Alas, the political season is upon us. The latest rhetorical device seems to be casting one’s opponents as “weird.”

And while it is divisive, I have to admit, I find the candor refreshing. For after hearing (particularly, but not only from the political Left): “Diversity is our strength” parroted like a Hindu mantra, it’s nice to see the pretense fall. For the very same people who champion “diversity” (and the entire DEI project), are now calling nearly half of the country “weird.” They don’t value that kind of diversity. They want conformity. And they want “weird” people to either get in line, shut up, or, I suppose, die. It’s important for conservative-minded people (whether socially, politically, and/or theologically) to understand that their opponents who always spout off about “love” are filled with seething hatred and rage. The masks have fallen.

And what the Left describes as “weird” are things that even they considered normal only a few years ago: marriage between one man and one woman, young people getting married and having lots of children, going to church, serving one’s community, excellence in education, protecting children from predators, advocacy of any restrictions on abortion, traditional sex and family roles, discouraging profanity, encouraging discipline and hard work in schools and on the job, social meritocracy and the judging of people based on “character,” etc.

What conservatives (of various stripes) consider to be “weird” ranges from referring to unnatural sexual relations as “marriage,” the sexualization of children’s books, self-chosen childlessness and the replacement of children by pets, the advocacy of abortion even up to the moment of birth, the invention of new pronouns, compelling people to attend struggle sessions as part of their jobs, anti-whiteism, polyamory, etc. and to a lesser degree, matters of fashion: things like manbuns, snout-rings, and (in particular), young women whose entire arms are arrayed in ink - as well as a general slovenly and/or slatternly appearance. In some places, professional street-walkers have a hard time distinguishing themselves from ordinary college girls.

And what this dueling chorus of “weirdness” demonstrates is a breakdown in societal and political consensus. The gap has widened to beyond a need for tolerance and goodwill to a fundamental divide in worldview. There is a disparity between the advocates of private property and free enterprise vs. those who believe in government regulation of the means of production and redistribution. There is no consensus on sexual morality. We cannot even come to a basic agreement as to what a woman is (a Supreme Court justice, whose job it is to interpret the Constitution, cannot even define this most basic word), and whether or not naked men should be permitted in the locker rooms where teenage girls are undressing, or strolling down the street in front of children in parades. We have no consensus as to who is a human being, nor even what the rights of human beings are.

These are irreconcilable differences that will have to be fought out to the last man. Some things simply cannot be compromised. And given the winner-take-all centralization of government (in contravention to the federalism of the founders), every presidential election seems to be a fight to the death.

And while there has always been generational friction and change in matters of taste and fashion - we have now become two irreconcilable camps. Christian fathers and mothers who accept Holy Scripture simply cannot abide a kindergarten teacher imposing her own sexual values on their children. Indeed, many of these young teachers see their roles as heroic instigators and agents of subversion on a holy crusade to sow the seeds of rebellion in these children, whom they believe they are enlightening and liberating. Just what do these people expect to happen other than a massive vote of no confidence in them, the establishment of Christian alternatives, and an explosion of homeschooling (which, of course, is seen as “weird”) - along with a political populism dedicated to a rejection of their project?

The battle of “weirdness” is also found in the church, even within the LCMS and other confessional church bodies (at least here in North America). What used to be not merely normal, but universal in our churches - things like the liturgy, the hymnal, altars, pulpits, and fonts, even the name “Lutheran” - are now deemed “weird” in many circles.

Consider this sermon except from an LCMS pastor from last year (who allowed a husband and wife team of fortune-tellers to perform “readings” on stage five years ago as part of the Sunday “service”):

There's a question about worship. There's all kinds of worship wars. It used to be, I don't know, man, there's sometimes, how many of you? I don't know, sometimes the church is fighting wars that nobody else has a clue about. And they're oblivious, and don't matter to the rest of the world. Things like, "Do you have a pulpit?"

You probably don't know what a pulpit is. Come on, now, we have no pulpit. We got a table and a stool that we sometimes use.

"Do you have an organ?"

Come on, I grew up with an organ. It was the weirdest thing. Who listens to organ music? Well I do. I do when I go to the hockey game: “Dun dun dun dun. Dun dun dun dun. Dun dun,” come on. That’s the only time, that’s the only time I’m hearing organ, right?

It was so weird growing up. My dad wore this thing called an alb. It looks like a white dress. I brought my boys who play football with me, I was in high school, I said, “Hey, come on, man, come to church with me, I just want you to learn about Jesus. He’s changing my life, I want Him to change your life, cuz you’re a wreck (and I was a wreck), so come on!” And they would show up one time, and they would get there, and my dad, “Why is your dad wearing a dress? What’s up with that, dude?” “It’s an alb, and, and, and, yeah.”

“Why is there this little rail back where where there’s an altar?” and like everybody’s, “There’s candles up there, and you can’t go back there, and it’s like this holy place. What’s that about?” I’m like, “Well, we can go to the Old Testament, and…” There was just all these kind of sacred cows, if you will. And sometimes sacred cows are separators from worshiping the one true God.

What was enshrined in our Book of Concord and was for generations, until recently, ubiquitous in our churches is now considered “weird”:

At the outset we must again make the preliminary statement that we do not abolish the Mass, but religiously maintain and defend it. For among us masses are celebrated every Lord’s Day and on the other festivals, in which the Sacrament is offered to those who wish to use it, after they have been examined and absolved. And the usual public ceremonies are observed, the series of lessons, of prayers, vestments, and other like things.

Here we see a rejection of what was until recently the norm (now called “weird”) complete with a mockery of our fathers (in this case, of the preacher’s literal dad). And here we also see the irreconcilability of these two positions. A faith not rooted in the sacramental presence of Jesus - as testified to even in the architecture and furnishing of the holy sanctuary - will become a staged faith: entertainment, hucksterism, superstition, and grifters from outside of our confession being allowed to ply their ungodly false prophecies.

And as long as our hierarchy kicks the can down the road and pretends like these radically divergent theologies and practices are simply two different and equally acceptable ways of conducting “walking together” and conducting two equally valid and valuable forms of worship, we will have the church equivalent to the nasty division within our country’s political apparatus.

And while we are, on paper, a synod (even though churches like the above-mentioned eschew the name “Lutheran” and bury their synodical affiliation), in reality, we are not in fellowship. To paraphrase Uncle Remus, “How can there be altar and pulpit fellowship when there ain’t no altar and pulpit,” especially if altars, fonts, and pulpits are considered “weird?”

I’m happy to be considered “weird” by those whose churches look more like a Benny Hinn grift than a Divine Service of Word and Sacrament. And I’m gratified to see our “weirdness” on the rise: young people marrying young and having children, embracing modesty and traditional familial roles, rediscovering traditional Lutheran music, looking for careers as classical Lutheran school teachers, a restoration of the emphasis on goodness, beauty, and truth in worship, a renaissance of our identity as Lutherans - that is, as a confession dedicated to Scripture and the Confessions, not popes or entertainers, not the so-called Charismatic heresy, not the shallow and vapid entertainment of rock and roll and dancing girls in the sanctuary.

And yes, I consider all of those things to be weird. We are not the same. We are de facto not in fellowship with one another. I will not preach at that hipster church, nor will that pastor be permitted in my pulpit. I will warn my parishioners to mark and avoid them, and I suspect none of his folks would darken the door of my “weird” congregation.