What If You Didn't Believe?

Let’s do a thought experiment. Let’s say you didn’t believe in the Bible and/or the Book of Concord. What would your life look like? What would worship look like?

If you stopped believing in Christianity, you may well stop attending worship on Sundays. After all, why invest the time waking up early on your day off, getting dressed, driving to church, spending an hour worshiping a non-being (the “sky-fairy” or the “zombie-Jesus” as the atheists like to taunt), studying a book full of old myths (of course, written by a gaggle of dead white men, mistranslated, and only written to suppress minorities, as goes the narrative), then driving home.

As a convert to disbelief, you might want to reclaim that time.

But what if you didn’t? What if you had social pressure to go to church? What if you benefitted from it - even though you don’t believe. What if you actually enjoy the “show” - so to speak. Maybe the people who attend are your family and friends, and you enjoy being around them. Maybe you actually like being in the building with all of its old memories - especially on Christmas and Easter. Maybe “Silent Night’ with candles around the Christmas tree and the extra pageantry for Easter remind you of your childhood or of deceased relatives.

Maybe you would attend church, but not pick up the hymnal. Maybe you wouldn’t sing. Maybe you’d be thinking about other things during the Bible readings and the sermon. You would probably still take communion even though you don’t believe in the “hocus-pocus.” You would probably kind of laugh a little inside at the people who actually do believe this bread and wine are really God, with all of their bowing and scraping and crossing themselves. You might suggest to the clergy and lay leadership to at least get better tasting bread and a higher quality wine for the Sunday snack.

What if you were an unbeliever on the “Board of Elders” and were tasked with helping the pastor consume the remaining “blood of Christ” at the end of the service. Now that’s a fun job: getting to drink wine on Sunday morning.

What if you’re an unbelieving pastor? What would your conduct of the service look like?

Let’s do a slightly different thought experiment. What if the entire congregation - including the pastor - did not actually believe that the bread and wine are actually the body and blood of Christ? Maybe they believe in God and most of the Bible. Maybe they believe some of the Book of Concord, but it’s basically just an old irrelevant relic. So how would the service look in that case?

What if there were no Lutheran confessions, and our churches were theologically no different than the average and ubiquitous non-denominational franchise big-box church?

Would it be more formal or informal? Would the pastor be more or less inclined to wear vestments? Would the laity be more inclined to sing traditional hymnody, or would they prefer more entertaining and “relevant” pop-style music with guitars and drums and dancing girls? Would the unbelieving congregation be more or less likely to experiment with worship forms, to write their own creeds, and be creative with the service? Would they be more or less likely to conduct themselves with reverence: folded hands, bowing, genuflecting, kneeling, and crossing themselves?

If the pastor doesn’t believe that the Eucharist is a miracle, a supernatural phenomenon, but rather is merely a community meal or a visible sign of invisible faith, a kind of symbolic or spiritual presence - but definitely not the actual body and blood of Christ - how might his celebration of the Divine Service look?

Would the unbelieving pastor walk in the chancel with hands folded? Would he bow or genuflect when moving in front of the altar? Would he reverently cross himself? Would be read the Scriptures as though he were intoning the very word of God, or would he be more likely to crack jokes or make faces or include a stuffed animal in the chancel and slurp out of a coffee cup? Would he be more likely to play rap music on a boom box or have a Sponge Bob toy in the chancel to match his Sponge Bob tie? Would he be more likely to ditch the vestments and wear hipster street duds? Would he be more likely to wear a silly NFL hat or a football jersey in the pulpit? Would he likely chant the Words of Institution, elevate the elements, genuflect before the altar, ring bells, or swing incense? Or would he be more likely to speak the words hurriedly and without ceremony, as if the consecration were an embarrassment to get through before the more important work - you know, at Shoney’s, or at the man-cave or the stadium?

Would the unbelieving congregation likely celebrate the Mass every Sunday? Or would that be seen as unwelcoming to visitors, with the Supper simply pressed to the margins (along with terms like “Mass” and “Eucharist”)? Would the unbelieving congregation be more or less likely to practice open communion? What about pouring the consecrated wine back into the bottle, or putting consecrated hosts back in the box? Would the unbelieving congregation or pastor be more or less likely to see this practice as being better stewards of the church’s resources? And would the unbelieving pastor and congregation be more or less likely to treat the reliquiae with reverence, or would they treat them as show props to be put away once the stage lights dim and the curtain falls on the show? Would they be more or less likely to throw the little cups with the remainder of the blood of Christ still in them in the garbage, or in the sink to mingle with the sewer?

What does the unbelieving pastor’s sermons look and sound like? Would they focus on the Bible, on sin, on the Law, on repentance, on the cross, on redemption, on the Gospel, on forgiveness, life, salvation, and the resurrection? Would they be focused on the Biblical texts, allowing scripture to interpret scripture? Would they be seen as the opportunity to prepare people to face their own deaths and deal with temptation? Or will the goal be to be relevant, uplifting, entertaining, and having a lot of “practical” advice? Is the unbelieving pastor more likely to be a pulpit clown with props and costumes and sports regalia? Is he more or less likely to crack jokes? Is he more or less likely to plop his buttocks down in front of the altar and give a “children’s message”? Or would the unbelieving congregation be more or less likely to have a lady in the congregation “preach” such a “sermon” intended for children but given during the Divine Service to everyone, perhaps even clad in clerical vestments?

Would the pastor and congregation that take the Bible very seriously, even the parts about how men and women have different vocations, be more or less likely to encourage women and girls to publicly read the scriptures, to serve at the altar wearing vestments, or to serve on the Board of Elders? Would the unbelieving pastor be more concerned with secular Critical Theory and promoting a Woke ideology, or would he be more likely to submit to the parts of Scripture that the world hates - and not just submit, but to proclaim them shamelessly and with boldness?

Are the unbelieving pastor and congregation more or less likely to be slovenly and casual, to treat the sanctuary as being no different than any other place, and to encourage people to think first and foremost of being comfortable and just coming as you are?

Matters of style are driven by substance, and the substance of Christianity is faith, that is, belief. The substance is the Word of God - both Scripture and the Word Made Flesh. We believe because of the Word of God as manifested by Christ. We confess because we believe. And we practice what we confess. Thus what we believe manifests itself in how we worship, how the clergy conduct the service, how the laity participate, and how that confession takes flesh and blood at the altar, in the chancel, in the sanctuary, and in our day to day lives.

Reverence is a confession of faith, of what it is we actually believe. And so is irreverence.

May there be no confusion about what it is that we actually believe. May friend and foe alike: those who agree and those who disagree, those who believe and those who do not, unequivocally know what we believe, teach, confess, and practice.