Conformitas Christi and Imitatio Christi

A while back I talked to a fellow Lutheran priest and and we talked, amongst other things, about some traditional differences between Lutheran and Roman Catholic views on our relation to Christ, and about the difference between imitatio Christi, which is a traditional emphasis in Roman Catholic theology, with an emphasis on our imitation of Christ (cf. Philippians 2:5, 1. Peter 2:18-25), and conformitas Christi, which is a traditional emphasis in Lutheran theology, and particularily in Luther’s own though, with an emphasis on our conformity to Christ (cf. Romans 8:28-30).[1] I believe that those two concepts are both very important, but I also believe that something is lost when we see them in a kind of duality.

I do agree with most Lutheran theologians that conformitas Christi is ‘more important’ than imitatio Christi, where the second follows from, or flows forth from, the first, but I don’t think that we will really grasp them until we stop viewing them dually, and start to see both, in their proper relation, as following from, and being based on, the more basic notion of participatio Christi.[2] Participatio Christi is often seen as an aspect of conformitas Christi, but I don’t agree with that. We partake of Christ, logically speaking, before we are conformed to him, conformed to his image. The former is given us directly, through faith, in baptism, where Christ is truly present in the believer and the believer truly partakes of him, and the latter is a process through which God ‘molds’ us; forms us in, or conforms us to, the image of his Son (Romans 8:28-30).

In fact, I believe that this notion is at the heart of theology, and it is one of the main elements of my Lutheran defence of the Eucharistic sacrifice.[3] When we properly understand our relation to Christ, through the hypostatic union, and expressed in (the Lutheran understandig of) the doctrine of the communicatio idiomatum,[4] we see that it all boils down to this: Undeservedly, by grace, we are justified and made children of God, partakers of Christ, which, through the working of God, conforms us more and more to Christ, and which, again through the working of God, produces in us an imitation of Christ or what Christ and St. Paul calls ‘fruit.’ Note the important part of that image. No tree can force fruit to come. If the tree is good, and if it is well ‘fed,’ it will produce fruit. And we cannot produce fruit, says Christ, unless we are in him (John 15). He is the true vine, we are the branches, having been grafted into him.

When people argue what is more important; conformity to Christ or imitation of him, I say that they are both crucially important but must be understood in their proper relation to each other and, more importantly, to the more basic notion of our participation on him. Without that as the starting point, it all collapses and we end up emphasising ourselves (either inwardly or outwardly) instead of Him.


[1] For some points about this read Per Lønning, «Conformitas Christi,» in Lønning, The Dilemma of Contemporary Theology: Prefigured in Luther, Pascal, Kierkegaard, Nietzsche (Oslo: Universitetsforlaget 1962): 9-26, and Bård Norheim, Practicing Baptism: Christian Practices and the Presence of Christ (Eugene, OR: Pickwick Publications 2014): 104-106, 160-162, 174-176.

[2] For some ideas on this, see Union with Christ: The New Finnish Interpretation of Luther, eds., Carl E. Braaten & Robert W. Jenson (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans 1998).

[3] See «“Do this in remembrance of me … ” A Lutheran defense of the Sacrifice of the Mass,» which is the accepted manuscript of an article of mine published by Taylor & Francis in Studia Theologica: Nordic Journal of Theology on May 8, 2017.

[4] See esp. Johann Anselm Steiger, «The communicatio idiomatum as the Axle and Motor of Luther’s Theology» (Lutheran Quarterly 14, 2000): 125-158 and Vidar Haanes, «Christological Themes in Luther’s Theology» (Studia Theologica 61, 2007): 21-46 (esp. pp.30-33).


Some thoughts on Scripture in Lutheranism

In Lutheran theology, Scripture has primacy. But what does that mean? What, exaxtly, is meant by what some call sola Scriptura? To understand that, we need to ask what that sola is in reference to. To do so, I will start with some points made by Thomist philosopher Edward Feser in a post on philosopher Paul Feyerabend’s thoughts on empiricism and sola Scriptura. There, he points out that there are serious problems with, at least an ‘unsophisticated’ or ‘fundamentalist’ doctrine of sola Scriptura. He compares it to the empiricism of the 17th century; the view that reduced experience to just some ‘basic’ components – saying «there is currently a reddish patch in the center of my field of vision» instead of «this apple is stale.» Read the entire article.

Feser’s points out that the (larger) context of experience into which we read (or experience) something is «the sum total of what is observed under normal circumstances (bright daylight; senses in good order; undisturbed and alert observer) and what is then described in some ordinary idiom that is understood by all» and where the thing experienced is interpreted in light of «tradition» or «preconceived opinion.»[1] Feyerabend, says Feser, is taking as his starting point, an early Jesuit critique of sola Scriptura, and notes that «(a) scripture alone can never tell you what counts as scripture, (b) scripture alone cannot tell you how to interpret scripture, and (c) scripture alone cannot give us a procedure for deriving consequences from scripture, applying it to new circumstances, and the like.» Feser elaborates on this, and I want to highlight two passages:

This larger context — tradition and Magisterium — is analogous to the larger context within which both common sense and Aristotelianism understand “experience.” Experience, for common sense and for the Aristotelian, includes not just sense data — color patches, tactile impressions, etc. — but also the rich conceptual content in terms of which we ordinarily describe experience, the immediate memories that provide context for present experience, and so forth. Just as modern empiricism abstracts all this away and leaves us with desiccated sense contents as what is purportedly just “given,” so too does sola scriptura abstract away tradition and Magisterium and present (what it claims to be) scripture as if it were just given. And just as the resulting experiential “given” is too thin to tell us anything — including what counts as “given” — so too is scripture divorced from its larger context unable to tell us even what counts as scripture. The modern empiricist inevitably, and inconsistently, surreptitiously appeals to something beyond (what he claims to be) experience in order to tell us what counts as “experience.” And the sola scriptura advocate inevitably, and inconsistently, surreptitiously appeals to something beyond scripture in order to tell us what scripture is.


[There] is a crucial feature of the sola scriptura and early modern empiricist positions that makes them open to the Jesuit/Feyerabend attack, but which the Catholic and Aristotelian positions lack — namely, commitment to a “myth of the given,” as it has come to be called in discussions of empiricism. In the case of early modern empiricism, the myth in question is the supposition that there is some basic level of sensory experiences whose significance is somehow built-in and graspable apart from any wider conceptual and epistemological context (as opposed to being intelligible only in light of a body of theory, or a tradition, or the practices of a linguistic community, or what have you). Aristotelian epistemology not only does not commit itself to such a “given,” it denies that there is one. In the case of sola scriptura, the myth is the supposition that there is a text whose exact contents and meaning are somehow evident from the text itself and thus knowable apart from any wider conceptual and epistemological context (as opposed to being intelligible only in light of a larger tradition of which the text is itself a part, or an authoritative interpreter, or what have you). The Catholic position not only does not commit itself to such a scriptural “given,” it denies that there is one.

This is very interesting post, and Feser is good at describing what often goes under the term sola Scriptura in modern (evangelical or reformed) theology. He does not, however, describe the original view of the Lutheran reformers. In a follow up post to his Feyerabend post, Feser answers a Reformed critique of that original post. There, he states that «sola scriptura tells us that scripture alone suffices to tell us what we need to know in matters of faith and morals.» While that is a true characterisation of certain evangelical and fundamentalist views of Scripture, it is not an entirely true characterisation of the Lutheran view. What is often described as the ‘scripture principle’ of the Reformation is not found in the earliest Lutheran writings,[2] but we do find it in Luther’s Smalcald Articles (of 1537) and in the Formula of Concord (of 1577). In the former document, Luther points out that «it will not do to frame articles of faith from the works or words of the holy Fathers. … The rule is: The Word of God shall establish articles of faith, and no one else, not even an angel.»[3] And in the latter it is quite explicitly stated, in the introduction to the Epitome (the summary part of the Formula of Concord):[4]

We believe, teach, and confess that the sole rule and standard according to which all dogmas together with [all] teachers should be estimated and judged are the prophetic and apostolic Scriptures of the Old and of the New Testament alone, as it is written Ps. 119:105: Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. And St. Paul: Though an angel from heaven preach any other gospel unto you, let him be accursed, Gal. 1:8.

Other writings, however, of ancient or modern teachers, whatever name they bear, must not be regarded as equal to the Holy Scriptures, but all of them together be subjected to them, and should not be received otherwise or further than as witnesses, [which are to show] in what manner after the time of the apostles, and at what places, this [pure] doctrine of the prophets and apostles was preserved.

As this shows us, the role of the adjective or adverb sola is not a rejection of Church teaching or Tradition (‘dogmas’) or of persons with the authority to teach (‘teachers’), but a confirmation that both are subject to Scripture, and that Scripture is the only rule that can rule all other rules or rulers. In Lutheran theology, we thus distinguish between Scripture as norma normans (or norma normans non normata, the norm which norms, rules, or regulates other norms) and tradition, in particular the creeds and symbols, as norma normata (the norms which are normed, ruled, or regulated by Scripture).[5] Feser writes, in a second follow up-post, that the difference between (his representation of) sola Scriptura and the Roman Catholic position «is not fundamentally about how many texts there are. Rather, the Catholic position is that it can’t all be just texts in the first place. Rather, we have to be able to get outside of texts, to persons who have the authority to tell us what the texts mean.» But that is not really a problem for the classic Lutheran position (or even the classic Reformed one).

Reformed scholar Keith A. Mathison maintains that the view of the early Church, and the view of the Reformers, is what we might describe as Feser’s ‘natural’ view. (Mathison, of course, is not writing in response to Feser.) He maintains that for the early Church the «sole source of divine revelation and the authoritative doctrinal norm was understood to be the Old Testament together with the Apostolic doctrine, which itself had been put into writing in the New Testament,» and that this revelation «was to be interpreted in and by the church within the context of the regula fidei (‘rule of faith’),» i.e. Tradition. This seems curiously close to Feser’s position, and it is what late Reformed scholar Heiko Oberman identified as ‘Tradition 1’ (in distinction from ‘Tradition 0,’ where neither the Church nor Tradition has any authority, and ‘Tradition 2,’ where Tradition is also a source of revelation, alongside Scripture). For a Roman Catholic critique of Mathison, see here.

I believe we do have a problem of terminology here. As we see from the Formula of Concord, when we say sola Scriptura, we do not mean that Scripture stands alone, as what Feser might call a ‘given.’ Sola Scriptura does not mean that Tradition is bad or irrelevant. If it was, then much of the content of Confessio Augustana is irrelevant, as the Fathers and Canons are frequently cited. In the Lutheran tradition, sola Scriptura means, as Mathison points out, and as we see in the Formula of Concord, that Scripture is the highest ‘rule’ which ‘rules’ Tradition (‘dogmas’) and the persons who have been given authority to teach (‘teachers’). Someone must be charged with its interpretation. But that office doesn’t stand above Scripture, but is its servant, as a supreme court judge doesn’t stand above the constitution but serves and upholds it. In many ways, Scripture is like a constitution. Not that it is (merely) a juridical document. The comparison refers to status, not content. The status of Scripture in relation to Tradition (large T) is analogous to the status of a state’s constitution in relation to its other laws. The constitution has primacy in relation to other laws (which can all be binding), and Scripture has primacy in relation to Tradition (which can also be binding). Or in other words; Scripture is norma normans, Tradition is norma normata. To use modern terminology, the Lutheran position, known historically as sola Scriptura,[6] would better be described as prima Scriptura. This doesn’t mean, of course, that Scripture (or a constitution) is straightforward or easy to interpret. As I note above, we need to distinguish between the ‘scripture principle’ of the Reformation on the one hand, and our view (and interpretation) of Scripture on the other.

And this is, incidentally, very close to the position of Vatican II’s Dogmatic Constitution Dei Verbum, to the position of pope St. John Paul II, in his encyclical Ut Unum Sint, and the position of Joseph Ratzinger/pope (em.) Benedict XVI. In Dei Verbum, we see this in paragraph 10, describing the Magisterium:

This teaching office is not above the word of God, but serves it, teaching only what has been handed on, listening to it devoutly, guarding it scrupulously and explaining it faithfully in accord with a divine commission and with the help of the Holy Spirit, it draws from this one deposit of faith everything which it presents for belief as divinely revealed.

In paragaph 79 of Ut Unum Sint, John Paul II identifies five areas «in need of fuller study before a true consensus of faith can be achieved.» These areas are (emphasis added):

1) the relationship between Sacred Scripture, as the highest authority in matters of faith, and Sacred Tradition, as indispensable to the interpretation of the Word of God; 2) the Eucharist, as the Sacrament of the Body and Blood of Christ, an offering of praise to the Father, the sacrificial memorial and Real Presence of Christ and the sanctifying outpouring of the Holy Spirit; 3) Ordination, as a Sacrament, to the threefold ministry of the episcopate, presbyterate and diaconate; 4) the Magisterium of the Church, entrusted to the Pope and the Bishops in communion with him, understood as a responsibility and an authority exercised in the name of Christ for teaching and safeguarding the faith; 5) the Virgin Mary, as Mother of God and Icon of the Church, the spiritual Mother who intercedes for Christ’s disciples and for all humanity.

What we see here is that John Paul II states that Scripture is «the highest authority in matters of faith,» and that its relation to Tradition is «indispensable to the interpretation of the Word of God.» We find this also in Ratzinger (pope Benedict XVI). He fleshes this out in detail in, amongst other works, in the article «Standards for Preaching the Gospel Today,»[7] and in his Post-Synodal Apostolic Exhortation Verbum Domini. In the former, Ratzinger says that Scripture, Tradition, the Magisterium, and the concrete, contextual faith of the faithful depend on each other, but that primacy belongs first to Scripture, then to Tradition (focusing on the Creeds and Dogmas), then to the Magisterium (the servant of Scripture and Tradition), and then to the concrete faith as it is lived out in the dioceses and parishes. One key passage comes on page 38: «[T]he Bible has such an absolutely unique normative importance because it alone is really the sole book of the Church as Church.» And in the latter, he cites a crucially important image from Dei Verbum, that the «study of the sacred page,» i.e. Scripture, «should be, as it were, the very soul of theology.» The soul has primacy over the body, but it cannot survive or exist in actuality without it. Likewise, Scripture has primacy over (the living) Tradition, but cannot survive or exist in actuality without it.

We need, again, to see this in analogy to the constitution of a nation or a state. The constitution has primacy, and every law must be read in light of it. Yet that doesn’t mean that the lawmaker (God in this analogy) cannot, directly or through agents, posit new, binding laws, and it doesn’t mean he cannot task someone with the duty, and right, to uphold, interpret, and enforce the constitution and the other laws.

But again it must be pointed out, with Dei Verbum, that the teaching office «is not above the word of God, but serves it, teaching only what has been handed on, listening to it devoutly, guarding it scrupulously and explaining it faithfully in accord with a divine commission and with the help of the Holy Spirit, it draws from this one deposit of faith everything which it presents for belief as divinely revealed.»

And this is, of course, also the same principles used in the Lutheran understanding of sola Scriptura (or prima Scriptura, to be more exact). Scripture is the norm which norms, rules, or regulates other norms (norma normans non normata); Tradition (with emphasis on Creeds and Dogmas, and also on liturgy and Canon Law) are norms which are normed, ruled, or regulated by Scripture (norma normata); the ordained priesthood, with the bishops as leaders, has the task to preach and interpret that which has been handed over (Confessio Augustana 14, 28); and this has to be lived out in the context of the faithful’s own lives.

Feser’s critique is valid as a response to much of what we find in evangelical theology. I don’t think that it hits its mark, however, with regards to classic Lutheran theology. In fact, his concluding remarks is basically the classic Lutheran position:

If either the Catholic position or the Aristotelian one “posit[ed] a foundation representable as a text,” then they would be open to the Jesuit/Feyerabend objection. But that is precisely what they do not do. The Aristotelian epistemological view does not conceive of “experience” in terms of a sensory “given.” And the Catholic position does not merely posit a larger text or set of texts (one that would add the deuterocanonicals, statements found in the Church Fathers, decrees of various councils, etc.). The trouble with texts is that you can never ask them what exactly they include, or what they mean, or how they are to be applied. But you can ask such questions of an authoritative interpreter who stands outside the texts. And such an interpreter — in the form of an institutional Church — is exactly what the Catholic position posits.

The important thing to remember, however, is that an interpreter is just that; an interpreter. He must interpret what is written, and see it in light of the tradition. He cannot just posit whatever he wants. He must present us with what the text actually says.


[1] Feser is here quoting Feyerabend’s essay «Classical Empiricism,» in Problems of Empiricism, vol. 2: Philosophical Papers (Cambridge University Press, 1985): 35.37.

[2] The earliest Lutheran writings, by which is meant writings that in some sense was writings of the Lutheran community, not just of their respective authors, include Confessio Augustana or Luther’s Small Catechism (which, together with the Apostles’ Creed, the Nicene Creed (or the Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed), and the Athanasian Creed. These form the core of the Lutheran confessions, and they are the only confessional documents binding in the Church of Norway, of which I am part.

[3] Smalcald Articles, II:II:15, cf. Gal 1:8.

[4] Cf. the parts on the rule and norm in the Church in the introduction to the Solid Declaration (the comprehensive part of the Formula of Concord), 1-3.

[5] It should be noted that this scripture principle tells us nothing about the inspiration of Scripture, or how Scripture is to be interpreted. That belongs to the ‘view’ of Scripture, but the ‘scripture principle’ of the Reformation is open to different view of what Scripture is.

[6] Even this is misleading. The term sola Scriptura came later.

[7] Chapter 2, pp.26-39, in Dogma and Preaching.

Kva vil det seie å vere ‘høgkyrkjeleg’ i ein luthersk kontekst?

I høve femtiårsjubileet for Gran-stevnet førre helg, 6.-8. januar 2017, og den triste nedlegginga av Kyrkjeleg fornying, vil eg skrive litt om kva det vil seie å vere ‘høgkyrkjeleg,’ i ein luthersk kontekst. Mange vil nok assosiere denne termen med eit snev av høgkultur – med raudvin, sigarar, klassisk musikk, osv. Og i mange tilfelle er dette ein heilt korrekt observasjon. Men det er ikkje det som er meint med ‘høgkyrkjeleg,’ heller ikkje i ein luthersk kontekst. Heilt kort vil eg seie at å vere høgkyrkjeleg handlar om kva ekklesiologi (lære om kyrkja) vi har, kva embetssyn vi har og kva liturgisyn vi har. He vil eg kort sjå på dei to siste.

Som utgangspunkt vil eg ta for meg eit sitat frå den tyske (dåverande lutherske, no romersk-katolske) teologen Reinhard Hütter: «Faith is to be understood rather as vita passiva, as a bios grounded in God’s salvific activity, a bios that rather than appearing in an abstract sense is grounded in and bound to specific activities of actualization.»[1] Her ser vi to sentrale poeng; at trua, om enn medviten og fri, i sin essens er passiv, mottakande, eller å gripe det å la seg gripe, for å vise til den tyske lutherske teologen Johann A. Steiger,[2] og at ho ikkje er abstrakt, ‘inderleg’ eller utelukkande intellektuell, men forankra i «specific activities of actualization.» Det er her vi finn kjernen i ein høgkyrkjeleg lutherdom.

For å ta for oss embetssynet må vi fyrst spørje kvifor vi har eit embete. Som gode lutheranarar går vi difor til Confessio Augustana V, og der les vi at embetet eksisterer for at folk skal få del i nådemidla – i (forynninga av) ordet og i sakramenta. «For,» står det, «med Ordet og sakramenta som middel vert Den Heilage Ande gitt, han som verkar trua.» Gud verkar altså trua i oss gjennom nådemidla, forvalta ved folk som er sett til dette, slik vi t.d. ser i Rom 10,14-17. Vi treng altså nådemidla. Og dette heng saman med det heilt grunnleggjande poenget; at trua er gitt oss utanfor oss sjølve, og at trua er passiv, mottakande. Dette krev ein gjennomtenkt embetsteologi, nettopp fordi det at forkynninga kjem utanfrå, frå folk som har fått eit ytre kall, heng saman med trua sin passive karakter.[3]

Evangeliet målber noko gitt, ikkje noko vi har oppnådd ved eigne krefter, og det blir forvalta og gitt av nokon som ikkje har teke ansvaret basert på eigen autoritet, men gjennom eit ytre kall og vigsling, jf. Confessio Augustana XIV: «[I] kyrkja bør ingen læra offentleg eller forvalta sakramenta utan at han er retteleg kalla.» Det høge embetssynet handlar ikkje om klerikalisme eller maktmisbruk, men om evangeliets ytre karakter. Det er sjølvsagt dømer på nettopp klerikalisme og maktmisbruk i historia, og i vår tid, men det betyr at presten heile tida må bli minna om at han er ordinert til teneste. Eit embete er ei teneste. I Confessio Augustana, art. V, står det Amt (‘embete’) på tysk og ministerium (‘teneste’) på latin. Men dette ser vi også på det sekulære området. I England og USA, t.d., blir embetsmenn kalla civil servants. Vidare bør det påpeikast at embetet ikkje kan reduserast berre til preika. Det må inkludere liturgien (spes. bønene) og salmane, samt sakramenta, og det kjem vi inn på no.

Når det gjeld liturgien bør det seiast at det ofte heng eit visst snev av høgkultur, at liturgien må vere av høg kvalitet, t.d, men det er faktisk fullt mogeleg å vere for høg kvalitet i liturgien, og glad i såkalla høgkyrkjelege uttrykk, men likevel ha eit essensielt lågkyrkjeleg liturgisyn. Eit døme på dette finn vi i eit intervju med Gyrid Gunnes i studentavisa Universitas, etter at ho hadde arrangert ei ‘snømesse’ der ‘nattverdselementa’ ikkje var brød og vin, men snø og isvatn. Der sa ho: «Liturgien er et kunstnerisk uttrykk man kan eksperimentere med.» Eit kunstnerisk uttrykk kan vere av særs høg kvalitet og kvalifisere som såkalla høgkultur, men det er altså ikkje det vi meiner med eit høgkyrkjeleg syn på liturgien. Dette heng også saman med det at evangeliet er noko utanfor oss, og her ser vi den andre sida av sitatet frå Hütter; at trua er «grounded in and bound to specific activities of actualization.» Legg merke til det viktige ordet ‘specific.’ I eit høgkyrkjeleg liturgisyn er det ikkje berre sentralt og viktig at vi har liturgi, eller at denne er vakker og fin, men at det er ein gitt liturgi som ikkje er forankra i oss sjølve og vår kreativitet – sjølv om Gud sjølvsagt bruker oss og evnene våre – men i Kristus sjølv og det han konkret gir oss gjennom kyrkja. Igjen heng det saman med trua sin passive og reseptive karakter. Det vi gjer som kristne er noko som er gitt oss. Når vi ber, så er det fordi Gud ber i oss ved sin Heilage Ande. Når vi gjer gode gjerningar så er det fordi «vi er [Guds] verk, skapte i Kristus Jesus til gode gjerningar som Gud på førehand har lagt ferdige så vi skulle vandra i dei» (Ef 2,10). Og når vi lovsyng så er det fordi Gud har lagt lovsongen ned i oss.

Dette synet på liturgi er også spesielt idet vi må seie at det umogeleggjer eit skarpt skilje mellom lære og liv, spesielt mellom lære og liturgi, og at det held fast på at det i stor grad er praksisen, spesielt liturgien, som er viktigast, slik Knut Alfsvåg påpeiker:

At måten troen formidles og manifesteres på er en del av dens innhold, betyr at for en luthersk spiritualitet er liturgien viktigere enn læren. Det betyr ikke at læremessig pluralisme er uproblematisk så lenge liturgien bevares intakt, men det betyr at læremessig refleksjon for å være livsnær og relevant må være forankret i den levende menighets bønn og bekjennelse. … Dette forhold kan ikke snus; dogmatikk er primært den bedende menighets refleksjon over og kritiske drøftelse av sin tro og dens forutsetninger og konsekvenser. Den teoretiske teologis praksisforankring kan derfor ikke oppløses uten at trosforståelsen blir en annen.[4]

Men dette er noko gitt, noko spesifikt. Den danske lutherske teologen Niels Henrik Gregersen poengterer at kyrkja er «forbavsende langtidsholdbar» og held fram:[5]

Det skyldes, at kristendommens meningsunivers er inkarneret i kanoniske tekster, i relativt stabile kirkelige praksisser og i billeder og bygninger, der bliver stående uanset tolkningerne deraf. Den kristne betydningsverden “bruges” i en mangfoldighed af kommunikations- og praksisformer. Bibelen, liturgien, salmer, og sågar også teologisk litteratur er alt sammen brugstekster. Ser man bort fra denne brugssammenhæng får man ikke fat på kristendommens nerve; semantikken ikke kan løsrives fra pragmatikken.

Kyrkja er eit tradisjonsbunde praksisfelleskap der læra er underlagt praksisen, spesielt tilbedinga og vedkjenninga. Kyrkja er fyrst og framst «forsamlinga av dei heilage der evangeliet vert forkynt reint og sakramenta forvalta rett» (Confessio Augustana VII). Men legg merke til den viktige forskjellen mellom Gregersen og Hütter. Fyrstnemnde sitt prosjekt har eit deskriptivt fokus på det kristne faktisk gjer («en mangfoldighed af kommunikations- og praksisformer»), medan sistnemnde har eit meir normativt fokus på det som er gittspecific activities of actualization»), og på Gud som subjekt.

Dette er essensen i ein lutherske høgkyrkjelegdom; at trua er gitt oss utanfor oss sjølve, i konkrete nådemiddel som er forvalta av nokon som ikkje har teke ansvaret basert på eigen autoritet, men gjennom ei teneste som er gitt dei ved ytre kall og vigsling, og at liturgien er noko som er gitt oss, noko som er forankra ikkje i oss og vår kreativitet, men i Gud og i hans gjerning.


[1] Reinhard Hütter, Suffering Divine Things: Theology as Church Practice (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2000): 37, jf. Bård Norheim, Practicing Baptism: Christian Practices and the Presence of Christ (Eugene, OR: Pickwick Publications, 2014): 65.

[2] Johann Anselm Steiger, The communicatio idiomatum as the Axle and Motor of Luther’s Theology» (Lutheran Quarterly 14, 2000): 130-133 (125-158); Knut Alfsvåg, «Theosis og eucharisti: Om tonatur-kristologien som fundament for menneskesyn og sakramentforståelse» (foredrag ved NKK/FBBs dialogmøte Bergen 1. november 2014): 2-7, spes. 4-5; Ådne Njå, «Kirke uten nåde,» i Vårt Land, 05.10.2009; Njå, «Messen som Guds nåde og Kirkens takksigelse: En refleksjon over Luthers messeforordninger med et drøftende sideblikk på liturgi- og trosopplæringsreformen i Den norske kirke,» i «Hva betyr det?» Luthers katekisme i trosopplæringen, red. Knut Alfsvåg & Joar Haga (Oslo: IKO, Prismet bok, 2013): 192-193 (185-202); Norheim, ««Mer enn noe annet ungdommen det her gjelder»: Plan for trusopplæring og utviklinga av ein konfesjonell identitet for ungdom,» i «Hva betyr det?», red. Knut Alfsvåg & Joar Haga, 214-215 (203-216).

[3] Rom 10,14-17, jf. Confessio Augustana V, XIV; Steiger, The communicatio idiomatum,» 131; Alfsvåg «På Luthers vis: Om den sakssvarende bibellesnings forutsetninger og implikasjoner» (Theofilos Supplement 7:1, 2015): 33-44; Njå, «Messen som Guds nåde og Kirkens takksigelse,» 192-195; John T. Pless, «Toward a Confessional Lutheran Understanding of Liturgy» (Logia 2:2, 1993): 9-12. For nokre tankar omkring embetet, sjå Dag Øivind Østereng, «Kirkelig fellesskap – med hvem – om hva?» (foredrag til innleiing ved seminar på Fjellhaug, 14. februar 2007); Bjarne O. Weider, Kallet og tjenesten: Pastoralteologiske prinsippspørsmål (Oslo: Lutherstiftselsen): 9-61.

[4] Alfsvåg, «Luthersk spiritualitet: Om lære og liv i den éne, kristne kirke» (Dansk Tidsskrift for Teologi og Kirke 40:1, 2013): 51 (42-56), jf. Njå, «Messen som Guds nåde og Kirkens takksigelse»; Norheim, ««Mer enn noe annet ungdommen det her gjelder»,» 213-214; Niels Henrik Gregersen, «Dogmatik som samtidsteologi» (Dansk Teologisk Tidsskrift 71, 2008): 290-310; Pless, «Toward a Confessional Lutheran Understanding of Liturgy.»

[5] Gregersen, «Dogmatik som samtidsteologi,» 303.