In Pursuit of Religious Freedom: Bishop Martin Stephan's Journey

by Stephan, Philip

  A German pastor from New York, Johann Grabau, joined these conversations with Walther and Loehe. Grabau sided with Loehe about the authority ordination gave to a pastor. Neither pastor would yield. Loehe formed the Iowa Synod, which later became part of the American Lutheran Church, and Grabau formed the Buffalo Synod. After Grabau’s death, the Buffalo Synod eventually joined the Iowa Synod, even after some of its congregations had already joined Missouri Synod. Stephan’s own positions, which had come under such fire, were not heterodox after all.

  The episcopal form of governance that the Stephan emigration adopted has continually been challenged. Stephan attempted this type of government because for him it was the closest to New Testament practice. The episcopacy experiment was useful and perhaps necessary. Because the Missouri Synod fought against it, fearing abuse of power, this organizational structure was suspect in some of the ethnic Lutheran groups. And now in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, the Missouri Synod both flirts with and shuns various forms of episcopacy. It is ironic that the Missouri Synod dismissed episcopal government with the Stephan deposition and feared a hierarchical rule of any kind. Yet, today, they give their district presidents the same authority and power over the pastors, contrary to their own constitution.

  The Missouri Synod was founded on the principle that this church was to be a loose federation of independent, autonomous, congregations, who give their pastors authority to be minister by calling them to their congregations to be their pastor. In practice, the Missouri Synod has a very top-down government headed by a president, four vice-presidents, and many district presidents who, when they are in convention, act as the council of presidents. All calls and ordinations must be cleared by district presidents. Individual autonomous congregations pledge their allegiance to a Missouri Synod constitution that binds them to the Word of God and the unaltered Augsburg Confessions. This constitution forbids congregations to deviate from the synod constitution or teach anything that diverges from the accepted Word of God as they all understand it in common.6

  Other critics came forward after his death to challenge Stephan’s theology and ministry. One such analyst was Ottomar Fuerbringer. Fuerbringer, a contemporary of Stephan and president of Concordia Seminary in St. Louis, gathered information about Stephan during his many trips to Germany. Many of his writings have but recently become available.7

  He identified Stephan’s “errors” and “heresies” that dealt mostly with the theology of Church and the Holy Ministry. He suggested that Stephan had gathered seven hundred people around him in a “cult-like dependency” who then “trampled Luther’s teaching in several key areas.” Although Fuerbringer mostly agreed with Stephan’s definitions of the visible church and invisible church, terms that neither Luther nor the Augsburg Confessions used, he disputed Stephan’s emphasis on people’s participation in public worship as a demonstration of their life in the visible church.8 The visible church is designed to support the unseen life of the invisible church; what pastor does not encourage his congregation to gather together around the Word and sacraments for their spiritual nourishment, as stated in the Augsburg Confession?

  He also charged Stephan for falsely teaching that the true church exists only where there is the succession of ordained preachers from the Apostles’ time, and that the office of bishop allowed him to rule above all other pastors. Fuerbringer thought that Stephan taught that the ministry of the pastor is given directly by Christ, and this empowers the pastor to preach and administer the sacrament. Martin Stephan would have gladly accepted this characterization, because for Stephan this theology of ministry was grounded in the scripture.

  Stephan’s definitions of ministry and church had been carefully framed long ago, by Luther and the Lutheran Confessions. The Reformer was clear about the church when he confessed in the Augsburg Confession article 7 that “The holy Christian church will be and remain forever. This is the assembly of all believers among whom the Gospel is preached in its purity and the holy sacraments are administered according to the Gospel.” But Stephan would have refused the notion that no one can be saved unless there is a pastor who reassures people of their salvation. Quite the contrary, Pastor Stephan’s sermons state clearly that the Gospel assures people they are loved and accepted or saved by God.

  Ottomar Fuerbringer made the case for congregational autonomy, which became the stated teaching of the Missouri Synod during and after the days of C. F. W. Walther. He seems to have simply presented the party line that attempted to stamp out any lingering “Stephanite” ideas about pastoral authority that differed from Missouri Synod’s primacy of congregational authority. The problem of authority and the Holy Ministry plagues the Missouri Synod laymen and clergy to this day.

  Some twentieth-century writers seemed bound to heap blame on Stephan for all the misery that the emigration community suffered. This kind of finger pointing resurfaced during the years of the Saxon Emigration’s one hundredth anniversary. Films and books portrayed Stephan as mean spirited, autocratic, a false teacher, and a womanizer. Stories were replicated many times without ever noting that, although Stephan was accused, he was never tried nor given an opportunity to tell his side of the story, much less a chance to repent and receive forgiveness if he had admitted adultery.

  Other LCMS historians called Martin Stephan a remarkable personality who had a strong organizing ability. Interestingly, some teaching materials for LCMS schools avoid specific charges made against Stephan and confine the story to the emigration and development of the Missouri Synod.9

  In a recent book on the history of authority in the LCMS titled Authority Vested by Mary Todd, formerly of Concordia University, River Forest, Illinois, notes that although C. F. W. Walther is considered the father of the LCMS, Bishop Martin Stephan is the man who led his 665 [700] followers to America so they could practice correct, pure Lutheran doctrine. She tells the story of Bishop Stephan’s ouster saying that even if he was guilty, Walther saw to his ouster, contrary to the Gospel teachings. Todd makes the case that having expelled their leader and pastor, the people never really came to grips with the question of authority in the church. She claims that the early embrace of church polity based on the autonomy of the individual congregation underlies the lingering ambiguity about authority of the larger church body and ministry.10

  The Missouri Synod has mostly drifted to a centralized institution in recent years but remains ambivalent in its stance on church and ministry. When Rev. David Behnke, president of the New York District of the LCMS, participated in the interfaith service of prayer in Yankee Stadium after the holocaust of the Twin Towers on 9/11, this prayerful event triggered another debate on authority and the church hierarchy. The synod’s right wing demanded that Behnke be removed from the synod as district president and as pastor because of his “unionist” practice. These charges were refuted by church officials. Pastor Behnke returned to his ministry.

  It seems puzzling that the issues of Stephan’s ministry raised such a pitch of critical writing from Walther’s time through the centennial celebrations of the Saxon emigration and into the twenty-first century. One could see in this a backhanded tribute to a man who, in spite of his human weakness, gave the church such energy, leadership, enthusiasm, and spiritual vision.

  NOTES

  1 Letter to Theo M. Stephan, n.d., Stephan Family Archives.

  2 Ernst Moritz Buerger, “Memoirs of Ernst Moritz Buerger,” trans. Edgar Buerger, Concordia Historical Monthly Spring (2004): 4.

  3 J. H. Hartenberger and Gottlieb Roehrkasse, “Note on a Memo Pad,” (unpublished note, St. Louis: Concordia Historical Institute), Stephan File F–14. This handwritten note was stored in the Stephan files of CHI. It seems rather unusual that this kind of document, based on undocumented hearsay even merited a file classification based on hearsay by the Concordia Historical Institute of the Missouri Synod.

  4 Jane Lucht, e-mail message to author, February 16, 2006. As church historian she verified that a Christian burial was c
onducted.

  5 Conrad Bergendoff, The Church of the Lutheran Reformation (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1967), 232–35.

  6 David Roozen and James R. Nieman, Church, Identity and Change: Theology and Denomination Structure in Unsettled Times (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2005). The authors assert the same conclusions about the development of the ancestors of the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod. While giving lip service to the autonomy of the individual congregation in this loose alliance, in reality the real authority rests with the “Word of God and the Lutheran Confessions.” No deviation is permitted in regard to interpretation of the scriptures and the confessions. This is enforced by the synodical officials.

  7 Ottomar Fuerbringer, “Summary of the Errors through which Stephan Deviated from the Exemplary Teaching of Jesus Christ...,” trans. John Conrads (unpublished ms., St. Louis: Concordia Historical Institute), Saxon File 13. Ottomar Fuerbringer’s writings and the P. F. Hanewinkel notes translated by Professor Dau in Ottomar Fuerbringer’s possession were given to son Ludwig Fuerbringer. After Ludwig Fuerbringer died, his collection was given to Concordia Historical Institute. Ottomar had written a paper regarding the errors of Martin Stephan’s theology and ministry. This manuscript was typed in German by Rev. Otto H. Dorn in 1991. The original manuscript is not dated but its content became known after Ludwig Fuerbringer’s death. Forster’s footnotes in his book Zion on the Mississippi indicate that these records and papers had just become available through CHI after his book went to press in 1953.

  8 Fuerbringer, “Summary of the Errors,” 6.

  9 Gustav Pollack, The Building of a Great Church (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1941), 10.

  10 Mary Todd, Authority Vested (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2000).

  33

  Bishop Martin Stephan’s Legacy

  Bishop Martin Stephan left a rich spiritual legacy to this small group of Lutherans he led to America. And American Lutheranism still witnesses to his encouraging and sometimes subtle contributions. In spite of many negative statements about his leadership, other voices appraise the bishop’s positive influence.

  Martin Stephan’s strongest legacy to his followers and to his family was his conviction: a faith that encompassed his love of religious freedom and his support of individual rights. His spirit of individualism was what America loved and fostered. Stephan passed on his dedication to, and conviction in, the lasting and definitive character of the Lutheran Confessions. He proudly carried the spirit of the “Old Lutherans” who cherished and practiced the tenets and faith of the Reformation. Some of his contemporaries thought him a religious conservative, and he would have gladly worn that title as he fought to conserve the Lutheran heritage. Stephan’s resistance to the Saxon Church’s abandonment of the Lutheran Confessions contributed to placing these confessions as a cornerstone of Lutheranism in America. He labored tirelessly for the principles of the Lutheran Reformation.

  Bishop Stephan brought centuries of pietistic faith and practice to those who founded the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod. This pietism, rooted in the Moravian Brethren of his ancestors, was not at all rigid, enthusiastic, nor ascetic as he demonstrated by his intensely personal relationship with God. With his help, other people discovered a personal, knowing relationship with God, too. His sermons breathed the essence of that spiritual life which sought to “know” God intimately, in contrast to a faith born purely of biblical and symbolical doctrine or reasoned propositions to be assented to. He trusted in a God who kept His promises of love and spiritual nurturance. The bases of faith and life for him were the same: faith is to be lived and practiced.

  His weekly conventicles were not his own invention. He found these midweek meetings already in place at St. John’s congregation in Dresden. They were the spiritual dynamo for the people. Through the conventicles Pastor Stephan and his congregation sought to apply God’s promises to their personal, ordinary lives. Stephan’s brand of pietistic study and prayer did not come close to the rigid ascetic practice that nearly cost the life of young C. F. W. Walther. In the midweek prayer and study groups Stephan’s congregation could go deep into their emotional lives, in order that the Spirit of God might guide them on their spiritual journey.

  Pastor Stephan encouraged a wholesome practice of the sacrament of confession and absolution. This ancient rite was critical to shaping one’s life in relationship to God. Holy confession with absolution was considered a sacrament in the fullest sense as Luther had defined it, “an outward sign of an inward grace.” The spoken word of absolution conveyed forgiveness, comfort, and encouragement. The “Office of Christ” in Pastor Stephan’s ministry meant that the confessor would either give or withhold forgiveness, according to the office of the keys instituted by Christ. Stephan understood his role in this sacrament: the words of absolution were the physical symbols of God’s liberation from slavery to one’s self-serving interests.

  Closely tied to the Sacrament of holy absolution was Stephan’s clear and biblical understanding of the holy ministry. He had no doubt that the holy ministry was deeply rooted in the Lutheran understanding of the church, as based in the Augsburg Confession. Stephan often quoted the Lutheran Confessions when teaching about the church’s office of ministry. Ministry was God’s gift to help the church to equip the saints. The holy ministry was not just a call from a congregation to a pastor, nor was it the authorization of some district president or bishop. Even though Stephan followed the organizational principle of the German Church—going through the training and the calling process to become a pastor of a congregation—he believed and taught that the ministry was a special calling within the priesthood of all believers. “As a called and ordained servant of the Word,” he harbored no illusion that his ministry allowed him to lord it over others. Stephan spoke of how a graceful God in Christ had shown the way and guided him. He knew that God loves and endows His people with various gifts of service in roles of pastor, teacher, apostle, and prophet.

  Stephan’s experiment with the episcopacy is another of his legacies to the church. When he suggested Episcopal governance during the planning meetings in Dresden, his proposal was directly related to his theology of the holy ministry. Clergy could become bishops, but such a role was neither part of the “office of Christ” nor a special gift to the apostolic church. Nor did he hold to the apostolic succession of the bishop of Rome. He also made it clear that the episcopacy was not a divine gift, nor was it commanded by the Word of God. It was a human institution and as such it was not essential to the nature of the church. Episcopacy had been in use in much of Europe since the Reformation. As stated in the Codes of the Saxon Society, the powers of governance would be so divided that laity would manage finances, properties, building of schools, and so on. Even though the successors to Stephan found the Episcopal form of government offensive, their discomfort was only due to the fear that the laity would not have a role in governance.

  Part of Martin’s legacy is his imperfect address to his human condition. He experienced abandonment as an orphan and exile from the land of his birth, an experience shared by earlier generations of his family. This homeless estrangement haunted him much of his life, and he feared rejection and abandonment. Yet he did not endeavor to “be liked,” was realistic, and worked for the kind of justice that included religious liberty. His shadow side displayed anger, sometimes masking pain. At times he was brusque, sarcastic, or brash, especially when challenged. He could be critical of fellow clergy and society members. Sometimes, his anger was thinly veiled in a sermon, such as when he declared that the complaining people who followed him to America were not worthy of his leadership.

  Even attorney Koerner, who took Stephan’s lawsuit for no pay in order to “right an injustice,” commented about his behavior: “Mr. Stephan is of an impassioned nature and I have often pleaded with him to control his temper.”

  He was never irresolute and always passionate about what he believed. As a pastor he preached with heart an
d conviction, and always with love for his hearers. Martin Stephan was not perfect, and he knew that the Christian calling is not to perfection but to relentlessly follow the Christ who portrays the perfect God. In this he is an example to us all.

  A special part of Stephan’s legacy is his son, Martin Stephan V. Although information about him is scarce, it is clear his travels took him across the Atlantic at least four times. Letters from Martin Jr. to his family in Germany are lost. A diary of Martin Jr. was once part of the Stephan family collection, but it disappeared. It was identified as such by the distinct small, neat handwriting and signature he used in other family letters and documents. In the family archives remain only the 1840 letter from Martin Sr. to his son and a letter from Martin Jr. to his brother-in-law, Georg Schick.1

  After his father’s deposition, Martin Jr. stayed in Perry County, most likely in Altenburg where he enrolled in Concordia College’s first class. He graduated with an education equivalent to an American college sophomore. When he heard that his mother was not well, he returned to Dresden in 1841. There he enrolled in the architecture school. At the age of twenty-one he was already apprenticed in that field. Then his mother died. Martin continued his work and education with the support of his mother’s family who were architects.

  In 1847, a year after his father’s death, Martin Jr. returned to the United States to prepare for ministry in the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Missouri, Ohio, and Other States, subsequently known as the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod. He was twenty-four. Whatever moved him to leave a well-paying job where he already enjoyed success and reputation he does not explain. What is clear is that Martin was not deterred by continuing personal attacks on his father. If anything, he may have been motivated by the events of 1839 to demonstrate that his father was not as “evil” as portrayed. He hinted at one reason for going back to Missouri, that he was encouraged by friends to return to the United States and study for the Lutheran ministry. It took a lot of courage for Martin V to reenter the scene that had been filled with such bitterness.