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By John Hulden 

 On April 30th I’ll attend, oh, maybe my 34th Synod Assembly. I look forward to meeting in-person with the church-y folks of the Minneapolis Area Synod as we safely spread out at spacious Central Lutheran Church for a shortened assembly. Almost like old, pre-pandemic, times. Hey, we are even promised “Gourmet Box Lunches”!  

We meet under the theme “Life Together”. Our guest speaker, Dr. Eric Barreto, will help us explore the Book of Acts.  The recent registration email explained: “Just as Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrestled with what ‘life together’ meant for Christians in Nazi Germany, we wonder what ‘life together’ means for Christians in the dual pandemic of COVID-19 and racial injustice.” 

Hey, I thought, I have that book by Bonhoeffer! Wait, have you heard of Dietrich Bonhoeffer? 

Bonhoeffer was a young Lutheran pastor from Germany who resisted the evil Nazi regime. In April of 1945, at the age of 39, he was killed at the Nazi concentration camp in Flossenburg.  

As a pastor in his 20’s and 30’s, Bonhoeffer wrote insightful essays, letters, and books about what it means to live with Christ and how to act as a Jesus-follower in the world.

The book “Life Together” was written while Bonhoeffer lived communally with twenty-five vicars in an underground seminary in the late 1930’s. After a few years, the Nazi Gestapo shut down the community and ordered Bonhoeffer to stop writing and publishing. He didn’t stop. Bonhoeffer was sent to prison after he was involved in a plot to assassinate Hitler. (Another important book is his “Cost of Discipleship.”) 

I GOT TO THINKING, SINCE MY SEMINARY DAYS in the 80’s, I have read much, much, more about Bonhoeffer, and what folks think about Bonhoeffer, than I have spent time actually reading Bonhoeffer. 

So, I found my copy of “Life Together,” copyright 1954, and cracked it open. Yes, it made a cracking noise. For real. The glue on the paperback spine isn’t what it used to be.  

“So, I found my copy of ‘Life Together,’ copyright 1954, and cracked it open.” 

I blocked off time last week and read all 122 pages. Yay! (Note: by far, the hardest part was blocking off the time.) And you, my diligent blog readers, if you dare click on the link, can be the beneficiaries of four pages of my “best of” from “Life Together,” which are linked at the bottom of this blog. Below are a few “best of” moments to get you interested. 

Bonhoeffer, the theologian and martyr, has had a deep impact on Lutherans around the world. And the ideas written more than 80 years ago can inform our “Life Together” today. Maybe, block off some time to read Bonhoeffer and ask your deacon or pastor what they think of his writings!  

Chapter 1: Community 

“It is not simply to be taken for granted that the Christian has the privilege of living among other Christians. Jesus Christ lived in the midst of his enemies.” 17 

Chapter 2: The Day with Others 

“As a whole the Scriptures are God’s revealing Word. Only in the infiniteness of its inner relationship, in the connection of Old and New Testaments, of promise and fulfillment, sacrifice and law, law and gospel, cross and resurrection, faith and obedience, having and hoping, will the full witness of Jesus Christ the Lord be perceived.” 51 

Chapter 3: The Day Alone 

“Let him who cannot be alone beware of community. He will only do harm to himself and to the community… The reverse is true: Let him who is not in community beware of being alone. Into the community you were called, the call was not meant for you alone; in the community of the called you bear your cross, you struggle, you pray.” 77 

Chapter 4: Ministry 

“[Ministers] forget that listening can be a greater service than speaking.” 97 

Chapter 5: Confession and Communion 

“But it is the grace of the Gospel, which is so hard for the pious to understand, that it confronts us with the truth and says: you are a sinner, a great, desperate sinner; now come, as the sinner that you are, to God who loves you. He wants you as you are; He does not want anything from you, a sacrifice, a work; He wants you alone.” 110-111 

Can’t block off the time to read a whole book? No problem! John’s “Best Of” from “Life Together” can paint a picture for you!  

By Nicholas Tangen 

My spouse, Kristin, had often joked (or so I thought) that when we finally had to say goodbye to our elderly cat, Wallace, that she would need two kittens to compensate for the loss. It turns out she was not joking, and in early January we adopted two orange kittens named Alfie and Russ.  

I put on my best Do we really need two cats? face while Kristin ordered cat-toys and treats and seemingly every cardboard cat shelter that Petco had to offer. I grumbled as it became more and more difficult to move in our house without tripping over some cat accessory. And I put up a decent argument for why my home office was definitely not the best place for them to live for the first couple of months. I lost that one.  

But then, these two little kittens showed up. Have you ever tried to stay grumpy or annoyed with a two-pound kitten passed out and purring on your lap? Nearly impossible. I had to admit that my little Grinch heart grew a few sizes that day.  

So, for the last couple of weeks, we’ve been adjusting our home and our routine to include Alfie and Russ. Kristin works in my office, where she can get all the kitten time she could ever ask for, and when I’m working from home I pop in every hour or so to steal a few minutes with them. In the evening, when we say compline together, everyone gathers in the office and the kittens do their best to disrupt our quiet.  

“I had to admit that my little Grinch heart grew a few sizes that day.” 

Last week, while we were praying, I was reminded of a Buddhist folktale I heard many years ago. For the life of me, I can’t find where it originated, but here’s a version: 

When the spiritual teacher and his disciples began their evening meditation, a cat who lived in the monastery made such noise that it distracted them. One day the teacher ordered that the cat be tied up during the evening practice.  

Years later, when the teacher died, the cat continued to be tied up during the meditation session. And when the cat eventually died, another cat was brought to the monastery and tied up. Centuries later, learned descendants of the spiritual teacher wrote scholarly treatises about the religious significance of tying up a cat for meditation practice.

AS I RELAYED THIS STORY TO KRISTIN, I was struck by how quickly we had developed routines, habits, and best practices to adjust to life with our new cats. Kristin knows that the boys like to nap around the same time every morning, so she picks them up before they even take a step in her direction. When I complete a task at home, I very instinctually walk upstairs to play. When we say compline, we pick up all the little noisy cat toys. These routines developed so quickly! 

Of course, the point of the Buddhist folktale is much more significant than simple cat ownership. The point is that our habits and practices, our cultures, which often develop in earnest and with clear intention, can over time become disconnected from their original intent. If we are not careful, we can be tempted to transfigure the mutable and usual into the sacred and eternal.  

“If we are not careful, we can be tempted to transfigure the mutable and usual into the sacred and eternal.“

Each of our churches has developed a culture over time. I wonder how often we ask ourselves about the routines, the habits, and the practices that we hang on to because “that’s the way we do things.” Very few practices are self-justifying and I’m willing to bet that if we get curious and try to understand the ins and outs of our church culture, we might find some things that just don’t make sense anymore.

I know that I’m going to keep asking myself these questions in my congregation and at the Synod. I’d challenge you to do the same.  

Now, it’s about time for me to go check on Alfie and Russ. Peace! 

By Emilie Bouvier 

Everyone has their favorite household chores. I’m transported back to sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor in front of my family’s “recycling drawer,” neatly sorting the contents into their respective bags to bring to the recycling center. This was my favorite chore, probably because it was slow and methodical and far less frustrating than vacuuming the stairs (my least favorite chore to this day). But mostly, this ritual-like practice directed my attention to what we discard and fostered in me a responsibility to steward these materials.  

“That was the first moment I realized that my faith and my commitment to what happens to a plastic water bottle were very much connected.” 

Fast forward a few years to the hallways of high school when I noticed a friend of mine drop a plastic bottle in the trash instead of the recycling bin just a bit further up the hall. Formed by the many hours spent as the sorter of the recycling, I exclaimed “wait!” When I asked her about it, she calmly replied, “Well, it doesn’t really matter because when the earth dies, Jesus will come back and save us.” I was totally floored. I didn’t have a honed theology of recycling to share back then, but that was the first moment I realized that my faith and my commitment to what happens to a plastic water bottle were very much connected.  

Ask me today and you’ll get a whole mini sermon: Genesis and watersheds; Cain and Abel and the interconnectedness of violence and oppression with alienation from the soil; practices of sabbath and gleaning; a whole spiel about reducing and reusing as the primary steps ahead of recycling; and a healthy dose of corporate responsibility in our collective addiction to plastic (So, maybe not a mini sermon). 

BUT HERE’S WHAT I’VE REALIZED – the deep connection I feel to these biblical stories and the call to tend and keep creation as an act of faith and justice, is still grounded by the simplicity of daily practices. I no longer sit in front of the “recycling drawer,” but I relish the ritual of bringing my empty jars to the co-op to be filled up with coffee, pasta, and rice. And I still find myself taking inventory of my recycling, wondering what it would take to get rid of the rest of these plastics that have become the non-degradable fabric of our on-the-go habits. 

This is my hope for our upcoming EcoFaith Lenten Series on Plastics: to learn simple, repeatable practices that reduce our individual reliance on single-use plastics; and through that learning, enhance our understanding of the issues, deepen our faith, and root our activism. I was inspired by the ELCA Youth’s campaign to “Give up Plastics for Lent” over the past few years, because Lent is already a time for committing to simple yet sometimes challenging changes in our daily actions in ways that encourage faithful reflection. 

“And through learning, enhance our understanding of the issues, deepen our faith, and root our activism.” 

Part of what will make this season of learning and action so powerful will be when lots of folks jump in and take these steps together – we will be able to see the collective impact of how all the small changes add up and challenge the systemic norms and prevalence of plastic in our lives. 

And whatever your journey looks like through these coming weeks of Epiphany’s light and Lent’s season of reflection, I hope you’ll catch yourself looking twice at your recycling next time you put it out. 

So, do you have plans yet for what your Lenten learning or worship focus will be? Thanks to a partnership grant with Hennepin County that offered the necessary support and resources, we’ve been able to run with the idea of a lent-focused series on plastics! 

Hennepin County congregations:  Use this form 

Congregations outside Hennepin County can use our online resources by filling out this form.  

By Meghan Olsen Biebighauser

Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit;
and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord;
there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone.
To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.
To one is given through the Spirit the utterance of wisdom, and to another the utterance of knowledge according to the same Spirit,
to another faith by the same Spirit, to another gifts of healing by the one Spirit,
to another the working of miracles, to another prophecy, to another the discernment of spirits, to another various kinds of tongues, to another the interpretation of tongues.
All these are activated by one and the same Spirit, who allots to each one individually just as the Spirit chooses. (1 Corinthians 12) 

 Those of us who hear from the Revised Common Lectionary each week heard this familiar passage on Sunday. While it was far from my first time hearing these words, all I could think about this time around was how well this message fit in with my household’s current obsession: Disney’s new film, Encanto.   

“And our identity as beloved children of God is more important than any superpower we may be blessed with for the common good.”

Finally! A Disney heroine who wears glasses!

 If you haven’t had the opportunity to enjoy this new film yet (it’s still in theaters AND on Disney+), here’s a spoiler-free synopsis. Encanto takes us to the mountains of Colombia where we meet the extended Madrigal family, each blessed with a supernatural gift with which they serve and support their community. Dolores has superhuman hearing, Julieta heals people with her food, Luisa has super physical strength, Bruno can see the future, and so on…except for our protagonist, Mirabel. Mirabel seemingly wasn’t blessed with a gift, and the story unfolds from there.  

 My children have watched Encanto about 103 times now, and when they’re not watching it, they’re singing the super catchy songs. Constantly. At top volume. A great dinner table conversation starter has been to ask which superhuman gift we’d each like to have. My 9-year-old, Frances, wants to be able to talk to animals, while Robin, my 4-year-old, can dream up endless ways that shapeshifting would make his life more interesting.   

MORE THAN JUST CONVERSATIONS ABOUT MAGIC, though, Encanto has paved the way for conversations about giftedness more broadly.  What are some of the gifts that we see in one another? While it may not be superhuman hearing, who do we know who has amazing perception and awareness? Who do we turn to right now when we want to hear a vision for the future? How do these serve our community? In what ways can they sometimes feel like a burden? Do we ever feel like Mirabel, wondering whether we’ve even been blessed with a gift at all?   

Do we ever feel like Mirabel, wondering whether we’ve even been blessed with a gift at all?

As Sunday’s reading reminded us, being blessed with a gift is not about the gift itself, but the Giver. And our identity as beloved children of God is more important than any superpower we may be blessed with for the common good.   

 Let’s be on the lookout for ordinary gifts that can seem magical. Like, my mom’s pasta fagioli isn’t going to cure COVID or anything, but you can’t say she doesn’t have the same power of healing as Mirabel’s mama. 

By Kayla Zopfi

Perhaps last years’ season’s greetings came with restful tidings and hopes for light to shine brightly again soon. Perhaps you’ve come to feel less and less seen by these greetings. The tiredness and somberness may have weighed heavily for so long. It is finally a fresh year but 2022 has, so far, felt like 2020, too.

Cole Arthur Riley writes in an Instagram post about the season of Advent, “We put all our hope in the sacred blackness of a womb. As we wait, we remind ourselves that darkness … has the unique capacity to bear the divine. From the cosmos to the womb, the dark has always been a site of creativity and liberation.”

Times may feel dark, but we must also remember the dark is holy, too. It is within these dark places that love and wonder are nurtured. God is with us in this darkness, knowing us, still forming us. Arthur Riley, concluding her post, invites us into the following meditation:

INHALE:
I can wait through the darkness.

EXHALE:
There is holy here too.

By Pastor John Hulden

In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see — I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!” When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.”                                         Luke 2: 8-15a NRSV

The Christmas Story continues to amaze – year after year after year. It’s been “wowing” hearers for about two millennia.

“Angels visiting the shepherds make headlines in this story. I love that.”

The Gospel of Luke gives us so many wonderful characters. These three are pretty famous:

• Elizabeth
  • She was having a baby despite the fact, as her skeptical husband Zechariah points out to the angel, “my wife is getting on in years.” Luke 1:18 … Yikes! That reminds me of stupid stuff I have said when I’m terrified.
  • The elder Elizabeth blesses her young cousin Mary. Luke 1:42-45 … Only men were supposed to do the blessings.
• Zechariah
  • He is struck speechless at the high holy altar of the temple until the miracle baby John is born. Luke 1:20 … That is exacting punishment for a disbelieving preacher.
  • When he finally can talk, the ol’ priest gave his best ever, beautiful — and short! — sermon. Luke 1: 66-79 … Maybe I should finally try a silent retreat.
• Mary the faithful and powerful teenager
  • Mary’s voice causes Elizabeth’s child to leap in her womb. Luke 1: 41
  • Mary is the singer of radical lullabies. Luke 1: 46-55
  • And this line: “But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.” Luke 2:19

Then there are those dirty, stinky Shepherds.

WHEN I HAVE A quiet moment later this Christmas weekend, I know I will think of those shepherds “living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night.” Luke 2:8

Angels visiting the shepherds make headlines in this story. I love that. They were the lowliest of the low. They had one piece of tanned, whole skin of a sheep, with the wool left on that served as their coat, their tent, and their bed. Can you imagine what that smelled like?

When the shepherds came into town (maybe once or twice a year?), I envision something like an old Western movie when the outlaw gang roars into town on horseback. Moms say to their kids, “Get inside! The Shepherds are coming to town!”

Shepherds were the minimum wage workers of their day. I’m guessing to get a shepherding job you’d show up at the Palestinian equivalent of the “Labor Ready” office early in the morning and hope to land a paying gig. Shepherding was perhaps the last-best option for employment. It was hard and risky work; thieves and wild animals were out to get those sheep. It was 24/7 work; you were always on the job.

“Shepherds were the minimum wage workers of their day.”

But it was a good job if you didn’t like hanging out with your relatives since you’d be gone for months at a time. And, if you liked sleeping under the stars and paying no rent, shepherding probably appealed to some.

When I think about shepherds this Christmas, I’m always left with this wondering: Would I listen as well as the shepherds?

How many other folks did that heavenly chorus of angels sing to that day? Did they try singing to the mayor? The priest? The chamber of commerce? Were they all too busy to listen? So then, finally, in the middle of the night, did those angels try singing to the last group left who was still awake? The angels sang their hearts out to the lowly shepherds. And the shepherds listened to their song of good news. And they were amazed. And the shepherds said: “Let’s Go!”

By Maya Bryant

I stared out my office doorway to the windows leading to the white landscape outside and sighed. With the first heavy snowfall hitting the Twin Cities, it’s hard to ignore that winter is here. Sure, the cold and the wind chill aren’t anything to scoff at, but I hadn’t needed to pull out my winter coat until the snow hit.

I hate to admit it, but winter is my least favorite season. If seasonal depression wasn’t enough to deter me, then it’s the freezing temperatures and the fact that Minnesotans seem to forget how to drive as soon as the white stuff hits the road. Nature is a haven for me, and I love being outside, but winter is my weak point. I find it suffocating and isolating.  

So, as I continued to look out the doorway, I eventually decided to move a little closer. I walked out of my office toward the synod office’s Skyline Room and stood at its entrance, still inspecting the snow. I could barely make out the skyscrapers and buildings that make up Minneapolis.

“Travel times change, clothes change, and attitudes change.”

Another sigh left me as I contemplated how such little particles of frozen water could create such a wall of influence. And yes, I mean influence, because snow, through no fault of its own, does impact the way we go about our lives. Travel times change, clothes change, and attitudes change. Everything seems to slow down or completely grind to a halt.  

I moved a little closer to the window and could feel the cold permeating from it. Instead of seeing just a white wall of influence, I could see the small particles swirling through the air and then floating down to the white blanket six floors below. Despite my disdain for the weather, I found it rather peaceful. And then I chuckled. Why is it called ‘a blanket of snow?’ Why not just a covering or a layer? I thought. I always associated blankets with comfort and safety, and I found it ironic.  

SAUNTERING BACK TO MY DESK, though, another thought popped into my brain: Maybe the point of calling it a blanket is to bring comfort. The snow embraces the ground, it does not suffocate it. The winter slows us down, not to isolate us, but to help us reflect.

I thought back to last December in the middle of lockdown and the amount of time I had to myself. I returned to positive old habits and hobbies. I even started journaling again after almost 6 months. It was one of the first winters where I did not feel isolated from others because I had intentional time to work on myself. Of course, this self-reflection was practically shoved into my lap because of a pandemic. But even in the summer of 2020, I could busy myself with the outdoors and needless work to avoid honest meditation of my feelings and thoughts. Winter pushed me to take a moment to rest.  

“Why is it called ‘a blanket of snow?’”

Slinking in my swivel chair, I took a deep breath and noted how my body felt. It was tired. Achy limbs and slow blinking eyes. Despite this, my mind felt rested for letting my body feel it. I will probably never say winter is my favorite season, or that I enjoy driving in the snow, but I will try to appreciate Nature’s push to take my time and to be patient with myself.  

By Kayla Zopfi

Year-of-service programs are ecosystems of mutual exchange, community engagement, and mentorship. Especially in the nonprofit sector, decades-long histories inform and affect programs that facilitate the connection between individuals who want to engage in their community (often recent college graduates) and organizations who are doing work that makes a difference (often those doing faith-based community service and/or organizing).

The volunteers living at Wellstone House in Powderhorn Park spend a Saturday preparing the yard for winter.

Being an undergrad student studying religion, political science, and interfaith studies meant that I spent four years deeply immersed in the metaphysical space that exists when you ask, “Why?” or, “What if?” As an almost-college-graduate with what felt like an endless list of possibilities for what I could do after graduating, I knew I wanted to put the theory I was learning into practice, but also cared about structural opportunities for mentorship and connection. A year of service seemed to provide exactly this.

“The intentional community aspect of a year of service is often what you make of it, and we have made it fit perfectly for our needs and personalities.”

This year, I get to live with four other volunteers in a beautiful, cozy house in the Powderhorn Park neighborhood in Minneapolis. Together we cook, clean, laugh, watch movies, vote, and solve all of the world’s problems. The intentional community aspect of a year of service is often what you make of it, and we have made it fit perfectly for our needs and personalities.

We also have two spiritual mentors, Andrew and Andrea, and two community mentors, Lydia and Leah. (If you were wondering – it isn’t a requirement to have coordinating names to be a spiritual or community mentor, but it sure is fun that it worked out that way this year!) We meet monthly with each pair of mentors to ensure we have the support we need, and to explore LVC’s core values: living simply and sustainably, intentional community, exploring spirituality, journey to inclusive community, and social justice.

WHILE THERE ARE so many aspects of this year of service that have been life-changing already, it’s the work that I get to do every day that is the best part. As the Administrative and Communications associate, I get to spend half of my time on the admin team, keeping up with office operations and assisting with parts of the synod’s equity work. The other half of my time, on the Communications team, is spent on our website and social media platforms and doing some writing.

This LVC community spends some time in a pumpkin patch this fall.

As with any synopsis, there are details left out of this description. What it doesn’t tell you is that I got to help transcribe interviews with leaders of our BIPOC and low-income congregations to be used for our ongoing equity lens study. It doesn’t tell you that I get to pitch and write stories that highlight some of the brilliant work happening every day in our congregations. It doesn’t tell you that I get to learn how to prepare people for press conferences, or present at city council meetings, or compile reports to make a master document for a gathering of the synod’s leaders on racial equity and justice.

“Generations of leaders have service programs footnoted in their pathways to peace-waging and change-making.”

Maybe these things seem simple or not very glamorous, but I’ve just spent four years learning that all of these things, and so much more, need to happen in order to create change. Through this program, I get to actually do them, not just read or hear about other people doing them, all while I have people around to specifically help me learn and explore and fail and try again – just as I hoped when I submitted my LVC application last February.

The volunteers are expressing their civic duty on November 2.

Participation is down for my, and almost every other, year-of-service program. Are there critiques to be made of the year-of-service model? Absolutely. Does that diminish the important opportunities these programs bring to all who invest into them? Certainly not. Generations of leaders have service programs footnoted in their pathways to peace-waging and change-making.

As a current volunteer, of course, I would be remiss if I didn’t end with a reminder that Lutheran Volunteer Corps 2022-23 applications are open for both placements and volunteers! For more information, head to lutheranvolunteercorps.org.

By Brenda Blackhawk 

Have you ever heard the phrase, “You can’t appreciate the sunshine if you’ve never stood in the rain?” Several variations of the saying pop up when you look online for quotes of gratitude and thanksgiving. It regularly comes up in our times of grief and sorrow as well, when someone who cares is trying to remind us that everyone experiences hard times and things will get better.  

I think I get the phrase. I mean, just imagine if the sun was always shining. My guess is, like anything that is always there, we would take it for granted. We’d probably even complain about it a little bit. We can appreciate the warmth of the sun so much more when we experience rainy days, and we should try to remember to be thankful for all the good times. 

“I think of all the people who are stuck in the rain, through no fault of their own. And of all the people who always have sunshine so that if the sun even drifts behind a cloud they feel like the world is ending.”

In a few days folks all across the U.S. will be giving thanks by spending time with loved ones, stuffing their faces and warming up leftovers for days. I will be engaging in Thanksgiving festivities when my spouse and I drive out to Chicago to visit with his family and eat at about six different relatives’ houses. 

Over the years, many people have asked me if I, as a Native person, celebrate Thanksgiving. Sometimes I think people are disappointed when I say, “of course!” I’d probably be a more interesting person if I said that I protested the holiday, but honestly, I can’t think of a single Indigenous person in my acquaintance who doesn’t enjoy any excuse for fun and family and food (which doesn’t mean those folks don’t exist, FYI).  

I GREW UP LEARNING the same version of the Thanksgiving story as most of you: The pilgrims were saved by the “noble savages” – who taught them how to live off the land – and they feasted together at the harvest. I also know that isn’t the true story and I hope and pray schools are doing a better job teaching the real history these days. (I’m not getting into the real history. Look it up if you’re interested. All you need to know is that, as usual, it didn’t go well for the Wampanoag when dealing with colonizers).  

This is the part of “appreciating the sunshine…” that perturbs me. I think of all the people who are stuck in the rain, through no fault of their own. And of all the people who always have sunshine so that if the sun even drifts behind a cloud they feel like the world is ending. I know that grief is relative and that comparing sorrows doesn’t make anyone feel better. AND it really seems unfair that some people get all the rain and others get the sun. It’s been raining on Indigenous Americans since 1492. 

“In a few days folks all across the U.S. will be giving thanks by spending time with loved ones, stuffing their faces and warming up leftovers for days.”

A few years ago, I attended a symposium where Mark Charles was the main speaker. He talked about the Doctrine of Discovery and the harms that the Christian Empire has wrought on the world. He also talked about the specific role the church should play in the righting of those wrongs. He lifted up a deep need for true lament before there can be reconciliation, … which, now that I think about it, is an invitation to go sit in the rain for a while.  

All people should show gratitude and thanksgiving for their loved ones and communities, for all God and Mother Earth provide. And it’s not wrong to do that with food and celebration. We need to be grateful for those sunny moments. Just don’t forget that you’re also invited to go and sit in the rain too. Who knows? You may learn to appreciate the sun a little differently. 

By Pastor John Hulden

But Ruth said, “Do not press me to leave you or to turn back from following you! Where you go, I will go; Where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die, I will die — there will I be buried. May the Lord do thus and so to me, and more as well, if even death parts me from you!” When Naomi saw that she was determined to go with her, she said no more to her.
Ruth 1: 16-18 NRS

The first meeting with other staff every Monday is my check-in with Maya and Nick. Our Lectio Divina this morning was from the first verses of the Book of Ruth. Since very few women are named in the Bible, I suppose it’s both terrible and remarkable that two women have a book named after them. The Book of Ruth is a wonderful antidote to the horrible things that happen in the previous Old Testament book: Judges.

The “Where you go …” verses highlighted above are powerful, and therefore, of course, Christian-Bookstore-refrigerator-magnet-and-wall-hanging worthy. I suppose that’s how newlyweds picking out wedding scripture end up choosing those verses. I’m trying to remember if I were at all tactful in explaining to those newlyweds this “happily ever after” scripture is really about a mother- and daughter-in-law.

Naomi and Ruth choose to be companions.

NEXT ON MY SCHEDULE today was our synod staff’s Zoom meeting with Archbishop Musa Filibus of the Lutheran Church of Christ in Nigeria (LCCN). The internet connection both here and in North East Nigeria was strong enough for us to hear powerful words from the leader of our synod’s companion synod.

Archbishop Musa Filibus leading a staff devotion with the Minneapolis Area Synod staff.

Among many other things Archbishop Musa Panti Filibus said:

“I’m often asked, are you not threatened where you live? Of course. I don’t have an option. But God is in charge. God is the light. God is the one that remains. Let us be a loving, caring community”

“During the corruption, hate, war, and discrimination, there are so many people who are suffering in the margins. It is precisely in this that we are called to bring a word of hope.”

“Companions show up. Companions listen. Companions show compassion. Companions accompany. Companions advocate.”

In 2013, I was honored to represent the Minneapolis Area Synod at the weeklong Centenary Celebration of the Lutheran Church of Christ in Nigeria (LCCN). At the final worship service, a new local bishop was installed: Musa Filibus. Pastor Filibus felt the call to leave his job in Geneva working for the Lutheran World Federation, and he and his family moved back to his home area in rural Nigeria. A few years later, he was elected Archbishop of the LCCN.

Archbishop Filibus continues to be a shining example for me on how to be a companion. His leadership has brought companionship to the forefront in everything he does as he leads the LCCN. Companions show up. Companions listen. Companions show compassion. Companions accompany. Companions advocate. Companions know much of the work we do, we do better together.

NOW ARCHBISHOP FILIBUS is spearheading an effort to start Lutheran University Nigeria. He has heard the plea of teenagers unable to attend college. So, he turned his attention and efforts to starting a university. His companion list is long for this work: families in rural areas, local politicians, government officials, LCCN’s pastors and congregations, ecumenical partners in NE Nigeria, and, yes, the Minneapolis Area Synod (LCCN’s companion synod here in the U.S.).

“Why start a university in North East Nigeria?”

Why start a university in NE Nigeria? See this video. (Bishop Filibus says this video is going viral in NE Nigeria; folks are very excited about this new Lutheran University.) Also see this web page.

How can you be companion? Time is short. There is an important deadline looming for the LCCN to be granted approval for their university. All they need is money, … some of our money.

I hope that someday soon our synod might be able to host a trip to visit our companions in Nigeria again. But the best way to be a companion today? Give in any of these ways:

1. You can mail cash or a check to the synod office:
   • Minneapolis Area Synod
     Attn: LUN Fund
     122 W Franklin Ave, #600
     Minneapolis, MN 55404
2. You can text “LUN” to 44-321.
3. You can give online through GiveLively.
4. You can use the QR code below.