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Religion & Liberty: Volume 34, Number 3

Conversation Starters with Rev. Hans Fiene

    Hans Fiene is the pastor of Prince of Peace Lutheran Church in Crestwood, Mo., and the creator of Lutheran Satire, a multimedia project intended to teach the Christian faith through humor. He is also a frequent contributor to The Federalist. A graduate of Indiana University and Concordia Theological Seminary, Hans and his wife, Katie, have four sons.


    We read a lot about the deconstructors and the “nones” who are leaving the faith and/or the institutional church, but another story is clergy burnout. According to Barna, some 38% of clergy are considering leaving the pulpit. Has this always been the case? Have we always asked too much of pastors, to be not only preachers and teachers but psychologists, marriage and career counselors, etc.? Or is there something new in the air? How do you deal with the demands of your vocation?

     I don’t think there’s ever been an especially easy time to be a pastor, and I certainly don’t envy pastors who have had to deal with plagues and war, harsh religious persecution, or destructive fighting in their church bodies. What I do think is a rather unique struggle for pastors today, however, is the commodification of the church. People can travel large distances, just as they can shape much of their religious identity through social media, which means they often want pastors to be purveyors of the religious aesthetic they prefer more than they want them to be actual shepherds receiving the gifts of Christ. And I think that’s the key to understanding pastoral burnout. Pastors don’t get burned out from being a pastor, really. Rather, pastors get burned out from having to be something other than pastors. So the way I avoid burnout is by pushing things off my table that aren’t really “pastor things” when I feel that sense of despair looming. I’ve never wanted to leave the ministry after doing devotions with the preschoolers or spending an hour visiting a 95-year-old shut-in. 

    A “low-church” theology and an anti-sacramentalism have long been features of Protestantism or at least fundamentalism and evangelicalism. When the “personal” and individualistic is so emphasized in American religion, how do you re-emphasize the necessity of the church? Has this de-churching been a factor in what appears to be a pandemic of loneliness? 

    I’ve often said that false dilemmas are the hallmark of an immature theologian, so when people employ the “it’s a relationship, not a religion” framework, this strikes me as a sign of spiritual malnourishment. The Bible calls us to see our union with God in relational terms. Jesus invites us to see His Father as our Father, to see that, in His resurrection, He has become our brother, and to recognize all those of the church as our family. And God has given us the gifts that establish this union in the religious acts of the church. In the preaching of the Gospel, we’re covered in the love that belongs to each of us individually yet makes us all one. In the one baptism, we’re joined to the one Lord and the one faith. In the Sacrament of the Altar, those who are separated by countless sins are made one through the righteousness of the only righteous One, Jesus Christ. To seek a relationship apart from religion is to enslave oneself to a life of loneliness. It’s nothing more than thinking about food at an otherwise empty family table. 

    I've often said that false dilemmas are the hallmark of an immature theologian, so when people employ the 'It's a relationship, not a religion' framework, this strikes me as a sign of spiritual malnourishment.

    You are perhaps most famous (or infamous) for your Lutheran Satire videos, in which you take on controversies in the church and even ancient heresies in a way that is both funny and instructive. What inspired this to be part of your vocation? What role can humor play in conveying God’s truth? Do you ever get negative feedback from colleagues, to the effect that you may be trivializing the Faith? 

    Some people are largely convinced that using humor to pick apart false teaching is an inherently bitter and unkind thing, so I’ve definitely gotten some criticism throughout the years for the work I’ve done with Lutheran Satire. I understand where those folks are coming from, but I just fundamentally disagree. Humor can be a very effective tool for picking apart false ideas. It often lets you get closer to the target than a straightforward approach would, just as it enables you to show the error of certain views in a much more concise way. That’s always my aim with Lutheran Satire.

    I know you’ve written a film script called A Christmas for Carol, mainly because I’ve read it. It’s very funny and I can see it becoming a very popular Netflix Christmas special easily. Do you think Christians need to carve out a Benedict Option–type “safe space” for their own entertainment and risk being ghettoized, or should budding filmmakers and actors find a way to carve out a niche within the larger mainstream-entertainment sphere and risk being coopted by non-Christian values? 

    If Hollywood had an interest in giving quarter to Christian content, I imagine they would have done it long ago. “The Passion of the Christ” was an easy formula to follow—have a talented Christian filmmaker, one that Christian audiences trust, make a movie. Then rake in the dollars. I don’t think Hollywood failed to follow this formula because they couldn’t figure it out. Rather, I think Hollywood failed to follow this formula because the only thing they want to do more than make money is not make Christian content.

    So I think Christians would be better served trying to create and support their own media platforms, but that highlights another big problem, namely that those who create Christian art are often so consumed with making something “Christian” that they forget the art part. We need our storytellers to be primarily concerned with conveying Christian beauty and truth, not saccharine moralizing or reactionary propaganda.

    Lutherans have never been big on preaching partisan politics in the pulpit. But when many among the more conservative and confessional elements of the church are now demanding more Christocentric civil and legal structures, sometimes described or denounced as “Christian Nationalism,” what does Luther’s Two Kingdoms theology have to offer as a response?

    I think the Christian Nationalism debate is equal parts intriguing and idiotic. On the one hand, I agree with Martin Luther that God hasn’t charged secular rulers with binding and forgiving sins, but He has charged them with defending and preserving the preaching of the Gospel. Luther wouldn’t recognize anything biblical in the view that the Ten Commandments and statues of Baphomet must be equally welcome in the courthouse. So if God gave me a world where I could have a faithful Lutheran government, I would gladly take it. 

    Arguing with people about the superiority of Christian nationalism is like arguing about whether we should use a Delorean or a phone booth when we invent time travel.

    On the other hand, any Christian student of history should be able to see that Caesar is a pretty terrible judge of what is orthodox and what isn’t, so the best way Caesar can serve the church is by staying out of the heresy business. And this is where I find the hyper-online clamoring for Christian Nationalism to be so silly. We don’t have faithful princes. We don’t have faithful voters. We don’t currently have the ingredients necessary to establish Christian Nationalism. We won’t have them any time soon, and we won’t have them very long if we get them. So arguing with people about the superiority of Christian Nationalism is like arguing about whether we should use a DeLorean or a phone booth when we invent time travel.

    Fun Question: What’s your favorite B&W film, and why?

    Probably The Apartment. It’s not a Christian film by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s a fun and beautiful film about redemption, honor, and courage. Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine may have the best chemistry of any couple in film history.

    Close runners-up: The Seven Samurai (for the battle scenes), Casablanca (for the ending), and Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure (I’ve been told that this is not a black-and-white film and that I need to see an ophthalmologist).


    Anthony Sacramone is Editor-in-Chief at the Acton Institute. A University Honors Scholar of NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts, Anthony has 30 years’ worth of publishing experience, having held numerous editorial titles for a wide variety of magazines and websites, including Biography, Discover, Men’s Fitness, the Wall Street Journal, the HistoryChannel.com, First Things, Commentary, and Modern Age. And for a brief period, he also had Rambo for a boss—literally. He and his wife, Denise, a Realtor, live in Wilmington, Del. You can also find him at anthonysacramone.com and on X: