# LCMS Convention Workbook_St. Louis Missouri_2019_S235
# Machine transcription, uncorrected — CHI Digital Archive (demonstration)

II. THEOLOGICAL DOCUMENTS­­—COMMISSION ON THEOLOGY AND CHURCH RELATIONS
message, they also pointed back to the Roman church as
the source that had sent them, thus heightening Rome’s
image and boosting the prestige of the Bishop of Rome,
as well as the clerics he had sent. At the same time,
Gregory did not turn his back on the laity. He understood that the call to Christian witness fell to both priests
and laypeople. Moreover, Gregory saw that not all clergy
were alike, that some could serve well as parish priests,
while others were better suited to reach out individually
with the Christian message. He recognized that such
a task was too big for the clergy alone, and Christian
people were also enlisted to witness, not simply for
pragmatic reasons, but because it was the proper thing
for Christians to do. Eastwood quotes Gregory’s letter to
Cominicus (XLVII):
The priest’s lips should teach knowledge, for he is
a messenger of the Lord [by priest he is referring
to an ordained cleric]; but all may attain the same
high dignity if they will. Whoever calls his neighbor from wicked ways to a right course of life,
he, too, certainly is a messenger of the Lord. Hast
thou no bread to give to the needy? Thou hast a
tongue. Thou has something of more value than
bread. … To the poorest even the little that he has
received will be reckoned as a talent.99
The “high dignity” that Gregory names is one of being “a messenger of the Lord” — and any Christian who
calls another “to a right course of life” is such. Clearly
Gregory recognized that the mission of the Church fell
to all Christians. While Gregory certainly supported the
ordained priests, the tasks of knowing the Scriptures and
of witnessing belonged also to the whole Church (the
universal priesthood). That teaching of the New Testament and the early church is retained by Gregory. It is
ironic that Gregory, who preserved and promoted both
the ordained ministry and the spiritual calling of the
laity, and who firmly rejected any title of “universal bishop” for himself as bishop of Rome,100 would come to be
identified by many as the father of the medieval papacy.
Even as the church continued to expand in new
directions in the wake of Gregory, it also faced challenges. While the church moved into what is modern-day
Europe, it shrank and all but disappeared in other lands.
In large areas the church was not prepared for the type of
challenge posed by the rise of Islam. Here was a focused
people bent on expansion, a people who overmatched

the church, which had become lax. While the church had
established centers of learning for clergy, it had failed
to penetrate deeply into the lives of Christian laity, who
were ill prepared to speak up for the faith. For example,
from the earliest church to the time of Mohammed, there
is no evidence of a vernacular translation of the Scriptures anywhere in North Africa.101
Eastwood notes that the struggle over icons dulled
the idea of the universal priesthood in the East. But
greater harm came with a change in the West’s penitential practices.102 The loss of identity among the Christian
laity and the blurred focus on God’s forgiving love in
Christ gave space for fear and ignorance, as Christians
sought certainty and stability in salvation. The church
moved to fill that gap. This must not be seen as some
sort of cynical or manipulative response, but rather an
effort by the church’s institution to meet the needs felt by
the people, even if the church itself was off target in the
theological and practical answers it provided.
In the early church for some six centuries, Christians who fell into grave sin were admonished and then
brought back into fellowship with public confession and
absolution pronounced, followed then by some public
satisfaction — fasting perhaps, or giving to Christian
charity. Such satisfaction was seen as a kind of promise
or expression of determination to avoid sin and to lead a
Christian life. It was not an effort to secure or guarantee
forgiveness. As the church entered the seventh century — often thought of as the start of the Middle Ages
— several changes took place. The public confession of
earlier times was displaced by private confession made
to a priest, and the active satisfaction that previously had
been prescribed by the congregation, the body to which
the penitent was being restored, was instead now determined by that priest alone.
These changes were soon accompanied by other
new and insidious ideas. There arose the notion that the
virtues of recognized “saints” — those individuals who
were known to be important figures of the past and fine
examples of Christian faith and life — were so extensive
that they easily prevented the saints from having to endure any purgation after death. And, since their virtues
exceeded their own needs, they were now on deposit for
ordinary sinners to tap in order to lessen their own time
in Purgatory. This was the “treasury of merits,” a pool of
goodness for a penitent to draw from and then to offer

up as his own. Control of the treasury belonged to the
papacy and, by delegation, to the ordained priest. And, as
the whole practice of confession and absolution changed,
contrition, feeling sorrow for one’s sin, became more a
matter of attrition, a matter of fear and the worry of how
to navigate this complex system.
These changes gave greater emphasis and authority
to the clerical priest. He became the very gatekeeper of
eternal life and death. This accordingly diminished the
role and responsibility of the Christian laity to engage
with and to forgive a sinner, as the life of repentance was
controlled exclusively by the ordained clergy and the
institution of auricular confession. While forgiveness was
still there for those who might listen, too often the message was one of compliance and obedience. It was hard
for the institutional church to resist the power there for
the taking in the practice of confession and absolution.
Often supported by political authorities, the practice
was not only a spiritual exercise, but it was also a useful
vehicle for social control and formation.103
Changes that came in the doctrine and practice of the
Lord’s Supper further boosted the image of the priest in
the eyes of the public and widened the gap between those
ordained in the Office of the Public Ministry and those
in the universal priesthood.104 Out of the ninth-century
exchange between Radbertus and Ratramnus over the
nature of Christ’s presence in the sacrament came what
would develop into the idea of transubstantiation. Bread
and wine were physical objects, but by the priest’s action
their very substance was changed. Although the point
was to highlight the sacrament, the ordained priest’s
status also rose. The idea of mass as sacrifice, offering up
what Christ has done to connect to that treasury of merits, was bound to lift up the cleric as well. As with auricular confession, here, too, he became the dispenser or the
controller of that which the people felt they needed, and
the sacrifice of thanksgiving and praise that came from
the universal priesthood became less important. What
first emerged here in this ninth-century consideration of
the Lord’s Supper would be reinforced in the centuries
that followed.

Eastwood, 106–7; emphasis added.

101

Eastwood, 114.

Eastwood, 105–6.

102

See Eastwood, 120–27.

100

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III. PRIESTHOOD IN THE EARLY AND MEDIEVAL CHURCH

Therefore the amends made by Christ are made
also by all his members. Satisfaction, however, is
an external deed, for which we adopt auxiliaries,
among which are reckoned our friends.107
Aquinas’s comment about a surplus of satisfaction,
along with his idea of adopting auxiliaries, that is, adopting means to draw down on that satisfaction, opened
the door to any number of problems. Aquinas agrees
with Anselm when he notes that Christ’s suffering was
voluntary and not required of Him for something that
He owed — a good point. But problems come when that
satisfaction is viewed as a kind of credit account that
could be drawn down. Sin is viewed as deeds or misdeeds that need to be offset, and for that Christ’s satisfaction stands ready to be used. The clerics are the ones who
make the connection and square the accounts, a role that
contributes to their high image. As Aquinas would write,
“laypeople are united spiritually to Christ through faith
and charity, but not by active sacramental power. Theirs
is a spiritual priesthood.”108
Yet even while Aquinas raises up the ordained clergy
he still has a place for the universal priesthood. The
faithful would offer up their praise and worship. It was in
worship that the mass was celebrated with the ordained
priest doing his work. In connection with or in the wake
of that action, the people were made fit to offer their
praise and service. As Aquinas wrote, “all Christian ritual
derives from Christ’s priesthood. As a consequence, the
sacramental character manifests Christ’s character, and
configures the faithful to his priesthood.”109 Yet while the
people have a role to play, their status or identity is there
because of what the priest does, and any priesthood held
by the people is secondary — merely “spiritual.”
Others who spoke up forcefully for the people —
Marsilius of Padua, for example, or John Wycliffe or John
Hus — were met by ecclesiastical institutional opposition.110 Marsilius argued for a church that was attuned to
the weightier part of society. What exactly that meant has
been much debated, but the church saw that as a threat,
however it might be understood. Marsilius thought
better of standing too tall and instead found refuge with
the German emperor, who was no friend of Rome. John
Wycliffe wrote in Latin for a more educated audience,
but his ideas found their way to the common people,
107

Quoted from the Summa Theologica, 3a.48.2, in Eastwood, 141.

108

Summa Theologica, 3a.82.1, in Eastwood, 144.

109

Summa Theologica, 3a.68.3, in Eastwood, 148.

110

See Eastwood, 163–78.

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104

111
Although space does not allow us to explore it, Eastwood notes
the significance of the monastic movement and Christian mystics as
examples of how the royal priesthood or the laity continued to exercise
a significant role in the life of the church. The monastic movement,
which was largely a lay movement, was particularly significant in the
missionary expansion of the Church (see Eastwood, 179–94). Christian
mystics, by giving attention to the soul’s personal relationship with
God, tended to draw attention away from the church as an institution
and thereby diminished somewhat the power of the clergy (see Eastwood, 195–224).
112
Marcus von Weida, Ein nutzliche Lere vnd Vnderweysunge wye vn[d]
was der Mensch bethen sole vnd sond’lich Außlegunge des heylgen Vater
Vnsers, ed. Anthony van der Lee (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1973), 32–34.

III. PRIESTHOOD IN THE EARLY AND MEDIEVAL CHURCH

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Eastwood, 127–31.

THE ROYAL PRIESTHOOD

who took inspiration and spoke up for their place in the
church. As the pressure on him grew, Wycliffe thought
it prudent to withdraw from Oxford, where his ideas
were in circulation, and retreat to a small north England
parish that technically had been his official site or benefice all along during the Oxford years. While John Hus
would be burned at the stake when he later ran afoul of
ecclesiastical authority, Wycliffe had the good fortune (?)
of dying as a result of a stroke, but the church expressed
its profound disagreement with Wycliffe’s criticisms by
having his bones exhumed and burned. In both cases
there were ideas that were not welcome, ideas that challenged clerical status and privilege, but the real problem
was that they were offered up so publicly.
It was possible, however, to make a case if the approach were more low key. As noted earlier, occasionally
a voice could be found that echoes the balance found
in the early church. The Middle Ages are not devoid of
theological expressions on the topic.111 On the eve of the
Reformation, even with the universal priesthood much
overshadowed, one more voice came from Marcus von
Weida, a surprising source given his impeccable credentials: a Dominican educated at Leipzig. Yet here was an
echo from times past as von Weida, in a treatise on the
doctrine and practice of prayer, urged ordinary people
to lift up one another before God that they might be
strengthened and encouraged in the Christian life, just
as believers did in the New Testament epistles. They had
the right to pray to God without need of any clerical
go-between. This call to lay claim to the identity as
priests before God is striking, however, not only for what
was said, but also because such a call was unfortunately
all too rare. Marcus von Weida was far from a household
name.112 But things were about to change, and a light was
about to shine on theological concepts and biblical truths
that had been long ignored.

Developments such as these sketched here undermined the place of the royal priesthood in the life of the
church. The early church had managed to hold up both
the royal priesthood and the Office of Public Ministry,
each necessary in its own way. That changed in the Middle Ages. No one of these developments was enough to
tip the scales, but the accumulated effect favored those in
the ordained ministry.
There were still expressions in line with the complementary relationship of the royal priesthood and
the public ministry as found in the Bible and the early
church. No less a thinker than Thomas Aquinas had positive things to say about the place and role of the people
of the church — the laity. Aquinas saw the priesthood of
Christ culminating in his passion and death on the cross.
Strict satisfaction is rendered when the individual
offended is given [something he loves] as much
as, or more than, he hated the offence. By suffering from [or in] Charity, Christ offered to God
more than what was demanded as recompense
for the sin of the whole human race. ... Head and
members make up, as it were, one mystical body.
105

See Thomas N. Tentler, Sin and Confession on the Eve of the Reformation (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1977).

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structure and canon law.105 Hildebrand — later to
become Pope Gregory VII — did much in the eleventh
century to regularize church administration as well as
church law, strongly supporting the authority of those in
ecclesiastical office. In an illiterate age, visible symbols
mean much. The symbols of an office, whether for ruling
in the church or for ruling in the political realm, naturally raised up and reflected positively on the recipient of
those symbols. But the giving of the symbols also pointed
back to the giver, emphasizing his power and authority as
well. The importance of symbols lay behind the dramatic
clash in the investiture controversy of A.D. 1077. In the
German lands, it was common to have prince-bishops,
with these rulers holding symbols from both the church
and political realms. Therefore, it mattered a great deal
who transferred the symbols to the one being installed.
In the clash between Pope Gregory VII and Emperor
Henry IV, the papacy gained the upper hand — another
way in which clerics involved in the political process accrued yet more prestige. And their standing was protected by the institutional church, which asserted its right
to supervise its own, and to mete out justice as it saw fit,
basing all these claims on canon law.106

A final development that contributed to both clerical
prestige and the importance of the bishops may be
identified, namely, the expansion and growth of church

103
99

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235

Eastwood, 131–37.

106
For a historical examination of these events, see Uta-Renate
Blumenthal, The Investiture Controversy (Philadelphia: University of
Pennsylvania, 1988).

III. PRIESTHOOD IN THE EARLY AND MEDIEVAL CHURCH

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IV. LUTHER’S REFORMATION
“A seven-year-old child knows what the church is: holy believers and sheep who hear
the voice of the shepherd.” — Luther (Smalcald Articles 12, 2)

W

ith the advent of the
Reformation, the royal priesthood
once again came to the fore. It featured
prominently as a corollary to Luther’s
central focus on justification by grace through faith
alone. Just as justification was firmly rooted in the Word,
so, too, the priesthood of believers was also anchored in
Scripture. Luther’s understanding of this teaching was of
course shaped in some way by his social, political, and
cultural context. Most fundamentally, however, Luther
said what he did about the priesthood of believers simply
because he believed it was biblical. The teaching grew
from God’s gracious action, and in turn it bore witness to
the work of Christ.
The royal priesthood was tied to a different understanding of the Church, seeing the Church not as an institution but as a community of believers, created by the
Holy Spirit, working through the Word. At various times
Luther had different lists of what marked the Church, but
each finally centered on the working of the Word of God,
the Gospel, through which God gathered and sanctified
the whole Christian Church on earth.113 The Church
for Luther was no human work but rather divine, as the
Holy Spirit, by means of the Gospel Word, created and
sustained the Church, “a holy little flock and community of pure saints under one head, Christ.”114 “God’s
Word cannot exist without God’s people,” Luther wrote,
“and God’s people cannot exist without God’s Word.”115
That is, the people are a Christian people because of the

113

SC, “Creed,” 5–6, KW, 355–56.

114

LC, “Creed,” 51, KW, 437.

115

AE 40:23; WA 12, 181.

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IV. LUTHER’S REFORMATION

working of the Word, and the Word is spread when people speak. That is the work of the priests, the believers,
said Luther.
Soteriology — the doctrine of justification — was
Luther’s primary focus as the Reformation began. He
sought a God who loved him and would accept him,
but he found no solutions in theology as he initially had
learned it in university and practiced it in the monastery.
New approaches to learning drawn from Renaissance
humanism’s focus on the liberal arts helped Luther look
back into the texts of Scripture, to examine the sources
of Christianity in both vocabulary and grammar. There
he found the message of salvation by God’s grace alone,
clinging to the promises God gives of love and forgiveness. Luther took his new insights into the classroom,
reasoning that if his new biblical insights brought him
comfort, they surely would help others who must have
had the same fear and anxiety. He also presumed that
others in the church structure would be happy to support his efforts to bring peace where there had been no
peace and to point to the cross where the cross had been
out of focus.
In fact, nothing could have been farther from the
truth, and the institutional church was hardly inclined to
embrace Luther’s message. To do so would have brought
significant change in the way things had been done within ecclesiastical circles. It is true that Luther’s Ninety-Five
Theses (1517), had its ideas been accepted and implemented, would have altered the practice of indulgences.
That in turn would have cost the church significantly,
economically speaking. But the greater threat, posed not
just by the Ninety-Five Theses but also by other treatises

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2019 Convention Workbook