Wilhelm Loehe, disciple

Currents in Theology and Mission, April, 2006 by Larry Trachte

Sermon at the closing worship

International Loehe Society

July 13, 2005

The Director of the Neuendettelsau Mission, Hermann Vorlander, loves to tell the story of an African traveler making his first trip to Germany. Upon arriving in Frankfurt he is awed by the sights and sounds of this ultramodern banking and commercial center. He is heard to remark, "If Frankfurt, a city I have never even heard of, is so great, how big must Neuendettelsau be!"

Indeed. How big must Neuendettelsau be? While it may not be Frankfurt am Main, Neuendettelsau is big far beyond its physical size and single Autobahn Ausfahrt (exit). For Wartburg College alumni and student tours that visit there, Neuendettelsau is invariably a highlight of the entire trip, far surpassing sites and cities much more famous and outwardly grand.

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While the symbol of Wartburg College is the castle in Eisenach, and our athletic teams are the "Knights," the heart and soul of our college and its mission is to be found in the spirit of this little Franconian village. The place where Loehe first said "I would not even want my dog to be buried here" has become great beyond his wildest dreams. Today the name Neuendettelsau is synonymous with diaconal ministry throughout Germany and around the world. In Lutheran circles this name is known from Papua New Guinea to Africa to the United States.

In Matthew 13 we read, "A sower went out to sow." As Jesus tells the story, a bountiful yield of a hundredfold was the most that could be expected. Yet the harvest that grew from the sowing of Wilhelm Loehe from that modest village of Neuendettelsau far exceeds even that miraculous yield. Clearly God has richly blessed the church and the world through the call to that lowly Franconian sower and his passionate response, which is why a study of Loehe and his legacy ought to be encouraging and empowering for us all.

"Consider your own call, brothers and sisters." For most of us that's an invitation that is not immediately affirming. Like the Apostle Paul, "not many of us are wise by human standards; not many of us are powerful in the eyes of the world; not many of us are of noble birth."

And what's true for us as individuals is also true for us as institutions. Ron Matthias, Wartburg College historian, when researching our sesquicentennial history, remarked, "It's a miracle that we still exist at all! There are so many times and so many places where Wartburg College could have just 'gone under.'" It is humbling for us today to realize that six of the seven former college sites consist merely of a plaque--or a cornfield! But God chose Israel, a wandering people in search of a homeland; God chose Moses, who couldn't speak clearly; God chose David, a conniving adulterer; God chose a manger in Bethlehem, a band of ignorant, smelly fishermen, with a tax collector thrown in for good measure; God chose a bloody cross on a hill outside the city as the ultimate "Means of Grace." God chose a troubled Augustinian monk who could find no peace, teaching at a struggling university, to reform and renew the church. God chose an outspoken pietist named Loehe, with a zeal for mission so suspect to church authorities that he could not get a first call (and who never did get a second), to spread God's love to the world. And in our own baptism into Christ we dare to believe that God has also chosen us--not wise, not powerful, not noble by human standards, but chosen nevertheless!

This is not an easy time to be chosen, especially not an easy time to be a chosen Lutheran. Nondenominational mega-churches are booming, building shopping centers, coffee shops, gymnasiums, and swimming pools, while many humble Lutheran churches struggle to remain alive. Theologically, this is a time when being confessional is often equated with being narrow-minded or, worse yet, judgmental. On college campuses students are far too eager to exchange a theology of the cross and the awe and mystery of the gospel for a theology of absolutism and triumphalism.

At a recent Northeastern Iowa Synod convention I had a breakfast conversation with a lay couple, who were lamenting the imminent demise of the Lutheran Church. They shared that they had recently attended one of the "fastest growing Lutheran churches in Iowa" with a worship band and a dynamic "jeans and flannel shirt pastor." The entryway and parking lots were overflowing. It was exciting! "But did you hear the gospel proclaimed?" I queried. The reply was hesitant: "Well, not exactly. It was more a lesson on how to be happy and successful in life."

Those of us who are blessed in the tradition of Wilhelm Loehe have a mission and a message that is larger than "the wisdom of this world." Mark 10:35-45 is a reminder that our baptism is not a baptism into earthly greatness and success but rather a call to suffering service and compassion. The root meaning of the Latin "compassion" is often lost to us. In the German, Mitleid, "suffering with," is direct and clear.

To "suffer with" is not a popular calling that quickly fills parking lots and entry-ways, yet to this age of instant success and "either/or" absolutism (what I have often called the idolatry of certainty) the rich heritage of Loehe brings a "both/and" word of grace. Loehe embraced a theology that was personal, yet communal; intellectual, yet practical; confessional, yet outward seeking.