Staff Blogs

By Pastor Craig Pederson

Last week I returned to my hometown in west central Minnesota (Starbuck) to officiate and sing at the funeral of a beloved neighbor of my family. Joe Hoium died of heart complications at the age of 95. He was vigorous and alert until the end: He was doing push-ups until two months ago, and was still watching every Twins game on TV. (No jokes were made that his devotion to the team may have hastened his demise, … but some of us were thinking it!)

Joe was a quintessential pillar of this small-town community, not because of a powerful professional position but because of his character that was marked by a life of service jobs and volunteering. After high school and a distinguished term in military service, Joe returned home, married the school administrative assistant, and together began their shared life.

Joe and Corrine (his wife) adopted and raised two incredible children who remain my friends today. For more than 40 years, Joe was a bus driver, hardware store sales associate, funeral home assistant, ambulance driver, volunteer fire fighter, church volunteer, Boy Scout leader, and VFW member. In short, Joe served others.

DURING MY DRIVE out to the funeral that morning, I listened to a Radiolab podcast about the career and death of another man of character – or rather, characters: Mel Blanc. If you don’t know him by name, you would likely know his voice – actually, many voices. Blanc was the vocal talent and creative energy behind some of the most popular animated figures of the 20^th century: Bugs Bunny, Porky Pig, Elmer Fudd, Daffy Duck, Yosemite Sam, Barney Rubble on the Flintstones, just to name a few.

“Arriving at the place where my own parents are buried and sitting there for a while, I couldn’t help but think: Is this all, folks?”

The podcast was an interview with Blanc’s only child, Noel Blanc, who recounted the ups and downs of his father’s career and life. Noel Blanc described how his father totally immersed himself in his characters. He also described Blanc’s near-fatal auto accident in the early 1960s. After being in a coma for two weeks, unresponsive and with few signs of hope, a doctor came into his room and tried something different. He said to Blanc, “Bugs Bunny! How are you doing today?” Slowly, Blanc opened his eyes and said, “Ehh, what’s up Doc?” I know, this story is too good to be true, right? But it was verified by both Blanc’s son and the doctor himself!

Blanc eventually recovered. He became a workaholic and struggled to keep relationships and career in perspective. Near the end of his life, however, he and his son teamed up to do ads for Oldsmobile in the late 1980s. Some of you may remember this ad campaign that used celebrities and Warner Brothers characters to boldly claim, “this is not your father’s Oldsmobile!”

Blanc’s last recorded work was during this campaign, and his last character voice was Porky Pig uttering the iconic phrase, “Th-th-that’s all, folks!” At his own request, this is the phrase that is engraved on Blanc’s tombstone.

AT THE CEMETERY after Joe’s funeral, I heard the words of committal during the interment of his cremains: “earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” Then I walked the rows of tombstones where other community pillars – and many others who were lesser known – were laid to rest.

Arriving at the place where my own parents are buried and sitting there for a while, I couldn’t help but think: Is this all, folks? Even as Resurrection people, the immediacy and inevitability of death can be overwhelming.

One of the scripture readings at Joe’s funeral was Romans 5 (one of my favorites!) where Paul writes, “… we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us” (vv. 3-5).

“Joe was a quintessential pillar of this small-town community, not because of a powerful professional position but because of his character that was marked by a life of service jobs and volunteering.”

“Character” is variously translated as “a unique mark, a distinctive quality, an enduring gift.” Joe’s depth of character was expressed in a certain way, while Mel Blanc’s was in a very different way.

What is the character of your church? What is your character as a Christian? Many of us are asking these questions as we emerge from 15 months of a pandemic, racial justice awakening, and economic disruption into a new reality.

I encourage you to continue exploring these questions, knowing that God‘s love is poured into your hearts to give expression to your character. Through Christ, God’s promise is “that’s not all folks!” God is not done with us yet – neither in this life, nor in the life to come.

By Pastor Norma Malfatti

One of my New Testament professors in seminary regularly assigned an integrative project for the end of the semester. This project required that students create some practical application of using Scripture, beyond writing a sermon, of course.  One friend of mine wrote a graphic novel, and another classmate connected a piece of classic artwork to a Gospel story.

One of my projects involved creating a youth group series called “Paul at the Movies.” Now, I am almost always see the themes of Biblical stories pop up at the movies, … which was likely one of the points of these projects (in addition to realizing that the Bible isn’t just for reading in worship).

“The expectations of the world and what people look for in a celebrity or pro athlete are not what God is looking for in a leader.”

Earlier this week I shared at the synod’s First Call Theological Education gathering that one of my favorite movie genres is Marvel superheroes. I have done a whole sermon series connecting the Holy Spirit, the purpose of the church, and your favorite superheroes (and mine!). Most recently I’ve been rewatching the Avengers series in preparation for the release of Loki on Disney+ on June 9.

Lo and behold, the Scriptures have jumped out at me once again. This time seeing the story of David’s anointing in Avengers: Age of Ultron.

A reproduction of Thor’s hammer

IN MARVEL LORE, ONLY the worthy are able to lift and wield Mjolnir, a powerful hammer forged at Odin’s request for his son Thor. Thor himself was deemed unworthy of his hammer for a time and had to re-earn the right to use it. During a party in the wee hours one morning, the core Avengers are gathered around Tony Stark’s living room chatting, as friends often do. Soon the bravado of the conversation leads them to test out the theory that “only the worthy” can handle the hammer.

“It was David’s heart – his desire to be faithful to his call as a shepherd – that had God saying, ‘This is the one.’” 

One after another member of the Avengers – the richest, the smartest, the wittiest, the ones with gadgets, the family man, and the strongest – tried to lift it. While Steve Rogers got the hammer to move a little, causing some concern for Thor, he too was deemed unworthy. (In case you’re wondering, the Black Widow said that she “[didn’t] need an answer to that question.”)

Watching these men, one by one, come to the table to lift that hammer was reminiscent of Jesse’s sons coming forward to the prophet Samuel waiting to learn if they were deemed worthy, so to speak, to be the next king over Israel. Samuel was expecting the best looking, strongest, the oldest, or wisest to be the next king. These were the same values and expectations that had him anoint Saul as King and that was a huge disappointment. A retired Methodist professor refers to God’s “no” to these seven elder sons as “been there, done that, and it didn’t work.”

While wielding Thor’s hammer in a comic book is certainly not the same thing as being anointed King over Israel, the similarities cannot be ignored. The expectations of the world and what people look for in a celebrity or pro athlete are not what God is looking for in a leader, though there may be some overlap. Afterall, when David finally arrives on the scene, he is first described as ruddy and good looking with beautiful eyes. Still, it was David’s heart – his desire to be faithful to his call as a shepherd – that had God saying, “This is the one.”

Now, we know the rest of the story and how easy it is for God’s beloved David to sin so tragically and egregiously by abusing his power, committing sexual assault, and plotting murder (to name a few trespasses). But this story demonstrates that, at the beginning of David’s call and rise to leadership, being faithful to God and being a leader in the Church isn’t about who is the most popular, smartest, strongest, or any other superlative.

Being a leader involves a deep commitment to caring for others, pushing past fear to work for God’s justice, and listening for God’s voice, not the world’s cacophony of voices. Leadership in the church means striving to hear where God is calling. By God’s grace, we are made worthy.

By Madeline Troyer

I have been loving Minnesota lake culture. During the winter months, the lakes have a unique appeal. But it’s really warm weather that draws me to them. I grew up going to my great grandpa’s lake cottage in Michigan where I have fond memories of family gathering around plates full of summer food, tussling with my cousins in the water, and enjoying time spent on anything that floated. Lakes have always been a part of my summer and so gathering around them fills my soul.

Madeline and her dad enjoy a summer at her great-grandpa’s lake cottage

I enjoy biking through the city and passing different lakes. Each of them has unique qualities, but all of them have people enjoying their experience, albeit in different ways.

“I enjoy biking through the city and passing different lakes.”

Two weekends ago I went to Lake Nokomis in South Minneapolis. People were out on paddleboards, kayaks, and canoes; people were fishing, playing games, and picnicking; and on the beach people of all ages were playing in the sand, cooling off in the water, or just enjoying the company of others. While it was shocking to see so many people unmasked in one place, it did allow me to see what each of us had in common – joy.

PART OF MY WORK involves talking to congregations about watersheds. As we share our stories, I have learned that each of us has a water narrative and everyone’s face seems to light up with joy when remembering how we are connected to water.

In Minnesota, people often connect with others through paddling and water.

Water is also a part of our faith story through the act of baptism. Martin Luther says that “holy baptism was purchased for us through this same blood, which [Christ] shed for us and with which he paid for sin. This blood and its merit and power he put into baptism, in order that in baptism we might receive it. For whenever a person receives baptism in faith, this is the same as if he were visibly washed and cleansed of sin with the blood of Christ.” (Luther’s Works 51:325).

This same cleansing, life-giving water of baptism is the water we pollute with our oil, trash, herbicides, salt, yard clippings, etc. Each of us have the ability to take action to keep our waters clean for generations to come as we deepen our vocation as disciples of Christ through caring for creation.

“Water is also a part of our faith story through the act of baptism.”

Individually you can commit to not using salt in the winter or using chemicals in your yard or in your house; you can plant native species and adopt a storm drain to take care of. A church or other group can work to plant a rain garden, install permeable pavers, or become a certified smart salter.

Madeline can often be found at her favorite Minneapolis Lake.

We can all advocate for larger change by contacting our legislators about policies to protect our water, such as removing lead pipes or planning about how we handle manure. (Both of these issues that are currently being discussed by elected officials.)

You can also join synod leaders in July for a joint ecumenical service as we come together to share stories and learn how others are taking action to care for the waters that connect us and bring us so much joy. More details will be coming soon. Feel free to contact me at m.troyer@mpls-synod.org if you want to be added to the registration list.

By Bob Hulteen

When no one else was really coming into the office in the first months of the pandemic (as per guidelines), I decided to grow my beard out. I mean, I’ve had a goatee for more than a decade. But goatees require some shaving daily, and that’s hardly been worth it during COVID times. Since no meetings were being held in the office, I decided I could wear unmatched socks, pants with holes in the knees, and a big ole’ beard.

Masks became a bit of a problem. You wash your beard and put on a mask: Boom, sitting at your desk, your chin hairs stick straight out – a Mohawk under your lips.

My office — it’s not as bad as it looks

My office space itself also started getting a little sloppy. With no one else at the office, I started to roll tables from the conference room into my office and use tables instead of file folders. I had my info-for-the-enews pile, my crisis-communications pile, my payday-lending pile, my ecofaith pile, my Uprising pile, my narrative-budget pile, and so on.

“Goatees require some shaving daily, and that’s hardly been worth it during COVID times.”

As colleagues stopped by the building to pick up mail, their hearts sunk as they peered through the window to my office.

Now with relaxed restrictions regarding vaccinated people being indoors together, synod staff members are spending some more time in the office (while still not hosting broader meetings). I’m back to a goatee, so I have less issues with unruly whiskers. Since we need the tables for group meetings, I’m putting memos and reports back into folders. Civilization is returning to the sixth floor of the Minnesota Church Center (specifically, my 12’ by 12’ nook).

BUT, I AM ALSO aware that the pandemic has uprooted more than just my work space and facial hair. Learning how to “share” the synod office with colleagues again is requiring some intentionality, … and I’m an extreme extravert.

In some ways it feels like we’ve all just been on vacation and are just coming back to work. In others, I feel like it’s a whole new workplace.

I know myself enough to know that this period of transition is also a time to be gentle – with myself and with my colleagues. Certainly anxieties have built up over the last 14 months; I don’t want to unleash my fears and hurts and worries on my coworkers. And, I will if I am not intentional.

I think similar feelings are likely true in many of our congregations as well. As we return to in-person worship over the next few months – whether outdoor or indoor, whether with singing or without – we all have opinions about when that should have happened (or when it should happen in the future, instead of now). Our disappointments over funerals unattended or youth trips untaken could manifest themselves in acts of dissent or passive aggressiveness (a real problem in the dominant culture of Minnesota, ya’ know). We could be very ungracious to each other.

“Our disappointments over funerals unattended or youth trips untaken could manifest themselves in acts of dissent or passive aggressiveness.”

I’ve seen some rostered leaders take some pretty hard hits over the last few months. Parishioners who do love to worship with their friends and families have challenged the leadership of the congregation – those people tasked with developing the plan to re-engage in public worship – in sometimes hurtful ways. Pastors have sometimes shown their irritation with increasing demands to develop skills that were not imagined in their seminary education.

As we return to in-person worship, we have a chance to live out the grace that has been given to us, that we have experienced from a loving God. We have the opportunity to extend to our leaders, our neighbors, our friends, our families an incarnated love that is unconditional. We can apologize; we can make amends; we can live differently. Intentionally.

We can be the church – embodied and free to serve.

And, if necessary, we can even apologize for actions like taking all the tables out of the conference room for our own personal use. (But, I’m not apologizing for the beard.)

By Pastor Norma Malfatti

This Thursday we mark Jesus’ ascension. (You may remember Jesus tells Mary in the garden, “Don’t hold on to me, for I have not yet ascended to Abba God.” John 20:17, The Inclusive Bible: the first egalitarian translation.)

This day is a turning point in the life of the early church. Unlike his death and resurrection three days later, this time Jesus really will be gone. No longer will the apostles have their friend, rabbi, and Lord with them to answer all their questions, to help them figure out what’s next, or even to have him offering those calming words in the middle of storms. While Jesus has promised not to leave them orphaned (John 14:18), life will be different.

So, it’s no wonder why, at the very beginning of Acts as the story of Jesus’ ascension is retold, the disciples are left standing staring at the sky where Jesus has disappeared into. Even though Jesus has given them some pretty clear instructions on what to do next – wait for the coming Holy Spirit and then go and be witnesses in Jerusalem, the entire region, and to the ends of the earth. Still, the disciples are truly in the in between times – the time between what they knew and the new life and roles promised to them with the Holy Spirit.

WE ARE LIVING in a particularly interesting confluence of Biblical stories and our present life. The governor has begun lifting COVID-19 restrictions, which includes capacity limits being removed at the end of the month for indoor gatherings, though face masks will still be required.

We are left with the question of what now? What do we do with these new rules? How do we live out Jesus’ instructions to be witnesses (Acts 1) and to love others as Jesus loved us (John 15:12)? It’s one of the many times in my life that I just wish Jesus would simply come and tell us what to do, something I assume the first disciples wanted quite a lot.

I don’t have any answers to solve your congregation’s building reopening questions, if you don’t already have plans in place. I do however have some questions that apply to our entire lives as Jesus-people, not simply whether or not we worship inside buildings. I also believe these questions are similar to those questions the disciples asked themselves again and again after they stopped staring at the sky.

• What does it mean to be a witness to Jesus right now?
• What does loving others as Jesus loves us look like right now?
• What is at the core of what it means to be a follower of Jesus?
• What are those things people initiated when following Jesus grew from a small number of people in Jerusalem to a global movement that has lasted 2000 years?

As we live in these in between times – between pre-pandemic and post-pandemic; between the way we’ve always done things and the new ideas that are springing forth; between the generational shifts in leadership that are always happening – I invite you to ponder these questions again. You may not have tongues of fire bouncing on your head, but you may just feel the fire of Holy Spirit burning in you to leap into what’s next.

By Pastor Craig Pederson

In the wake of the momentous events of last week – the Chauvin trial verdict, the killing of Daunte Wright, the death of Walter Mondale, the uptick of COVID-19 cases – I’m still reflecting on the gospel text many of us heard over the weekend about Jesus being the Good Shepherd (John 10:11-18). If there has ever been a time when we’ve needed to listen to the voice of the Good Shepherd, and to be guided and comforted by that voice, it is now.

But I have also been thinking about a counter image – if there is a good shepherd, what does a “bad” shepherd look like? We get some idea of this earlier in John’s 10^th chapter: “All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. … The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy” (John 10: 8, 10a).

“In Minnesota, it would be convenient to assign the two former police officers into the “bad cop” category and move on. But that is too simplistic.”

There are voices in our culture, in our politics, and even in our churches that have been working to divide and destroy in order to gain or retain power – both historically and in the present. The racism and injustices against which we fight are examples of voices that seek to lead us astray.

There is another good/bad dichotomy that has been prevalent over the past year, one that will continue to be explored in the weeks and months to come: the notion of good cops and bad cops.

I’m not talking about the “good cop/bad cop” expression used as a strategy in negotiations or as a tactic in sales. I mean literally the good cops who represent the finest in law enforcement through their presence and engagement in our communities, and the bad cops who get out of line and betray their oaths to protect and serve. Bad cops are said to become that way either because they are “bad apples” that don’t reflect the whole bushel basket of cops, or because they are outgrowths of a systemic “rotten tree” that some say describes a troubled institutional police culture.

DEREK CHAUVIN’S TRIAL for the murder of George Floyd, and Kim Potter’s killing of Daunte Wright for which she will likely stand trial, have caused jurors, public officials, and the general public to explore what voices were being heard and what motivations were at work in these tragic events. This same exploration is taking place in Columbus, Ohio, with the killing of Ma-Khia Bryant, in North Carolina with the killing of Andrew Brown, and in several other officer-involved shootings of people of color around the country.

In Minnesota, it would be convenient to assign the two former police officers into the “bad cop” category and move on. But that is too simplistic; it would not take into account the fullness of who they (and we) are as individuals and how they (and we) have been influenced by a culture and systems that are broken.

In an interview on 60 Minutes this weekend, Minnesota Attorney General Keith Ellison described the strategy and approach of his legal team to achieve a guilty verdict for Derek Chauvin. When asked how he felt when he first heard the verdict, Ellison said there was a mix of gratitude, humility, and some satisfaction. Then he said, “I spent 16 years as a criminal defense lawyer, so, I will admit, I felt a little bad for the defendant. I think he deserved to be convicted. But he’s a human being.”

“Then he said, ‘I spent 16 years as a criminal defense lawyer, so, I will admit, I felt a little bad for the defendant. I think he deserved to be convicted. But he’s a human being.’” 

Surprised by Ellison’s response, 60 Minutes interviewer Scott Pelley asked him about his apparent compassion for the convicted ex-cop. Ellison said, “I’m not in any way wavering from my responsibility. But I hope we never forget that people who are defendants in our criminal justice system, that they’re human beings. They’re people. I mean, George Floyd was a human being. And so I’m not going to ever forget that everybody in this process is a person.”

When Ellison says “human being” and “person,” I hear “child of God” (and, as a Muslim, Ellison seems to hear this as well). Children of God need to hear the voice of the Good Shepherd, now more than ever. The Good Shepherd names the darkness and does not deny it, but also provides the Light and guides us to it.

As we continue to pursue justice and practice mercy in the weeks and months ahead, we do so with the courage and compassion made real by the resurrected Christ – the Good Shepherd who will not mislead us.

By Emilie Bouvier

A few weeks ago, I was sitting in a comfy deep-seated camping chair, but still somehow managed to be on the edge of my seat. I was sitting around a campfire, but the experience reminded me of being in a seminary classroom with a favorite professor – rapped in attention, soaking in every word, scribbling notes faster than will be legible later.

I was sitting at the Palisade Line 3 resistance camp, listening to movement leader Winona LaDuke. Also in the circle were a handful of bishops and faith leaders and some visitors from New York who had made a long journey to be there. A few young men working on chores in the camp gradually grew closer and paused their work, perched on logs behind us, equally drawn in by her words.

“We can say ‘yes’ to a future free from the grip of corporate fossil fuel infrastructure, a ‘yes’ that opens doors for creative resiliency and energy independence at the local level.”

See, here’s the thing – much of the discussion is, and frankly should be, about the “no” that we need to say to new fossil fuel infrastructure. As Bishop Ann said so beautifully and clearly in her statement on Line 3, “We must together seek an energy future that is not dependent upon fossil fuels that continue to cause harm to ourselves and our planet.” And as Winona shared clearly that morning as her starting place for the conversation, “At the close of the tar sands era, the last thing we need to invest in is another pipeline.”

YET AT THE SAME time, if you listen to Winona and others for more than five minutes, there is a much deeper and more hopeful conversation beyond that initial and necessary “no” that punctuates the news headlines.

Religious leaders join Winona LaDuke at the Palisades Line 3 Camp.

Even the “no” itself stems from a deep and resounding “yes.” This is a “yes” to a deep joy and love for creation. It is a “yes” to a future free from the grip of corporate fossil fuel infrastructure, a “yes” that opens doors for creative resiliency and energy independence at the local level. This “yes” is something that Winona and indigenous community leaders with her are already leading on – from working entrepreneurially on plastics-free materials to investing in community-owned solar.

I heard firsthand Winona’s excitement and joy in imagining a new, just, and resilient economy embedded in local communities. I caught her vision for a resounding “yes” to engaging and building an energy system that enriches our skills and relationships rather than complying to an energy system rooted in separation and consolidated assets that ultimately leave our communities.

“It was striking to hear Dr. Rossing talk then about Revelation as image-based form of resistance.”

Our EcoFaith community organizing in the synod has been rooted too in this resounding “yes.” Together we’ve asked: “How do we re-think our systems to make renewable energies and energy efficiency accessible to everyone on a scale that meets the urgency of the moment?”

I have recently felt more hopeful in addressing this question than I have in a long time. We have been hard at work building powerful relationships with local energy decision-makers that can shape this kind of energy future, and we’ve been gaining traction.

We have to be able to say “yes” and “no” to the right things, and this work is a holy discernment.

HEADING INTO THIS Earth Day week, I was blessed by the voice of another powerful, faithful woman, professor and theologian Barbara Rossing. I heard her speak during a virtual EcoFaith retreat on Saturday, hosted by our friends in the Northeastern Minnesota Synod, and a slew of partners.

Dr. Rossing’s scholarship on the book of Revelation unpacks the text as an image-rich vision for the future that that stands directly counter to the empire ways of Rome – namely, the growth, conquest, and commodification of resources and the state-sanctioned oppression and violence that was enacted to protect that system. Its horribly chilling how familiar that sounds.

I stared at my zoom screen as Dr. Rossing shared this image from Dan Erlander’s Manna and Mercy depicting public thought during the Roman Empire. I certainly saw this image differently this week, having just heard stories of indigenous leaders arrested going to tribal prayer lodges near to the pipeline route and witnessing firsthand the militarized national guard presence in Minneapolis. These images are all too similar.

“Sometimes we need to say “no” to have the imagination to say ‘yes.’”

It was striking to hear Dr. Rossing talk then about Revelation as image-based form of resistance. Revelation offered to God’s people an eschatological vision – a vision of the future – counter to the Roman propaganda of the day. Sometimes we need to say “no” to have the imagination to say “yes.”

Friends, these are tense days and it is abundantly clear how much is at stake. From environmental resources to racial trauma, what kind of “no” are we willing to say amidst the grip of empire and its patterns of violence that keep things “the way it will always be?” And what kind of “yes” are we willing to not only imagine and proclaim, but work to build together on the other side?

By Pastor John Hulden

When I was 10 years ago, I got to tag along with my Dad to the 1970 Lutheran Youth Gathering in New York City. My Dad, Rusty Halaas, was on the team that planned for thousands of teenagers to descend on the Big Apple with nightly gatherings in Madison Square Garden. No matter that New York City was going through a very bad cycle of crime in 1970. No matter that there was a huge political divide in the country over the Vietnam War. (I realized at a young age that some Lutheran Christians don’t shy away from difficult issues.)

“For our ‘service learning,’ attendees at the 1970 Youth Gathering climbed aboard Pete Seeger’s Clearwater Sloop docked on the Hudson River.”

I remember walking into “The Garden” and seeing the boxing ring as the main stage. (In January 1974, the “Fight of the Century” – Ali vs. Frazier II – happened in that very same boxing ring.)

For our “service learning,” we climbed aboard Pete Seeger’s Clearwater Sloop docked on the Hudson River. We explored the boat, heard about protecting the environment, and sang with the world-famous Pete Seeger. His boat and lobbying efforts got the factories to stop dumping waste into the river, and also, Seeger’s work was one of the reasons the Clean Water Act become the law in 1972.

I’M AN OLD Lutheran pastor. I have an abundance of memories…. especially the 13 national youth gatherings I’ve attended. Here’s reflections from just two more.

“I am somebody!” As a teenager at the 1979 Lutheran Youth Gathering in Kansas City, I had front row seats to hear Rev. Jesse Jackson lead us in his litany of empowerment. (Trying to get front row seats is a longtime Youth Gathering tradition!) Then my world was rocked when I heard an African-American teenage girl sing “Lift Every Voice and Sing.” Powerful.

Brenda and Pastor John were pleased and surprised to find their portraits in the Superdome!

“As a teenager at the 1979 Lutheran Youth Gathering in Kansas City, I had front row seats to hear Rev. Jesse Jackson lead us in his litany of empowerment, ‘I am somebody.’”

Fast forward to the 2000 Gathering in St. Louis that I attended as an adult leader. We listened to Archbishop Desmond Tutu say “thank you” to US Lutherans and the rest of the world for standing with the oppressed in South Africa to end Apartheid.

Twenty years earlier as a college student, my friends and I tried to get Concordia College to divest in companies doing business with the white South African government. Our little group of activists failed. And then, two decades later, at a youth gathering, tears roll down my face when I hear “Thank you, thank you, thank you, and thank you” from Archbishop Tutu. A lesson was learned: The larger church can be a powerful force.

ARE YOU EXCITED TO join us at the 2022 ELCA Youth Gathering in Minneapolis? I hope so. Please don’t miss this opportunity to deepen your walk with Jesus and learn about your church and the world — as a teenager or an adult volunteer. You get to make memories with thousands of your new friends from across the ELCA.

Trinity Lutheran, Moorhead, Gathering attendees enjoy the dress up booth at the 2012 Gathering in New Orleans.

“Are you excited to join us at the 2022 ELCA Youth Gathering in Minneapolis?”

Wait, when is it? Oh, yeah, it will be July 24-28, 2022, in Minneapolis. I can’t wait!

P.S.  I am honored to serve on the “Synod Day” planning team for the 2022 Youth Gathering. Thanks in advance to all of our congregations who have agreed to host teenagers for the day in church buildings all over the Twin Cities.

Important dates to remember

May 22, 2021 Gathering Volunteer Corps application opens
June 22, 2021 Getting Ready Materials available
July 22, 2021 Gathering Volunteer Corps application closes
July 22, 2021 Financial assistance application opens
September 22, 2021 Early-bird registration begins
November 22, 2021 Regular Registration begins
November 22, 2021 Servant Companion application open

A shorter version of this blog can be found on the ELCA’s Youth Gathering website.

By Brenda Blackhawk

My great-great grandmother was born in 1896 in a wigwam in Nebraska. She died peacefully in her sleep in 1999, at the age of 103. I was 11 years-old when she passed. I never got spend much time with Minnie Gray Wolf Littlebear, but the times I did made an impression.

I only ever recall her being in a wheelchair, but everyone says she was tall. From the eyes of a child, she was ancient – wrinkled brown skin, hunched shoulders, white hair, and thick glasses. She preferred skirts and dresses to pants, always had a smile for her grandchildren, and had a major sweet tooth. Though she lived to an exceptional age, she never suffered the loss of her mental faculties.

“My Gaga Minnie still knew and practiced many of the old traditions of our people and was a wealth of knowledge when so much had been lost.”

She was revered by her family and tribal nation. She still knew and practiced many of the old traditions of our people and was a wealth of knowledge when so much had been lost. She gave me and most of her other grandchildren their Winnebago/Ho-Chunk names. The tribe threw her a huge birthday party when she turned 100 and people came from all over to appreciate her.

One thing I remember about Gaga (grandmother) Minnie was that I never heard her speak English. When we would visit her, my Choka (grandfather) or Jagi (father) would translate. It wasn’t until I was much older that I learned about Indian Boarding Schools – and that Gaga Minnie attended one.

THE PURPOSE OF Indian Boarding Schools was simple: “Kill the Indian, save the man.” Indigenous children were kidnapped and often sent hundreds of miles away from their homes. At the schools they were forced to assimilate; they weren’t allowed to wear traditional clothing, practice traditional religions, wear their hair in a traditional manner, or speak their native languages. They suffered physical, emotional, and sexual abuse. Disease often ran rampant in these schools, killing thousands.

For more than 100 years, the U.S. government instituted these policies of forced assimilation. And of the 300 or more schools, 73 of them were operated by the Church. No one knows exactly how many children attended boarding schools, because the government kept poor records and many children went missing. But, according to the National Native American Boarding School Healing Coalition, church institutions kept better records with a total of 239,169 children attending over the course of their operation.

“The staff at the Indian Boarding School would hit the children if they spoke anything but English, which is why my great-great-grandmother never spoke English again.”

Gaga Minnie didn’t start attending at five years old the way the government preferred. Her family hid her away and it wasn’t until she was several years older that she was discovered and taken 120 miles away to Genoa U.S. Indian Industrial School. Genoa was a federal facility and was operated like a military camp.

I don’t know a lot about Gaga Minnie’s experiences there. I know that she labored in the kitchens and became good at making bread. I know that when her mother was allowed to visit her, they shared the same bed. I know she said they were mean, that they would hit the children if they spoke anything but English. And I know that is why my great-great-grandmother never spoke English again.

Brenda Blackhawk with her Gaga Minnie.

Boarding schools caused so much lasting harm for Indigenous communities that there are entire books on the topic. As difficult as it may be to recognize that the Christian Church we love and belong to played a role in this cultural genocide, we must acknowledge it and work toward healing – healing for ourselves and the relationship we have with Indigenous communities.

In 2 Timothy 1:7, Paul writes “for God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline.” It will be hard for us to confront the difficult truths of this subject, but I invite you, and church leaders everywhere, to be brave and to use the power and love and self-discipline our faith provides as we being this healing work.

We are fortunate to have an opportunity next month to learn more about the Church’s involvement in Indian Boarding Schools, and the legacy that system has left with many families. Vance Blackfox of the National Native American Boarding School Healing Coalition will lead a joint workshop for the Minneapolis Area Synod and the Saint Paul Area Synod on April 17.

By Pastor Norma Malfatti

This past weekend many congregations heard Psalm 51 in worship. This psalm is traditionally known as the psalm that King David prayed when the prophet Nathan, on behalf of God, called him out for his egregious sins of sexual abuse when he decided he needed to be with Bathsheba and then had her husband killed on the battlefield to cover up his crime.

At this point David can only hope that God has mercy. And we hear that desperation from the psalmist in the words, “Against you and you alone have I sinned O Lord.”

That’s where the wheels fall off the wagon for me. Could David really say that he only sinned against God? What about Bathsheba? Uriah, her husband? Or even Uriah’s comrades who were instructed to abandon him on the battlefield? Surely David sinned against more than just God.

“To sin against God was to sin against the community, whether it be an individual or the whole community.”

This brings into stark relief the cultural differences between 21st Century United States and the ancient world (and some places today too). In the ancient world, community life and relationship with God were inextricably linked. To sin against God was to sin against the community, whether it be an individual or the whole community. To sin against your neighbor was to sin against God. This is why Paul in 1 Corinthians is adamant that when one in the Body of Christ suffers, then we all suffer and when one is honored, then we all rejoice.

Yet this is not how we see ourselves today. Our culture teaches us that we ought to cover up our sins or at least downplay play them. Celebrity and political scandals notwithstanding, most of the time confession and the request for forgiveness happens in the writing of a note or the occasional conversation where we shamefully admit to our failings and hope the whole matter can be forgotten.

A FEW YEARS AGO, I had the privilege to be in South Africa on a study tour to learn about racial reconciliation with the hope of bringing that learning back to the United States as we wrestle with systemic racism here. While there I learned about the philosophy of ubuntu, which roughly translates to “I am because we are.”

In his book, No Future Without Forgiveness, Archbishop Desmond Tutu speaks of ubuntu like this, “A person with Ubuntu … does not feel threatened that others are able and good, for he or she has a proper self-assurance that comes from knowing that he or she belongs in a greater whole and is diminished when others are humiliated or diminished, when others are tortured or oppressed, or treated as if they were less than who they are.”

“Ubuntu can be roughly translated as ‘I am because we are.’”

As we lament yet another racially motivated violent act – this time against women of Asian descent in Georgia – I am pondering again ubuntu and what it means to be the Body of Christ.  This past Sunday members of  ELCA congregations were called to observe a day of lament for the violence and hatred directed at our siblings of Asian descent simply for being who they are.

Whether or not your congregation observed this day, I invite you to join me in lamenting the fear of violence that our neighbors are experiencing. But I also urge you to reflect on ubuntu and just how God works in your life to create a heart and spirit of relational love.