We Have Got to Talk About Usury (Part XIX): Lending at Interest and the Missouri Synod—1870 to the End of the Discussion
The following post is the nineteenth in a series on usury by the Rev. Vincent Shemwell. Rev. Shemwell serves as pastor of Bethlehem Lutheran Church in Johnson City, Tennessee. He graduated from Concordia Theological Seminary in Fort Wayne with the M.Div. in 2022, and received his STM from CTSFW in 2024, writing his thesis on Johann Georg Hamann. The previous installments can be found below:
Part I: Introduction
Part II: The Old Testament
Part III: The New Testament
Part IV: The Church Fathers—Clement of Alexandria through Hilary of Poitiers
Part V: The Church Fathers — The Cappadocians
Part VI: The Church Fathers — Church Councils and Ambrose
Part VII: The Church Fathers—Chrysostom through Leo the Great
Part VIII: Medieval Theologians
Part IX: The Medieval Church Continued—Councils, Canon Law, Dante, and Other Matters
Part X: Luther—His First Foray, in Translation
Part XI: The Strauss Affair and Luther’s Long Sermon
Part XII: Luther on Why Pastors Must Preach against Usury
Part XIII: Miscellaneous Mentions by Luther and a Few Misconceptions
Part XIV: After Luther—Spangenberg, Melanchthon, Brenz, Aepinus, Chemnitz, and Selnecker
Part XV: Rhegius, Hunnius, Gerhard, and the Setting of a Bright Sun
Part XVI: The Regensburg Dispute of 1587
Part XVII: C.F.W. Walther and the Nineteenth Century Struggle Against Usury—1838 to 1868
Part XVIII: C.F.W. Walther and the Nineteenth Century Struggle Against Usury—The General Convention of 1869
Several weeks after the General Convention of 1869, the following report on its proceedings appeared in print (Der Lutheraner XXVI [1 October 1869], 21): “In six full sessions, the first five theses on lending at interest were discussed in a thorough manner. Unfortunately, there was a lack of time to bring the deliberations concerning the fifth thesis entirely to a conclusion, although in the end only a few raised further objections against it, and each of them was willing to allow himself to be further instructed from God’s Word.”
At the close of the Convention, Walther and the other synodical editors were urged to continue their opposition to lending at interest as they had done previously, a directive that suggests a clear endorsement of the traditional understanding of usury (Convention Proceedings, 106). Although assurances were given that the usury question would not be handled precipitously, the Convention concluded by encouraging all members to undertake careful study of the theses presented by Theodor Brohm.
The debate at the Convention itself was likely a bit more intense than the author of the report in Der Lutheraner suggests. And because Brohm shifted the focus from explicit biblical prohibition to the commandment to love one’s neighbor and to practical outcomes, little resolution was actually achieved regarding the inherent sinfulness of charging interest. Nevertheless, as 1869 drew to a close, Synod gave no indication that the question of usury would be set aside. On the contrary, it reaffirmed the position expressed at the outset of the Convention (Convention Proceedings, 55, 57), and consistently maintained by both Luther and Walther, that erring brothers were to be instructed with patience.
Early that next year, perhaps in response to the claim made by opponents in 1869 that the prohibition of lending at interest belongs not to the moral law but only to the ancient civil law given to Israel, an article was published in which the author argues, in keeping with Luther, against lending at interest solely on the basis of Luke 6:35 (Der Lutheraner XXVI [1 April 1870], 113). The author writes: “‘Lend, hoping for nothing in return.’ These words are plainly stated in Luke 6:35. They are the very words of God; the words of our Lord Jesus Christ. And therefore, to these words as well there applies the saying of the Lord in Matthew 24:35: ‘Heaven and earth will pass away, but My words will by no means pass away.’ And it is also written in Matthew 5:19: ‘Whoever therefore breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches men so, shall be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does and teaches them, he shall be called great in the kingdom of heaven.’”
The author goes on to argue that, in this passage, Christ teaches that lending by Christians is not ordered toward self–enrichment but toward sanctification (113–14). For this reason, lending must always remain gratuitous, so that it may function as a genuine work of love within the Christian community. In opposition to figures such as Siegmund Fritschel of the Iowa Synod, who, appealing to the “law of love,” maintained that Luke 6:35 should not be understood as a commandment against lending at interest, the author compares this convenient neglect of Christ’s clear words to the interpretive approach of the libertine Carpocratian heretics of the early church, “who taught that the outward conduct of a man is a matter of indifference, and that everything depends only upon a feeling of faith and love” (114).
He continues by observing the paucity of loving lending in practice (115): “Indeed, this good work has now become very rare in the world; there are not many who so freely lend to their neighbor and help him. Instead, everyone wishes to be handsomely paid even for the smallest ‘service of love.’ And the Christian who wishes to comply with this clear command of his Lord in Luke 6:35 must submit to being mocked as a fool, to being deceived, and thus to suffering loss. Yet he also has this with which to comfort himself, that Christ still adds: ‘So will your reward be great.’ The Lord God is so rich and gracious that He can and will repay all of this. If He does not repay you for what you thus lose while seeking to live according to His command in earthly goods, He will nonetheless repay it a thousandfold in spiritual goods here in time and there in eternity; indeed, He has already repaid everything a thousandfold. ‘Godliness is profitable for all things, having promise of the life that now is and of that which is to come.’ 1 Timothy 4:8.”
Finally, with respect to the distinction between lending at interest and investment in a partnership, where risk and profit are shared, he concludes on the grounds of Luke 6:35, as Luther had previously (115): “If someone wishes to borrow from me who is not in need, who wants to conduct business with my money, am I allowed to demand compensation from him for lending him my money? Answer: With such a person, lending would not be appropriate; for such lending would be similar to giving alms to one who is already well-off. That would not be a work of love, and nor does God require that of me. To such a person, therefore, I should not lend money, for that would be folly. But if he were otherwise acceptable to me, I could enter into a partnership contract with him, in which he would give me a portion of the profit made with my money, if profit were made. That would not necessarily be wrong.”
In that same month, Walther addressed an objection apparently raised at the General Convention (see Brohm’s eleventh thesis, Convention Proceedings, 52), namely, that the traditional teaching against lending at interest leads to communism (Lehre und Wehre XVI [April 1870], 125–26): “There is indeed good reason even now to fear that, in fact, should the usury of the capitalists continue as it has up to the present, the outcome may actually be a socialist revolution, one that will reclaim the interest already paid with terrible force and in overwhelming measure.” For Walther, it was not the church’s historic teaching against usury that threatened to produce communism, but rather the excesses of unbridled capitalism.
Later that summer, and not without a measure of humor, Walther issued the following challenge, again directed at Professor Fritschel (Lehre und Wehre XVI [July 1870], 223): “The chief question remains whether the prophets’ condemnation of lending at interest in their exposition of the law is presented by Scripture itself, according to the Lutheran principle that Scripture must interpret Scripture, as merely a temporary civil law…. Hic Rhodus, hic salta!” In other words, if Psalm 15 and Ezekiel 18 are to be understood, as Fritschel maintained, contrary to nearly two millennia of church tradition, as referring not to the moral law, then prove it! For the burden of proof rests with those who depart from the church’s historic teaching.
Walther remained steadfast in his conviction that all lending at interest is forbidden. At the same time, in the aftermath of the 1869 General Convention, he recognized that mishandling this question could threaten the unity of the Synod. Accordingly, he was careful to insist upon a distinction between doctrines of Scripture that constitute fundamental articles of faith and those that do not, and he made clear that the Synod’s leadership had no intention of suspending church fellowship over the latter.
In one article, he articulates both his sharp opposition to the worldliness of those who defend lending at interest and his resolve to prevent the usury question from fracturing the Synod: (Der Lutheraner XXVII [1 May 1871], 131): “Defenders of usury know well enough beforehand that whatever they may say in defense of usury, the whole world will applaud them, and the more confidently they speak, the more it will cry out to them, ‘Bravo! Bravissimo!’ … But they should also know full well that we do indeed understand how to distinguish between articles of faith and those teachings of Scripture which are not such. To be sure, we do not allow any clear teaching of Scripture, whether it may seem great or small, to be turned into a so-called ‘open question.’ But while we consider it necessary, for every article of faith—on each of which our faith and hope depend—to fight to the utmost, to condemn the opposing error, and to break fellowship with those who stubbornly contradict it, we by no means consider it necessary in every case to carry the struggle to the utmost over other teachings of Scripture that are not articles of faith, much less to pronounce a judgment of condemnation upon the opposing error—although we full-throatedly reject it—or to break fellowship with those who err only in this matter.”
Toward the end of that same year, a startling cautionary tale about a usurious landlord in Berlin was shared, impressing upon the Synod’s readers the gravity of avarice’s social harm (Der Lutheraner XXVIII [1 December 1871], 37): “A few days ago, a well-to-do citizen and owner of rental houses celebrated his birthday in quite a solemn manner. Various gifts arrived, among them a small, neatly addressed, sealed box, delivered by the postman. The recipient opened it with delight, but who can describe his terror when he drew from the box a rope, to which a note was attached bearing the none-too-flattering message: ‘Take this rope, you old miser, as a reminder of the fate that awaits you. For you shall eventually hang as punishment for the perpetual rent increases with which you have plagued your tenants.’”
In 1872, the Synod published the pamphlet mentioned in the previous part of our series, entitled “Let Your Conscience Be Bound Regarding Lending at Interest, Which Is Usury.” There the familiar argument was once again set forth: any opposition to the church’s traditional teaching against lending at interest constitutes an error; one to be addressed with patience, yet one that cannot be tolerated within the Christian church. Four years later, in 1876, Walther’s “Thesen über den Wucher,” first published a decade earlier in Lehre und Wehre, was reissued in pamphlet form and circulated widely throughout the Synod.
Even so, throughout the 1870s and 1880s, discussion of the usury question appears to have been less prominent than in earlier years. Although it had been explicitly stated at the 1869 General Convention that the issue would not be set aside, it received progressively less attention as the century drew to a close.
Yet Walther, altogether characteristically, continued to press the issue, albeit with diminished intensity. Notably, in his Americanisch-Lutherische Pastoraltheologie, first published in 1872 and long treated as a classic of LCMS seminary instruction, he passionately exhorts his fellow pastors to preach the whole counsel of God, after the example of Paul to the Ephesian elders, even on uncomfortable matters such as usury (American-Lutheran Pastoral Theology, ed. David W. Loy, trans. Christian C. Tiews [St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 2017], 109–10): “It is first of all a substantial shortcoming if a preacher presents to his hearers only biblical doctrines but not all the biblical doctrines revealed for salvation; or if he mentions all of them over time but never presents some of them thoroughly with some completeness, according to their connection to the whole body of doctrine and according to their importance for faith and life. Since a preacher is not lord over the faith of his hearers or over the Word, but only a steward of the mysteries of God and a minister of the Word (2 Cor. 1:24; 1 Cor. 4:1; Luke 1:2), every instance of withholding a doctrine of Holy Scripture is an inexcusable robbery he commits against his hearers. It is therefore advisable that the preacher make a schedule at the beginning of every church year to use the pericopes for Sundays and festival days in such a way that, if possible, taking into account other opportunities to present certain important truths, every fundamental article of the Christian faith has its place over the course of a year. If an attentive hearer has perhaps already listened to a preaching perhaps for years without having been informed about important things that belong to Christian faith and life, then this would be a not insignificant charge against the preacher. If a preacher, for example, has never given thorough instruction about ... usury ... then it can happen through the preacher’s fault that some of his hearers go dangerously astray out of ignorance, and he cannot boast with Paul that he is innocent of all blood.”
Several years later, in an article on usury, St. Louis seminary professor Martin Günther publicly furthered Walther’s moderated approach by affirming the truth of the historic teaching while likewise emphasizing the necessity of patient instruction for those in error. He writes (Lehre und Wehre XXII [March 1876], 68–69): “With regard to the doctrine of usury, we do not say that it is a primary article of faith, nor even necessarily a secondary one, but we designate it only as a moral dogma; yet it is still a doctrine of the Holy Word, and therefore an important teaching. And we believe that it must be earnestly taught, especially in our land and in these dreadful end times, when ‘usury and avarice have burst in like a flood and have been made lawful’ (SA Preface 12). But that we have somehow made this doctrine a condition of church fellowship cannot be proven.”
A decade on, in 1888, a year after Walther’s death, H.C. Schwan, then president of the Synod, published a multipart article entitled “Against the Sin of Usury” (The Lutheran Witness VI [May 21, 1888], 188; VII [June 7, June 21, July 7, 1888], 4–5; 12; 20–21). The series was based on a catechetical lecture he had delivered to the Cleveland Pastoral Conference in the summer of 1880. In one part, he writes with utmost clarity about the evil of charging interest (VII [June 21, 1888], 12): “Now, children, if you observe how usury renders the hearts of men so cold and hard, how it misleads into lying, deceiving and all kinds of injustice; how it ruins innumerable men in body and soul; yea, threw into distress whole nations, for which reason all intelligent pagans have condemned it time and again; if you knew what distress and misery is caused thereby in the commerce of our country; if you knew, for instance, that it is only because of those usurious corners in wheat, corn, coffee, etc., that poor people must continue to pay the same price for bread, corn, coffee, etc., though God Almighty causes three times more to grow than is necessary—if you knew all these things you would not be surprised at the fact that it is the very usury against which God threatened such severe punishments.”
And in the concluding part of the series, Schwan admonishes his readers (VII [July 7, 1888], 21): “Perhaps [many usurers] do not know better, because the pure doctrine concerning usury has been sadly obscured for ages…. [But] you know better now. Do then above all things guard your hearts, lest earthly-mindedness and the love of money gain the ascendancy therein. And thereafter if money and property increase with you, beware of all transactions and of all business which are in the least tainted with manifest usury. On the other hand, lend willingly whenever you may. Though then nothing accrue to you from men, be of good cheer still. The Lord will respect it as lent unto Himself and He will make up the difference here and reward you openly hereafter.” Once again, a faithful theologian directed the church to Proverbs 19:17 as the enduring guide for Christians in matters of lending and good works.
After 1890, the question of usury received comparatively little attention in official synodical publications. However, it continued to be discussed and debated at numerous pastoral conferences extending well into the twentieth century, as late as 1919 (for the list of conferences, see James W. Albers, “The History of the Attitudes within the Missouri Synod Toward Life Insurance” [D.Th. diss., Concordia Seminary, St. Louis, 1972], 138).
Within this context of relative quiet, a shift began to emerge in the early 1900s, as several prominent theologians moved to redefine usury as “excessive interest” rather than interest as such. Among them was Paul Edward Kretzmann, a professor at the St. Louis seminary best known for his four-volume Popular Commentary of the Bible. Kretzmann, who later departed the LCMS during the “Battle for the Bible” to help form the Orthodox Lutheran Conference (now the Concordia Lutheran Conference), was among those who subtly assimilated the prevailing secular definition of usury into a theological framework (Albers, “The History of Attitudes,” 139).
When lending at interest was addressed during the first few decades of the new century, it was increasingly framed in terms of “the law of love” or the commandment to love one’s neighbor. Rather than engaging the biblical prohibitions themselves, along with their inerrancy and continuing authority, discussion largely shifted toward practical outcomes. So long as borrowers were not seriously harmed by the charging of interest, the practice came to be regarded as permissible.
By the 1920s, this drastic reorientation of the conversation had become firmly established. One clear indication of this is the Concordia Cyclopedia entry on usury, approved by the seminary faculty at the time, which states (ed. Ludwig Fürbringer [St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1927], 796): “In the New Testament the question is taken up from the viewpoint of brotherly love. Taking interest is not specifically forbidden, yet gratuitous lending is commended.” The article then distinguishes between charitable obligation and commercial activity, stating that almsgiving is required for the poor and needy, and that gratuitous lending is appropriate for those in temporary distress, while permitting the taking of interest in cases of lending for business purposes or to persons of substantial means.
By this point, a decisive shift had plainly occurred. The teaching long upheld by Luther, Walther, and Schwan, and broadly reflected across the greater part of church history, had been displaced in favor of a fairly novel understanding of usury. Yet when attempts were made in the late 1920s and early 1930s to press the Synod to acknowledge openly that its position had changed, those efforts were largely met with silence (Albers, “The History of Attitudes,” 139). The Missouri Synod of the interwar period, and in the decades thereafter, appears to have had little interest in recognizing this doctrinal change in any clear and public manner.
The reasons for this quiet transformation merit closer examination. Professor Albers suggests several contributing factors. One was the loss of Walther’s “dominating personality” (Albers, “The History of Attitudes,” 139–40). By the mid-1920s, roughly forty years had passed since Walther’s death, and many of his direct students were no longer especially active. Yet Walther had not stood alone in defending the traditional teaching on usury. Rudolf Lange had exercised a similar influence, and other dominating figures such as Friedrich Wyneken, H. C. Schwan, and Franz Pieper had likewise opposed lending at interest, meaning that the presidents of the Synod from its founding through 1911 were in substantial agreement with Walther on this question.
Albers also points to the failure of the laity to receive the teaching and to a general neglect of Luther’s writings on usury (139–40). Walther himself was adamant that the most effective means of persuading Godfearing Christians on this issue is direct engagement with Luther’s treatment of it (see, for instance, his letter to H. C. Schwan, dated July 7, 1865, in Briefe von C. F. W. Walther, ed. Ludwig Fürbringer, vol. I [St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1915], 224–25). To what extent this occurred within very many congregations remains unclear. What can be confirmed, however, is that many of the most outspoken critics of Luther’s position in the late nineteenth century were affluent businessmen associated with a number of prominent congregations. It is not implausible to suppose that both Synod as a whole and individual congregations exercised particular caution so as not to alienate influential lay members of considerable means. Scripture warns against showing such partiality (James 2:1–9), yet it has perennially posed a temptation within the church.
Finally, Albers suggests that the gradual alteration in teaching on usury may reflect a broader shift in the Synod’s understanding of the inerrancy of Scripture (140). Obviously, this did become a serious issue for the LCMS in the twentieth century, and it is not unreasonable to consider whether an emerging tendency toward Gospel reductionism and a corresponding attenuation of commitment to the authority of the whole counsel of God contributed to the eventual acceptance of the popular conception of lending at interest. Yet, as the story has been told to me, we won that battle in 1974…
These considerations are all plausible, but the most consequential factor behind this unacknowledged shift in teaching, also noted by Albers, was likely the stark divergence between doctrine and practice (140–42). Walther, following Luther, held that only “gross usurers,” namely those who persisted in lending at interest while knowing its sinfulness or who imposed excessive rates, were to be rebuked and, if necessary, excluded from the church on account of their impenitence (Die Wucherfrage: Protokoll der Verhandlungen der deutschen ev. luth. Gemeinde U.A.C. zu St. Louis, Mo., über diese Frage [1869], 20–21). Those engaged in usury in a more limited or indirect manner, particularly individuals who either did not yet understand the teaching or were not fully convinced of the sinfulness of lending at moderate interest, were instead to be treated with gentleness and instructed patiently (32). This same restrained approach was reaffirmed at the 1869 General Convention (Convention Proceedings, 57).
Moreover, Walther maintained that the rigorous exercise of church discipline could be imprudent if it threatened to cause serious scandal or fracture a congregation. At the same time, he insisted that a pastor must never speak or act against the truth of God’s Word. In practice, this meant that there may be circumstances in which a pastor might be compelled to endure the presence of sin quietly, without either denying the truth or precipitating greater harm.
As an illustration of this principle, Walther offered the following counsel in a letter dated April 14, 1866, to Rev. J. A. Ottesen of the Norwegian Synod, who likewise sought to live faithfully amid the pervasive realities of usury (Walthers Briefe II [1916], 28–29): “It is true that this one passage, Luke 6:27–35, turns the entire world upside down and makes even Christians into damned sinners, unless one wishes, like the papists, to rescue oneself by declaring that Christ’s demands are not commandments at all but merely ‘evangelical counsels,’ given to those who wish to do something a little extra, more than is required for entrance into heaven, and who desire to increase the church’s treasury of merit, the treasury of those works of supererogation. But enough of this, let us come to the matter at hand! I am quite willing to believe, first of all, that you were placed in the necessity of borrowing without having wished it. Now as regards the borrowing of money at interest from members of the congregation, however, it is certainly true that those pastors among you who are not yet firmly grounded in the doctrine of usury cannot punish people for taking interest; for by doing so they would only trouble consciences without being able to place them on a firm foundation, which is entirely unchristian and unevangelical. In doing so, they would also harm themselves; for whoever cannot yet clearly establish the doctrine of usury from God’s Word—I am not speaking of difficult cases where principles may collide, of course—has not yet himself recognized it and has no true faith concerning it. But whoever would want to fight on such a low level of understanding would thereby ground himself on respect of persons, which in matters of God is an abomination. Most of you, however, who are dealing with this matter seem at least to be uncertain about it. But to act in uncertainty is also to act against conscience (Rom. 14:23). One may, of course, temporarily postpone bearing witness against a sin if one is either not yet certain about it, or if one sees that for the present time only more harm would be caused by church discipline, that Christians would be driven away from God’s Word, and that one would be more likely to prevail later on. Yet it is one thing not to punish a sin immediately, and quite another to invite, advise, and participate with others in committing it. Not speaking the truth, keeping silent, is often necessary and right; but speaking and acting against the truth is never necessary, never right. God Himself indeed permits evil, but He never occasions it, demands it, or commands it. Thus, wise pastoral care may well require that people not be burdened immediately with the doctrine of usury; but to induce them to practice usury, or to conclude a usurious contract with them, is against conscience, if one knows, or even just suspects, that it is a usurious contract. And there is this further consideration: how does one expect to excuse oneself later, when one brings this doctrine forward and the people respond: ‘Why, you yourself led me into usury earlier on!?’”
The reality is that even in Walther’s own day, lending at interest had already become so deeply embedded in the structure of the American economy that the historic teaching, so clearly and forcefully articulated by Luther himself, never gained sufficient traction to be consistently supported by church discipline, at least not without risking serious harm to the Missouri Synod. And as anyone familiar with the life of the church knows, when a doctrine cannot be embodied in practice, it gradually loses its authority and eventually either fades from view entirely or is simply replaced by something else. In my personal judgment, this is precisely what occurred within our church.
Usury proved too pervasive to confront, since nearly everyone was implicated in one way or another. Church discipline was deemed impracticable on this point, and in time even public preaching against it fell silent. What followed was a quiet acquiescence: the proclamation and instruction of God’s Word yielded to the acceptance of prevailing circumstances, and with that acceptance came the tacit approval of what the church had condemned from her earliest days. Most tragic of all, this did not occur because the debate had been resolved in any way, but because it had become uncomfortable. In truth, the conversation was never even remotely concluded, it was merely suppressed.
Now dear reader, you may judge this assessment overly confident, particularly the suggestion that discussion of the usury question was actively curtailed. Yet the accumulation of circumstantial evidence renders such a conclusion difficult to dismiss. As noted in Part XIII of our series, one of Luther’s well-known hymns, “Dies sind die heilgen zehn Gebot,” was later on in the twentieth century translated again into English in a way that deliberately avoided its categorical denunciation of all usury. In that process, a clear reference to the sinfulness of usury was quietly excised from a Lutheran classic. And a similar pattern may be observed in Pieper’s Christliche Dogmatik, a work that arguably still remains the primary text for instruction in dogmatics within our Synod.
In the first volume of the original German edition, in a footnote, Pieper relays the following revealing summary (Christliche Dogmatik I [St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1924], 637–38, n. 1570, 3): “With respect to the course of deliberations on usury within the history of the Lutheran church in America, we have formed the following judgment. That lending to the poor, or to those in need, should take place without interest was conceded on all sides. A difference of opinion emerged, however, regarding the question of how lending to those who are not poor, for the purpose of business, is to be handled. This difference ultimately rests on the differing answers given to a single question, one that, following Luther, may be formulated in this way: Does a principal sum of one hundred dollars naturally yield five percent over the course of a year or not? Those who, with Luther, answer this question in the negative judge accordingly that the contractual stipulation of a certain interest rate is to be rejected; one must wait to see whether and how much ‘good fortune’ (Luther’s expression) the hundred has had over the course of the year. Those who answer the question in the affirmative, that is, those who maintain that interest naturally accrues to the principal, hold it to be right that five percent, or some other fixed sum, be demanded from the outset. Those within the Lutheran church in America who adopt this latter position, however, usually declare at the same time that love requires one not to accept the stipulated interest if the hundred has in fact not produced the five percent. In doing so, they relinquish their fundamental proposition of interest’s natural accrual to the principal and, in practice, adopt Luther’s fundamental proposition that a principal sum does not, of itself, generate interest. Why this side did not from the beginning assent to Luther’s proposition has remained for us, to this very day, a logical and psychological riddle. That Luther’s position is correct can be demonstrated by anyone in the most tangible way, simply by letting a hundred lie alone for a year and then seeing, after the year has passed, whether any interest has in fact accrued to it. It is also important to note that for a correct evaluation of the usury question in the sense indicated here, we do not in fact require the light of Holy Scripture at all, but only the ordinary use of natural reason, which, thanks be to God, has remained with us human beings even after the Fall.”
For reasons that remain unclear, this explicit reference to usury, in which Pieper clearly aligns himself with Luther against lending at interest, was omitted in the English translation of his classic by Theodore Engelder, John Theodore Mueller, and Walter W. F. Albrecht, a translation that has since been placed in the hands of successive generations of LCMS seminarians for roughly three-quarters of a century. (I am indebted to the blogger BackToLuther for first bringing this suspicious omission to my attention.)
In 1967, Arthur C. Repp wrote the following about Missouri’s undeniable shift on usury (“Changes in the Missouri Synod,” Concordia Theological Monthly 38, no. 7 [July-August 1967] 458–78, here at 463–64): “In the earlier history of the Missouri Synod a change had taken place in reference to taking interest or usury, as it was normally called. It is well known that Walther was very sharp in condemning the taking of interest. This became apparent, particularly in the mid-1860s. Because it had become a disturbing issue in Trinity Congregation in St. Louis in 1864, where Walther was head pastor, and continued to be so with little abatement for a long time thereafter, Walther wrote an essay entitled Die Wucherfrage. In it he classified usury with such sins as theft, robbery, adultery, and idolatry, stating that ‘God Himself here [Ezekiel 18] denies eternal salvation to him who practices usury’ (32). That Walther was thinking not only of gross abuse in taking interest is seen in the statement, ‘Whether you understand this or not, the fact remains that whoever charges interest is a usurer, and usury is a damnable sin’ (10). That this was not a private opinion of Walther and his immediate colleagues may further be seen by the fact that his views were accepted by the Synod as noted in the Proceedings of 1869. This viewpoint in reference to interest, so vehemently defended by the Synod, is in strong contrast to the present-day practice in which the Synod has authorized the pension fund and the recently established retirement and welfare plans, all based on the principle of interest. The failure to size up a changing situation, especially to a new socioeconomic problem, caused the Synod to come up with a pronouncement only to find it necessary publicly to change its view, or by common consent quietly to readjust its doctrinal views in the matter of paying or taking interest.”
Furthermore, in 1975, Robert Kolb had this to say (“‘No Christian Would Dare Practice Usury’: A Walther Letter on Charging Interest,” Concordia Historical Institute Quarterly 48 [Winter 1975]: 127–39, here at 129): “In the early twentieth century the Synod’s theologians tacitly rejected the condemnation of usury voiced by its early leadership, and the Synodical stance was accommodated to the American way of doing business.” This assessment is not entirely accurate, of course, since Pieper still held to the historic teaching. But Kolb’s point is nonetheless well taken.
Put otherwise, Missouri’s shift on usury did not arise from theological conviction, but from capitulation to existing conditions. Usury is admittedly ubiquitous, and it will remain so until kingdom come; Luther himself acknowledged as much. And yet he still declared, “Woe to the usurers!” (To Pastors, That They Should Preach Against Usury (LW 61: 294–95, Kindle). In our own context, however, preaching on this subject has fallen entirely silent, and has been so for more than a century.
Which raises a very inconvenient but unavoidable question: on what other issues that presently afflict us will we eventually yield? Adultery, pornography, and homosexuality are no less widespread and seemingly ineradicable in contemporary society than usury. Should we therefore cease speaking about them as well? And at what point, to use Kolb’s expression, will we also “Americanize” on these questions (129)? Does it just take time to “accommodate ourselves to the American way of doing business”? Will the trajectory on all these issues eventually prove to be the same?
We no longer even condemn lending at interest to the poor, as Lutherans in the previous century still did. How long, then, until we capitulate on other sins? The pattern is not without precedent, mind you. A comparable shift occurred in the twentieth century with respect to birth control, so this was hardly an isolated episode. One might even argue that a similar development is now unfolding in the case of unbiblical divorce. Is this, then, an inevitable dynamic within the life of the church?
Well, this brings our history lesson to a close, dear reader, and I thank you for accompanying me on this long journey. Nineteen parts for nineteen centuries of preaching against lending at interest. God willing, in the next part of our series, the final part, we will turn to the question of where we go from here. We began with Moses; and we now find ourselves in the year 2026.
Until then, I leave you with the following words from our fathers in the faith, drawn from a footnote to an excerpt from Chemnitz on usury, words that stand no less as an indictment today than when they were first written (Lehre und Wehre X [June 1864], 173): “In our German language, since usury has flooded into all business relations like a deluge, it has come to pass that people now understand by ‘usury’ only the lending of money at a higher rate of interest than is permitted by civil law. This new usage of language, founded upon a clear denial of the Word of God, has caused immeasurable harm. The result has been that even those who still fear the Word of God—which absolutely condemns lending at interest—have fallen into usury without knowing it or even suspecting it. It has therefore become necessary among us Germans that, when the doctrine of the Holy Word concerning usury is to be presented, it must first be made clear to the hearers what usury actually is.”
Stay tuned.