The Doctrine of Vocation is not a Lutheran doctrine. In fact, as the Rev. William Cwirla (I believe it was) once pointed out, there is no Lutheran doctrine. All of our doctrines are confessed outside of our church body. And I think that’s the difference between catholicity and cultishness.

But the Doctrine of Vocation is a doctrine often spoken about within our Lutheran tradition, much like the Gospel and the Doctrine of Justification. There are certain emphases that we Lutherans share by virtue of our history and the writings of our theologians. Certain doctrines are like a comfortable leather jacket or pair of jeans that have been molded to our bodies with the passage of time. The Doctrine of Vocation is certainly one such example.

In the Roman Catholic culture, the word “vocation” is generally used to mean a religious vocation: priests, monks, and nuns. It certainly would not typically mean the garbage collector, the bowling pro, the attorney, or the lady who runs a dry cleaning shop. These secular occupations certainly are holy vocations, as through their labor, the Lord provides our daily bread.

And this is the kind of thing we Lutherans are typically taught since childhood. It is stressed in the Small Catechism. And nearly every primer on Lutheranism gets into vocation. Because of this familiarity, we might be tempted to take this Doctrine of Vocation for granted, and rob it of its wonder.

But the Doctrine of Vocation is profound. It is presented in the study of Economics as the concept of the Division of Labor, and the results are almost miraculous. The best illustration of the wonder of the Division of Labor is the little 1958 essay by Leonard E. Read called “I, Pencil.”

A beautifully done short video adaptation is found here:

The premise is that the simple little pencil is too complicated for any one person to make. Although it only has four parts, its family tree is beyond our ability to keep track of it. For example, the wood comes from the Pacific Northwest. The lead is graphite from Sri Lanka mixed with clay from Mississippi, and paraffin from Mexico. The metal ferrule (where the eraser goes) is made of various metals mined from the ground. The eraser is itself complex and comes from many sources. And somehow, all of these disparate materials from around the world must come together to make a pencil.

But it is even more complicated.

The family tree of the pencil includes the waitress in the diner serving the loggers. It includes the coffee and bacon and eggs they were served - including a network of farmers and workers from all over the globe involved in those supply chains. Then there are the transportation workers, the warehouse workers, the retailers - and all of the people involved in running these businesses. It is literally impossible to map out the family tree of the simple pencil. But there they are: simple pencils are everywhere. They are cheap and plentiful. They come into being with no central economic plan, but rather by billions of people working together, voluntarily and spontaneously, without even knowing it. This “invisible hand” (according to the metaphor of Adam Smith) overseeing the creation of the pencil is the economic version of the Hand of God in creation and creation’s maintenance in theological terms.

The Division of Labor is a sublime concept. But it isn’t limited to material things like pencils. For how do we come to faith? How does the Gospel come to us? Of course, the obvious answer is the pastor. His vocation is to preach the Word and administer the sacraments. According to our Book of Concord, Augsburg Confession Article 5:

That we may obtain this faith, the Ministry of Teaching the Gospel and administering the Sacraments was instituted. For through the Word and Sacraments, as through instruments, the Holy Ghost is given, who works faith; where and when it pleases God, in them that hear the Gospel, to wit, that God, not for our own merits, but for Christ's sake, justifies those who believe that they are received into grace for Christ's sake. They condemn the Anabaptists and others who think that the Holy Ghost comes to men without the external Word, through their own preparations and works.

It is the pastor’s hands that baptize, and his mouth that places the Word of God into the water. But how many other people are involved in bringing us to faith? What about faithful mothers who read the Bible to us and feed us, faithful fathers who pray with us and make sure we get to school and church? What about Sunday school teachers and our Christian friends who encourage us? What about the clerk in the retail store that sold the Bible that was given to us as a gift? Where did the paper come from? The ink? What about the farm that produces the food that fed the workers in the paper mill who made the pages used in your Bible?

All of these vocations are the means through which God works to bring us to faith, and to sustain our faith. This includes the builders who built the church, the craftsmen who created works of art, the volunteers who clean, the HVAC workers who keep the sanctuary comfortable, the people who maintain the church grounds and the plumbing and the paint and the roof.

All of these are in the family tree of how you came to faith, and how your faith is sustained.

And what about your pastor? He had parents who likely raised him in the faith. He may well have learned about Jesus from a Sunday school teacher. He was catechized by a pastor. He was taught by professors and a whole army of staff who ran the seminary. And he did not ordain himself. He was ordained by a pastor (or a bishop). And the man who ordained him was also ordained by a pastor (or a bishop). And this chain of pastoral (or episcopal) ordinations leads back to the Reformation itself 500 years ago - likely to Germany or Sweden.

And even prior to the Reformation, pastors were ordained by Roman Catholic bishops, who were consecrated by other bishops. Bishops don’t ordain themselves. And even if we cannot name every link in the chain, we know they exist, as, once again, pastors do not ordain themselves. And on it goes back to the apostles, and to our Lord Himself, as the First Mover in the chain of ordinations.

And likewise, every parent, teacher, cook, driver, doctor, wet nurse, shop keeper, midwife, farmer, etc. involved in the lives of each one of these links in the chain - and in every one of their ancestors - is part of the “family tree” of how you were brought to salvation.

While we don’t often ponder the magnificence and complexity of this Division of Vocation that brings us to salvation, we Lutherans certainly understand that God works through means. The family tree of the pastor who baptized you is as complex and as inscrutable as the pencil’s genealogy.

It struck me how fortunate we are as Lutherans when I had a recent discussion with some Baptists concerning infant baptism. Baptists (with rare exceptions) do not baptize babies or young children. They believe Baptism is a work of obedience that is reserved for “believers” - whom they define as those having sufficient intellectual understanding as to make a confession concerning Jesus and their need for a Savior. They do not believe Baptism saves. Of course, we discussed the idea that children are sinners and must be included, along with what Baptism does and why we need it. And certainly, this same conversation has been held for five centuries. There is nothing new under the sun.

But my opponent thought he had a “gotcha.” Since we believe in salvation by grace alone, and not through works, he argued that our Lutheran understanding of Baptism is works-righteousness, since we are depending upon the parents to perform a work, to bring the child to Baptism in order to have salvation.

I replied, “Of course!” God works through the parents, the pastor, the person who puts the water in the font, the driver who brought the child to church, etc. The doctrine of vocation is not “works-righteousness,” but rather God working through means - including people: believers and unbelievers, to bring about His will. This is all over the Scriptures.

And even Baptists must agree that we have salvation because people taught us about Jesus, someone prayed with us, someone brought us a Bible, etc.

This idea of God saving us through means is obvious to us Lutherans, because we have been brought up with the Doctrine of Vocation. To many of those outside of our communion, this is not obvious. It dawned on me how impoverished theologically my opponent was. He was unable to imagine God using the material world - including flesh and blood human beings - to save us. What about the wood of the cross? What about the nails that were made by a smith out of iron mined by workers? What about the soldiers in the crucifixion detail? Even Pilate and the false witnesses and Judas were involved in evil vocations to bring our Lord to the cross - and yet God used all of them as means to bring salvation to us. Even as Jesus’ genealogy includes shady characters and gross sinners, so does our “genealogy” of salvation by means of the Doctrine of Vocation.

All of this human history culminated for you in that one unique moment of time when a pastor scooped up water three times, and repeated the very Words of our Lord Jesus Christ, and placed the water and the Word upon you. God used innumerable vocations back through time to bring that pastor to you in that moment, saving you by the means of the Holy Baptism he made happen for you by His will, apart from your works, and apart from your worthiness. And this is a wonder of wonders!

“I, Pencil” begins with a quote by the great Christian thinker G.K. Chesterton: “We are perishing for want of wonder, not for want of wonders.”

For the wonderful list of daily bread in our catechism is not exhaustive or limited to the “support and needs of the body.” Your daily bread includes that which God uses to keep you in the one true faith. You were saved by Jesus at the cross, by means of His blood, by the Gospel, by Holy Baptism, by a pastor, by parents, by teachers, by friends, by the Word of God, by the pastor’s pastor, by the teacher who taught you to read, by the teacher who taught the teacher, etc. God works through all of these vocations, and many more, seen and unseen. It is indeed a wonder.

And it is all by grace!