Ruling Elder. (2) For expediency and stamina, given the strain of his general function in the service. Just as, a manager of McDonald’s might deem it expedient not to take up the mop and pail, not for reasons of pride, but because maintaining responsibility for the operation requires not getting absorbed and distracted by the performance of the details.  To refuse out of pride would clearly be wrong.

A more surprising result is this: elders emeritus and visiting elders and pastors would be in exactly the same category as deacons on this question. That is, an elder that has “retired,” or a minister that is not involved in the life of this local congregation is in no more of a position of authoritative exercise of the keys in concreto than a deacon is, in that he is no longer active in receiving, overseeing, and disciplining members. He has the right of rule, but not the occasion: he is not installed and exercising such rule. The criterion for participation is therefore not a simple matter of “being ordained to the office of elder” (whether Teaching or Ruling). It is always a temptation to think a problem is solved by labeling and pigeon-holing.

The subject is an analysis of the sociological constituting of our world, with a focus on the medium of communication. The world and our consciousness of it have changed by virtue of the technological changes making mass-communication possible. As an entry into thinking about this, consider the difference between watching a movie and “reading the book.” Even if the story conveyed is identical, reflection shows there are significant differences in what has taken place in having the story “communicated.” The movie presents images created by someone else; reading involves creation of images by the reader himself. In the movie, real time marches forward inexorably as the viewer sits passively; in reading, it is under the control of the reader — one pauses to reflect;  one sets the book down to be continued later. Likewise, the fictional time-pacing within the movie is determined by the editor; in the book, it is at least partly determined by the imagination of the reader, not the invisible editor.

This aspect of the analysis — the “media ecology” proper — fits in nicely with the agrarian critique of modernity. There are analogies, for example, with transportation. Acquiring a horse meant that a round trip to the county seat might could be done in a single day rather than requiring an overnight. But the car allows sons to leave for a job in a distant city, never to come back. Once-bustling towns are now ghost towns, the only jobs left being the strip of fast-food joints along the interstate exit. Technology has brought a qualitative, not merely quantitative change to our way of living. We need to rethink whether the Amish have a true and valid insight, and not always write them off as having “stopped technology” at a merely arbitrary point.

A second major aspect of the subject Reynolds discusses is the study of mass communication by academics on the one hand, and by manipulators on the other. In turn, the latter category includes mass-marketing on the one hand, and political manipulation on the other. More on this below.

With the stage set, Reynolds is able to use the insights obtained to launch a strong attack on the methods of the church-growth movement, showing the inadvertent evils attendant upon the very fact that modern multi-media is used, in contrast to the methods of worship described in Scripture.

The Regulative Principle of Worship as defined by the Westminster Confession specifies that certain elements of worship are required by Scripture, elements not specified are forbidden, and a third category, “circumstances,” is subject to wisdom.  Reynolds argues (303-305) that the result of his analysis is that modern multi-media cannot be put into that third, “neutral” category, and thus we should regard them as forbidden.

In evaluating the work, I proceed chiastically. The commitment to the Regulative Principle is encouraging coming from a bright star like Rev. Reynolds, who is a scintillating conversationalist and a preacher that is at once engaging and searching, combining the best of Francis Schaeffer’s broad cultural concerns with a stronger attachment to the vantillian critical method. I had the pleasure of “hanging out” with him a number of times during my sojourn in New Hampshire in 1996. Those of our readers that reside anywhere near Manchester, New Hampshire should visit Amoskeag church and become a member there if not already a member of a true church somewhere else.

Reynolds’ work on the Regulative Principle in connection with media ecology sheds new light on elements of our form of worship that at first glance may appear to be dusty relics of a bygone century. For example, though the focus of his study is the preaching of the word, a new insight is also gained into the “genius” if you will of the reading of the Word (381-3) as a distinct element of worship, the performance of which moreover is restricted by our standards to the pastor in his executive function as an agent of the holy catholic church manifested in presbytery. A naturalistic approach might suggest that an age of universal literacy and Bible dissemination might render that element superfluous, requiring instead that members read the word privately and dispense with the public reading. Not so, Reynolds’ research shows. There is a mode of receiving the word of God which is instantiated in that element indispensably. This book makes an important contribution in the area of worship theory.

Unfortunately, the evaluation of the secular role of mass-media falls a bit short due to the dots that are not connected. The threads are already confusing because the distinction between study of media as such must be combined with study of the deliberate use thereof to manipulate the masses toward an end hidden from those being manipulated. And this involves both the practitioner — the actual creator of propaganda — and the theoretician — who performs studies with human guinea pigs to determine the most effective methods. We need to take note of the fact that the names of the movers and shakers of the theory and practice of the manipulation of the masses using technologies both new and old look like an attendance list at the Convention of Hebrew Congregations.

We can begin the story with the massive, national full-court press that was put in place by the Chosen Tribe in 1913-15 to exonerate rapist-sodomite-murderer Leo Frank, just because he was a jew. Though newspapers – a medium invented in the 17th century — were at the heart of this campaign, their coordinated use for manipulating public opinion probably never reached such focused intensity before the Frank case.   The mass-media campaign was led by Adolph Jew Ochs, publisher of the New York Times (though the murder took place in Atlanta). In addition to carefully-orchestrated press releases let out simultaneously by all the jew-controlled newspapers across the country, the services of Albert Jew Lasker (son-in-law of Sears and Roebuck chairman Julius Jew Rosenwald) were put into service. Lasker was an expert at national media “campaigns” to establish brand name recognition such as Quaker Oats and Budweiser Beer. Lasker came up with the slogan “the truth is on the march” which became, as if by magic, the rallying cry by the national media to get Frank off the hook. Likewise, allegations of Atlanta mobs chanting phrases like “Kill the jew or we’ll kill you” were simply made up out of whole cloth, without any factual basis. Newspapers that stood with the legal system against Frank were boycotted. William Randolph Hearst succumbed to the pressure and became a shabbes goy for the campaign, along with others hired for the purpose. Financing came from a variety of sources, especially from Jacob Jew Schiff, notable later as a major financier of the Russian Revolution. The goy detective William Burns was paid a pretty penny to “get to the bottom of the case,” arriving in town with lots of media fanfare to that effect, while in reality, his job was to spread walking-around money to bribe witnesses to recant their testimony. In the end, the men of Atlanta prevailed, and such was the jewish rage at one of their own being executed, that the so-called Anti-Defamation League was founded.

Reynolds missed this story, but the strands involving armchair academics and wartime “social researchers” he does pick up on are also part of the story, albeit less dramatic. It is a story that starts before the Frank incident with Karl Jew Marx and Sigmund Jew Freud. In the decade leading up to WW2, the story continues with studies of the effectiveness of radio in influencing public opinion and elections. Paul Jew Lazarsfeld invented the “focus group” and questionnaires to evaluate audience responses. “The Kate Smith War Bond drive, promoted by CBS in 1943, demonstrated the power of feigned personal concern in identifying with and manipulating a mass audience” (91).  Kurt Jew Lewin was one of the founders of social psychology. “The one who controls the flow of information through a medium (‘channel’) dictates the shape and content of messages” (93). His disciple Leon Jew Festinger continued the social research. The story is peppered also with wry neo-con pop critics like Neil Jew Postman, Allan Jew Bloom and Joshua Jew Meyrowitz as well as explicitly destructive critics like Jacques Jew Derrida and Stanley Jew Fish. In between was the “Frankfurter School” consisting of men like Herbert Jew Marcuse who wrote arcane books making leftism appealing to young shickse and Theodore Jew Adorno who worked on rhetorically preempting Aryan push-back by creating and propagating the theory of the “authoritarian personality.”  I am passing over various rabbit-trails like Shannon’s channel measure of information, which is properly an electrical engineering concept.

The jewish exploitation — and to large extent creation — of mass-manipulation by psychological study and marketing practice evidently has two main goals: personal or tribal enrichment, and neutralization of Christian civilization as a way to reduce the chance of harmful reaction by the goyish masses. It involved, in addition to the takeover of university sociology departments and creation of new ones, tireless agitation in favor of massive third-world immigration and the elimination of every trace of Christianity from public schools and the public square, as one can read about by surfing around on the ADL’s own website (click the story decade by decade and marvel).

Of course, goyim also have their place in the story — some, that were in the wrong place at the wrong time (esp. WW2); some, of the “usual culprits” of the City of Man, that provided financing, most notably the Rockefeller empire (136); others, like Reynolds’ personal hero Marshall McLuhan, were properly critical.

But how did Reynolds miss the main thread of the story? Partly, it is because of his acceptance of the odious judeo-christian myth (77, 137) popularized by Francis Schaeffer. As a result, jews are repeatedly not distinguished from “Germans” (73, 79) or “Europeans” (69). Partly, it perhaps must be attributed to the very success of the mass-media manipulation that is the subject of the book!

In fairness, the “media ecology” and its relation to worship is the strength and the main purpose of the book: the rest could have been excised without loss to the thesis, and perhaps should be in a subsequent edition.

Nonetheless, the story of the manipulators is important in its own right, and I hope many of our people will get this book as an introductory survey, and then do further research to connect more of the dots. To know that one is being manipulated, and understand even a little about how, is already an antidote to its poisonous effect. Eliminating the parasites can follow when enough people wake up and get wise.

Greg Reynolds, The Word is Worth a Thousand Pictures: Preaching in the Electronic Age (Eugene: Wipf and Stock) 2001.

The second chapter, “Two Basic Failures,” details the failures of the Reformed Church. One is a loss of a concept of the corporate holy catholic church. Examples are given of the author’s attempts to stop for prayer at Catholic and Protestant churches. A variety of nuances of the standard objection to this vision, namely that it is mere externalism, are answered. The second is the gradual abandonment of the ideal of Christian perfection. The latter is illustrated by an interesting parable by Kierkegaard (43-45). A worldly Roman Catholic priest is described; but the Catholic parishioners know he is worldly and endure, holding better examples before their eyes. Then a Lutheran pastor that is equally worldly is described; but his parishioners praise him as a man of refinement, frank-heartedness, even godliness! The problem, MacGregor concludes, is that while the Protestant ideal of Christian perfection is superior to the “high ideal” of Catholicism’s vision, it is unattainable by the masses; and Protestant teaching lacks a secondary, achievable level that the masses can be held to. A low level of sanctification then becomes ratified as the norm.

In the third chapter, “Semper Reformanda,” MacGregor fortunately does not lean on the non-genuine slogan itself (though he twice did in the earlier chapter). The thesis is the need for the Reformed Church to continue reforming; it is illustrated by a variety of dualities meant to focus on both the genuine contribution of the Reformation to the holy catholic church, while also shining the light on absurdities that can result from a false appropriation. “Back to the Reformation” movements are based on an aesthetic preference and nostalgia, not reality, and thus are as vacuous and reactionary as neo-Thomism in the Roman Catholic world. Similarly, while the Catholic has the empty crutch of relics, the Protestant has a vulgar appropriation of “blessed assurance.” As to discipline, it is not so much an absence of it as a combining of “irksome bureaucratic discipline” with mob rule — “We have exchanged a priest-ridden people for a people-ridden clergy” (55). There is ignorance on all sides of the richness contributed by the other pieces of the fragmented church — but this is least excusable for the Reformed, since the reformation of the church we confess to be indivisible is at the heart of our reason for being (59).

The stage having been set by describing the problem, the second part of the book discusses MacGregor’s proposed three-fold agenda for renewal: restoration of church discipline, the individual pursuit of holiness, and “liturgical reform.” Chapter 4, “The Revival of Discipline,” opens the agenda. The focus of the discussion is external ways that Christians can exhibit their solidarity with the Body of Christ, and conformity of the pastorate to objective standards. What is needed is the imposition of uniform rules of privation such as Rome’s forbidding meat on Friday as a way for the laity to have a shared life. Within the Roman communion, these little acts that are universally observed give them a sense of community that cuts across all social class. Clerics must exhibit a love of theology, so they will not be tempted by the gimmickry that pervades much of the modern church. A way to remove the influence of money in eviscerating the exercise of discipline applied to wealthy contributors must be devised, not excluding consideration of establishing a system of bishops, which is not necessarily contradictory to the presbyterian system.

The next chapter focuses on the “interior life” of the individual. A distinction is mentioned between “ascetic” and “mystical” devotion. In Rome, these two themes are sharply distinguished, while in the Reformed tradition they are “interwoven” (86). The vast literature on personal sanctification from both sides of the divide are reviewed, including more than a passing mention of Thomas a Kempis, Loyola, Francis de Sales, Robert Parsons, Andrewes, Rutherford, Guthrie, Boyd, Scougal, Leighton, Thomas Erskine, Barbour, Chalmers, and Rabbi Duncan. This literature is contrasted with the reading of today’s audience: Norman Vincent Peale.

The culminating chapter, “The Revival of Liturgy,” is evidently the subject that is also closest to MacGregor’s heart. He claims that both Luther and Calvin continued the structure of the mass as the organization of worship, only removing the explicitly offensive parts. The shift from Table to Pulpit that ensued was as much motivated by the acoustical problems of gothic architecture as for theology. The removal of instrumental music in the Scottish church was a 17th century innovation motivated by rationalism and economy and the “negative influence of English Puritans” who had “little interest in beauty” (110). The change from standing during prayer to sitting was motivated by self-indulgence, and the move to the individual cup is as improper as the individual wafer used by Rome. What is needed is decidedly not a subjective effort at “making worship more meaningful in my heart,” but a liturgical richness that will reflect the communal aspect of the Body of Christ.

===============================

There is no topic more important than the one Geddes MacGregor tackles in this book, and that is why I am giving more space to its review than a book of this size would normally warrant, and tagging it as “Part 4″ in the Holy Catholic Church series. In the book’s favor, it can be said that a vision of the holy catholic church is indeed absent from the thinking of most modern Protestants, at least in America. Even Orthodox Presbyterians rarely evince an appreciation of this reality, though fortunately our book of order preserves much of the foundation, even if few pastors could explain how or why.

However, the book’s message is hobbled by many logical and historical mistakes, as well as a certain rhetorical trickiness. Some of these I outline in the remainder.

Though the Reformers and Reformed distinctives are always praised, there is a taking away with the left hand what he gives with the right. He has a recurring nasty habit of asserting that the Reformers were motivated by psychology and pragmatic means of countering “abuses” in the Roman Catholic church, rather than a discovery of the gospel and the direct teaching of Scripture. He says they were concerned about the “overemphasis” on merit, and the laxness in life. But many that remained papists were concerned about the moral turpitude in the church and desirous of seeing “reform” of those things — even Albert of Magdeburg whose simony and resulting financial bind led to the whole indulgence craze in Saxony to begin with. Many likewise agreed that merit was “overemphasized.” In contrast, when the gospel finally seized Luther’s heart, all notion of merit went out the window, not just its “overemphasis.” The Reformers scoffed at the idea that merely working to eliminate priestly concubinage or what not would address the real problem.

This confusion becomes explicit in application. It seems that a major anchor for the liturgical renewal movement is to favor the collective over the individual. It thus behooves us to dwell on this phase of the argument in a bit of detail. He says that individual salvation is a consequence of corporate salvation i.e.
we are saved –> I am saved.
In other words, he wants to model individual salvation as the existential instantiation of collective salvation. But is it the case that because “we are Americans” is true, therefore I am American? It follows logically as to form, but epistemologically it is question-begging: I cannot make the judgment that “we are Americans” unless I already know that “I am an American.” I could deduce “I am saved” from “all men are saved.” But unless universalism is true, the major premise is vacuous. We can sympathize with MacGregor’s motive: resisting the tendency to define the church as the bundling together of raw individuals that are saved out of the blue. It is a valiant attempt to shift attention from the individual, but it fails. The individual/church relation is a many/one duality in which due attention must be given to each pole in its correlative aspect. A better way to display the logic would be to say that
~a church –> ~individual saved.
that is “if there is no church then no individual is saved.” But that is a different question. That is to nest individual salvation in the exigencies of redemptive history. The individual is saved into the pre-existing church established by our Lord; there is harmony of the individual and collective aspect once the matter is rooted in the foundational reality.

I fear that this blurring of Reformational principles points to a deeper spiritual problem. As evidence, consider his citation of one David Read, a young theologue in the late 30’s who spoke of the willingness of his generation to reconsider the calvinistic doctrine of man because of events in Germany in that time (47). This can be answered at its own level by suggesting that the events in Germany in that time point to the plausibility of the self-renewal of man. It all depends on your major premise. But leave that aside. Note that in Mr Read’s comments, the sense of sin within is entirely absent; the insight came entirely from observing others. Berkouwer noticed in contrast the temptation to self-righteousness that dwelling on the sin of others easily brings:

“Connections” outside ourselves need not be denied, for no man is an island to himself. We should not deny the universality of guilt. Our confession must be the same as Isaiah’s: “I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips” (6:5). Yet, in all these “connections” and all this solidarity, there can never be a self-excuse. We can only pray for God’s renewal of our lives and his blessing on the lives of others. “Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow” (Ps 51:7). (Studies in Dogmatics: Sin, p. 19, emphasis in original)

Everyone sees the sin in others. Even Enlightenment moralist J. G. Fichte observed that society is impossible without contractual obligation, and everyone is indignant when defrauded. To jump from that to a “willingness to reconsider the calvinistic doctrine of man” without ever indicting oneself as the chief sinner is simply pharisaism masquerading as deep and spiritual insight.

A recurring problem of the book is obfuscation through absence of definition and/or the injection of ambiguity. A few examples.

1. The assertion that the Reformers substantially kept the form of the mass is ambiguous. The problem is, you need to put things in some order. If the mass included singing a psalm and prayer, then when the Scot includes the singing of a psalm and a prayer, is he “following the mass” to that extent? I submit that liturgy advocates need to give up reasoning in this way. If liturgy is an inescapable concept, then the most primitive baptist already “has a liturgy” and the advocate needs to advance to the next stage of argumentation. It is a non-starter. The example of the evolution of Calvin’s service given on pp 106-7 is hardly convincing in this respect.

2. The discussion of “Christian perfection” is similarly defective. First, why the assiduous avoidance of the term sanctification? Is it because he is not content with the Reformation sharp distinction between justification and sanctification? He says the ideal of Christian perfection is “difficult beyond all conceivable description” (36). This is surely an overstatement. Of course it can be described. To describe it correctly however requires the creation/fall/redemption schema for viewing redemptive history and understanding the place of the law of God. None of this is broached in MacGregor’s discussion. No wonder it is “inconceivably difficult” to describe.

3. His rejection of “antinomianism” is therefore ambiguous as well. We must distinguish antinomianism as general lawlessness (I Jn 3:4) versus an understandable mistake that can be made in the radical embrace of free justification. As Berkouwer said somewhere else, antinomianism is preferable to legalism. But we should understand this only in terms of the second form. Again, MacGregor makes no such distinctions, however necessary to the discussion.

4. Expressions like Christian perfection, ascetic vs mystic devotion, and inner life are never defined, though subjected to detailed discussion. Nay, even church. Anyone even cursorily familiar with the literature is aware that there are many senses of the word “church” and keeping them straight will avoid all kinds of confusions in discussing what will be needed to rescue and reform the church.

With these examples in mind, the reader will be able to pick out numerous other ones in a perusal of this book. As an exercise to this end, identify the rhetorical tricks in this sentence: “while it is true that modern Roman Catholicism has, by reaction, grossly exaggerated the status of Mary in just the way that all the Reformers would have bitterly deplored, it has also to be recognized that Protestantism’s self-conscious abstemiousness toward her is no less productive of travesty” (15).

It is one thing to avoid scholastic over-refinement; it is another thing to culpably blur the picture. It is one thing to say, “I will purposely leave this concept fuzzy at first, and allow the discussion to bring the needed precising”; it is another to use the vagueness to slip alien principles in through the back door.

An example is the ascetic/mystic distinction, talked about at length but never defined. We can infer that “ascetic” refers to purgation of negative or evil impulses, while “mystic” refers to contemplation of God. But neither of these gets to first base apart from union with Christ. You cannot purge the evil within — certainly not by eating fish on Fridays. You cannot see God if you are offended by Jesus Christ. His favorable citation of, not just lying Jesuits, but even a Unitarian in the pantheon tells it all. That he finds something commendable in the papist solution of a two-tiered ideal of sanctification is hardly a commendation of that concept.

He is attracted to acts that would show one’s solidarity with the church. But this reminds me of arguments common amongst Methodists of my parents’ generation, that one should refrain from smoking as a testimony to the world against worldliness. The problem is, unless such a privative act is based on the word of God, it has no such testimonial value; it is in fact just an assertion of will against the expression of a different will.

It is amazing to me how inevitable it is that, once the law of God is rejected, any and every substitute law is tried in its place. To adapt one of Chesterton’s sayings: when you reject the law of God, you will submit instead to… anything.

Besides vagueness and ambiguity, often, distinctions that are key to the discussion are not noticed at all. For example, the difference between corporate, “called” worship and private exercises of pious devotion is never drawn out explicitly. This allows MacGregor to shift back and forth between them — like van Til’s two washerwomen taking in each other’s laundry. The felt-need of the pious individual is appealed to to justify his program for liturgical renewal, and yet the goal of the liturgical worship is not subjective satisfaction.

Instead, matters of importance are waved at, given superficial profundity via story and aesthesis. (He seems especially drawn to images of men with brooms — “the only other person in sight was an old man obscuring the altar as he swept out the sanctuary with a large broom” [28]. And again, “during sermon this zealous servant of the sanctuary would take up his broom and sweep out the middle alley, in order to save himself that fatigue of a weekday visit” [114].) As Dr Bahnsen used to point out, when philosophers run dry of argumentation, they resort to stories.

He claims to oppose sentiment and inspiration as proper motives for church life. However his own use of categories like “vulgar” reveal the same method he is criticizing. Indeed, strip out the literary distractions and logical solecisms, and the whole argument really boils down to an abhorrence of the vulgar. As such, I heartily approve of MacGregor’s aesthetic judgments — his critique of an anti-Marxism that is even more materialistic than Marxism; the deracination of our society that makes a writer like Norman Vincent Peale appealing; even the lament about the ugly mud huts we live in in suburbia. But none of this insight entails that we should become more liturgical.

In conclusion, the exposition must be criticized along several lines:
1. There is a complete absence of biblical exegesis or even general invocation of scriptural themes to establish his points.
2. Instead, tradition is appealed to.
3. But the use of tradition is quite selective and at key points, quite misleading.
4. The tradition of his own church, the Westminster Confession and related standards, is also curiously absent from the discussion.
5. The tenor of his thought is quite at odds with those standards at several points.
6. The appeal to the “Reformers,” which is apparently the trump card to negate those standards, is revisionist and sometimes provably false.
7. The rhetoric used to drive his assertions home is laced with ad hominem and the “sucker punch.”
8. The new “regulative principle” proffered by MacGregor seems to have more to do with an aesthetic sense than the sovereignty and aseity of God; in contrast to all the Reformers.

In connection with the last point, it is shocking that the so-called Reformed Regulative Principle of Worship is never mentioned at all. I will argue anon that this principle is more at the heart of Calvin’s theology even than predestination. Or more precisely: both doctrines are necessary consequences of the aseity and thus self-definition of God, which is arguably the lynchpin of Christian theology.

Geddes MacGregor, The Coming Reformation (Phila: Westminster Press 1960) Lib of Cong BX4811.M25 1960

None of what follows should be taken personally. I love Dr. Enns as a man that is respectful of opposing viewpoints, affable, and easy to talk to. I would love to have him as a friend, a neighbor, and someone to watch operas with (if he liked opera, which he doesn’t). On the other side, I count at least one of the “movers and shakers” on the right as a friend, and I love and respect many in the right wing, regarding them as my superiors both as Christians and scholars. None of what follows changes any of that.

1. The left wing, as always, is particularly noisy. There are dark rumors of threats that “the students” might go on strike and so forth. This is of course nonsense. Most students, under any circumstances, just want to finish their course requirements and move on, and besides that, many students share the concerns about the teaching of the Bible department at Westminster. Nixon was right about the “silent majority” in 1972, and the same reality holds in 2008. That inertial mass is a source of social stability, but it is also frustrating to those seeking reform, whether on the left or right. Regardless of which “wing” we belong to, those of us that bring arguments for positions different from the mainstream — or different from what seems like the mainstream while the current is propelling our little boat — are frustrated chiefly, not by the rebuttals, but by the yawning “who gives a $&!#?” that is the normal response to the arguments.

2. Leaving aside the pigeon-holes of left or right for a moment, it must be said that the majority of students that stepped up to the microphone at the April 1 meeting formulated very valid questions. They may be summarized along these lines: if it is heterodoxy, why does no one in authority step forward and say so? Why are the issues not debated publicly? Why is everything being done behind closed doors, in whispers and furtive glances?

One of the things I love about the OPC is that heresy trials must be open to the public. No discretion is permitted to the courts here. There is to be no star chamber.

But this is a necessary principle, if the Protestant view of the holy catholic church is correct. The idea that robes should just be trusted implicitly is sacerdotalism.

3. In his short statement on April 1, the Speaker for the Board appealed to the many constituencies of the Seminary besides that of the student body — notably, some Presbyteries that have voiced concern, and some major donors. Notably absent was any reference to a fiduciary obligation to the foundational purpose of the institution as expressed by Machen and his associates. The “major donors” reference particularly sticks in the craw. Donors should be encouraged to be generous because they agree with and wish to further that which the institution stands for. It is putting the cart before the horse to make reference to the wishes of the donors, as if the institution exists to carry out their wishes.

4. All the statements I have heard from cognizant authorities, numbering three independent lines so far, make reference primarily if not exclusively to Prof. Enns’ book. But the content of the book has been the theme of the required course of OT Intro for many years prior to the appearance of the book. Other courses go even farther. It does not take very much reading between the lines to realize that nothing is done about what is taught in the classroom, as long as the world does not know through some embarrassing medium like a published book.

The lesson for the astute is obvious: don’t publish controversial ideas. Teach what you want, but limit your publications to boring academic monographs on how to decode Sumerian steles or what not.

5. The nub of the issue bearing on continued employment by the Seminary is Confessional subscription. The “honesty” of someone’s subscription is hinted at. And at times, this aspect can indeed be questioned. I heard a WTS professor claim that he subscribes to the Confession “when read according to the historia salutis.” But the meat at the center of the Westminster sandwich is clearly ordo salutis! (If you are fortunate enough not to know what those terms refer to, that’s okay. Keep reading.) That kind of qualification goes beyond a mere quibble: it is playing with words.

But in general, the “honesty” question is barking up the wrong tree. We should assume that a Christian man’s claim of subscription is honest. That is not the question. The right question is, is his actual system of beliefs consistent with the Confession?

In the next breath, as if sensing the weakness, the attack is altered to refer to the “historical understanding” of the Confession. This is getting closer to the real issue, but it is still subject to misapprehension. As such, the “historical understanding” is a question for the church history department. Unless the Seminary is a museum, it is still not the whole of the matter. Putting the matter that way reduces the matter to an academic curiosity, an abstraction.

Confessionalism is an organic concept: it refers to men that ex animo embrace the body of truth expressed in a document and are formed into a corporate body that lives and breathes and marches forward in actions that exemplify that shared understanding. When one departs from that understanding, he must be ejected, not because his honesty is impugned, and not because some historian has determined that some men four hundred years ago did not think like that, but because he has departed from what we believe, today.

It is a fine boundary line, but it is a chasm. The historical question plays an important role as self-definition, in terms of continuity. The Confession is not to be a procrustean bed, reinterpreted to fit every man’s idiosyncratic views. But at issue is that “we” believe these things, not that “they” did.

The matter is not to be settled by summoning a Council of church historians. The body confesses these things today. If someone is to be ejected, the ejectors should be able to say, “we believe these things, the same things that the organization has believed for centuries, and you depart from us in these specifics: A, B, and C.” An antecedent question, then, is “what is the relevant living body?”

6. The logic of the matter presses us, I submit, to suggest that the body that stands organically together around a shared confession should be the church. Westminster Seminary is not, however, an institution under ecclesiastical control. We must conclude that Machen, the Magnificent in so many ways, erred here. A mere group of professors can hardly stand de jure upon a shared Confession in any meaningful way other than as an academic abstraction, an object of detached historical inquiry.

A possibly-adequate remedy to this situation would be to insist that the professors must be ordained as teaching elders in their respective Presbyteries. In this way, the organic meaning of Confessionalism could be rescued.

The original faculty as good churchmen did this instinctively. But they failed, apparently, to see that it must be explicitly required.

Then the question is, “ordained in which churches?”

Given Westminster’s history, the only possible answers that make sense are either (1) like the original faculty, the OPC, or (2) a broader assembly, namely NAPARC (North American Reformed and Presbyterian Churches), which captures the Reformed principle of the holy catholic church in light of our particular situation and history.

If Westminster were located in Stuttgart, it would not make sense to speak of NAPARC. But in Philadelphia, with its OPC origins, NAPARC is the only body that makes sense in view of option (2).

7. Apart from the ecclesiastical problem, there is the basic question of Right.

On the one hand, we must surely insist that an educational institution has the right to hire and fire according to its own purposes. The notion of “tenure” as securing some divine right to do whatever one wants to is surely a self-serving idea fostered by the insiders for their own benefit. (I am speaking of our culture, not WTS specifically.) As if gaining a Professorship is like a lifetime prize, distinguishing its recipient as a Very Important Thinker, for whose every pearl of wisdom dropped from an unassailable pedestal the world now waits with bated breath.

This is a much bigger problem than WTS. It is a national, nay international problem. It has created a self-propagating guild. What is the difference between a “mainstream” and “revisionist” historian? Answer: if the historian has been groomed by the guild in the tenure-track, he is “mainstream.” Or, if he falls in line and sucks up to that point of view, he gets the title vicariously.

8. On the other hand, there are legitimate expectations that one forms while employed. Commitments are made, choices are made, and the time invested cannot be recovered. If libertarianism means that the venerable old man can be dropped in favor of some attention-grabbing upstart, then we must stop being libertarians.

Prof. Enns, as well as his even more radical colleague, were inducted into the guild very recently — during the past two or three years. I am not aware of any conspiracy to keep their views secret during the process.

Westminster must face the fact that there is something very wrong with how they have proceeded in the past that led to this situation. Was it a lust for academic prestige, for PhD’s, especially from prestigious universities? John Murray redivivus need not apply to teach at WTS today. His resume would not get past the first ring.

There is an evil here, a wrong that has been done not only to the community and the church it serves, but to the men in question. The solution is not to continue with the status quo, that grace might abound; but it is an evil nonetheless, and it must be confessed and remedied.

9. On the Confessional question itself, the Right Wing at Westminster is in disarray also. To be sure, the doctrine of Scripture which is in question in the case of Prof. Enns is foundational in a way that the subsequent chapters are not. Nevertheless, the Confession is the Confession. I admit to painting with a broad brush here, and do not want to imply that the remarks apply to all: they do not. But from the ranks of the Right Wing, I have seen the Sabbath mocked by exuberant pre-class discussions of NFL team exploits. The one faculty member still famous for his confessional view of the Sabbath politely declines to bring the subject up publicly. I attended a service presided over by another member of the Right Wing a few years back where the worship service was given over to a drama by the high school kids: so much for Chapter 21. And in a class I audited, arguments for the “Framework View” of creation were pressed that self-consciously ignored a fatal counter-argument that Calvin already made five hundred years ago!

I do not mention names, because I am not trying to embarrass anyone, at least in this forum; nor am I suggesting that a tit for tat housecleaning should take place. Instead, I am hoping that those men will also ponder carefully and reconsider some of their own positions.

10. Having cleared a great deal of rubbish off the table, it remains to address the doctrinal problem of Prof Enns. The protracted discussions suggest that it is a rather difficult matter to show that Prof. Enns’ book (and more importantly: his teaching) is contrary to the Confession. WCF chapter 1, on Scripture, is mentioned as the point of conflict

On the contrary, I don’t believe it is difficult to show the inconsistency of Prof Enns’ view with the Confession. What has made it difficult is erroneously focussing on chapter 1. But Chapter 1 is not the only, or even the most important issue raised by the book. In some ways, chapter 1 would be the easiest for Prof Enns to defend himself in terms of.

He would do so by appealing to the sovereignty of God even in the use of human error, and that he is explaining the “how” not the “that.”

The real problem with Prof Enns’ hermeneutic is that, once triumphant, you can no longer deduce chapters 2-33. Chapters 2-33 would become mere velleities of a certain subculture of Christendom. But if they are not drawn from Scripture, they are worthless as a church confession. Even the “sovereignty of God,” necessary to rescue an effective Word in the midst of error, would have to be secured either by a deliverance of natural theology, or a mere assertion of will.

One could “believe” and “confess” the propositions outlined in chapters 1-33 while holding Prof Enns’ view of revelation, by a sheer act of will. But that is a different kind of belief and confession than what is intended by confessional presbyterians. The latter intend their confession to be based on what the Confession itself states as the nub of the matter in Chap. 14: “a Christian believeth to be true whatsoever is revealed in the word, for the authority of God himself speaking therein.”

Try it from another angle. Professor Enns believes his outlook is rescued and vouchsafed as orthodox by two apodictic principles: the sovereignty of God and the empty tomb. How can God call a church together around a Word that is error-prone and self-contradictory? He can because he is sovereign. How do we know the Pharisees and Saducees weren’t right? Because of the empty tomb.

But the sovereignty of God in the full-orbed sense could not be deduced from Scripture from a radical accomodationist stance. Thus, Prof Enns must borrow from the world view of the earlier Westminster. It can be symbolized like this:

(traditional exegesis) –> (sovereignty of God established)
(sovereignty of God) –> (Prof Enn’s exegesis vouchsafed)

However,
(Prof Enn’s exegesis) –> NOT (sovereignty of God established)

His system is therefore inconsistent with the Westminster standards.

A similar line of attack can be pursued with the “empty tomb” basis. On his view of the Bible, the “empty tomb” will soon be deconstructed, and has been by his precursors.

And if these two pillars cannot stand, how much less the Sabbath Day, the Regulative Principle of Worship, and the golden chain of salvation?

Christianity is a system of truth, van Til observed. Take away a particular understanding of what it means for God to speak to his creatures, and all is lost — not only the specific content of the Westminster Confession, but indeed all knowledge whatsoever.

More will need to be said on these matters.

I wish to summarize the contour of his life as presented in the short biography by Rudolf Wentorf. (Detailed biblio info is at end of this review.) Everyone should read this book. It is deceptively short: 114 pages plus appendices. For me, it has called for several perusals, and more are scheduled. Later, I will try to distill more precisely the key issues that Schneider faced. These issues have not gone away: there is more than just historical interest to motivate our study of his life. It is a shame that he is generally unknown to American Christians; this is a shame that, however, can be remedied.

1. Youth through early ministry

Born in 1897, Schneider was raised first, in villages west of Mainz and south of Koblenz (left-most circle of the map, Fig 1), then, in high school, the family moved to the vicinity of Giessen (middle circle).

In 1915, he volunteered for service in the Great War (WW1) and served on the eastern front, earning the Iron Cross. When it was over, he resumed his studies — at the universities in Giessen, Marburg, and Tübingen –, having declared for the ministry.

Two major influences dominated his early career as a student: the theological liberalism of the German university, and sympathy for the working man suffering from the severe post-war dislocations. His concern for the alienated proletariat induced him to take six months off from studies and labor as a working man.

Four years had gone by since the War, and it would be as many again before we see clear and unequivocal evidence that Paul had saving knowledge of Christ. His conversion did not come all at once, but was the end of a long, rocky pilgrimage, full of agonizing and soul-searching, and what we might today call spiritual depression. In parallel with that path was another in which “life goes on”: he married, was ordained, and filled some junior-level ministry positions. (And is this not typical of human life? Even Luther to some extent.)

By 1927 Schneider had fully thrown his youthful liberalism overboard and embraced Christ, and was established in ministry, in the same parish that his late father had served, near Giessen.

It is important to add, that his overcoming of theological liberalism did not lead to turning a cold shoulder to the plight of the German worker; but the outlook matured to a deeper form of concern. To the end of his (too short) life, he was concerned about how the church had become a bourgeois institution that in many ways had failed the common man, and he was always looking for ways to remedy that deplorable situation.

In the meantime, the political situation of the Weimar Republic continued to degenerate, such that in 1933 the National Socialist movement assumed power through a number of developments that are well known, and need not be rehearsed here.

2. Church and folk: the battle lines are formed

The first storm clouds appeared already in 1932, when Schneider supported Hindenburg against Hitler in the election of that year. He circularized a letter in which he said

Oh, the unholy party-spirit that sins against our entire people coming and going! Where are those Christian consciences who judge righteously, who take the standards for their politics neither from National Socialism nor from socialism, but rather from the Gospel? National Socialism draws nothing from that source; can this movement really unite both poles and lead our people into moral and religious renewal, when it needs renewal so badly itself? (45)

Substitute “Republican Party” for “National Socialism” and “Democratic Party” for “socialism” in that paragraph, and one can see how timeless the issues are.

Some local Party functionaries filed a complaint to the District party superintendent.

Pastor Schneider himself was a German, he knew himself as such, and loved his people; but with wittgenstinian intuition, he also felt that to always be saying “German German German” betrayed a self-consciousness about it that indicated a pathology. After the National Socialist seizure of power, “signs went up in many dance halls in Germany: ‘Tonight German night with German dances!’ Pastor Schneider asked, ‘Is that some kind of dance other than the usual?’” (45) After a mass meeting of “German Christians,” Schneider preached to his congregation, “I want to be and remain a plainspoken, evangelical Christian and also spare myself the label ‘German’, for that is self-evident.” Since baptismal and marriage records are key evidences in establishing genealogy, people would often request such records from the church to establish their Aryan bona fides. Pastor Schneider would deliver the requested documentation, but would write at the bottom, “You — Aryan — do not forget your first parents — Adam and Eve!” (48)

Likewise, Schneider posted to the Christian fraternity he had belonged to during his student days, when they began to demand of their members “proof of Aryan descent,” that “this is an impossible consideration for a ‘Christian’ relationship” (48).

Conflict with the Party ensued. To prevent arrest, the Consistory [=regional church governing body] put Schneider on leave of absence. Apparently, the rub was not his opinion as such, but broadcasting it from a position of (rival) authority.

At this point, we can sense some distinctions that need to be made. But that can wait. The most important issue was indicated with boldness and clarity in a sermon of Jan 1934:

Whenever they place blood and race and the history of the people as a source of revelation next to God’s Word, next to his Will revealed to us in the words of Scripture alone, next to Jesus as the unique Mediator between God and man, then in truth they fall away from the living God and His Christ. (50)

3. Church life as alternate community

Schneider countered what he saw as ominous trends by emphasizing youth activities in the context of church, presumably as alternative to Hitler-youth, and re-implemented church discipline.

Church discipline had degenerated to that which we commonly see in our times, namely, people going to church just twice a year and expecting to receive communion when they did. Pastor Schneider ended this with a stroke. But his Session complained to the Consistory (“we’ve always done it this way”). Thus, it got to the point that both church officers and civil leaders (53) were complaining to the Consistory, though from quite different motivations. The upshot was that on 19 Feb 1934, the Consistory transferred him to the Hunsrueck district (left circle in Fig. 1, and Fig 2).

4. The cemetery incident

He was installed in the Womrath/Dickenschied parish on 8 May, 1934 (Fig. 3, comparing to first two figures).

This time, it only took four months for the battle lines to heat up again. At a grave side service in Gemünden for a youth that had died, Gauleiter [=district leader] Nadig eulogized that the boy “would now be taken up into the ‘Horst Wessel Troop.’”

Schneider felt a line was crossed, and rose to declare, “whether there is a Horst Wessel Troop in eternity, I don’t know; but the Lord God bless your exit from time and your entry into eternity. Let us now in peace go to the house of the Lord and hold a memorial for the dead before God and his holy Word!” (56). Nadig repeated his assertion; Schneider protested again, and left the cemetery.

The tension was high; the Party radicals caucused, then marched from the cemetery to a tavern rather than to the church where the final service was held.

Later, Schneider tried to diffuse the tension by discussion. He wrote a letter to Nadig that emphasized the separate prerogatives of church and state, firmly but politely insisting on his rights as pastor to control a funeral service. The issue was the prerogative of the church to control its own destiny, to have the right to proclaim and interpret the Word of the God and control the worship services. The particular had to do with the conduct of a funeral. Gauleiter Nadig was claiming the right as political leader to reinterpret church doctrine; in his executive capacity as pastor, Schneider resisted this usurpation.

Nadig ordered Schneider’s arrest; Schneider did not back down.

Interestingly, there were SA members in his church that took his side, and threatened to resign from the SA if he was not released. Thirty-four of 48 households signed a petition. The mayor declared, “as we have fought for our homeland and for National Socialism, so we will stand and fight for the belief of our church.”

Schneider was only held for five days.

5. The Confessing Church

In parallel, the Confessing Church was organized in the fall of 1933 as a voluntary organization of pastors (both Lutheran and Reformed) desirous of resisting the mingling of politics and church. This is another story that needs to be told. It is, unfortunately, a story of mixed merit. The intellectuals of the movement cleverly slipped neo-orthodox time-bombs into the confessions. But the typical guileless pastor in the movement was not necessarily on board with that hidden agenda. He saw it as a stand for the gospel.

In March 1935 a Synod was to be held. The Party countered to require them to sign that it would not be publicized. In Prussia, 500 refused and were imprisoned. In Hunsrueck, only Schneider took the stand; he was imprisoned for several days, in Kirchberg.

6. Church discipline, 3^rd arrest, exile, 4^th arrest

All things human have their ebb and flow. Pastor Schneider enjoyed a year of respite.

But toward the end of 1936, a couple teachers in the evangelical public schools started to propagate a paganized view of Christmas, even while ratifying it as a beautiful primal-German custom (75).

Pastor Schneider stepped up church discipline again. It did not get past the first warning of the three required by his book of order. Therefore, no excommunication was yet implemented, and he wanted to give plenty of time. But on May 31, 1937 he was arrested again. He had “irresponsibly called for a boycott against a peasant.” On June 24, the penalty was commuted to banishment from the Rheinland (91).

The Consistory basically washed its hands; it neither commanded him to disobey the order (in order to obey God in exercising his calling) nor forbade him to disobey. How common it is, for the wider church to fumble, to hem and haw, just at the moment of need!

Schneider returned to his parish, in violation of the civil ban. That fall, things caught up with him. He was arrested for the fourth and final time, and sent to Buchenwald (just north of Weimar [right-most circle in Fig. 1]).

7. Concentration Camp

For a year and a half, Paul Schneider performed hard labor, while testifying to the Word of God to both fellow inmates and officers of the camp. At least once, he refused to salute the flag, and another time he vocally protested the unjust execution of two prisoners. This behavior led to beatings and solitary confinement. His body finally gave way, and he died on July 18, 1939.

Preliminary Conclusion

There is much that calls for deep pondering in the conflicts between Schneider and the National Socialist forces. In particular, it is necessary to isolate the exact locus of the conflict. Too many people – even on occasion, Wentorf himself in an otherwise excellent book – seek an easy answer that relies on a popular demonization of the “Nazis” – Nazis bad, anyone-they-opposed good. What makes Schneider’s case particularly instructive is that the conflict that arose with National Socialism occurred while the jewish question was barely on the table. For us, therefore, the case is particularly relevant.

The confessing pastors prayed weekly for the Führer (72) and made it clear that they were not setting up the church as a haven for political dissidents (67). They were ready to sacrifice their goods and blood to the state and to their German Folk (74). And in several particulars, they cheered the changes brought about by the National Socialists — for example, the exit from the League of Nations. But the church “has the duty to pronounce godly warning and the judgment of God to the Führer and the regime if they do not desist from this policy of removing all Christianity and Christian confession from public life” (69).

(How many in the Christian Right of America would dare say this about any policy implemented by their beloved Republicans?)

The conflict was very specifically over the replacement of Christianity with civic religion, and the preservation of the prerogatives of the church as an authority independent of the state. Nothing could be more relevant to our own situation.

More will need to be said to unpack these themes.

But our first approach should be awed silence before a great man that would rather die than renounce Christ, even for a moment. Let us think on him, weep, and rejoice.

Rudolf Wentorf. Paul Schneider: The Witness of Buchenwald. Eng. trans Franklin Sanders (Tucson: American Eagle 1993 [Paul Schneider: Der zeuge von Buchenwald, 1967, 1986]).

There are three things that prevent me from becoming a Methodist. (1) The entry and exit of “the light” (i.e. a child carrying a candle/snuffer contraption that walks down the aisle to light candles at the start of the service, and at the end, after snuffing, processes back up the aisle. (2) The “passing of the peace” (cupping your hands to receive the invisible stuff that your neighbor “pours in” which you then “pass on.”) (3) Greeting the people sitting next to you as a ritual part of the service.

I actually visited the local Methodist church Sunday before last, but told myself, “self, if they do any of those three things, we’re leaving.”

I left.

So I was gratified to see Garrison Keilor write,

There are basically two types of Americans and the first is the type that most of the world considers typical: the Americans who when the big smiley preacher stands in the pulpit and says, “How about everybody turn around and shake hands with the person behind you and give them a big howdy!” they all turn around and shake and say howdy and feel sort of uplifted by this. And then there are the Americans who would do anything to avoid this, including staying away from church entirely.

It is an aesthetic insight in the first place. But it points to a deep principle.

If God commands something that we find distasteful, we must of course do it. But not when man commands it.

Understanding this, is one entry into the Regulative Principle. Men are prohibited from commanding things in worship based merely on what they think is good.

The deeper insight is, that only God could possibly specify what pleases him in worship. Anything other than this is finally a denial of the Creator/creature distinction.

I submit that the Regulative Principle of Worship, not Predestination, is the rock-bottom fundament of the Reformed Church.