The Superficial Unity of the American Church
The Superficial Unity of the American Church
The informal agreement among Christendom
If the concept of “frenemies” existed in the time of the Reformation, this would have certainly encapsulated Luther’s relationship with German reformer Andreas Karlstadt. Karlstadt was a Lutheran preacher in Wittenberg, who became a close ally of Martin Luther in the formative stages of the Reformation. He was one of the first preachers to publicly align with Luther’s theological teachings, and traveled throughout the Holy Roman Empire to preach.
Karlstadt’s relationship with Luther and the broader reformational movement was soured when Karlstadt began to operate in his own right. Sometime between 1521 and 1522, Karlstadt initiated the first iconoclastic movement in Wittenberg, which forced Luther out of exile to correct Karlstadt’s unorthodox errors. His preaching began to incorporate Anabaptist theology, though Karlstadt never officially accepted the terminology. Later, he switched his allegiance to the Reformed tradition, after much conflict concerning key theological elements like liturgy and worship, the sacraments, and the work of the Holy Spirit.
It was noted that Karlstadt’s reforms in Wittenberg were so egregious that Luther departed from the Wartburg Castle, where he was being protected by Frederick the Wise during his time of exile, in order to correct Karlstadt’s erroneous reforms. He preached against the iconoclastic movement that Karlstadt initiated. Iconoclasm is the destruction of images, liturgical vessels like crucifixes and vestments, and other art that might “distract” from the proclamation of the Gospel. Iconoclasm was not a new convention for Karlstadt; the movement first began in the Church as early as the 8th century A.D., and several “iconoclasms” have occurred since.
This is especially true of the modern Church. Many in her ranks have assessed the historic use of images, vestments, and other art as a distraction from the Gospel, a hindrance to worshippers, and even a sin against God’s command “not to make graven images.” Such has been the appeal of iconoclastic theologians since the 8th century A.D., and their calls for iconoclastic reforms are no less quiet than before.
It is no surprise that in his day, Luther was adamant that iconoclasm is a theologically destructive and doctrinally corrosive ideology. Images have been used in the Church since the age of the Apostles, whose churches were generally arrayed with images, icons, and other liturgical vessels–as far are political conventions would allow. Indeed, many of their churches were hidden so to speak, to protect Christians against the persecution of the Jews and Romans. Yet the Apostles and the generations that followed wore vestments, observed many of the liturgical rites and rubrics used in the Church today, and held to the same theology of worship for which Luther advocated in his day—and for which we must advocate today.
It is therefore also disheartening that many churches in our modern context, especially in America, have rid themselves of their historic beauty and theological significance by eliminating the use of images in church buildings and worship spaces, opting instead for plain, dreary, “dressed down” looks. The prolonged appeal to iconoclasm, either as a proxy to or symptom of postmodern artistic theory, whether or not it is referred to as such by its proponents, has been incredibly destructive to modern churches—and not merely in a literal sense.
As it had done in ages past, iconoclasm deprives the Church of its outward beauty. Church buildings are no longer presented as spaces set apart, but rather as places that mirror their worldly context. Churches are no longer windows to heaven, but are echo-chambers to the world. Yet the theological implications of this are not only external, but inherently doctrinal. Iconoclasm attacks the heart and core of the Church’s teaching. The majesty of God’s nature and the “other-worldly” beauty of heaven is undervalued, and the emphasis on a “professional” or personal relationship with God supersedes the value and importance of God’s immaterially profound nature and connection to man in the Incarnation of His Son. The individualization of Christianity has likewise rendered the use and purpose of images useless and even pestilent.
This theology is undeniably reflected in Andreas Karlstadt. While Luther stressed the communal nature of God and His revelation to us not in an internally personal manner but by demonstrably tangible means, such as His Word and Sacraments, theologians like Karlstadt sought to undermine this orthodox understanding of God’s nature and our relationship to Him through the destruction of images and emphasis on the self. Karlstadt undercut Luther’s theology by placing the emphasis of God and His relationship to us on the perceived revelation of God by personal means, as opposed to the true revelation of God through His Word and the means of grace instituted for the forgiveness of sins.
Thus, this article is not merely titled “iconoclastic reforms of the Church,” but “Karlstadtian reforms of the Church” for two reasons:
Karlstadt’s iconoclastic theology had profound implications for the Lutheran Church specifically, and its remnants continue to haunt the Lutheran Church today, especially in America—and given that this blog specifically pertains to the affairs and state of the Lutheran Church, it seemed fitting to do so.
Karlstadt’s iconoclastic views were informed by, and also influenced, his broader theological system. His theological system was binary: it included not only the destruction of images, but the inversion of a proper understanding of our relationship with God through the individualization of the faith and underemphasis of the means of grace.
Karlstadt’s theology largely influenced his iconoclastic actions and his inadvertent (or purposeful) appeal to Anabaptist theology, which was briefly described in the previous two paragraphs. Unfortunately, these tendencies are alive and well in the Church today. Many churches have removed images—even the crucifix—because they distract from the true Gospel or in some way hinder the perceived relationship we ought to have with God. It is noteworthy that many of these churches hold to an individualized view of faith—that is, they teach that faith is primarily a personal thing; it is a revelation to or from the self concerning God, informed by the work of the Holy Spirit. Thus, His nature is innate to us, and not something that He must reveal to us, especially through mysterious, tangible means.
Iconoclastic theology neglects the ways in which God reveals Himself to us, and cuts against the fundamental teachings of the Apostles and those after them. Many images used in the Church, especially crucifixes, vestments, and other liturgical images, serve our understanding of God as we look in awe upon Christ’s suffering and death or gaze upon the many saints who fought for the Gospel and were awarded the promised rest of the kingdom. As a further testament to this, vestments in particular hide the man whom God has called to serve His sheep, and instead point us to Christ, thereby reminding us that the ministry is not of the men who serve, but of the One who calls.
This is a particularly useful point with regard to American Christianity, in which the Christian is a central focus. Our relationship with God is equated to our emotions; the sacraments therefore serve as outward testimonies are our inward faith, which in many cases is understood to have originated in the self–not as a gift from God, but as the decision of the believer. Baptism, for instance, is a personal proclamation that one has decided to follow Christ and is thereby saved.
Likewise pastors also place an emphasis on their own reading into the text, which is considered the standard for preaching, instead of concealing themselves and serving as the messenger of God’s unadulterated, unmuddled, pure Word. As opposed to Karlstadian theology, the outward vessels of worship orient the Church toward the One to whom our praise is addressed, on whom our faith is founded, and by whom we were formed and knit together in our mother’s womb.
Several attempts have been made to restrict the Gospel by inverting its emphasis on God’s agency in salvation, faith, and worship. This suppression often results in Karlstadian theology–that images, vessels, and external things must be destroyed for the sake of the Gospel. In reality, however, it brings the Gospel to a secondary position. Such a mindset places us in the forefront.
Many implicitly subscribe to Karlstadian theology by denying the explicit and external beauty of the Church. The appeal to iconoclastic and individualistic ideology runs deep in American Evangelical Christianity. In the good-spirited attempt to focus on the Word, many have taken the focus from the cross and placed it onto the individual worshiper. Experience trumps necessity. Individualism beats beauty. Self-centrism triumphs over the Gospel. May it never be so among the one holy Christian and apostolic Church; may she cling to the Gospel alone, confident in the many signs and symbols that communicate the love of God and the outward, external means by which God reveals and teaches His grace and the Sacraments through which forgiveness, salvation, and life are offered.