Blog

By Pastor Craig Pederson

Over the past 18 months the effects of the pandemic, racial justice awakening, and economic disruptions continue to unfold in unpredictable ways.  As they do, new insights emerge that help us understand the seismic changes we are experiencing.

In recent months, one trend that has been increasingly reported and analyzed is being called the “Great Resignation.” Echoing other historic events in the American economy like the Great Depression and the Great Recession, the Great Resignation describes the phenomenon of workers across many sectors of the economy leaving their jobs in droves. These “resignations” have different motivations: Some workers leave to take higher paying jobs in a labor-hungry economy; some leave to escape poor working conditions that they have endured for too long; some are shifting career paths to pivot away from the stresses of their current profession; and some are leaving the workforce entirely to take a break.

“Workers saying ‘enough!’”

In a recent article in the Atlantic, staff writer Derek Thompson takes a deeper look into the impacts of the Great Resignation. He suggests this trend will shape the post-pandemic economy for years to come. But while resignation is often seen as a negative, that’s not necessarily so in this case:

“Quitting is a concept typically associated with losers and loafers. But this level of quitting is really an expression of optimism that says, We can do better. … Americans seem to be done with sticking it out. And they’re being rewarded for their lack of patience: Wages for low-income workers are rising at their fastest rate since the Great Recession. The Great Resignation is, literally, great.”

IN ADDITION TO resignations, the writer identifies three other “Great R’s” shaping our experience:

The Great Rudeness: Unruly passengers on airlines, belligerent clients in restaurants and other service industries, and hostile customers in retail stores have all contributed to a movement of workers saying “enough!” They are leaving for other job opportunities or exiting the labor force entirely.

“Derek Thompson suggests the Great Resignation will shape the post-pandemic economy for years to come.”

The Great Reset: Office closures and work-from-home arrangements during the pandemic blurred the lines between family and professional boundaries of time and space. Workers are reevaluating their sense of identity and purpose in relation to their jobs, and they are less inclined to anticipate working beyond traditional retirement ages.

The Great Reshuffling: The necessity of conducting business online rather than in person has expanded the parameters of what is possible, productive, and profitable in commerce. Rootedness in a specific geographic location carries less value. Employees can increasingly work and live anywhere, and businesses need not conglomerate in cities or regions that used to be considered essential hubs.

WHEN I APPLY these “Great R’s” as filters to our church life, I see striking similarities.

In terms of resignations, we have seen a significant increase in our synod in the number of pastoral transitions taking place since the late spring of this year. Some pastors had been delaying their retirements and other pastors were deferring their discernment of new calls as they worked with their congregations through COVID. A few pastors decided it is time to step away from ministry completely for a while. In addition, some congregations held off the calling of a new pastor (and some still are) until they had a better sense of what a “new normal” might look like in congregational life.

Regarding the Great Rudeness, sadly I have to say we’ve also seen evidence of this in our churches. In some cases the cause has been COVID-related tensions over in-person vs. online worship (or how to do both), and mask/distancing/vaccine protocols. In other cases the cause has been disagreements about the role of the church in addressing racial and economic justice concerns. Churches are often places where different points of view are held and even encouraged, but over the past 18 months we synod staff have been called into situations where the meanness and rancor of both church members and leaders are not befitting of the body of Christ.

“Any pastor or musician who has led an online worship service from their living room, or an online bible study from the kitchen table, knows about the blurring of work/home lines.”

As for the Great Reset, any pastor or musician who has led an online worship service from their living room, or an online bible study from the kitchen table (while their children may be doing schoolwork on the other side of the table!), knows about the blurring of work/home lines. We have also heard about the difficult shifts needed to do pastoral care and community outreach when person-to-person contact is restricted. Yet, God’s people have continued to find creative ways to live out their mission and calling.

And, with the Great Reshuffling, even as church leaders work to reestablish in-person community and to embody the incarnational nature of the church, the availability of online worship and ministry programming has altered and expanded notions of church “membership.” Zooming in on Sunday morning from your bedroom at home or from a cabin up north gives great freedom for participation; it also has allowed for engagement with multiple churches, some of which aren’t even in geographic proximity. And as pastors evaluate what is important in their own sense of call, they are increasingly intentional about seeking a better alignment of their own gifts and passions, their family’s needs (both nuclear and extended families), and their congregation’s openness/willingness to change for the sake of the gospel.

The circumstances that generated these “Great R’s” have been challenging indeed. My hope is that, as we continue to work through the challenges, we hold before us the optimism and faith that we can do better. Our churches, our leaders, and our communities are counting on it!

By Pastor Norma Malfatti

We all have experiences during our growing up years that shape our values, faith, and viewpoint of the world. My first communion class taught me that grace is God’s love given freely to everyone, all the time, no matter who they are or what they’ve done. God loves because that’s who God is.

When my grandfather was diagnosed with cancer and died a short six months later, I learned that God’s love doesn’t stop bad things from happening, even when one has the faith and patience of Job. As an older teenager I also learned important lessons in financial stewardship, and what it means to be the church together, watching the adults argue about the budget at an annual meeting.

“Viewing this incident as an adult, I can see that young people are always paying attention and learning from the adults around them.”

I can still see myself sitting in the gym of the education building, having attended the meeting to ensure quorum not because my teenage self was interested in church business. The meeting proceeded as you might expect, people gave reports, we heard about Sunday School numbers, the enrollment at our pre-school, and how many mittens and hats we collected that winter. All innocuous, but important, work we did as a community of faith.

Then we got to the budget. We had a surplus from the previous year, … sort of.

YOU SEE, WE HAD a surplus because we had not yet met our commitment for synod benevolence, what we now call mission support. We had paid all our other commitments – salaries, building costs, supplies for ministry, and gifts to community partners. However, our treasurer did not see synod benevolence as a commitment equal to those others but rather an optional gift to the synod.

There were two very distinct camps. One, led by Harry, who also happened to be on synod council at the time. The other led by Randy, the congregation’s treasurer.

Randy wanted to use the surplus funds to go into the organ fund. We had begun raising money to replace our organ. It was working fine, and the musician had no complaints, but it wasn’t the fanciest of organs and was beginning to require more complex care at its “annual tune up. So, a new organ was on the horizon, but not an immediate need.

Harry, on the other hand, wanted to use the “surplus” to meet our commitment to the synod. He spoke passionately about what the synod did with our money and why our commitment was important. First and foremost, the synod depended on congregations meeting its commitments to do its work; congregations’ generosity was (and remains today) the primary way synods are funded.

And, the work that we did together as a synod was important: We helped our sister congregations when they were going through difficult times. We cared for our neighbors through Lutheran Social Services and Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service – both critical ministries in the New York City area. We trained leaders, both pastors and lay leaders, to better serve their congregations. We were also a synod (Metro New York) that was incredibly diverse; on Sundays more than 40 languages were spoken in worship – 40 languages! Our benevolence helped make that happen.

Second, if we as a congregation considered our commitment to the synod as optional, how could we expect people in the congregation to fulfill their financial commitments. If we wanted to keep building generosity and partnership into the DNA of our congregation, this was not the way to do it. Instead, failing to fulfill our commitment showed our lack of commitment to being the church together and pursuing God’s mission in the world.

“I can still see myself sitting in the gym of the education building, having attended the meeting to ensure quorum not because my teenage self was interested in church business.”

In the end, the organ fund camp won the debate. I was baffled. Harry’s words moved me about what it means to be a part of a denomination, the sacrifices we sometimes need to make to follow God’s ways, and what it means to lean into the abundance that comes from God rather than the scarcity mindset the world tries to instill in us.

Viewing this incident as an adult, I can see that young people are always paying attention and learning from the adults around them. I don’t think Harry, Randy, and the other adults know the impact they had on me. To this day I am a champion of mission support, not because I serve on synod staff but because of that congregational meeting.

So, when I visit your congregation and get to say thank you for your mission support, it’s not a required statement of synod staff people. I am truly grateful deep in my bones for your partnership and generosity. You are making a difference in people’s lives both outside the walls of your congregation and within them. Perhaps there is a teenager who is learning from you about what it means to follow Jesus and be in partnership with others and that may be one of the most important lessons they learn.

(The names of the leaders of the two “camps” have been changed because they were not contacted to grant permission for the use of their names before the writing of this story. But, … they are real people!)

By Bob Hulteen

For most human beings, Isaac Asimov is a renowned writer of science fiction and popular science. He is one of the most prolific authors in American literary history. (Oh, and he was a professor of biochemistry at Boston University; nice side gig.)

Ah, but at the synod office, Isaac Asimov is our excuse to eat lunch together and do the Isaac Asimov Quiz in that day’s StarTribune. (Truly, one of the best things about holidays is that the next day we as a staff get to do two Asimov quizzes. Okay, that is probably a little too revealing.)

Okay, no one won an all-expense-trip anywhere during the game. We were asked to take the game show staff along if we chose to pay for it ourselves.

“The clue is ‘Moo.’ What’s the animal?”

We are pretty good on days when the theme is literature (thank you, Karen and Peg) or history (thank you again, Karen and Peg). Of course, everyone does well on the days that the theme is something like “animal sounds.” The clue is “Moo.” What’s the animal? I got this.

Not all of themes are that easy. Some are downright difficult. And, of course, there is a bias to the quiz. You have a better chance of knowing 1960s history if you lived it, after all. And, often nine out of nine questions revolve around something that a male human did. But, we do it as a group activity and (most of us) see it as more of a team sport.

I REVEAL THIS BEHIND-THE-CURTAIN scene about the synod staff to remind everyone that we can occasionally have fun, even in the midst of (and maybe especially in the midst of) an ongoing pandemic that is redefining church. Sometimes we just need to take a break from our work of congregational conflict management and back-to-back Zoom calls (okay, let’s be honest, it’s more like putting the colored markers into the storage closet and deciding on the theme of the upcoming Tool Kit) to rebuild relationships and re-connect to our shared hope and joy.

The winning team graciously invited “the other team” to join them in the victory photo. The happiest-looking people are the ones on the winning team.

In fact, last week most of us were able to take an hour off and drive to Game Show Battle Rooms in Golden Valley for a team-building staff adventure. Once everyone arrived, we formed two teams (mine won, not that that’s important) to compete on three different “game shows.” We battled over song titles, survey results, and prices of a variety of cheap department-store-bought items.

But, we also cheered one another on as we laughed ‘til we cried. (Well, my team just laughed, but that’s not important.)

Spiritual guru Nick Tangen was quite the whiz at The Drop. I am sure there is theological importance in that.

“My team won, not that that’s important.”

These days, when the rough and ragged is seemingly ever-present, it is good to be reminded that we, even in the midst of our humanity, are striving for similar futures, trusting in the love of God and the capacity of the redeemed human spirit to at least occasionally do the fair, just, and holy thing for our friends and neighbors.

When dealing with all the challenges of being church in the world today, sometimes a few guffaws (or tears) at the end of the work day is the best we got to offer (well, in addition to the Good News of Our Lord and Saviour). Are you with me? If so, “come on down.”

By Bob Hulteen

As I write this blog, I am preparing to walk out the door for an in-person, outdoors gathering of the synod’s communicators. We are going to talk about the annual Give to the Max event, and how congregations might engage with such a fundraising effort.

First, I want to note that the turnout for this quarterly gathering of congregational communications staff is light. Some folks are still resisting in-person gatherings outside their own “bubble,” even ones outdoors. Other communicators are telling us that they continue to be too overwhelmed by their work, even while acknowledging that it might be helpful in the long run. Folks, like it or not, the reality of COVID-19 is still having a profound effect on our communities – and no moreso than in our congregations and on their staffs.

“Historically the synod has not participated in Give to the Max, seeing it as more of an opportunity for our congregations, colleges, and service organizations to find financial support.”

Second, you all probably know about Give to the Max. Likely your neighborhood school or your college or your community organization reminds you in advance to be prepared for this annual day of giving before the Black Friday rush. As an organization, Give to the Max offers space to promote your organization or event to people who are looking to give.

Historically the synod has not participated in Give to the Max, seeing it as more of an opportunity for our congregations, colleges, and service organizations to find financial support. (This year the synod will make an exception, and you will be hearing more about that soon.)

BUT, AS SYNOD STAFF members have been preparing for this event (to discuss the Give to the Max promotional material and support each others’ writing of the GTTM web pages), I have been wondering what it means to “give to the max.” I mean, clearly within the Christian tradition we talk about sacrifice. Jesus sacrificed himself on the cross. Stewardship calls us to sacrificial giving.

But, do we give to the max?

What does that even mean? Is it everything? Is it up to the point it really hurts – like I eat only one meal a day? Or, is it simply a great promotional tool?

“What does it even mean to give to the max? Is it everything? Is it up to the point it really hurts?”

I think it certainly is a challenge to all of us who seek to live a faithful life – about how we use our time, talents, and treasure. How close to the max do we get? What risks are we willing to take? Are they only financial? Or, are we willing to go into places that create discomfort in order to be changed by those places?

Both Give to the Max and Giving Tuesday (a similar event) happen in November. Often our congregational stewardship committees are asking us to be thinking about our gifts to the congregation during that same time. I encourage you to think about what the max is for you. What are the ways you can be agents of healing the breach and sharing the good news in this time? How are you being called to spiritual growth within your community of faith? What is the calling you feel?

By John Hulden  

I heard a powerful news story on NPR last week. It got me to thinking how much I love a good story – news story, Bible story, a story told around the campfire or the kitchen table. If you are a Jesus follower like me, I’ll bet you like a good story, too. Jesus was all about stories. Do you have a favorite Jesus story? Either a story about Jesus or a story Jesus told? (Mine can be told in six words: “Showed up late, still got paid.” From Matthew 20:1-16.)

As a preacher, I depend on stories. I want, no, I need a good story.  If you have ever taught Sunday School, mentored confirmation students, were a part of a small group of any kind in your worshipping community — a good story can make your time together not only memorable, but meaningful.

“Despite being a news junkie, I confess I had trouble tracking — even remembering — the ins and outs of the Afghan conflict.”

A good story is sticky; it sticks with you. You might find you are re-telling a good story to someone — anyone — within hours or even minutes of hearing it.

I’ve been a news junkie since I was a teenager, which turned into a Journalism/Political Science double major in college. A few years after graduation that double major and holy nudges sent me to seminary … to be a pastor?

Not at first. I wanted to better understand Bible stories. The call to ordained ministry for me didn’t happen until that pastor-apprenticeship year in Barrett, Minnesota. (It’s called an internship!) I got to listen, study, play with, and preach about real life stories and Biblical stories with the good folks at Peace Lutheran.

9/11 WAS 20 YEARS ago. These past days we’ve heard stories about people in the Twin Towers, at the Pentagon, and on Flight 93 in Pennsylvania – the heroes, the heartbreak, the historical context. I suspect we hear these stories differently now that we are 20 years removed from 2001. Good journalism can move us forward as a society. It’s been said that “journalism is the first rough draft of history” (which is normally attributed to Philip Graham, former publisher of The Washington Post). What did we learn? What do we still need to learn?

Twenty years was also the length of our involvement in the Afghanistan war. Despite being a news junkie, I confess I had trouble tracking — even remembering — the ins and outs of that conflict. Here is the news story that stopped me in my tracks last week. You can also read a slightly longer version.

Many of you might know our colleague on staff, Jeni Huff. This story is about her dear brother who was killed in action while serving in Afghanistan. (The story incorrectly reports that he was killed in 2009; it was actually 2010.) God bless the memory of Chris Goeke.

“As a preacher, I depend on stories. I want, no, I need a good story.”

This story, like any really good story, continues to stick with me. I’ve shared it with family and friends. I have thought about our involvement in Afghanistan, our actions as a country post 9/11, the impact and on-going ripple effects of war and conflict — nationally, internationally, and now, personally.

Good stories do that: Hard truths. Real tears. Important lessons and often, more questions than answers.

Let’s keep our ears open for good stories. I hope you hear a sticky one today.

By Nick Tangen

Can I just share with you that I really love my job? One of the great benefits of working on a Lilly-funded project is the immense community of people who are engaging with similar questions, similar challenges, and similar opportunities in congregations and communities across the country. The Lilly Endowment launched the Thriving Congregations Initiative to “…equip congregations to”:

• Explore and understand the rapidly changing contexts in which they minister
• Gain clarity about their own values and missions
• Draw on practices from their theological and ecclesial traditions to adapt their ministries to their changing contexts

There are 92 organizations in the United States that received grants to explore these questions and imagine how best to invite congregations into this work. And the Lilly Endowment, in partnership with Duke Divinity, has created a number of opportunities for these organizations to come together and learn from one another. This community is such a gift!

“One community’s faith practices and neighboring practices will not look the same as the congregation next door.”

Meeting with other directors and leaders wrestling with questions about community engagement and Christian practice has reminded me again of the great diversity of our communities’ experiences, and the existing giftedness within each and every faith community. It is clear in conversation with other grantees that congregations across the country, while facing some very similar challenges, are facing them with their own unique flavor and are increasingly discovering the strength and wisdom present in their experience.

I THINK IT’S INCREDIBLY important for us to remember this fact: Each of us, each of our communities, are experts in our own experience and possess an abundance of gifts and strengths which we can bring to our work as the people of God. This is the promise of our baptism, and the beauty of God’s cultivation of human community.

This means that our community’s faith practices and neighboring practices will not look the same as the congregation next door. What animates and connects at Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church in East Bethel may be quite different from what animates and connects at Salem Evangelical Lutheran in North Minneapolis. Thanks be to God!

We need this diversity of experience and meaning making to flourish as the church in the world. This is exactly what the Apostle Paul was reminding us of in 1 Corinthians 12 when he said, “… the body does not consist of one member but of many.” Our uniqueness and our experiences as individual communities make up the whole of the Christian body.

“Each of us, each of our communities, are experts in our own experience and possess an abundance of gifts and strengths which we can bring to our work as the people of God.”

Over the next two years, Faith Practices & Neighboring Practices will hold space for congregations in the Minneapolis Area Synod to learn together and learn from one another’s experiences. God-willing we will find new ways to celebrate our gifts, to dig deep into our sense of baptismal vocation, and to challenge ourselves to confront the important and often difficult work ahead. The only way we can do so is by embracing our own experience and our own sense of call as a community of faith.

What are some of your congregation’s gifts and strengths?

What are some unique challenges that your congregation is facing?

How might you bring your congregation’s gifts and strengths to bear on the challenges you face as a community?

By Bob Hulteen

Soon after arriving at Concordia College as a student, I declared my certainty that God was calling me into ordained ministry. So sure was I that I left my anticipated math major behind and started talking humanities, Greek, and Hebrew classes. I even served two terms as president of the Cobber pre-seminarian club, Mathetai.

Then I met Charles Lutz. He was working in communications for the ALC (American Lutheran Church) down in Minneapolis at the time. A lay social ministry specialist, he was invited up to Concordia to present at a “teach in” some students had planned on resisting the possible re-instatement of the military draft. Chuck had helped write the ALC social statement on military service and young people, and was well-versed on the topic. (He is a faithful member of Lutheran Church of Christ the Redeemer in Minneapolis and author of several books.)

“All pastors and deacons (as well as other church staff members) have borne a great burden the last year-and-a-half.”

I was eating lunch with Mr. Lutz in Concordia’s main cafeteria. I was intrigued by his encouragement that the church not only needed pastors, it also needed what he called “radically committed laypeople.” He wasn’t making a pitch for a political philosophy, but was suggesting that there is a vocation of working for the church without being an ordained person. We talked through the rhubarb pie that I had with my lunch and were still chatting when supper was served four hours later. I was enraptured with this new vision for faithful response to God’s redeeming love, … that didn’t require wearing a black shirt and a collar.

I realized that I was feeling called to work in the church, or alongside the church, much more than I was called to be an ordained leader in the church. I would work with pastors, but not be one.

I’M NOT A pastor and I don’t play one on television. But I am aware that all pastors and deacons (as well as other church staff members) have borne a great burden the last year-and-a-half.

The pivot required to move from the familiar and traditional to the new and innovative created anxiety and doubt. Many church leaders have confessed a feeling of ineptness and guilt for not being ready for this culture-changing pandemic. And now, as there is some transition happening, I hear pastors regretting decisions made and missed opportunities. (They are being hard on themselves.)

I am saying this because I need all you readers to know: Your rostered leaders are tired and hurting – at least many of them are. This would be a good time to do some pastoral care – by which I mean caring for your pastors (and deacons … and musicians and youth workers and communicators and admins and custodians and more).

“The pivot required to move from the familiar and traditional to the new and innovative created anxiety and doubt.”

Often, we as lay folk are pretty hard on our clergy. The range, of course, can be from passive aggressive behavior to out-and-out harassment of varying kinds. We can be downright mean and unhealthy. (Of course, religious leaders are not exempt from this behavior either, but that’s a story for another day.)

I’m asking you, my fellow lay people, to be conscious of the astounding work that so many of our ordained leaders (and their staffs) have been doing this last year. They rose to the challenge and found new ways to connect us as church. And find a way to thank them for their service to the church and the world.

So, see if you can offer a good word to your faith leader this week, or maybe even a piece of rhubarb pie. You never know when appreciation can change a life.

By Eric Howard 

When I was a kid, I used to love playing with kaleidoscopes. The shapes, colors, and movement could transform everyday objects into infinite complexity and beauty. As an adult, kaleidoscopes still inspire me to look at the world in a new way. If you pointed the scope at the work of equity, for example, what might you see? What if the light of our faith shaped it?  

In March 2020, the Minneapolis Area Synod Council took a historic step toward financial equity in a vote to initiate an “equity lens study of the current funding strategies.” As a starting point, our Vice President Felecia Boone introduced us to our own reflection tool for this work, a “Racial Equity Impact Tool,” which she noted in her VP’s address at the 2021 Synod Assembly. 

This “lens” considers the struggles of the global pandemic, the anguish and unrest over George Floyd’s murder, and the inequities felt throughout the synod. The Synod Council’s vote, coupled with the impact tool, holds us more firmly accountable to racial equity outcomes. 

The scope and impact   

The study looks explicitly at the synod’s 12 immigrant, ethnic-specific, BIPOC, New Starts, and Strategic Ministries. What is the goal? Every dollar the synod grants would stay accountable to racial equity outcomes. The study aims to create stronger, more resilient ministries that fully reflect the dignity of every person.  

And, because equity lifts us all, the impact of this work will ripple through all 143 churches. 

What’s happened? 

In November 2020, the Synod Council reserved $200,000 from the Resurrection Fund to make this impact a reality. In January this year, seven pastors and lay leaders designed a proposal, articulated their own hopes and dreams for this study, and started executing a plan.  

Over the past three months, nine leaders (many from the synod’s Mission Table) interviewed 25 pastors, deacons, and lay leaders from the 12 targeted ministries. Together, they explored the questions: What does equity look and feel like for you? How can the synod invest in the most vital parts of your ministry? 

Early insights 

After months of careful planning, training, and 18 hours of interviews, a few early insights from the 12 ministries have surfaced: 

1. More opportunities to give and receive God’s abundance: Ministries offer unique strengths; they inspire leaders differently; they teach and reach people worldwide; and there is much to learn from their resiliency.
2. Greater connection: Pastors and lay leaders would like more deliberate opportunities to deepen their ties with other synod congregations. Language, geography, and cultural competency can be a barrier. 
3. Targeted leadership development: Leadership development is a crucial piece of building self-sufficiency, sustainability, and sharing ministry strengths. Administration, fundraising, visionaries, pastors, and deacons were noted.
4. Resources for youth ministries: Cultivating the talents and passions of youth is vital to the future and sustainability of our ministries.

To me, the scope of equity can feel equally complex and beautiful, like the movement and dimensions of a kaleidoscope. This equity lens work can enable us to see a brighter, more dynamic future.  

Opportunities to act: 

1. Donate: Equity takes talents, food, stipends. Send a check to the synod with the memo “MAS Equity Lens Work.”
2. Tune into the (hybrid) Racial Justice Summit on November 6: There more lessons and insights will be discussed.
3. Tell us what you think: What does equity look like and feel like for you? (Submit your response here).

By Emilie Bouvier

Last summer, I wrote in awe and gratitude how “being church” in Calvary’s narthex looked different than it ever had before in the wake of the uprising following the murder of George Floyd. It was lovely seeing that space usually staged with lemonade and coffeecake then overflowing with an emergency supply of personal care items and an abundance of treats to share at the Community Table set up on the sidewalk to greet and support visitors to George Floyd Square.

Preparations for the Calvary Rummage Sale are underway.

In kind of an odd (or perhaps just ordinary) way, it seems the narthex has been an indicator of sorts, reflecting our congregation’s faithful efforts to show up as good neighbors in the struggle. Over the past year our beloved narthex has ranged from meeting space for our Rapid Response Team to a staging area for sidewalk hospitality; from socially distanced coffee hour setup to makeshift greenroom for Sounds of Blackness (a nationally acclaimed vocal and instrumental ensemble) ahead of the George Floyd Memorial concert in the square on the first anniversary of Floyd’s murder.

In these past few weeks this summer, our narthex space has shifted once again – this time piled high with items from the depths of church storage closets and cupboards. Why, you ask? In preparation for huge rummage sale – a full-on purge to prepare our building to be sold to Trellis, a nonprofit affordable housing developer. A partner who will, of course, radically transform this space once again.

CALVARY HAS BEEN MY church home for 10 years, and I continue to be amazed by the grit of this small yet fiercely loving congregation and its commitment to love God, care for one another, and be ever challenged in the way of justice.

We were grappling with how to be sustainable as a small congregation in a large and aging building, deep in budgets and tough congregational meetings, when the opportunity to partner with Trellis came to us as an incredible answer to prayer. Here it was, the chance to do what we had often dreamed of, but never had the resources to realize on our own. We could (and did!) choose to transform our large amount of outdated building space into a vibrant asset that concretely serves the needs of the neighborhood and make even our worship space more permeable and conducive to building community beyond the congregation.

“Calvary members were grappling with how to be sustainable as a small congregation in a large and aging building when the opportunity to partner with Trellis came to us as an incredible answer to prayer.”

Now, at a record time of housing shortage, deeply affordable units will be built in our space. Now, we won’t lose our beloved sanctuary, like we once feared. Instead, we will see it transformed into a space more flexible for community use, complete with “soft spaces” like couches and a reading nook. What a beautiful opportunity to make the walls of our worship space more permeable and our space more welcoming and adaptable to sharing it with the neighborhood. What a gift that Trellis welcomes our presence and partnership in this endeavor as they take over ownership and management of the building itself.

AH YES, BUT BEFORE any of this ensues, it’s now that time to clean up and clean out the clutter – through, you remember, a huge rummage sale! I know this metaphor is anything but new or creative, but I can’t help but think about how relevant a “rummage sale” is to being church in another non-quite-post-pandemic chapter of our life together.

While Calvary is going through some huge shifts here, I know we’re not alone in navigating new twists and turns in church ministry. We’re not going to be done anytime soon with this business of rummaging through all our past assumptions – thinking through what we keep and what we let go of for yet another wild chapter of “being church.”

Cups featured in the Calvary Rummage Sale

The twin pandemics of Covid-19 and structural racism have truly asked a lot of us in terms of adapting to new modes of being that require cleaning out and sometimes starting anew. If you’re feeling weary, stay tuned for some good words on resilience coming soon (including at Bishop’s Theological Conference).

“While Calvary is going through some huge shifts here, I know we’re not alone in navigating new twists and turns in church ministry.”

But for now, as I look from the rooms staged for the mother-of-all-rummage-sales to the sketched drawings of our future campus, I feel so hopeful for a new chapter of worship and ministry in this place. In the rummaging, letting go, and reimagining required of us these days – whether you’re exhausted or energized (or a bit of both) by it all – I hope that you’re catching those glimmers of hope and the Holy Spirit stirring.

Common, visiting with Calvary members in the church kitchen; cup location identified

And, of course, if want to do a little actual rummaging and enjoy items like these midcentury modern coffee cups that were once in proximity to Grammy-award-winning-rapper Common. (See accompanying photos, and I promise this subtle brag is now over.) Please, here is your official invite to come check out Calvary’s Rummage Sale later this week.

By Brenda Blackhawk  

I’ve just returned home from the 155th annual Homecoming Powwow in Winnebago, Nebraska. I knew when my family packed up the campers and vehicles 10 days ago that I would be writing a blog about the trip, so I had it in the back of my mind to notice the way God was showing up. 

I could write about my 2-year-old niece and how watching her discover new things about herself and the world every day was simply magical. I could write about how missing powwow last year because of COVID was painful and how simply being there this year was spiritual.  

Instead, I’ll tell you about the last thing I did before we packed up the trailers and the van to make our way home.  

MY DAD WOKE ME up before the sun. He had asked me the night before if I would get up with him and take pictures of the flag raising. The Winnebago Homecoming Powwow is a celebration to honor our veterans, our warriors. So, every morning at dawn, living veterans, like my dad, go down to the powwow arena and raise the flags of fallen warriors.  

I’m not exactly a morning person, but I put myself together and walked down to the arena with my Nikon. The flag raising ceremony is much more than simply lifting up the 50 or so flags. (There are usually more than 75, but attendance was lower due to to COVID-19.) A drum group played special songs as the flags rose toward the sky. Then, they played four warrior songs and we danced, with one veteran leading as he (or she) carried the eagle feather staff. It all ended with prayer, storytelling, and a meal.  

“But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” 

The emcee yesterday morning was Mr. Boyh Ladd – a Vietnam combat veteran and one of our Winnebago elders. He had a lot of great wisdom to share, but one thing in particular stuck out to me.  

He recapped the story of Chief Little Priest (the person who started the powwow 155 years ago and it’s a fascinating story – ask me about it sometime) and how the custom of our people was to “respect our enemy.” I hesitated at that a little bit – I’m pretty good at totally ignoring my own enemies, as I’d rather do that than think hateful thoughts. Respecting them feels like a stretch. 

But Mr. Ladd went one step further. He said, “feed your enemies.” He talked about the old practice of “honoring” our enemies – with food and prayer and song. He also recognized that people today – especially our country’s dominate culture – never understood why this is so important.  

As he spoke, I thought of two things. First, I’ve heard similar words before. Perhaps, from Jesus in Matthew 5:44, “But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” I’ve always looked at that verse a little skeptically.  

I’M A FIRM BELIEVER in cutting out the toxic people – the ones who intentionally hurt others mentally, emotionally, spiritually; the people whose beliefs are rooted in the oppression of me and my family. Loving those people feels like living in victimhood or martyrdom; I won’t sacrifice my happiness to be abused by another.  

“I’m pretty good at totally ignoring my own enemies, as I’d rather do that than think hateful thoughts. Respecting them feels like a stretch.” 

But the second thought I had after hearing Mr. Ladd’s words, was that this nation has made enemies of their neighbors. We are so divided by the categories we’ve created for ourselves. Republicans are the enemies of Democrats; conservatives vs. liberals; rural vs. urban; dog people vs. cat people (that last one was meant to lighten the mood).  

The point is, I’m thinking about it all differently today. I’ll never surrender myself to being a victim or a martyr. But I’m beginning to think about possibilities. What does it look like to respect the enemy? But more, how can we feed them? How do we love them? And how do we stay whole while we do it?