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Eschatological Discourse, Part Four: Great Distress and Abomination
Sandwiched between “Signs”[1] and “More Signs”[2] is the “Great Distress” section,[3] in which Jesus makes a fascinating aside. He temporarily narrows his focus from the entire inter-advent era to a specific time period within that era. Several details in “Great Distress” are so specific that they demand a specific interpretation. Something terrible in the holy place (the temple); Jerusalem surrounded by armies; fleeing from Judea; references to mountains, housetops, fields, wintertime, and Sabbath; people of Jerusalem falling by the sword and being taken as prisoners—all these specific references point to the disastrous events surrounding the fall of Jerusalem in A.D. 70.
Most convincing is the synoptic harmony, especially Luke’s contribution to this section. Luke records Jesus describing “Jerusalem being surrounded by armies” and being “trampled on by the Gentiles” (Lk 21:20, 24) at the exact same place in the discourse where Matthew and Mark speak about “the abomination that causes desolation” and “the great distress” or “distress unequaled” (Mt 24:15, 21; Mk 13:14, 19). Luke helps us recognize that the “Great Distress” section is primarily about A.D. 70.
This interpretation allows us to see the “abomination that causes desolation” (Mt 24:15) as a reference to the Roman armies who defiled the temple (the holy place) and devastated Jerusalem. Jesus references Daniel 11:31, where the “abomination” refers to Antiochus IV Epiphanes,[4] who in 168 B.C. “erected an altar to Zeus over the altar of burned offering, sacrificed swine on it, and made the practice of Judaism a capital offense.”[5] Jesus is employing the prophetic perspective as he relates the reign of terror under Antiochus to the reign of terror under the Romans, culminating in Jerusalem’s destruction, the “Great Distress.” Daniel’s prophecy finds intermediate fulfillment in both events.
Further, when you place “standing in the holy place” (Mt 24:15) side by side with the man of lawlessness setting himself up in God’s temple (2 Th 2:4), and when you consider that the book of Daniel makes several prophecies about the coming Antichrist, we are led to conclude that the Eschatological Discourse’s “abomination that causes desolation” is also fulfilled in the Antichrist. “The ‘abomination of desolation’ and the ‘great distress’ may refer in a preliminary way to events associated with the destruction of Jerusalem. Yet they also find fulfillment in the Antichrist and the troubles of the end times.”[6]
Looking at the “Great Distress” section through the lens of the prophetic perspective also allows us to look forward to an even greater “great distress,” one that truly is “never to be equaled again.” When Jesus returns in his parousia at the end of the world, for the goats on his left there will be no greater distress. “What will happen to Jerusalem is symbolical of what is in store for the unbelieving world in general when the last trumpet sounds.”[7] The fall of Jerusalem is indeed a type of the end of the world.[8]
Rev. Kirk Lahmann serves as pastor at St. John Lutheran Church in Burlington, WI
[1] Signs: Mt 24:4–14; Mk 13:5–13; Lk 21:8–19.
[2] More Signs: Mt 24:22–28; Mk 13:20–23.
[3] Great Distress: Mt 24:15–21; Mk 13:14–19; Lk 21:20–24.
[4] The “abomination” is also mentioned in Daniel 8:13, 9:27, and 12:11. These references probably also refer to the wicked actions of Antiochus.
[5] D. A. Carson, Matthew 13–28 (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1995), 500. First Maccabees 1:54–64 describes the incident.
[6] Nass, End Times, 269.
[7] William F. Arndt, Bible Commentary: The Gospel According to St. Luke (St. Louis: Concordia, 1956), 421.
[8] It was for this reason that our synod’s original German hymnal included an account of the destruction of Jerusalem based on Josephus’ account in Books 5–6 of The Wars of the Jews. Nor was it the only Lutheran hymnal to do so.
Systematic Theology: Autopistia in Lutheran Theology
Although the terms autopistia and autopistos (αὐτοπιστία, αὐτόπιστος) didn’t originate in the Lutheran Church (see last month’s article), Martin Luther wrote at length about the self-authenticating nature of Scripture. Central to the doctrinal debates of his day was this question: Does Scripture derive its authority from the Church or does Scripture have authority in and of itself? The Roman Catholic Church claimed that the authority of Scripture came from the Church. In contrast, Luther argued that the Church received its authority from Scripture.
In his book, The Theology of Martin Luther, Paul Althaus described Luther’s position like this:
Luther uses the Scripture’s capacity to validate itself or to work faith in itself as an argument against the Roman Catholic thesis that it is only the church which has established the canon and therefore actually guarantees the authority of Scripture. According to this view, the canon is established by the decision of the church, and the church therefore stands above the Scripture. Luther replies that it makes just as much sense to say that John the Baptist stands above Christ because he bears witness to Christ by pointing his finger at him…. It is not the church which authorizes the Scripture, but quite the contrary: the Scripture validates the Church.[1]
A century later, the Lutheran dogmatician Abraham Calov (1612-1686) summarized the role of autopistia in Lutheran theology in this way:
Every Word of God is…autopistos and must be believed per se simply because it is the Word of God, because God has declared it and said it, even though our reason may not understand or grasp it. This is demanded by the divine authority and unfailing truth of the divine Word. Because it is the Word of very God it has a divine authority which is under no obligation to give an account of itself and it is above every limitation and worthy of faith per se. It must be accepted by faith per se, not on account of something else, because God cannot receive authority from another.[2]
Daniel Deutschlander used this picturesque way to compare the relationship of the Church to Scripture:
The church recognizes the Canon; she does not create it. And when the church recognizes the Canon, she is recognizing her mother. Just as no one would be so insane as to claim that a child makes its own mother by recognizing her, so no one should be so blasphemous as to claim that they have created the Canon by recognizing it.[3]
All Lutheran theology is firmly based on the autopistia of Scripture. It is Scripture itself, through the work of the Holy Spirit, which convinces us of its truth and authority.
For Further Reading
Echternach, Helmut. “The Lutheran Doctrine of the ‘Autopistia’ of Holy Scripture.” In Concordia Theological Monthly 23, no. 4 (April 1952): 241-71.
Gerhard, Johann. Exegesis sive Uberior Explicatio Articulorum de Scriptura Sacra, de Deo et de Persona Christi. Jena: Tobias Steinmann, 1625. Pages 52, 53, and 55 (pars. 33, 36, and 38). In Richard J. Dinda’s translation, On the Nature of Theology and Scripture (St. Louis: Concordia, 2006), 67-70 (same paragraphs), he does not preserve Gerhard’s Greek terms, but translates αὐτόπιστος and αὐτόπιστον as “credible in/of itself.”
Preus, J. A. O. “The New Testament Canon in the Lutheran Dogmaticians.” In The Springfielder 25, no. 1 (1961): 8-33.
Pastor Nathan Nass serves at Christ the King Lutheran Church in Tulsa, OK. You can check out his blog at upsidedownsavior.home.blog.
[1] Paul Althaus, The Theology of Martin Luther (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1966), 75.
[2] Abraham Calov, Socinismus Profligatus, 2nd ed. (Wittenberg: Johann Borckard, 1668), 76; quoted in Robert Preus, The Inspiration of Scripture: A Study of the Theology of the 17th-Century Lutheran Dogmaticians (St. Louis: Concordia, 1955), 90, though he incorrectly cites p. 78.
[3] Daniel M. Deutschlander, Grace Abounds: The Splendor of Christian Doctrine (Milwaukee: Northwestern, 2015), 21.
Historical Theology: The Works of Bo Giertz, Part One
Adapted from the author’s 2021 essay, Dare to be a pastor: Meeting Bo Giertz
Someone told us to read Walther’s Law and Gospel every year. Here is another: The Hammer of God by Bo Giertz.
Giertz called this a novel of soul-care. He tells of three pastors serving the same parish over a century who arrive at the same place: They want to be pastors who preach the Word of God. But initially, none of them knows how to care for souls.
One is Fridfeldt, a born-again revivalist who has given his heart to Jesus. He experiences success. A revival begins. Then sin rears its ugly head. A legal dispute breaks out between farmers, leading to a poisoned cow, a weaponized hunk of meat, threatened lawsuits, and foul language.
Fridfeldt is puzzled. “How can true Christians act this way?” His heart breaks.
His supervising pastor shows up, an older man who has spent years in this parish. He settles the dispute with law and gospel. In a wrenching scene, the older pastor holds out his hand over one of the offending parties and says that this hand which baptized the man must now testify against him. He cannot lower this hand until he can say that all is well.
“Do you think it was pleasant that I happened to come here and heard the kind of language you used? Do you think a Christian man ought to do that? Yes or no?”
“No, Pastor.”
“I knew it, Johan. You think just as I do, then.”[1]
Fridfeldt thinks. He thinks about a sinful nature we will never conquer this side of heaven. He thinks about pride in the revival for which he takes credit. He thinks maybe law and gospel are the one true tool of a revival that comes from outside of us, from God.
Later he heads to a small group meeting where they discuss infant baptism. He has wavered on the issue. But now he sees faith in a different way, a gift from God rather than a gift to God. He sees what his older associate meant: “One ought not talk about oneself, it may hide Jesus from view.”[2]
After the meeting, things come together. Fridfeldt struggles with what he has learned about law and gospel. He thinks through God saving even infants in baptism. He preaches a sermon for which he was little prepared, and thus cribbed from a postil given to him by his supervising pastor. The Word did its work. He could finally see.
Sin always remains, yet is always atoned for! … [Christ’s crucifixion is an] eternally valid atonement, effective to cancel the judgment; a merciful love, stretching out its arms to all these evil hearts, in which sin is still in motion like reptiles in a snake pit. Jesus only![3]
Fridfeldt understands why his supervising pastor relies on law and gospel to expose sin and deliver Christ to human hearts that need both. He concludes, “Can anything be greater than to be a pastor in God’s Church?”[4] He gets it. Jesus only.
This highlights three things about the care of souls Giertz wished to impart: Be a true pastor, with a true message, knowing who you were and are.
Next we will talk about some of Giertz’s other writings.
Rev. Benjamin Tomczak serves as pastor at Bethel Evangelical Lutheran and School in Sioux Falls, SD
[1] Bo Giertz, The Hammer of God (hereafter HoG) (Augsburg: Minneapolis, 2005), 144-45.
[2] HoG, 151.
[3] HoG, 174.
[4] HoG, 191.
Practical Theology: Fostering Brotherhood Among Pastors, Part 2: Identifying Obstacles
As with all Christian virtues and pursuits, fostering increased brotherhood begins with self-examination and repentance. Permit me to suggest that there are primarily two sins that stand as obstacles to fostering brotherhood—self-idolatry and pre-judices (spelling intentional).
Self-idolatry among pastors is nothing new. Martin Luther once wrote specifically about the Church’s teachers and preachers: “Everybody seeks his own glory, fame, and advantage by [their gifts and ability] and wants to stand out and be regarded as better than others.”[1] Self-idolatry shows itself in the following ways (with overlap):
- Over-inflating the importance of our role as pastors, to the point where we come dangerously close to elevating ourselves to Christ’s position. Certainly, we can also sinfully minimize the importance of our pastoral calling, but we over-inflate it when we regularly use our busy schedule as an excuse to cut short our time with our brothers, or to prevent such time in the first place.
- Viewing our fellow pastors as competitors rather than comrades. This can happen when we focus too much on statistics and ministry externals, or when we otherwise misplace our identity outside of our baptism.
- Succumbing to digital distractions. Do we find ourselves imagining that we can listen to a brother and read our texts or browse the internet? Do we insist on always answering our phone immediately, even if it interrupts a conversation with a brother or group study? Isn’t our current vocation—answering the needs of our brothers in the moment—more important than a potential vocation?
- Lack of genuine interest in others. One example: How many times do I ask, “So what did you preach on this past Sunday?” because really, I want to talk about what I preached on last Sunday—and to have my brother gush over it?
Pre-judices and slanders also hamper brotherhood. (These circulate among pastors too, don’t they?) If we merely trust what others negatively say about a fellow pastor, that can easily keep us from getting to know him for ourselves—and from being able to fraternally address what may need addressing, if the slanders are true.
Lord, have mercy on me, a pastor.
But repentance isn’t just recognizing our sins. It’s also looking to and trusting in our Savior. Jesus was all about others—for us. Jesus led his disciples to spend time with each other away from the ministry—for us. Jesus didn’t let people’s reputations prevent beneficial interaction—for us. Jesus gave others his full attention, sometimes even when there were other pressing matters that could have legitimately torn him away—for us. Jesus has atoned for all our sins and has clothed us with himself in our baptism. There he has also empowered us to live to his glory, including being better brothers to our fellow pastors.
In the next installment, we will consider how to do that by maximizing already-existing opportunities.
Rev. Nathaniel Biebert serves as pastor at Trinity Lutheran Church in Winner, SD.
[1] Weimarer Ausgabe 17/2:162, from his Quinquagesima sermon in his 1525 Lent Postil; translation mine.