* This lecture, delivered at the Valparaiso University Church Music Seminar at Teaneck, N.J., in the fall of 1957, contains excerpts from the book by Dr. Vajta Dr. Martin Luther’s Concept of Worship, published in 1958 by the United Lutheran Publication House, Philadelphia, Pa.—The Editor.

Holy Scripture is the one and only foundation of Luther’s theology of worship. This fact is vital. He countered the ingenious allegorical Mass expositions of the Middle Ages, not with any theological constructions of his own but with the witness of Scripture.

A Free Course for the Word

Luther’s greatest concern in the reform of worship was the restoration of the Word to its rightful place. In his pamphlet of 1523 “On the Order of Public Worship” he calls the neglect of the Word the worst abuse of medieval worship.

And this is the sum of the matter. Let everything be done so that the Word may have free course instead of the prattling and rattling that has been the rule up to now. We can spare everything except the Word. Again we profit by nothing as much as by the Word. For the whole Scripture shows that the Word should have free course among Christians. And in Luke 10(:42), Christ Himself says: “One thing is needful,” viz., that Mary sit at the feet of Christ and hear his Word daily. This is the best part to choose, which shall not be taken away forever. It is an eternal Word. Everything else must pass away, no matter how much care and trouble it may give to Martha. To this God help us. Amen.

What is implied in this demand? This is not the place for discussing Luther’s theology of the Word in all its ramifications. But we must try to understand the role in worship of the Word of God and the meaning of the term “proclamation of the Word.”

In De servo arbitrio (Of the Bondage of the Will) Luther had made the well-known distinction between the hidden and the revealed God (Deus absconditus and Deus revelatus). God in His majesty is hidden and inaccessible to man. We cannot find or see Him as He is. But He has been pleased to condescend and to take the form of the Word, born in Bethlehem and proclaimed in the world. As such He is revelatus, revealed to man. And as such we can know Him and have fellowship with Him.

This distinction throws light on the meaning of the Word in worship. The God whom we preach and worship is not the hidden one but He who revealed Himself in His Word. To hear and believe the Word is therefore worship at its truest and best.

At times Luther stresses the distinction between God in Himself and in His Word. Since the incarnation the Word belongs on the side of created things. God will allow no other access to Himself except through the incarnate Word Jesus Christ. It is in Christ that He wants to be found. And the words “Hear ye Him” (Matt. 17:5) indicate the one and only approach to God. But this distinction between God and His Word implies no separation. The Word is God, not only the eternal, uncreated, pre-existing Word (John 1:1), but also the incarnate, created, and revealed Word. In all its earthly lowliness the Word brings God to man. In this sense Luther’s entire theology is a theology of the Word.

All this goes to show that Luther’s concern was with the Word as a means of revelation, He refused to speculate on the Eternal Word. To him the Word and its proclamation were the weapons by which God subdues His enemies and frees mankind from bondage. This cosmic warfare began with the incarnation. And it continues after Christ’s death and resurrection in spite of the victory which He obtained. The Word written and preached is the sword with which He pursues His struggle up to the Last Day.

Aside from this war the Word cannot be understood. Always it lays its hearer under obligation, addresses him, arrests him, condemns, and comforts him. But it escapes the one who would try to listen in cool detachment. We cannot hear the message from the safe distance of a point outside of its perimeter. It speaks to us of our own existence, our own battle with sin and death. If we try to remain neutral, we have already deserted to the enemy.

Luther’s demand that the Word should have free course implies the wish that the warfare of Christ through the Word would dominate and mold the church service. His views about Christ’s rule through the Word are deeply relevant for his concept of worship. We must therefore examine several aspects of the work which Christ performs through the preaching of the Word.

The Word and the Works of God

The Word reveals the works of God, past, present, and future. It is not a philosophy but a message, not a flight into the realm of fancy but a witness to the works which God does for us men and in this our world. Without the Word the works would remain meaningless.

The great facts of our salvation are more than historical events. They escape objective observation; for they lay a personal claim on every man. This claim comes through the Word. The Word transforms the “then” into a “now.” It renders the past relevant to the present. It makes Christ the contemporary of every generation.

Of course, both creation and redemption are complete and finished acts of God. God has left nothing undone in His dealings with mankind. But the Holy Ghost must make the works of God available for the benefit of men. He bridges the chasm between the past works of God and men living today; for men cannot appropriate the works of God by their own reason and strength. It is just here where the Mass theology of the Roman Church and the spiritualism of the enthusiasts failed. Both would replace the function of the Holy Ghost by the works of man—the Roman Church by the sacrifice of the Mass, and the enthusiasts by the “inner light.” But their attempts are futile and unnecessary. God himself imparts the benefits of His redemptive work through the Holy Spirit. Our present age—no less than past or future is part of redemptive history.

This explains why Luther stressed the proclamation of Christ’s birth, death, and resurrection more than these historical events as such. The Word alone conveys the truth that all the works of God are done for our benefit. Not Christ needed to be saved, but we. Our adoption by God, our dying to sin, our righteousness are included in His birth, death, and resurrection.

By this Luther did not mean to deny the historical validity of Christ’s life and death. They are the beginning of a chain reaction which includes God’s works among His people today. They are the warranty for the benefits which we now receive.

Occasionally Luther distinguished between factum and usus facti (the fact and the use of the fact), meritum and distributio meriti (the merit and the use of the merit). The work of Christ (factum and meritum) and the work of the Holy Spirit through the Word (usus) must not be considered separately. Luther included the church (the Word, the use, the distribution) in the historical work of Christ.

With this perspective he resolved the dilemma of the so-called objective and subjective theories of redemption. The objective view tends to isolate Christ’s work of redemption from those for whom He died and rose. The subjective view considers His work an event of the past and stresses the personal psychological appropriation of it. But Luther saw past and present merely as different phases of redemptive history. Now is the era of the Holy Spirit, who through the Word brings Christ to all the nations. Thus usus facti (the use of the work) is nothing but God’s continued work in its application to mankind, and the sermon nothing less than redemptive history comprehended in the Word.

This unity of work and Word rests on the dual nature of Christ. Christ was true man, born of the Virgin. He bore the curse of the Law and the guilt of mankind. But He suffered and died vicariously; for He was without sin. His cross concerned therefore not Him but those whose sins He bore. Not in Himself was He a “sinner” but only in His solidarity with sinful mankind. As such He suffered the wrath of God. But because He was both God and man in one person, the battle became a mighty struggle in His own person. This struggle was fought, not for His sake, nor as a contest between God and the devil, but on behalf of man to be freed from the devil’s dominion. Thus the opposition between the curse (wrath) of God and His eternal blessing (love) is not a conflict between different attributes of God but one on the level of man’s concrete existence. For in Christ God deals with mankind. And the victory is based on the fact that Christ is not only man but God at the same time. This victory, however, was attained, not for His benefit but for ours. For it is the very nature of God to give Himself for others. And so mankind shares vicariously in the triumph of Christ over sin, death, and the devil.

The “for us” character of Christ’s redemptive work implies the message of the Word. For the message is the reference-to-us, the validity-for-us of the divine work. To preach is more than to report and comment on certain events of the past. It is to make Christ our contemporary so that His death and resurrection become our own and that the redemption which He wrought becomes our righteousness. Indeed, one cannot accurately describe the work of Christ without reference to the people for whom He died and rose again. Christ’s work of redemption does not cancel the two-fold aspect of God’s dealings with mankind. He continues to deal with us in love or in wrath. For Christ’s work does not imply the resolution of a conflict between differing attributes of God, as though God’s love had overcome His wrath, else the Word of reconciliation would simply mean the victory of God’s love. But the Word of redemption is much more than a process in the mind of God. It is an act of God. God acted when He reconciled the world in Jesus Christ. Christ has vicariously borne the sins of all mankind and suffered for their sake the wrath of God. By striking Him God’s wrath struck all mankind. And so the Word of Jesus’ death is a Word of condemnation (Law). The voice of condemnation is the Law that forces all men into the fellowship of the death of Christ. Christ’s continued work of redemption makes us die with Him; for we stand condemned by the fact of His death for our sins. But he who submits to the verdict of the Law submits to the wrath of God, as did Christ. He belongs to the Crucified and therefore to the Risen One too. In the midst of death he receives life. To raise us with Christ is the proper work of God, or—as it were—the proper Word of God, viz., the Gospel.

Thus the Law and the Gospel remain the twofold message of the Christian pulpit. So far from being principles of human conduct, they are the dealings of God in Christ. They cannot be divorced either from the historical events of the past or from the situation of the present-day listener. The wrath of God and His love, the Law and the Gospel, cannot be described objectively (per se) but only as the expression of actual fellowship with God.

Thus the proclamation of Christ’s work is in itself an integral part of His work. The Word explains the work. And the work bears no fruit without the Word. The devil is unabashed by Christ’s death and resurrection as mere facts of the past. He is quite content to have people accept these events as part of ancient history. What he opposes is the preaching of the Word which would apply them to men in their need. By my own reason and strength I can indeed learn and accept the story of Christ. But I cannot see the hand of God in it until the Word reveals it to me and kindles my faith. As long as it remains “the sweet story of old” it is the teaching of men (or rather of the devil). It must become my own story in order to be truly Word of God. But the conflict between the teaching of men and the Word of God is only one aspect of the struggle between Christ and the devil and will continue to the Last Day

Scripture as Proclaimed Word

In the conflict between the Word of God and the teaching of men, Holy Scripture plays a decisive part. Luther found the Word of God in the Bible. Biblical lessons were to replace the “un-Christian fables and lies” which had usurped their place in the church. But he demanded more than lessons from the Bible. To him “using Scripture” was not tantamount to “reading Scripture.” But it implied the preaching of the Word by which the redemptive facts of the Bible could be applied to the congregation.

For it is possible to misinterpret Scripture. The divine nature of the Word is as hidden in the Bible as it was in the manger of Bethlehem or on the cross of Calvary. Faith is needed to find the Word of God in the Bible.

As the unbelieving Jews refused to acknowledge the Sonship of Jesus, so modern unbelief fails to find the Word of God in the Bible. This is the work of the devil. Men read their own preconceived ideas into the Bible and draw from it heresies instead of the truth. Man has an inner resistance which must be broken by Christ. The correct understanding of Scripture is a gift of the Lord, and it comes to men, not through an inner light but through serious study of the text. The Bible has to be interpreted—not because it wanted clarity—but because of the lack of perceptiveness on the part of men. So far from understanding spiritual matters, they don’t even master the linguistic problems. Scripture does not yield its meaning without meditation. And meditation implies a careful study of the text. It requires not only contemplation but careful philological research. Bible study is an intensely personal and practical matter. For it aims at blocking the “static” of man’s own misconceptions so that the voice of God in the Bible may come through and be heard.

Thus the difficulty in interpreting the Bible has nothing to do with an alleged discrepancy between its content and its form. The interpreter has no call to separate the chaff from the wheat or to search for so-called “deeper truths” behind the plain “external” Word of Scripture. For the problem of interpretation is not a problem of the book but one of the interpreter. If the message of the Bible concerned any less than his total existence, there would be no problem of exegesis. This serves to explain why Luther would cling to certain words of Scripture and reject any evasion of the plain sense of the words. The latter was to him the only effective bar against misinterpretation.

The text as such was not problematical to him. He asked, not: What is in the Bible? but: What does this mean to me? For the same reason he insisted that the oral proclamation or preaching is the proper form of the Word. Originally the Gospel was not a book but a sermon, and the church not a Federhaus (quill house) but a Mundhaus (mouth house). The crystallization of the Gospel in a book was prompted by the rise of heresies and therefore indirectly by the power of sin. But Christ never wrote anything, and His apostles were not scribes but messengers. So today the Bible mast be preached if the Gospel is to assume its proper form and fulfill its proper task.

The pulpit stands between the lectern and the pew. It applies the Bible truths of old to the congregation of today. It is in the sermon that the letter which kills becomes the spirit which gives life. Thus Scripture and sermon stand in the same relation as the work and the Word of God. And as the Word does not impair the validity of the works of God, so the sermon does not impinge on the importance of the Bible. After all, the Bible itself witnesses to the importance of the oral Gospel in the early church. The sermon does not supersede Scripture but “uses” it. Here is the main emphasis in Luther’s concept of Scripture. He is interested in the message of the Bible, not in theories about its origin or form. He sees in the Bible not a document the validity of which needed to be examined or proved but a message concerning man and his existence. The former question may get passing notice. But in comparison with the latter it is trivial and inconsequential.

The Pulpit as the Battlefield of Christ

Rarely did Luther preach without a text. And even his textless sermons are—in a wider sense—expositions of Scripture. Ordinarily he expounded a definite lesson or part of it—on Sundays and feast days the lesson for the day, on weekdays successive chapters of a given book of Scripture. Nor did he try to extract a theme from his text. His one and only subject is Christ, and all his sermons are variations on this great theme; for to him the sermon was Christ’s continued “Advent,” His coming to every generation of men, the means by which He establishes fellowship with His own. One could also say that righteousness is the continual subject of Luther’s preaching, viz., the righteousness which Christ obtained and which He offers to men through the preaching of the Word. Every sermon should vindicate the justification of faith against the justification by works.

It was this Christocentric emphasis that Luther missed in the Roman Church. The Christ of the Roman pulpit was not the Christ of the Gospel but a stern judge of men’s works or else an example to be imitated. He inspired fear rather than comfort.

Luther saw the difference between the sort of proclamation that he wanted and the preaching of the pseudo church as a conflict of legalistic and evangelical preaching. The preachers of the pope’s church had failed to present Christ as a gift to men. They had turned the Gospel into Law, or—and that amounts to the same—they had confused the two.

This was the reason for Luther to begin his collection of sermons (Kirchenpostille) with a brief instruction on what one should seek and expect in the Gospels. In this introduction he explained the above-mentioned difference in regard to the Person and office of Christ. For, as a model to be imitated, Christ is no more than any other saint. He is not truly known until He is being accepted in faith as our Savior. Every sermon must present Him as God’s Gift “for us.”

In order to bring the true message of Christ, the preacher must therefore be able properly to distinguish the Gospel and the Law. For redemptive history can be seen either under the aspect of the Law or from the vantage point of the Gospel. The former view falsifies the message of Scripture. Christ becomes a lawgiver. Grace becomes a virtue by which man is supposed to recommend himself to God. Christ’s sufferings and death become an example to be followed by the faithful. But such imitation of the dying and rising Christ is a purely human endeavor. And it amounts to a complete perversion of the Biblical way of salvation. Christ’s death and suffering were seen as example to be followed. Conformity with the dying and rising of Christ was made a task to be accomplished by men.

The evangelical understanding of Scripture leads to a totally different approach. Christ’s death and resurrection should be represented, not as a pattern to be imitated but as a present reality proclaimed and offered in the Word. Both God’s wrath over sin (the punishment) and His life-giving love preclude human works; for they are the marks of God’s dealing in Christ with men. Through the Word of the Law and of the Gospel we are drawn into the redemptive work of Christ.

Thus the evangelical aspect does not impair the twofold nature of the Word (Law and Gospel, death and resurrection). But it speaks of the Law (death) as fulfilled and overcome by Christ. The proper understanding of this distinction between the Law and the Gospel is the foremost task of the preacher. The legalistic pulpit confuses the two, the evangelical pulpit keeps them “undivided” and “unconfused.” Luther’s own sermons illustrate this distinction. Their scope is always the work of Christ. This is the central message which he found in every text. On the other hand he felt free to criticize certain books or selections of the Bible from his central position. He would question the apostolic origin of St. James’ Epistle because it fails to witness to the resurrection of Christ. From the same viewpoint he evaluated other books of the Bible. He deplored the one-sided emphasis in the Epistle Lessons of the church year. It offered so many paraenetic sections in preference to those which teach the righteousness of faith. However, he made no changes but preached on the prescribed lessons, yet with a clear evangelical emphasis.

The Place of the Sermon in Worship

When Luther demanded the proclamation of the Word, he thought of two forms of worship, the office (Canonical Hours) and the Mass. With the Reformation the horary services became daily offices, while the Mass became the order of worship for Sundays and holy days. Luther insisted on the sermon in both forms. Even in the canonical services he was not content with the mere reading of the Word without an exposition. Actually this was not a matter of principle with him but resulted from the abuses which he sought to correct, viz., firstly, the fact that legends of the saints enjoyed equal rank with the Bible in the calendar of pericopes, and secondly, that even the reading of Scripture had become a work of merit. Long chapters were faithfully read from the lectern; but without aid from the pulpit, people failed to find the Word in the words. He therefore combined reading and preaching, even as St. Paul had placed the interpretation beside the speaking in tongues.

As for the Mass, preaching was no innovation. It had been quite common during the Middle Ages. And yet the sermon gained new stature through the Reformation. Before, it was optional. It wanted an organic relation to the Mass. The best that could be said of medieval preaching is that it sought to direct the people to the benefits of the Mass by expounding the Law. But it remained for Luther to recover the early Christian co-ordination of sermon and sacrament.

Luther proceeded from the Words of Institution. Says he:

When the Lord instituted the Mass, He said “This do in remembrance of Me,” as though He meant to say, “As oft as you do this sacrament you shall preach of Me.”

The difference between Luther and the Middle Ages lies in the exegesis of 1 Cor. 11:26. The medieval “remembrance” consisted in a dramatical representation of the Passion of Christ. But to Luther the sermon was the remembrance, and he would quote Luke 22:19, Ps. 102:21, and Ps. 111:4 f. in support of his exegesis. This concept of remembrance is found already in his first commentary of the Psalter. Here he quotes 1 Cor. 11:26 as a proof for the connection of the Gospel (in this connection probably a Lesson in the Mass) and the sacraments. In later years it was the understanding which he took for granted.

Luther identified the remembrance and the sermon because he understood the remembrance as a part of God’s redemptive work rather than as a work of man. Compare his exposition of Ps. 111:5: “He will ever be mindful of His covenant”:

Furthermore, in the sacrament we keep the remembrance of His covenant according to Christ’s institution. For it is not our own institution or work but His. He performs it through us and in us; for He is speaking not of the inward remembering in the heart but of the outward, public, and oral remembering to which Christ referred when He says: This do in remembrance of me—which is done through the sermon and the Word of God.

This exegesis leads logically on to the next verse: “He hath showed His people the power of His works” (Ps. 111:6) for it connects the elements of proclamation and of remembrance.

This concept of remembrance differs markedly also from that of the enthusiasts. The latter understood remembrance as an inner effort on the part of man, an ascent of the individual soul to God. Luther called it a remembrance im Winkel (in one’s own private corner); for here the individual was expected to secure his own tryst with God, apart from the congregation, while Luther considered it a public act of God by which the work of Christ continued to be proclaimed and to invite praise and thanksgiving on the part of men.

The bond between sermon and sacrament was further strengthened by Luther’s definition of the sermon as an exposition of the Mass. He implied no explanation of the liturgy as had been customary during the Middle Ages but the evangelical scope of the sermon. To him the “Mass” was the New Testament as instituted by Christ. Here he found the message of Christ’s redemptive work on our behalf, the Word of the cross, in short, the whole Gospel in a nutshell. To find and expound this theme in every text was the principal task of the preacher, and any sermon which presented the alternative of the Gospel versus the Law, of the righteousness of faith versus the righteousness of works, of Christ versus the devil, was a proper exposition of the Mass.

The Presence of Christ in the Lord’s Supper

The presence-in-worship of Christ is—as shown above—a presence in the Word. The Word is that of oral preaching; for though present everywhere, Christ is comprehended and found in His Word.

The Word is the essence of His presence; for through the Word proclaimed all the works of God are being revealed. And through the Word Christ comprehends Himself in the sacraments. He is here, according to His promises “Lo, I am with you always” (Matt. 28:20) and “Where two or three are gathered together in My name, there am I in the midst of them” (Matt. 18:20). Wherever the members of His body meet in prayer and worship, He is there.

Since Christ’s presence-in-the-Word is the place of His presence-for-us, worship may be defined as His presence-in-Word-and-Sacrament within the communion of saints. His presence is related to His people and cannot be divorced from them. It cannot be considered “by itself” (per se). The Word and the Sacraments are for the benefit of men—not in the sense that they concerned mankind by virtue of their objective value but only in the sense that as realities they bear a personal reference.

It was in connection with the controversies on the Lord’s Supper that the problem of the presence of Christ presented itself to Luther. As we review his arguments in these controversies, we hope to further clarify the mode and meaning of the presence of Christ.

In the Lord’s Supper Christ is present “under the bread and wine.” This phrase circumscribes the “real presence.” Earthly means become the vehicles by which the body and blood are being distributed in all the earth. Here we note two marks characteristic of the presence of Christ: it is realized in the visible, earthly means of creation, and under these means God reveals Himself in a hidden manner. The physical nature of these vehicles of Christ’s presence is an offense to sinful man. He is prone to misunderstand the revelation of God as though it could be mastered and comprehended. But it is only open to humble faith; for the presence of Christ is hid. The Word alone does reveal it. And this Word must be received in faith. Thus the visible, earthly means are closely bound to the Word (as an interpretation of the sacrament) and to faith. Christ’s presence is a presence-for-our-faith. God deals with us through earthly means to which he adds His Word. It is faith alone which combines the two and enables the Word of promise to make the earthly gifts a blessing for man.

By accepting the Word the believer so understands the sign as God has given it, viz., as a salutary gift (Gospel) under earthly forms. Faith waits for the Holy Spirit, who—though not depending on outward means—is granted through them ubi et quando visum est Deo (when and where it pleased God).

The real presence was also taught by the representatives of scholasticism, and Luther freely acknowledged the zeal of his opponents at this point. But he rejected their attempt to explain the real presence by the doctrine of transubstantiation. In this doctrine he detected the influence of philosophy. Scholasticism had introduced the substance concept of Aristotle in order to explain the real presence. From these premises they had concluded that the sacrament contains the substance of the body of Christ. The substance of the bread had been changed, or rather made to disappear, so that of the elements the accidents alone were left.

Luther rejected this doctrine, not as too irrational but as too rational. Reason is bound to misinterpret the real presence. A deeper understanding of Christology made transubstantiation pointless to Luther. For in Christ he found both human and divine nature to be present without change and without mixture. Human nature therefore needs no transubstantiation for the divine to dwell in it. Faith can see both natures in one. Reason alone remains baffled. But in matters of revelation it has no voice. The real presence does not depend on transubstantiation. Natural bread and wine are the vehicles of the presence of Christ. This conviction of Luther was also strengthened by his understanding of the First Article (Schoepfungsglaube). In dealing with man, God uses His own creation. The argument that created things ought to give room to Christ is an insult to the good gifts of God; for sin is not in the created things themselves but in their abuse by sinful man.

Christ’s omnipresence, a direct expression of Luther’s faith in the Creator, is the crowning argument against transubstantiation. Christ is in the elements long before they are placed on the altar. The eyes of sinful man cannot see Him there. But faith accepts the Word which reveals His presence for the forgiveness of sins.

By the teaching of transubstantiation Christ had been localized in the host. “The church” could dispose of His presence. The substance of the bread disappeared through consecration, and under its accidents the substance of Christ’s body could be seen. The invisible had been made visible, the spiritual material, the earthly divine. At the altar the priest held Christ in his own hand. No longer could Christ dispose of His own presence. No more did the Word determine the meaning of the Supper. The church had replaced Christ as a mediator between God and man. Christ had become a tool to use and control. Redemption lay not with Him but with the church that had Him in her hand and could reconcile God by the sacrifice of the Mass. The real presence had become a sort of Law, a human way to God, and was no longer part of the Gospel through which God Omnipresent and Omnipotent reveals Himself.

Few changes were needed in order to turn Luther’s arguments against the scholastics also against the enthusiasts. For they, too, allowed philosophical concepts to color their thinking. Their objection to the real presence rested on a substantial interpretation of the latter. They, too, sought to localize Christ, not indeed in the elements but in a spatial heaven. Nor could they see the relation between the earthly elements and Christ glorified. In spite of their rejection of transubstantiation they used the same categories as the scholastics. Again it was their concept of creation—or rather the lack of it—which prevented them from accepting the presence of Christ in the elements. Theirs was a deistic notion of a god throned in lonely majesty and far removed from his creation. This unbiblical idea of God perverted their Christology. To Luther the real presence was a corollary of the incarnation. The latter was the real offense, and His presence-in-worship no more than a consequence and extension of the revelation of God Omnipresent. But the deism of the enthusiasts allowed no other presence of Christ than the mental process of remembering Him. They thought of a psychological effort by which the devout would transfer their thoughts and feelings to the cross of Calvary, there to receive the forgiveness of their sins.

Luther contrariwise places the “remembrance” in the Word which proclaims and offers the presence of Christ. In the Supper Christ Himself is present and coming to man. There is no need for the flight of religious fancy by which man would leap the alleged gap between earth and heaven. The “remembrance” of the enthusiasts was a form of speculation on the divine majesty, not a believing acceptance of the real presence. The same approach which had led the scholastics to the theory of transubstantiation prompted the enthusiasts to divorce the “sign” from the presence of Christ. In either case did the real presence depend on the work of man, here the manipulations of the priest, and there the contortions of a pious soul. Both ways made the sacrament a Werkgeschaeft (work business), rather than Glaubensgeschaeft (faith business).

The Consecration as the Pledge of the Presence of Christ Through the Word

We must now turn to the liturgical moment in the service which is decisive for the real (bodily) presence of Christ in the Lord’s Supper.

We said before that for Luther, God (and Christ) is always near because of His omnipresence. This fact is an expression of God’s omnipotent dominion over His creation. But Christ’s presence-for-us, i.e., the presence in which He wants to be sought and to be found, is a presence in the Word which connects the outward signs (signa, res externae) of creation with faith. What is needed is a revelation of the presence of God through the Holy Spirit. This takes place in the church service. Here the Word of God occupies a central position, also in connection with the distribution of the sacrament. For the presence of the body and blood of Christ is effected ex virtute verbi.

Luther understood the Words of Institution as the pledge (Verheissung, Zusagung) by which Christ has promised to be present in His church whenever bread and wine are being administered in His name. The celebration of the Eucharist rests on our faith in these words; for it joins them to the elements through which Christ wants to be present for us. This is the liturgical act of consecration, the significance of which we must now define.

God acts in the sacrament. His Word, His institution and command, is the chief thing in the sacrament. Man’s activity has no place in the sacrament. What is being distributed is God’s gift for His people. There is no room for the underlying concept of the Roman consecration, viz., the potestas sacrificandi (power to sacrifice); for this concept assumed for the clergy a power superior to that of God. The teaching of transubstantiation was another expression of this arrogated power; for the clergy alone was deemed able to effect it.

Luther based the real presence on the Word. It is the promise of Christ by which He offers His gifts under bread and wine; for the Word alone has the power of granting heavenly gifts in earthly forms. In this connection Luther referred to Augustine’s “Accedit verbum ad elementum et fit sacramentum” (When the Word accedes to the element, it becomes a sacrament). There can be no sacrament apart from the Word. Consecration is the liturgical act in which the omnipresent body and blood of Christ are being revealed and promised to man, as the Word accedes to the elements in accordance with Christ’s institution and command, in order to be received by the church as God’s gift for the remission of sins.

Through the Words of Institution God’s creative words become effective. And with power divine the promise of the Upper Room effects Christ’s presence for us; for the words “This is My body” are Taetelworte (action words) which create that of which they speak. Thus, to Luther, the consecration is nothing else but the promise of Christ’s presence-for-us in the Word.

The gift of forgiveness promised in the Word is present right in the elements. This est (is) is basic to Luther’s defense of the real presence, The union of earthly and heavenly things in the sacrament is a corollary of the union of divinity and humanity in the Person of Christ. The sacramental union reflects the personal union on the level of the church.

Luther was greatly concerned that the consecration should not be separated from the Communion. Christ effects His presence in order to be received. It is an insult to Him when men worship the host instead of eating it in faith. The Roman concept of consecration made Communion proper irrelevant. Nor did the enthusiasts consider eating and drinking essential for the real presence; for to them the presence had nothing to do with the elements. Luther was of a different mind. To him, eating and drinking were constitutive parts of the presence of Christ; for God gives His gifts to be received by men.

Luther’s teaching should not be interpreted as though forgiveness was given alone by the Word, while the elements offered food for the body. Of course it is true that the Word imparts the forgiveness of sins. Christ is also present in the Word, though in a different, namely, bodily manner. Luther stressed this presence-in-the-Word in his controversies with the enthusiasts. He pointed out that even should it be granted that the elements are only “signs,” yet it would not be necessary for the believer mentally to transport himself to the cross of Calvary; for Christ is present here and now in His Word. But in fact, the elements are more than “signs,” more than food for the body. They are vehicles of the presence of Christ, the same presence which—in a different manner—comes through the Word. As a matter of fact, it is the Word which attests Christ’s presence in the elements. And to divorce the presence from the elements would be contrary to Luther’s whole intention.

As shown above, Luther based the sacramental union on the Words of Institution. These words, read in the service, reveal the presence of Christ, not by offering information on a purely intellectual level but by proclaiming the redemptive activity of Christ. It was as important for Luther to maintain (against Rome) that natural bread and wine are the vehicles of the real presence, as to stress (against the enthusiasts) that the elements are no longer “mere bread and wine” after the Words of Institution have been spoken over them. To be sure, they have not been changed “in substance.” But they have been set apart from every other created thing. While all other things of this world serve our present life, the consecrated elements have been placed in the service of the new creation. They have become vehicles of the new creation, viz., of the body and blood of the crucified Savior. This function is unique. Other earthly gifts do not share it, not even bead and wine in ordinary use. It takes the promise of Christ and receptive faith. Without these—though present everywhere—He cannot be found.

This point again reflects the twofold manner of Christ’s presence which we discussed earlier. The enthusiasts viewed the Supper as an ordinary meal, while Luther insisted on its uniqueness, with Christ at hand as both the Giver and the Gift; for if the Eucharist should be no more than any other supper, the Christian’s every meal would become a sacrament. This is not so. Through the Word alone the Supper becomes a gift of salvation, and the food that is eaten, more than bread and wine.

That is not to say “mere bread and wine” had no relation to the Word. The latter points to Him who grants these gifts and to our duty to receive the same with thanks. But he who eats his daily bread with thanks does not thereby receive a sacrament. A table prayer—even though it should be pronounced by Christ Himself—does not make the bread and wine the Supper of the Lord. The gifts of the Redeemer call forth a different response on the part of the believer than those of the Creator. The latter require man to distinguish that which is made from Him who made it. But in the latter he must acknowledge the union of the two natures, human and divine.

The Office of the Ministry as Impartation of the Gift of God

Worship, as we have found, is that work of the gracious God by which He imparts to us the fruits of the redemption in Jesus Christ. The work is done through the Word and the sacraments. But we also found that the Word must be preached and the sacraments be administered. It is not enough for the Word to rest between the covers of the Bible, nor for the sacrament to be displayed in the tabernacle of the altar. The Word is a message. It must be heard. It needs messengers. The sacrament is a gift. It must be received.

The Ministry as a Service “for Others”

And so we must consider the office of the ministry. To Luther, worship and the ministry were intimately connected; for worship is nothing but the office through which Christ is present in and with His gifts of grace. This implies an important conclusion, viz.: The office receives its validity from the Word and the sacraments. It is a handmaid of the Word, a ministerium verbi divini (a ministry, i.e., service of the Word of God).

This order cannot be reversed. The validity of the Word and of the sacraments needs no authorization on the part of  the ecclesiastical office. With this assertion Luther stood against Rome. For in the Roman Church the handmaid had become the mistress, as the hierarchy presumed authority to decide what is the Word of God and claimed the power to effect transubstantiation and so to “make” the sacrament. So far from serving the work of Christ, the priesthood had arrogated to itself jurisdiction over the means of grace.

This development had brought one further consequence, The accent had moved from the office as an institute of God to the officiant as a person of authority. From a function, the ministry had become a rank. And the fiction of “apostolic succession” was needed in order to guarantee the legitimacy of the ministry and therewith indirectly of the means of grace. This fiction is incompatible with the Lutheran concept of the office. The Christian ministry receives its proper authorization, not from an ecclesiastical pedigree but from the Word and the sacraments.

As a function the ministry can never be an end in itself. Its one and only purpose is to serve others. Luther’s view of the ministry is inseparable from his concept of worship as a beneficium, a benefit granted to us by God.

As a matter of fact, the ministry is Christ’s continued activity on earth. In the pulpit He speaks through the mouth of the preacher, at the font He Himself is the Baptist, at the altar He imparts the remission of sins through the hands of the minister. There is no delegation of authority here. But the minister is simply a tool, and his office a kind of stewardship. He has no authority over the Word and the sacraments apart from his call to administer them to the congregation. The same applies logically to the power of the Keys. It rests not with the pope but with Christ. We can do no more than declare the forgiveness which Christ obtained for us on the cross. Otherwise the ministry might become a sort of tyranny over the souls of men for whose benefit it has been instituted. For what the minister by virtue of his call receives from Christ, that he must pass on to his fellow men for their eternal salvation. In so doing he “co-operates” with God. That is not to say that he could add anything of his own, not even the external form. And yet his office is important; for Christ has chosen not to give the Word senkrecht von oben (straight down from above) but rather through the medium of human tongues and voices.

Finally, this concept of co-operation implies the possibility of abuse. The minister of Christ may fail to fulfill his appointed task, or else he may usurp the grace which he was called to impart to others. Luther noted both forms of non-co-operation. An instance of the first was the Mass service of the Roman priests. It was no more than a caricature of the holy ministry; for the sacrifice which they presumed to bring was a fiction invented by the devil and not a function ordained of God. This office had nothing in common with the Christian ministry. The other perversion, against which Luther warned equally often, was the glorification of the ministry as a calling more divine than others. This abuse was not quite as serious as the first. It might corrupt the personal faith of the incumbent. But it did not necessarily affect the validity of the office which he rendered; for where the means of grace are being administered in accord with Christ’s institution, there is a valid ministry, irrespective of the personal faith of the pastor. The wickedness of His servants cannot hinder God from imparting His grace to His children.

Geneva, Switzerland

From The Musical Heritage of the Church, Volume V (St. Louis, Mo.: Concordia Publishing House, 1959). Copyright Concordia Publishing House. Printed by permission. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of Concordia Publishing House.