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By Nicholas Tangen

This year, my wife and I accidentally adopted a puppy named Wendell. Friends of ours, overwhelmed with the attention a puppy requires, asked if we could help find a new home for the little guy and, … well, you know how it goes.

Wendell is a doodle of some kind, which means like many of his doodle confreres he is sweet, intelligent, curious, and whatever the extreme end of energetic is called. He is happy to sit before he eats or before we let him outside, but his little paws cannot stay still while he does it. No matter how many walks we take him on, or how many balls we through for him, he just shivers and shimmies with excitement. It’s … cute.

“It’s been a while since I had a puppy, and I’ll be honest, it’s been an adjustment.”

And, that energy, mixed with curiosity and a puppy’s trademark impulsivity, make him a real pain in the … places you don’t want pain. He chases the cats everywhere; loves to drag every toy we own out into the middle of the living room (including our shoes, which are his now apparently); and has developed a taste for mail left out on the kitchen table. He’s still cute, but good Lord.

It’s been a while since I had a puppy, and I’ll be honest, it’s been an adjustment. The attention he craves, the training he needs, and all the expenses that come with the puppy package have all been a lot to handle in an already busy day to day. And last week, I came home to find one of my books, the book I was currently reading, tore to shreds on the bedroom floor. And for some reason, that felt like the last straw.

I was tired; I was (per usual) late to my next meeting; and this dog just couldn’t stop destroying things in the house. I began to wonder if we had the energy and capacity to live with a puppy. I felt at that moment that we had really made a mistake. “What were we thinking getting this puppy!,” I kept saying to myself.

We already have a dog and two cats; it’s not as if we are understaffed in the pet department. The whole time I was having my own little pity-party, Wendell just sat there, curiosity on his face.

AT BISHOP’S THEOLOGICAL Conference a couple of weeks ago, Dr. Catherine Meeks said something that has been stuck in my mind like the hook in a song. She said, “It’s important to know the difference between an inconvenience and a tragedy.”

Dr. Meeks was inviting clergy and church leaders to “start close in” in our work for racial reconciliation and justice, and to care for ourselves as an act of radical love. The overwhelm, the fear, the perfectionism that all too often can dominate my own way of being definitely limit my ability to see goodness close in and my ability to imagine a different future. And the catastrophizing of inconveniences is an element of that limitation.

“Would I see mistakes as opportunities to experience grace? Would I encounter delays as a chance to practice being present?”

I’ve been noodling on her words since she said them, and I’m curious what might open up for me if I encountered inconveniences for what they really are. Would I see mistakes as opportunities to experience grace? Would I encounter delays as a chance to practice being present? Would I encounter interruption as an invitation to connection and community?

Would I encounter a gnawed-up book as the curiosity and the playfulness of a dog less than a year old?

In those moments when I am not overwhelmed with the inconvenience that necessarily accompanies a puppy, I am instead overwhelmed with the excitement, the love, and the joy that Wendell brings to my life. So, while I am certain to get frustrated and angry when he destroys something I’d like him not to, I’m going to try and remind myself to be present to the gift he embodies.

Besides, it’s no tragedy to buy another book.

By Manny Lewis

In our fast-paced and interconnected world, it is easy to get caught up in our own needs and desires. However, the concept of service reminds us of the importance of looking beyond ourselves and extending a helping hand to others.

But what exactly does it mean to be of service? There is profound meaning in being of service for our neighbor, for God, and for ourselves.

Being of service for our neighbor

Being of service for your neighbor means actively engaging in acts of kindness, compassion, and support towards others. It is about recognizing the inherent value and dignity of every individual and striving to make a positive difference in their lives.

Such an awareness can take various forms, such as volunteering, donating to charity, or simply offering a listening ear to someone in need. By servicing others, we foster a sense of empathy, contribute to a more harmonious society, and create meaningful connections.

Being of service for God

For those who believe in a higher power, being of service for God takes on an added dimension. It involves aligning our actions with the values and teachings of our faith, seeking to honor and serve God through our interactions with others.

As we engage in acts of service, we fulfill our spiritual duty and demonstrate our gratitude for the blessings we have received. By living a life of service for God, we deepen our relationship with the divine and find a greater sense of purpose and fulfillment.

Being of service for ourself

While being of service often involves selflessly helping others, it is important to recognize the significance of serving ourselves as well. Self-care and self-reflection are essential components of being able to effectively serve others. Taking care of our physical, emotional, and mental well-being allows us to show up fully and be present in our service to others.

Additionally, being of service to ourselves means acknowledging our own needs, dreams, and aspirations, as well as striving towards our personal growth and fulfillment. By striking a balance between serving others and ourselves, we cultivate a healthy sense of self-worth and ensure our own well-being.

Being of service for your fellow man, God, and yourself is a profound and meaningful endeavor. It goes beyond simple acts of kindness and involves a deep commitment to making a positive difference in the world. By embracing the concept of service, we foster empathy, strengthen our spiritual connection, and nurture our own growth.

“Serving God involves aligning our actions with the values and teachings of our faith.”

So, let us reflect on this question: What does it mean to be of service? And let our actions be a testament to our dedication to serving others, honoring our faith, and cultivating personal well-being. Remember, the power to transform lies within each one of us. Let us embrace the opportunity to be of service and create a better world for all.

This means recognizing our own needs and nurturing ourselves so that we can continue to give to others without depleting our own resources. Self-service involves setting boundaries, practicing self-care routines, and cultivating a mindset of self-compassion. By taking care of ourselves, we become better equipped to serve others in a sustainable and meaningful way.

The ripple effect of service

When we are of service to our neighbor, to God, and to ourselves, it creates a ripple effect that extends far beyond our immediate actions. Acts of service have the power to inspire others and create a chain reaction of kindness and compassion. When we show kindness to one person, they may be inspired to do the same for someone else, and so on. This ripple effect spreads positivity and uplifts the entire community.

Being of service is a powerful and transformative practice that enriches our lives and the lives of others. It is a reminder of our interconnectedness and the profound impact we can have on the world around us. Whether it is through small acts of kindness or larger endeavors, being of service for our neighbor, God, and ourselves brings purpose, fulfillment, and a deep sense of meaning to our lives. So, let us embrace the opportunity to be of service and make a positive difference in the world.

By Bob Hulteen

Gov. Al Quie was a friend of mine.

You might think I’m bragging to mention this. Actually, I am more mystified by it. Really, it might just be proof that there is a God.

The first time I was in Al Quie’s proximity was at a protest during his one term as governor of Minnesota. I was protesting him. Well, I wasn’t protesting him personally as much as his policies. But, at the time, I probably felt like I was protesting him, as I was frustrated with choices he made about cutting taxes and unilaterally making budget cuts on programs for vulnerable people through unallotment. That was in 1980, I believe – around the time I was finishing up at Concordia College.

I soon moved to Washington, D.C., and forgot about those Minnesota budget issues.

Arne Carlson was governor when I moved back to Minnesota. And, within a few years, I found myself interacting with Gov. Quie again – this time as he was a lay leader within the ELCA of the Word Alone movement. And, while I found myself once again on opposite sides with him, I deeply appreciated his commitment to “hearing out” folks that disagreed with him and showing them remarkable respect, even when they didn’t return the favor.

By US Government Printing Office – Congressional Pictorial Directory, 95th US Congress, p. 77, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=24696996

His commitment to finding a way to move forward on complicated issues that aroused people’s passion had a deep impact on me.

ONE OF MY STRONGEST memories of Gov. Quie took place at a synod assembly, possibly in 2004 at the Minneapolis Convention Center. At the suggestion of the Joint Religious Legislative Committee, my then-pastor, Rev. Ron Johnson, and I wrote a resolution for consideration before the Assembly regarding a 10% surcharge on taxes to help get the state out of a budget crisis. (Background: Gov. Tim Pawlenty, while seeking his party’s endorsement for governor, had promised no increases in taxes under any circumstances.) This surcharge was a means to try to fix the severe crisis the state faced.

As debate began at the Synod Assembly, I stepped into the que behind Microphone 2 to speak in favor of the resolution. I noticed that Gov. Quie, also a voting member at the Assembly, was in line at Microphone 1. With a feeling of increased anxiety, I figured that I better quickly sharpen my talking points.

Gov. Quie was called on to speak; I will never forget. He opened by saying, “While I might suggest a 12% surcharge might be better, I support this resolution for 10% because it offers Gov. Pawlenty on off-ramp to commitments he has previously made.” He filled most of his two minutes talking about different choices he might have made while governor, but I don’t remember what else he said. However, I was aware that he had offered a gift – to those who were struggling under the budgetary cutbacks and to the current governor. Knowing he would take hits from others in his party, he sought a way out that would offer some shred of dignity.

“Gov. Al Quie’s commitment to finding a way to move forward on complicated issues that aroused people’s passion had a deep impact on me.”

Later, while I was organizing director at TakeAction Minnesota, Gov. Quie and I worked together on issues around judicial appointments. Although we came at the question from slightly different angles, we ended up with the same conclusion and enjoyed the chance to work on issues around voting right expansion together. In the process he once again taught me the value of finding common ground with others (as opposed to assuming I was on higher ground, and that others should come find me).

I also remember covering an event as a journalist that I believe was sponsored by Word Alone, though it may have been a Lutheran Congregations in Mission for Christ. Several speakers had been attacking with vitriol then-Presiding Bishop Mark Hanson. Gov. Quie stood up in front of the room, stating his disagreements with Hanson on the specific topics, but arguing that he was a man of integrity who shared many of the fundamental values of the group gathered. He was actually booed off the stage, and he came and sat with me – the journalist in the room. He expressed his concern for our increasing lack of civility toward one another. (These last years of our body politic must have been challenging for him.)

The last time I shared any significant time with Gov. Quie, I believe, was while he was “holding court” at the Perkins in St. Louis Park. He walked me around to every table, introducing me to all of his friends there. And, those rare people who he didn’t know the people were introduced to the both of us!

I am a better person, as the Director of Communications and Public Voice for the synod, because of Gov. Quie, even though we rarely agreed wholeheartedly on particular issues. He taught me that issues are important, but that establishing relationships that last, even in a politicized environment, was even more essential.

He had faith in Minnesotans. He had faith in God. Thanks be for his memory.

I write this blog as the Gov. Quie lies in state in the Minnesota Capitol.

By Pastor Craig Pederson

This is a blog about a boat.

Perhaps you’ve heard the old saying, “The two best days of a boat owner’s life are the day they buy it and the day they sell it.” For the past six years, I have looked back on my “buy it” day with great joy! But, I’ve also had varying levels of doubt, wondering if I had purchased the right one – or if I should have purchased one at all.

Let me explain.

In the spring of 2017, after several months of careful research, I bought a Crestliner Sportfish 1850 with an Evinrude 150 E-Tec motor. (If you’re not interested i specifics, just substitute “a boat.”) It was seven years old; it had minimal hours on the motor; … and it was beautiful. The minute I saw it, I had that special feeling that this would be the vessel that would provide countless hours of fun together with family and friends for years to come.

“A vessel can be a beautifully crafted item made of the finest materials, but its purpose is not to be known in and of itself.”

It was a bittersweet acquisition, however, in that it was made possible only by using some of the inheritance I received following my dad’s death the preceding year. Before he died, the plan was to get a boat so that he could teach his grandkids to fish and enjoy their recreational antics out on the water. But an aggressive form of non-Hodgkins lymphoma took him from us sooner than we were prepared for.

In his honor, we have had a ton of fun and relaxation on this boat. We are not a fishing family, but our kids invited friends to come and ride on the Super Mable (an oversized towable floatation device – think blow-up loveseat), or to kneeboard, or to just hang out on the water on a beautiful summer day. And, the boat always got a healthy workout during our annual extended-family weekends at a resort near my hometown.

FROM THE VERY START, these many joys were offset by many challenges that made me wonder if it was all worth it, or if I was really “qualified” to be a boat owner in the first place.

For example, on our maiden voyage, we had been cruising for less than ten minutes when the “low-oil” indicator on the dashboard started flashing and beeping. It turned out that the dealership where I bought the boat had not filled the oil tank (and I didn’t think to check it). Later that summer, a faulty oil sensor shut down the motor and ruined one of our few scheduled weekends at the lake, eventually requiring a costly repair.

The following summer, there was an embarrassing episode where I was distracted while unloading at a boat launch, and I mistakenly unhooked the boat from the trailer rope. As I backed into the water, the boat started sliding backward and the trailer tilted upward, sending the boat thudding down onto the concrete slab of the launch. This is a sound I would not recommend attempting to replicate.

“Before my dad died, we planned to get a boat so that he could teach his grandkids to fish and enjoy their recreational antics out on the water.”

And there were other humbling incidents, like when the Super Mable blew out of the boat on County Road C in Roseville – directly across the street from the Roseville Police Department. As we scrambled to get it off the road and back into the boat, a stern (yet quite amused) police officer came out to assist us and said, “Around here, we suggest you tarp your load.” That was a point well taken.

Then last summer, while on our annual family resort weekend, we anchored the boat on the shore and went up to the cabin for lunch. The wind turned and suddenly increased, blowing the waves in rather than out. By the time we realized what was happening, water had overtaken the back of the boat and it was swamped. A spontaneous family Crisis Response Team formed, and a dozen of us from ages 5 to 85 bailed it out with pails, kitchen pots, and drinking cups until it was seaworthy again.

So this summer, after using it only twice, we decided it was time to face our boat’s “sell it” date. Our kids are older and busier. I still have a job that requires me to work weekends (happily so!). And, the cost of storage, winterizing, recreational accessories, insurance, gas and oil, etc., just don’t outweigh the joys we’ve experienced. We still love the boat, but now we wanted someone else to be able to love it, too.

AFTER LISTING IT ON Facebook and Craigslist, I received a number of inquiries. One particularly interested person with whom I exchanged several messages ultimately said, “Thank you for your time in answering my questions. Really pretty looking vessel. Unfortunately, I cannot make it mine.”

This notion of a vessel has stayed with me. A vessel can be a beautifully crafted item made of the finest materials, but its purpose is not to be known in and of itself. It is meant to be a carrier of something else. Our boat was beautiful in our eyes, but more importantly it was a vessel of memories and relationships that gave us joy and fulfillment.

I sold the boat last weekend.  In worship that Sunday, we sang this verse during the Offertory Hymn:

We raise our hands to you, O Lord,
Like empty vessels,
Oh, come to us and give us life
From springs where living waters flow.
(“We Raise Our Hands to You, O Lord” ELW #690, st. 1)                               

We, too, are vessels – beautiful in our own right, created in the image of God. But the highest fulfillment of our purpose and joy is when we carry the love of Christ that flows like living water to those who are seeking grace, or justice, or forgiveness, or belonging.

The buyer of the boat ended up being the guy who called it a “pretty looking vessel.” After I lowered the price to my “final offer” online, he responded almost immediately saying that he could make that price work. I’m grateful for our time with this vessel of joy and fulfillment. I hope it will serve the same purpose for his young family.

By Manny Lewis

In a world that often feels divided and disconnected, many people find solace and a sense of belonging in their faith and in the power of community work. But where exactly do these two intersect? Where can we find God in our efforts to build stronger communities?

For some, the answer may lie within the walls of their local place of worship. Whether it’s a church, synagogue, mosque, or temple, these sacred spaces offer a sanctuary for individuals to come together, worship, and connect with something greater than themselves. Through prayer, meditation, and rituals, people are able to find comfort, guidance, and a sense of purpose that helps them navigate the challenges of daily life.

“In these moments of connection, empathy, and service, we truly find God and experience the transformative power of community.”

But the search for God and community work extends far beyond the confines of traditional religious institutions. It can be found in the acts of kindness and compassion we see every day. It can be found in the selfless efforts of volunteers who dedicate their time and energy to serving others. It can be found in the bonds formed through shared experiences, struggles, and triumphs.

God and community work can be found in the homeless shelter providing warm meals and shelter to those in need. It can be found in the community garden where neighbors come together to grow food and cultivate relationships. It can be found in the mentorship programs that empower young people and help them realize their potential. It can even be found in the simple act of lending a listening ear to someone who is going through a difficult time.

THE BEAUTY OF FINDING God and community work is that it is not limited to any specific location or organized group. It can happen anywhere and anytime, as long as we open our hearts and minds to the needs of others. It is in these moments of connection, empathy, and service that we truly find God and experience the transformative power of community.

“Through prayer, meditation, and rituals, people are able to find comfort, guidance, and a sense of purpose that helps them navigate the challenges of daily life.”

So, where do you find God and community work? The answer lies within you. It lies in the choices you make, the values you live by, and the actions you take to make a positive difference in the world around you. It lies in the genuine connections you forge with others and the impact you have on their lives.

In a society that often feels divided, finding God and community work is not just a personal journey, but a collective one. Together, we can create a world where love, compassion, and unity are the guiding principles. Let us seek out opportunities to serve, to connect, and to build bridges that bring us closer to one another and to the divine presence within us all.

By Emilie Bouvier

Two weeks ago I found myself in front of a beautiful art piece on the banks of the Wenatchee River in Washington state. I arrived at the Grunewald Guild just hours earlier for a week of teaching an art workshop on photography and spirituality.

Finesterre

I’ve heard pastors comment before that they sometimes find themselves preaching the sermon they themselves most need to hear. I find that is often true for me with my art practice. At least I know most certainly that spending a week interweaving some of my touchstone photography practices with justice-rooted reflection, spiritual grounding, and community-centered creativity was definitely what my spirit most needed.

“Practicing art in community can be powerful.”

Perhaps this is why this sculpture by the river captivated me as I arrived. The piece is formed from four trees. Cut as dead standing, they had then been steamed, power washed, and trimmed, highlighting smooth contours and remaining branches, their simplified intricacies standing starkly out from the dense green of the forest surrounding them. A metal band forms a circle around these pillar trees, with a couple of benches underneath.

Titled “Finesterre,” the piece is designed as a contemplative space, built from a sketch done by Grunewald Guild co-founder Richard Caemmerer. It is a piece that embodies art holding a sacred space for community to gather and creativity to flourish, with branches and bands outlining a place for longing and belonging in a tall stand of ponderosa pines along the Wenatchee river.

THE GRUNEWALD GUILD WAS a place that was new to me, though its landscape felt very familiar, just on the other side of a north cascade mountain ridge from Holden Village. The two are sister retreat centers in a way, with parallel values in community, simplicity, and spirituality. The Grunewald Guild has a unique mission, though, of being a small community for artists to create together.

Practicing art in community can be powerful. Creating and sharing art is rarely an isolated experience – even if one’s practice is mostly individual, like mine – as an art piece made and shared opens a space for connection and participation with others. Art shares through impressions and expression in shape, pattern, texture, and colors. It’s hard with such a medium to tell others exactly what to think or feel — yet these images and imprints open space for another to reflect and journey there.

“Creating and sharing art is rarely an isolated experience.”

There’s something sacred about this kind of exchange, I think – how in making and sharing art we can hold space for one another. And in our exploration, the creativity, joy, play, sorrow, connection can become “thin spaces”; we meet the holy one at those edges.

As I stayed up late prepping for class the next day – cutting photographic paper, prepping collage canvasses, laying out class materials, and looking over the readings – I found myself excited and curious about what would emerge. This to me is a part of the spiritual discipline – entering the creativity, community, and process of artmaking, trusting that God will show up.

Whatever creativity looks like for you these days, from art-based play to inspiring conversation and beyond, I hope the joyful spark of creative experience is one where you can encounter the stirring of the Spirit in your own and others’ experience and imagination.

For me, I’m excited to continue to keep finding windows of creating, reflecting, and sharing through artmaking as a part of my vocational life that keeps me grounded and connects me in community. I’m especially excited to share my new art workings at the Minnesota State Fair as the featured artist in the Fine Arts Building on Sunday, September 3 – so if your own spirit is sparked by conversations about art and faith, you can find me there. (And then be sure to support Salem Lutheran by visiting its State Fair booth and getting a Swedish egg coffee or meatballs and mashed potatoes afterward!)

By Jack Hurbanis

This summer, on the way to visit family in Slovakia for the first time since before the pandemic, I got to spend two and a half glorious days in Iceland. My traveling partners and I landed about a week after the summer solstice – meaning for the entire time, we never saw the sun set.

Glymur Waterfall

We got to visit Reykjavik, see bubbling sulfur-filled geothermal pools, relax in hot springs next to the freezing cold ocean, touch the point in which the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates meet, watch a volcano erupt, and find the natural beauty that seems to hide behind every corner on this sparsely populated island.

The most awe-inspiring and challenging moment was our hike to see Glymur Waterfall.

“I came to learn there is no wrong way to do this beautiful hike.”

As a community organizer, it may not shock people that I like to plan ahead and be overly prepared. In our trip preparations, I researched hikes to do while in Iceland and that’s how I came across the hike to Glymur. I read countless reviews, looked at photos, and came to learn that there were dueling opinions on the best way to hike the 4.1-mile loop up and back down the 1305 feet of elevation change. After discussing with my hiking partners, we decided that we thought the arguments being made by the group of people encouraging site-seers to hike the trail counterclockwise were the most compelling and that’s the route we would take.

WE ARRIVED IN THE parking lot at 10 a.m. After stopping several times on the way to take pictures with roaming bands of sheep, we stared at the map written all in Icelandic. Wanting to take charge as an activity I suggested and planned, I looked at the arrows pointing to take the first right and confidently said “remember, the reviews said go counterclockwise, so we’ll take a left at the split and hike up from there.” For those reading this and who understand circles better than I do, going left at any point in a circle is in fact going clockwise – but my brain made the connection “counter” equals “opposite,” so we’ll go the other way. I didn’t realize my mistake until we were about 100 yards from the car.

Jack on his way up the mountain

I came to learn there is no wrong way to do this beautiful hike. I feel fortunate, after walking up and getting to experience mountains that have been carved out by streams of water for thousands of years, to have a gorgeous 650-foot waterfall revealed after crossing the coldest and clearest river I’ve ever seen. I could walk the second half accompanied by the rushing sound of the waterfall and increasing feelings of “wait, we just came from all the way up there? That’s so high!”

“One of my hiking partners remarked that three sheep were walking farther north along a small path and that if the sheep are going that way, it must be safe to follow.”

The only hitch was that if you hike the opposite way from what you researched, when they tell you there will be a log to cross on the first river cross and that you’ll have to wade through the second one, you need to also reverse these expectations as well.

When we arrived at the first river, seeing no log anywhere in sight, we figured this must not be the crossing site. This hike did not come with labeled markers, just a worn trail and the occasional post to keep your faith that other humans have also been where you currently are. This was the correct crossing site which we were supposed to gather from the two small metal rods on either side of the bank.

Jack and his friends following sheep along the river

One of my hiking partners, a friend who I’ve known and lived with since the first day of college, remarked that three sheep were walking farther north along a small path and that if the sheep are going that way, it must be safe to follow. Seeing no flaw in that logic, we walked for an extra mile and a half along this beautiful river I later learned is called the Botnsa.

After arriving at a waterfall that was not the one we were looking for, we turned around and decided just to try our luck crossing at the original spot – which led us directly to the reveal of Glymur. It was almost unsettling not being able to hear such an enormous waterfall until you could suddenly experience the rush and see the cavern it has carved out. While there was really no danger in slipping and getting pulled under as the river crossing was mostly shallow and had no strong currents, it was similarly unsettling to realize I was 500 feet upstream from the mouth of Glymur without knowing.

The descent going clockwise was more difficult than it would have been if we had gone counterclockwise, but after four hours and nearly seven miles of hiking we made it back to our car and headed off to lunch laughing about how long it took us to realize such a simple mistake and that we actually think the hike was better the way we did it.

BY THE TIME you are reading this blog, my time on synod staff will have ended. With the upcoming transition and my heading off to become a full-time law student, I’ve reflected on my Glymur hike and have thought about how the best things in life don’t have a wrong way to do them.

Jack and friends crossing the river

I’ve made many plans in my life, sticking to them maybe 33% of the time, and sometimes the mistakes are what have allowed me to get to have incredible experiences. In just a year and half as Congregational Organizer for Environmental Justice, there are about a million things that didn’t go as planned, but that didn’t stop us from filling a room at the Minnesota Public Utilities Commission to fight for more investment in energy efficiency upgrades, or from hosting our first Minneapolis Area Synod EcoFaith Summit at Diamond Lake Lutheran, or from being part of the coalition that passed 100% Clean Energy by 2040 in Minnesota.

“Sometimes the mistakes are what have allowed me to get to have incredible experiences.”

I am excited about my future plans and to see how they go awry, and I know the Minneapolis Area Synod EcoFaith Network is going to continue making great plans and even better adaptations.

By Nicholas Tangen

July 11 is the feast day of Saint Benedict of Nursia, the father of western monasticism and the writer of the Rule of St. Benedict (RB), a text that has served as a guide and ground for monastic communities over the centuries. Not many Lutherans pay attention to Benedict’s feast day and there is still enough anti-monastic juice in the Lutheran tradition that I suppose this makes sense. But as a Benedictine Oblate and a Lutheran, I have found incredible wisdom and practice among monastic communities, and I was grateful to gather with other Oblates last weekend for a retreat at St. John’s Abbey.

Okay, so first, what is an Oblate? My friends jokingly call it a monk with benefits, or cosplay for the monastically inclined. But in reality, it is someone who has vowed to live their life guided by the Rule of St Benedict while living outside the monastery – something like a lay monk.

“The experience of morning prayer, the intentional practice of offering God the first fruits of our day through the psalmody and silent reflection, captured my heart.”

Benedictine Oblates come from many traditions and backgrounds, Catholic and Protestant, lay and ordained. But what unites them are vows of humility, stability, and conversion of heart.

I first learned about Benedictine spirituality from a Spiritual Director who noticed my desire for a whole-life-encompassing faith practice and thought the monastery may have something to teach me. I came to the Lutheran church in my 20s and was transformed by the promise of God’s grace and liberation. The theology of the cross, the commitment to God’s action and grace, and the deep rootedness in Scripture took hold of me and assured me I was indeed a Lutheran.

But while the Lutheran church’s theology captured my attention and devotion, I struggled to find guidance in my church for how my life would be lived differently day to day in light of God’s grace. So, when my Spiritual Director told me about the Benedictines and the Rule that guided their life in community, I was intrigued.

WHEN I WALKED INTO the St John’s Abbey Church on my first visit, I was immediately enthralled by the slow and steady reading of Psalms – the monastic community dressed in black cassocks praying together as one voice, one community. Early morning light poured in through hundreds of brightly colored stained-glass windows, and the rhythm of prayer and silence, prayer and silence, filled the space with wakefulness and attention. The experience of morning prayer, the intentional practice of offering God the first fruits of our day through the psalmody and silent reflection, captured my heart and let me know that I had found a community to learn alongside.

Prayer frames and animates the daily life of monastics. It’s the very breath of the Benedictine community, and that practice is one embraced not only by professed monks but by Oblates and other lay people connected to the monastery community.

This regular and daily prayer reveals that God is present in every moment, in every part of our lives, and in the lives of our community members. It attunes our attention and prepares our faculties to notice and celebrate the activity of God in our homes, our churches, and our neighborhoods.

When I first attended a Lutheran church, I was afraid to admit that I didn’t know how to pray because it seemed so private, so individualized, and so undervalued. As an adult, I could find all kinds of opportunities to learn and discuss history, theology, and social issues but struggled to find anyone who would teach me how to pray or model a life of prayer. The Benedictines taught me to pray, and more than that, showed me that Christian community is sustained by shared and individual daily prayer.

Through the Benedictine community I’ve discovered and sustained a practice of the Liturgy of the Hours, that regular time set aside in the morning, at midday, and evening to pray, praise, and reflect on God’s activity in my life. It has transformed the way I move through my daily work, recreation, and relationships. It has grounded me in the presence of God in and through every moment of my life and the life of the community I belong to.

“The Benedictines taught me to pray, and more than that, showed me that Christian community is sustained by shared and individual daily prayer.”

And my connection to the Benedictine tradition has reminded me that there is such beauty in the diversity of Christian practice. As Paul says in 1 Corinthians, “… there are varieties of gifts but the same Spirit, and there are varieties of services but the same Lord, and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone” (1 Corinthians 12:4-6 NRSV).

What are the practices and traditions that have animated your own relationship with God and community? What has prayer looked like in your own life and practice? How do you attune your attention to God’s presence in your work, recreation, and relationships?

Thanks be to God for this beautiful variety and the myriad practices and communities that contribute to Body of Christ here and now. And thanks to St. Benedict whose Rule continues to offer wisdom and guidance to those yearning for life and seeking good days (RB Prologue v1). Amen.

By Bob Hulteen

Social location makes such a difference, … even in the church, it seems.

Having grown up from fifth grade on in a North Dakota ALC congregation, I had never heard the names of Richard Allen or Absalom Jones. Neither school nor church provided information about these two faith leaders from the Revolutionary War Era.

But, I hadn’t lived in D.C., and attended an LCA congregation, for two weeks before the names of Allen and Jones were included in educational events or the intercessory prayers of the people. These two were discussed as essential church leaders, perhaps with some weak ties to Lutherans of the time (though I have trouble finding those connections).

With their courage to resist attempts to make these former slaves sit segregated in the balcony at St. George Methodist Church in Philadelphia, Jones and Allen led a walk out of that congregation. They started the Free African Society , which served as a precursor to the founding of the first African Methodist Episcopal Church (AME) by the Rev. Richard Allen, who had formerly been a deacon in the Methodist Church, … even when being ushered to the balcony.

Absalom Jones went on to be ordained in the Episcopal Church, pastoring the African Episcopal Church of St. Thomas in Phillie in the very late 1700s. (The keynote speaker for the 2023 Bishop’s Theological Conference, Dr. Catherine Meeks, is the executive director of the Absalom Jones Center for Racial Healing in Atlanta.)

Pastor Ingrid Rasmussen expresses appreciation for the relationship with St. James AME.

LAST SATURDAY I joined 15 members of my congregation to celebrate the 160^th anniversary of Mother Saint James AME’s ministry in the city of Minneapolis. Having existed in several locations throughout the city (often moving due to “expansions” in transit, including the development of the interstate highway system), St. James is now located in the Longfellow neighborhood of Minneapolis, just a few blocks from Holy Trinity Lutheran Church.

Pastor Ingrid Rasmussen of Holy Trinity was invited to share a message during the anniversary commemoration. She shared the joy of shared breakfasts with the Rev. Marchelle Hallman, a recent pastor at St. James. This relationship led to shared events between the congregations, including a merging of the choirs for a couple joint worship services and a shared congregational book study. Pastor Ingrid reflected on the many blessings that grew from the seed of those Denny’s breakfasts.

Presiding Elder Stacey Smith shares her gratitude for the ministry of Mother St. James AME.

Presiding Elder Stacey Smith, the chief executive of the Minneapolis-St. Paul District of the Fourth Episcopal District of the AME, during the celebratory program thanked God for the faithful witness of the Mother St. James congregation. Elder Smith governs a district that includes Minnesota, much of Iowa, and some congregations in Canada. Minneapolis Area Synod staff have had the honor of participating in a couple of the assemblies for this district, held here in Twin Cities, talking about environmental concerns and shared futures.

“Mother St. James AME has been a cornerstone of the African-American community, providing ‘hope during this challenging era.’”

St. James was founded in 1863. Think of that. While the Civil War raged, a faithful group of African American leaders started a church in what is now downtown Minneapolis, originally in the homes of Paul Brown and other free men and women of African descent. It has been a cornerstone of the African-American community, providing “hope during this challenging era,” as the celebratory program explains.

Seemingly every era has been “challenging” for the AME church in Minnesota. A few weeks earlier, community historian Greg McMoore of St. Peter AME, Minneapolis, shared data about how the Black community was divided with the construction of I-35, increasing the challenge to support African-American-owned businesses in South Minneapolis. He also shared about the burning down of an AME congregation in Hastings, with evidence that it was at the hands of nationalist groups.

Still, Mother St. James and other AME congregations persisted.

RECENT TRAGEDIES STRIKE too close to home for us as Lutherans. In 2015 Dylann Roof was welcomed into a Bible study at Mother Emanuel AME Church in Charleston, South Carolina. Twenty-one-year-old Roof opened fire during a closing prayer, killing nine members of the congregation that had offered him hospitality. Murdered were the Rev. Clementa C. Pinckney, Cynthia Marie Graham Hurd, Susie Jackson, Ethel Lee Lance, DePayne Middleton-Doctor, Tywanza Sanders, the Rev. Daniel Lee Simmons, Sharonda Coleman-Singleton, and Myra Thompson. (Pinckney and Simmons were graduates of the Lutheran Theological Southern Seminary.)

Dylann Roof had been confirmed a few years earlier in an ELCA congregation.

Somehow, Roof had gone through theological education in a Lutheran church and still felt that starting a race war was acceptable behavior. In other words, he had gone through years of confirmation and was still okay murdering people on account of their race, … in a church. While many might disagree, I think we all have to own that.

“While many might disagree, I think we all have to own that.”

Following a resolution passed at the 2019 Churchwide Assembly, congregations of the ELCA are encouraged to observe June 17 as the Commemoration of the Emanuel 9. It is a time for confession, lament, and commitment to change. The Churchwide staff has prepared resources to help congregations with worship planning. The horrific tragedy of Mother Emanuel and the rise of Christian nationalism in congregations near and far calls us to take a hard look at whether our faith practices are adequate to prepare us to resist this growing threat.

160th Anniversary Program

The ELCA already has full communion partnerships with six denominations, as well as ongoing bi-lateral conversations with six other denominations, including the AME. This relationship in this age seems to be especially important. So often institutions talk about wanting to diversify themselves. Just as often, it seems, this means inviting individuals into the already-existing culture of the institution.

A bi-lateral relationship with an existing denomination that has its own history and culture allows people to engage in conversation with relatively similar amounts of power. Each body can bring its own cultural assumptions to the table, looking for shared commitments and perspectives. And, there are many between the ELCA and AME.

Might this be a time for the natural development of healthy relationships that offer the opportunity to live into the calling of being the Body of Christ, existing for the sake of the world?