The one about the Anglican, the Catholic and the three Lutherans

Between the end of Pastor’s conference and the beginning of Synod, I joined two fellow pastors in a visit to one Fr John Flemming who was a 'convert' from the Anglo-Catholic movement to Catholicism after he was confronted by the women’s ordination debate in his own denomination.

Our visit was spurred by the fact we had heard he too had asked questions about authority and truth very similar to ours. He told us of his own struggle with these questions even as he headed up the his side of the debate in the Anglican synod.

Here I borrow from a friend's account to add more detail to the meeting with Fr Fleming.

I arrived at John Fleming’s home just before [the other two]. John welcomed me by saying “It’s been a long time” ... We sat down, and Peter led off the discussion, asking about the doctrine of vocation, especially citing those who said that since we were in the Lutheran Church and called to the Lutheran Church, that is where God wanted us to be. John replied that he was told much the same thing, but that it doesn’t follow either logically or theologically. Otherwise he said, no one would ever come to faith (being called from unbelief to belief) or be called to the priesthood (since this also means leaving a vocation for another one).

When we raised the issue of our vows, I refered to my suspicions of what he said on the tape that because his call to Rome was the call the truth, then his vows were null and void. I asked if this was not like a man who comes to me saying that God is calling him to leave his wife and marry someone else. John answered that the analogy does not follow, because in the former case, God’s call was based on objective, demonstrable truth, and in the latter case the “call” was no more than an undemonstrable feeling. Fair enough.

Peter asked how would know that this is truly the calling of the Spirit. John replied that with people such as ourselves, logic and intellect would play a great part in that calling.

We talked about [a Lutheran professor's] assertion that the Catholic church was where the orthodox liturgy was celebrated. John concurred with this to a certain
extent, as long as it included a validly ordained priest as the celebrant of the liturgy. Ipso facto, a Roman priest.

As I was listening to John, I knew that what he was saying was right. I have to become a Roman Catholic. I will not be able to continue ad infinitum as a Lutheran with a good conscience. I do not think that I can--given what happened at Pastors’ Conference--and take the line of “in statu confessionis”.

His telling of the Anglican story came to life in the following days as the same sort of arguments and tactics were used on the floor of the Lutheran synod, and also in private conversations around the fringe of the debate.

Anyone with half a brain conceded that our questions were valid. But most dismissed them by saying “If you argue that way you’ll never know anything at all.” Some people insisted that there was no such thing as absolute truth and thus thought we should ‘make’ the truth that suited us best. Most, however, were still convinced that their own opinion was the truth because it was ‘clearly’ evident in Scripture.

Synod came and went, the arguments got even less convincing on both sides of the debate, early attempts at rushed exegesis were ignored by the general assembly and with each new person at the microphone there was less Scripture and more resorting to common political gimmicks to convince people to vote their own way.

I left that synod not caring so much about the issue of women’s ordination, but wondering on what grounds I could teach the truth, absolve, preach, and consecrate in my own parish.

Because, if I could not be certain about the doctrine of ordination of men only, how could I be certain about ANY doctrine I was teaching? Beyond my own conviction, I had no guarantee of anything.

Next: A Letter to a Friend

The Second Shock

I tried to get to bed early that night because I knew the following day would be exhausting. Unfortunately I could not settle myself and so I decided to pray about the upcoming vote. At first I prayed fervent for the “Lord’s will to be done”. Within the first hour I still had no rest, and so began to pray again. Being tired and stressed by the upcoming events, I was babbling my prayers and suddenly caught myself praying that all the pastors would vote against the motion to ordain women. I was effectively praying that all the pastors present agree with my opinion. I realised I had no intention to submit to any decision which went against my own opinion, even if I did not consciously claim infallibility myself.

I then realised that, no matter how sure I was, I could never insist that my own opinion was equal to God’s will, even if I claimed to base my opinion on God’s Word. Every pastor in the conference claimed to be basing his opinion on Scripture. Without calling them all insincere liars I could not insist that my own opinion was, in fact, God’s opinion. At this point I could no longer bring myself to pray for the vote to go ‘my way’. I began to pray for God’s will to be done, and for the grace to accept the decision as His will.

About now I had my second nasty realisation of the evening. I realised that, if I could not trust my feelings and conviction, I could hardly trust the gathering of pastors next morning, most of which had proven themselves halfwits in the earlier debate. (I had, thank God, resisted the temptation to display my own ignorance in the public debate). But, even if they were the wisest men on the earth, they could not claim infallibility even if they acted as if they were infallible.

You see, making any sort of binding declaration that concerns salvation or claims to be God’s own truth, is an act that assumes infallibility. Because, if you are prepared to stake your salvation on something, it must be the surest thing one could hope in. It must be guaranteed to be true!

I wondered, at this point, how I could ever be sure any truth at all. I prayed for God’s will to be done but knew that, no matter the decision on the following day, I could not be certain that it was God’s will any more than I could be sure of my own opinion. I was struck by the presumption of voting at all, that I began to wonder if I should cast a vote at all.

So, uncertain about all things, I wept. Strangely enough, I did not feel uncertain about WHAT was true, just about my authority to insist on it as binding on Christendom. Each pastor, in debating and casting his vote, was assuming a certain authority to decide what the truth of the matter was. I could not, in good conscience, pretend that I knew without doubt the mind of God.

To cut a long story short (well, shorter anyway), I wept and prayed the entire night. I still participated in the standard politicking before the morning session, but I recall fading out and sitting quietly, waiting for the vote. We voted and, as I sat and stood at the appropriate times, I could not see which way others were voting through my tears.

Even as the result was publicly read I realised I no longer cared. It did not matter what decision was made, the presumption of making such a decision at all had filled me with guilt, coupled with anxiety over how I could ever come to be sure of truth at all.

Next: The one about the Anglican, the Catholic and the Three Lutherans

The First Shock

The shock came when one of those I was talking to pointed out that, unless I believed the Roman Church had the authority to declare what was true and what was heresy, I could not rely on their decision on these matters.

That is, unless I believed that the Roman Catholic Church had the authority to decide what was heretical and what was orthodox, I could not call any group of Christians heretics simply because the Roman church had declared them as such. Indeed, as they pointed out, it would be impossible to hold to Rome’s authority without also accepting their ‘authoritative’ declarations on Marian doctrines, on Purgatory, on the Saints, and so on. Sitting alone a few hours later, my horror increased when I realised something my friends had not yet pointed out. If I accepted the designation heretic for any group or person in history simply because Rome had declared them so, I would be forced to admit that I myself am declared apostate and heretic by the same authority!

I realised that the only way to declare any theological position to be unorthodox on the basis of Protestant theology would be to base such a declaration solely on one’s own interpretation of the Word of God. One could not appeal to any of the creeds. Nor could one appeal to accepted interpretations or formulas.

I was faced with the possibility that, on this basis, any member of our synod could legitimately argue that Christ was not in fact a member of the Holy Trinity and, what is more, based on the same premise, one would have to at least concede that they might be right! No doctrine, no interpretation, not one single article of faith could be claimed as solid, foundational, unchanging in such a church. Unless I placed store in my own ability to interpret and discern infallibly, I had no other rock to stand on.

Unfortunately this realisation immediately preceded the vote on Women’s Ordination at pastor’s conference and I went home that night in a spin.

July 2000 - The Synod

In July of 2000 the infamous general synod of the Lutheran Church of Australia (LCA) was held at Faith College in Tanunda (South Australia).

For some months before, we had joined with many other concerned Lutherans in planning the best possible approach to ‘preserve the doctrine of the church’. We believed it was our (the pastors) responsibility to uphold and defend the public doctrine of the church. We debated for months before about the best arguments to use.

Finally the time came. We packed up and drove to Adelaide, staying in a motel in North Adelaide, and I began to attend Pastor’s Conference. I had been encouraged to speak as part of the ‘men only’ case before the event. I decided not to speak publicly, however, after seeing sense in the advice of a mentor and friend who thought I had nothing unique to add to the debate and who wished to save me from the public backlash associated with speaking out on this issue.

Even though I had promised myself I would not speak publicly at pastors’ conference, I was listening very carefully. I heard almost two days of speakers, at about 4 minutes each, and can vividly remember many arguments presented even now.

People manipulated, threatened, pleaded, complained, promised good and bad things and boomed out emotive one-liners for hours. They used every political trick in the book to gain the votes of fellow pastors for their cause.

A few arguments went beyond cheap rhetorical tricks enough to be significant, so I’ll attempt to describe them (or at least their main points) here.

An old, well loved, respected and admired pastor insisted that we would need to call another ecumenical council in order to have enough authority, the authority of the church, to alter the church's doctrine on ordination. (This raised the question of how the Lutheran Church has the authority to do anything it has done, especially formulate ministry and doctrine at the time of the Reformation!)

The problems with this are myriad, so I won’t do into them here except to point out the main thoughts I had at the time.

He assumed that, if we gathered all parts of the ‘church’ (denominations) we would have the full authority of the “Church’ at hand. In other words the Lutheran Church is only part of the church.

First: It assumes that if one gathered the mainline institutional churches one would have the whole of Christendom in the gathering. For starters, this is not Lutheran doctrine. Lutheran doctrine insists simultaneously that the church is both visible and invisible. Invisible in that it cannot be bound to any particular structure or earthly authority but ‘visible’ in that it can be ‘seen’ wherever the Word is preached and the sacraments rightly administered. How could one gather such a church without having an authority to say who was in and who was out? In other words, it is useless to talk of the ‘authority of the church’ unless one also talks of an authority that decides who to include and who to exclude. Since a mere human authority could never be trusted to complete this task alone, such an authority can only be divine.

The alternative is for individuals (or collections of individuals) to decide the matter. Which leads to a sort of ‘relative truth’. Because, after all, who knows if someone is right or wrong? Who knows if the ‘truth’ one is personally convinced of is actually true? One can never know.

To think of the Lutheran pastorate as able to make this decision (as a group) is to assume that the Lutheran’s are the one true church and that they alone wield the authority that Christ gave to his church. This would be an extraordinary statement of faith if the Lutherans actually claimed it to be true, but they don’t. The Lutheran confessions, while claiming to be true expositions of the Word of God, allow the possibility that many people outside the walls of official ‘Lutheranism’ are Christians and should rightly be counted as part of the true church. But this begs the question; ‘Who?’ Who else should be considered as part of the true church, and what gives the Lutherans the sole authority to rule on which groups and individuals are in and which are out?

Another argument I remember was arguing that the onus was on the contra case to prove that we could not ordain women. He argued against this point of view using the analogy of infant baptism. Scripture does not, he argued, clearly command us to baptise infants. Yet we baptise infants. He argued that the reason we do so is that it does not contradict any Scripture, and it is consistent with the core of Scripture, that is ‘the gospel’(Lutherans distinguish between what they call ‘law’ and ‘gospel’), and it in fact witnesses to the gospel. In other words, it promotes our view of what is important in Scripture, and we can justify it by inference from Scripture, or (at least) nothing from Scripture explicitly prohibits it, and so we are free to do it.

It was at this point I realised I don’t think or argue like a Lutheran (at least, not this sort of Lutheran). As some of my fellows mustered their arguments and counter proofs that Scripture did indeed command against women’s ordination, I had to admit to myself that I baptise infants, confident it is God’s will because it is the unbroken practice and teaching of the church from Christ’s time until now, not because I happened to think, based on my own study, it was explicitly commanded in Scripture! Now, some Lutherans would agree with me on that score, but we’ll deal with that a little later. If we take this argument we can deny the resurrection of Christ, the doctrine of the Trinity, the two natures of Christ etc, so long as (we believe) we uphold the ‘gospel’.

When I explained those who found those arguments convincing that I based my understanding rather on the unbroken witness of the church, they pointed out that many women had been ordained in the church throughout the ages. When they gave examples I disputed this by pointing out that, in all of these cases, the offending group had already been declared heretics. It was at this point the rubber hit the road.

I was about to get my first major theological shock.

So What has brought me here?

To answer this I must go back in time to:

November 1999 Nearing the end of our sixth and final year in seminary, I told my classmates that I would be completing a 10 month call in an Australian parish and then moving to the USA, to take up study for a Masters degree in theology. There was talk, even then, of continuing to a doctorate.

February 2000 after serving that parish for only three months the members asked us if we would consider staying for another six months. We gave it serious thought. The idea was appealing because we were already worried about finances for our study in the USA and family were not being supportive. But we had committed to placing our lives in God’s hands no matter what the cost, so we re-affirmed our intention to travel to the USA in August of 2000.

March 2000. A month later the district president asked me to consider a delay of one year before travelling. I refused on the same grounds as our first decision. A week later he sat me down after the congregations call meeting (where they decide who they would call to be their pastor after I had gone to the USA) and told me they had called me. He asked me to seriously consider a permanent call to this parish. I was impressed with his persistence and that of the parish, so I asked why he thought I should stay. He said he thought I was too young to be achieving higher academic qualifications and thought I should seek some parish experience before aiming to study.

He encourage me to study locally (here in Melbourne) which seemed to contradict his own reasoning that I was too young for such study. I am unsure if part of his motive was to keep me away from my intended destination in the USA, which has a reputation as a conservative institution, and not his cup of tea at all.

Seeing the strain Susie was under from parents and finances I chose, in the end, to put my new family first and not risk harming them in any way. We accepted the permanent call to the Parish. The parishioners were overjoyed and we felt welcomed and affirmed in our decision. Family were more relieved than anything that we would be local for a few more years at least.

Not long after agreeing to stay in Australia I was flooded with requests to be involved in various youth district events and committees and was also told by senior pastors I was considered a budding young leader in conservative circles of the Lutheran pastorate in Victoria and South Australia. I was sceptical about that. It sounded much more like an attempt to gain loyalty by flattery than a genuine observation.

Even if this was true, it was not to be.

January 2001

Jan 2001

To my dear children and (I hope) my other yet unborn children.

I have just wearily taken out my collar and unbuttoned my top shirt button after a pretty standard Sunday’s work as the pastor of this Lutheran Parish. It is the end of January 2001 and I’m writing this for you, my children, because some day you may look back on this time and wonder what went on. To be honest, things are moving so fast right now I want to write them down so I remember what went on.

The long and short of the matter is this: I am a Lutheran pastor now. In six months I have no idea what or where I will be. But I am almost certain I will be Catholic. I want to share with you some of the journey so that you understand a little bit about why I gave up what I have here to do whatever I did after that.

At the beginning of my ministry here I simply worked hard and tried hard not to mess up too much. I thoroughly enjoyed my ministry and especially the teaching side of things. I remember saying to friends “I’ve never felt so right about anything in my life.” Unfortunately, as you will discover, feeling right about something doesn’t make it right.

I guess there is a certain legitimacy in feeling right about these months since my focus was almost exclusively a ‘back to basics’ approach to teaching and preaching. I taught baptism, Eucharist, confession, and so on. All of the doctrines I taught were very close to the faith handed down by Christians for two thousand years. I was enjoying helping people and simply getting to know the faith. The only dark cloud on the horizon at that stage was that synod was looming and the vote regarding the ordination of women seemed inevitable.

I do recall struggling with my conscience over a wedding I took, since the gentleman had already been married once for a short time and had not resolve his issues, nor repented for his sins, from the first marriage. My concerns deepened when I began to study the issue of re-marriage via the LCA’s statements and exegesis of the relevant Scripture passages. Christ explicitly states that re-marriage is adultery and the Lutherans dealt with this by ignoring it and talking about grace and God giving us a second chance once we repent.

It is now 7:20AM on my day off. I’m not usually up at this time on Mondays but for this whole last week I haven’t slept well at all. Your Auntie just brought you out here (into the kitchen) because she is awake. Perhaps your mother will sleep another hour if she is fortunate enough to be undisturbed. This is a good time to talk about the house, and the property, which we are granted as pastor of this parish.

We are living right next door to the church itself. The church building is a nice Gothic Revival style building, on a small scale, seating around 90 to 100 people at a push but we only see between thirty and fifty people on any given Sunday. I also serve a smaller congregation, who worship in what was built as their church hall, (they never actually built the planned church), and there see between 15 and 25 people each week.

The old church was built in 1894 (or thereabouts) which makes it about 106 or 107 years old as I write this. A famous Lutheran architect, who also designed the manse we live in now, designed it. The church is fronted by two large palm trees and sports a lovely stain-glass window. It is lit at night but is more a splash of colour patterns than anything theological. The interior is magnificent (for the size of the church) with an excellent old polished wood altar with a white marble altar stone. Looming over the altar is an approximately two thirds life size crucifix carved from Canadian timber and facing it all from the rear of the church is a small bust of Martin Luther. The ancient pews and deep green carpet set off a very quaint and appropriate setting for Lutheran worship. The only really problem being a lack of room to move up the front.

Behind the church is the Ministry Centre, also quite old, but converted now into two small offices, a meeting area with a decent stereo, a huge TV and video, a good library (for such a small congregation) and an excellent kitchen area. In this building I give well attended Bible studies and Pastor’s classes each week. There is a larger hall on this same property with a kitchen, toilets, etc. It is attached to a small kindergarten. The congregation owns all of this.

The manse, the house we live in, is about 90 years old, (although there is an extension out back which is only 20 years old). The ceilings are 10 to 12 feet high, and are pressed metal patterns that play tricks with the light and shadow cast by the ornamental vents all through the house. The back rooms (part of the extension) have lower roofs, and these rooms are where you spend most of your time playing. The back yard is almost half shaded by a huge old oak, possibly older than the manse itself, which shades you in summer, and gives you huge piles of leaves to kick in Autumn.

I am being paid a full pastor’s salary, which is more than we have ever been paid before, but we still struggle to meet the bills due to the debt we accumulated through my seminary training. We do have a second car and lots of ‘stuff’ we don’t really need. We could probably do better if we stopped buying Cd's and books, especially theological books

I’m currently sitting under the oak tree out back watching you run, ride, and walk around the paved area here with ‘icy-poles’ in your hands. We have such a great place here you may wonder why we would consider leaving?

My job is the pastor of this Lutheran parish. I am the only employed person in the parish. There are only about a hundred families officially in my care, and I see only about sixty people regularly. Apart from the usual small problems with some people, most people here love my wife and I, and they all dote on you both. The people are receptive and appreciative of my teaching and strive to make our life and my ministry here easier. I have moved the Bible from the altar, removed individual cups, and insisted on certain respectful practices in the Eucharist for example, without any serious dispute. They have, in many ways, sought to accommodate my needs as a father and husband with my duties as parish pastor as best they could.

What I’m getting at is that I have an ideal situation here. I love the office. I love the people. I love the work. Perhaps the only thorn in the whole rosebush is the financial situation of the smaller congregation.

They are struggling, as many small congregations are. No matter, I’m still not dealing with anything unusual here. Just the same run-of-the-mill problems every pastor faces in parish ministry. My point is, nothing about this parish is forcing this decision on me.

So what has brought me here?

START HERE - By Way of Introduction

If you intend reading this blog there are some things you should know. This blog is a kind of retro-blog in which I will post parts of the story of my journy into the Catholic Church. My regular rants and ramblings are posted on my main blog Lightly Salted.

Please keep in mind the text here was not originally written for you, but as a letter to my children to explain why I left the Lutheran Ministry and sought entry into the Roman Catholic Church.

In this 2007 edit, I have removed some names, events and places of people to protect their privacy, I ask that you too respect their privacy and that of my family in accepting this document as it stands.

This is not a complete documentation of my journey into the Church by any means. It is simply a snapshot, taking from my rambling and rather random attempts to journal my thoughts and feelings as I stumbled through this difficult time. I have added excerpts from other relevant documents at times to flesh out the account.

My overall 'conversion story' is a matter of public record. It has been recorded and the recordings are sold by Lumen Verum, and shown on EWTN on the Journey Home show. I don't like the word 'conversion' in relation to my faith journey. I explain my thoughts on conversion here.

Because I wrote most of this in the time between resigning my position as a Lutheran Minister and being recieved into the Catholic Church, it tends to be a mix of happenings at the time and snippets of eariler history which are relevant to the story. One day I will get around to writing it up properly. In the meantime I hope it isn't too garbled.

You should be aware that to read the posts in order you will have to begin with the earlier posts and work through the later posts. Start from this post and there should be a link to the next post at the bottom of each page. Just keep clicking the link at the bottom to keep reading the story in the order I wrote it.

Read on!