Blog

By Bob Hulteen

Let’s be honest: Christian community on its best days is challenging. And, the authors of the scriptures seem to be aware that it is virtually impossible when economic inequity is a lived experience within communities.

The Hebrew people knew that accumulation of wealth by fewer and fewer people would make them even more vulnerable to the ruling powers of the day. Theologically, they acknowledged this. Just like people need a day of rest every seven days and the land needs an opportunity for resurgence after seven years, they said that the entire community needed a fiscal reset after seven cycles of seven years. They called for a Year of Jubilee – a return of accumulated wealth to those who now had less – and were committed to release of the captives and good news for the poor.

Sojourners Community, the congregation of my 20s, took this all very literally.* As the early church in Acts, we sought to live out of a common purse.

“So, a system seemingly designed to bring equality did not have the impact of bringing equality of experience.”

In our zeal to live as closely as possible to the early followers of Jesus, those of us in the Sojourners Community shared one bank account. Each of the 50 members of the community (35 adults and 15 children) shared their paycheck with the community and received a $50 stipend back for personal expenditures. No matter what your salary, like those early Christians, we wanted an economy of equality.

We built an infrastructure to help us live out this equality. We shared seven row houses in a neighborhood that had been neglected for decades. We co-owned eight cars, with sign out sheets when one needed transportation. Each living situation received a bulk payment for food to be used collectively.

LIVING OUT BIBLICAL values it turns out however, can become increasingly challenging (and exhausting).

What was equality really fair? I confess that I spent most of my monthly allotment on beer and books. My housemate Janice, with early onset arthritis, spent most of her stipend on ibuprofen and other forms of pain relief.

Community members Dolly and Scott were able to travel to see their family — located in Maryland and Virginia respectively — nearly every week without any significant cost. Holidays were times to see nieces and nephews, grandmas and uncles. On the other hand, Jim and I, with families on the West Coast and Midwest, struggled to get home every other year,  pinching together any leftover cash from that spent on books (er, and beer).

“For the first time the majority of Minnesota’s six ELCA bishops will be women (when Bishop-Elect Amy Odgren is installed later this fall).”

So, a system seemingly designed to bring equality did not have the impact of bringing equality of experience.

Maybe I’m thinking of this because this year is the 50^th anniversary of Sojourners the magazine. (The communal living experience ended in 1990.) And 50 is the magic number of Jubilee.

But, it’s not magic. Justice and equality come with hard work. Our dedicated siblings in the faith who sought the professional priesthood for women worked long and hard to see it come into being. The first woman was ordained in a predecessor body of the ELCA 50 years ago. This is a year of jubilee for a more equitable table.

By 2009 when the table was expanded further to siblings who were gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, queer, still not one bishop in Minnesota was yet a woman. Today however, 11 years later, for the first time the majority of the state’s six ELCA bishops will be women (when Bishop-Elect Amy Odgren is installed later this fall). In lilting steps at times, we make strides forward.

The table isn’t done expanding. Jubilee always challenges to reset – both our imaginations and our wealth. Christian community is still on its best days challenging (and exhausting). But, thankfully, at its best it is also renewing and liberating.

*I also belonged to St. Peter Lutheran Church in Washington, D.C., a small but mighty congregation offering many community engagement opportunities, like home delivery of groceries to shut-ins and a yearround shelter for women experiencing homelessness. (And, coincidently, the congregation where Pastor Kelly Chatman interned.)

By Brenda Blackhawk

A few years ago, a friend and I were asked to lead the Palm Sunday service. We chose the readers, wrote the prayers, and – in lieu of a traditional sermon – performed a spoken word piece we had written. The sermon at core questioned some traditional life choices and highlighted the different ways Jesus shows up in the world.

In the 20ish-minute poem, we emphasized Jesus’ call for us to engage the world: Pursue and follow truth, love neighbors by seeking equality, show mercy by sharing in our wealth and resources, and respect creation. And, my friend and I accentuated our perspective rather forcefully.

We ruffled a few feathers. Recognizing this was the reaction of some congregants, we offered to sit and talk with people after service about all the points we’d made. We used Bible verses, verified statistics, personal stories, and more to demonstrate injustice in the world, and to support our contention that it is our duty as Christians to combat it. In the end, some people couldn’t see past the fact that they didn’t want what they considered “politics” to enter the sanctuary.

“Not once does Jesus suggest we avoid the problem.”

In the 20 months that I have worked at the synod, I have spoken to a lot of pastors and church leaders from different denominations around the state. And I have heard from several pastor-leaders about how often some church members avoid contentious discussions or worry that a sermon is too controversial. I’ve heard stories of angry messages left on answering machines for pastors and of congregants walking out in the middle of worship, instead of engaging in conversation directly and openly.

In good Minnesotan Nice fashion, our churches have become “conflict avoidant.” We’ve embodied Switzerland.

IN THE GOSPEL READING for last Sunday (Matthew 18:15-20), Jesus tells us how to be in healthy conflict within the church. He gives a really good step-by-step guide for handling it. First, talk one-on-one with the person you’ve got an issue with. What if that doesn’t work? Next time bring two or three others to be witnesses. What if that still isn’t working? Bring on the whole church!

Not once does Jesus suggest we avoid the problem. He even reassures us that he’s present in our gatherings (including times of conflict) when he says, “for where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.”

As we approach election season, in what some pundits predict will be the most contentious election in memory, it will be tempting to shy away from “the perception of politics” at church. Congregations around the state have memberships divided by where they sit on the political spectrum. What can churches do in this situation? Could church leaders challenge us all to think about whether we care more about keeping the peace or preaching the gospel?

“As we approach election season, it will be tempting to shy away from ‘the perception of politics’ at church.”

Recently, the ELCA published a new social message, “Government and Civic Engagement in the United States: Discipleship in a Democracy.” The document reminds us that “… civil engagement is a vital aspect of discipleship for baptized Christians.”

As Lutherans we are called to live out the gospel. Sometimes that means peace (as in, absence of conflict). Sometimes that means protest. No matter what, as the new social message states, “… this church affirms that government’s failures and injustices need to be remedied through robust civic engagement.”

And sure, we might ruffle a few feathers. But at least we’re living out the gospel together. With Jesus among us.

By Pastor Craig Pederson

I first saw the phrase on a billboard a couple of months ago: EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE. “Huh, maybe it will,” I thought. I felt better for a moment; it was a welcome respite from the constant problem-solving, low-level-anxiety mode I had been in for several weeks.

Versions of that message seemed to appear more regularly after that: On store and home window signs, in sidewalk chalk and public art displays, and in social media. A neighbor a few blocks from our house created a beautiful sign loosely quoting Julian of Norwich: “All will be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”

“How can positivity become toxic?”

I get a little boost each time I see one of these messages. Sometimes I walk the dog past that neighbor’s house just to see if the sign is still there, and it is. But the boost is short-lived.

Pandemic. Systemic racial injustice. Economic inequality and upheaval. Extreme political division. Climate change. Everything is not fine. All is not well.

And as far as I know, there’s no cosmic egg timer counting down to the buzzer indicating when “well” will be done.

RECENTLY I READ an article that introduced a new concept to me: “toxic positivity.” Huh? What is toxic positivity. Those are two words I never would have expected to relate to each other.

We are in a moment where we are celebrating the 100^th anniversary of women’s right to vote and the 50^th anniversary of women’s ordination in the ELCA. Men are learning to listen ppand change behaviors from the #MeToo movement, and to address persistent workplace inequalities between men and women. In this moment, the concept of “toxic masculinity” is helping us understand how males grow up in a culture that allows and even encourages male superiority, violence, and aggression in ways that are harmful – toxic – to women and to men themselves.

But how can positivity become toxic – especially at a time when we need encouragement and good news more than ever?

“I see some of this toxic positivity in the disciple Peter in Matthew 16:21-28, this week’s assigned text.”

“While cultivating a positive mind-set is a powerful coping mechanism, toxic positivity stems from the idea that the best or only way to cope with a bad situation is to put a positive spin on it and not dwell on the negative,” said Natalie Dattilo, a clinical health psychologist with Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston. “It results from our tendency to undervalue negative emotional experiences and overvalue positive ones.”

I see some of this toxic positivity in the disciple Peter in Matthew’s gospel that happens to be appointed for this week (Matthew 16:21-28) for the Revised Common Lectionary. Jesus has just lauded Peter for recognizing that he is the Messiah, the son of the living God. Peter will be a cornerstone of Christ’s church. That’s got to feel good, right?

But then Jesus starts to tell the disciples how he will undergo suffering and death, and Peter wanted none of it. Whether Peter actually intended to protect Jesus or he just didn’t want to feel badly himself, he blurts out, “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.” Jesus calls him out and says, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” Satan, ouch! That’s about as toxic as it gets.

IF WE COULD DENY pain and avoid suffering, of course we would sign up for that, wouldn’t we? Peter thought that was an option. When he later denied Jesus three times, he realized it wasn’t.

Nor is it an option for us – at least it’s not an equal option. Part of toxic positivity is realizing that some people have less choice to say “all will be well” than others. Psychologist Dattilo says:

‘Looking on the bright side’ in the face of tragedy of dire situations like illness, homelessness, food insecurity, unemployment, or racial injustice is a privilege that not all of us have. So promulgating messages of positivity denies a very real sense of despair and hopelessness, and they only serve to alienate and isolate those who are already struggling.

Theologically, there is another name for this: The Theology of Glory. Deny the suffering, brokenness, and injustice of the world and get right to the good stuff of God’s love through Jesus Christ and eternal life. Skip right over Good Friday, and land on Easter Sunday.

But Jesus didn’t skip over the tough stuff, and we can’t either. Jesus taught and lived the Theology of the Cross. “Let anyone who would deny themselves take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” ( vv. 24-25). This is where we will find true life, true love, true purpose and meaning.

“Part of toxic positivity is realizing that some people have less choice to say ‘all will be well’ than others.”

So does that make the 14^th century mystic Julian of Norwich a purveyor of toxic positivity 700 years before it became a thing? I don’t think so. In chapter 27 of her Revelations of Divine Love, she says,

It is [sayeth] that sin is cause of all this pain; but all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner [of] thing shall be well. Then were it a great unkindness to blame or wonder on God for my sin, since [God] blameth not me for sin. And in these words I saw a marvellous [sic] high mystery hid in God, which mystery [God] shall openly make known to us in Heaven: in which knowing we shall verily see the cause why [God] suffered sin to come. In which sight we shall endlessly joy in our Lord God.

The church is uniquely called to be a place of hope. As we practice being neighbors in this new reality, as we listen to the voices of the marginalized and stand in solidarity with the oppressed, let us be positive and encouraging without denying the deep challenges we face. That is the way of Christ who goes before us.

By Meghan Olsen Biebighauser  

I don’t know what it’s like at your house, but in my house the kids are running wild. Frances, my seven-year- old, changes out of her PJs maybe every other day, and spends her time alternating between throwing birthday parties for her dolls, interrupting my work Zoom calls to say hi to everyone, and making questionable design choices for our shared Animal Crossing island paradise.

Robin, my two-year-old, is at all times running back and forth across the living room carrying an old iPhone and singing along to either Hamilton or Disney’s Descendants songs.  These routines are interrupted by the occasional visit to a park or bike ride, but this has basically been our whole summer.

“This summer has looked very different from the kids’ usually daddy-centric summer days of public pools and zoos and playdates.”

My spouse, Jeff, is a teacher and thankfully has been available to be the primary parent all summer while I worked. However, it’s looked very different from their usually daddy-centric summer days of public pools and zoos and playdates.

It hasn’t been easy – even though we acknowledge all the privilege that has come with being a two-parent household with jobs that have remained secure. This summer has been a struggle for our family and for every family I know.

WE’VE FOUND SOME REAL grace, though, in glimpses both small and large.

One friend surprised us by dropping off “ice cream for the grownups” on our stoop. The public school breakfasts and lunches that we pick up from school each week have brought some semblance of routine, as well as connection to classmates through distance.  Frances can eat her blueberry waffles or tamales and think about her classmates sharing the same meals with their siblings in their homes (in an almost eucharistic sense), the most connection they’ve had in months.

We’ve also been offered grace from our colleagues, (and by extension, Congress). I was able to take several weeks of leave this Spring through the Family First Act, which entitles many workers with children whose schools are closed to leave with (2/3) pay which is reimbursed to the employer. It was a total lifesaver for my family, and one we’re likely to have to call on again this Fall. It’s not perfect, but it helps. It does, however, need to be expanded and extended in future coronavirus relief acts, so that more working parents can have access; please consider talking with your Senators about this extension if the program has been meaningful to your family as well.

“Let’s commit to offer grace to those struggling with the vocation of parenthood.”

Fall is going to be a doozy. Let’s commit to offer grace to those struggling with the vocation of parenthood, valued so highly by Martin Luther. (He wrote in The Large Catechism, “To this estate of fatherhood and motherhood, God has given the special distinction above all estates.”) How can your workplace offer flexibility to families who are juggling competing priorities? How can your congregation offer this grace to its staff?

Sometimes it is an expression of grace to let people work flexible hours or bring their kids with them. Sometimes it is an expression of grace to offer to Facetime their kid for 20 minutes so they don’t have to hear their kid tell the same. Story. Over. And. Over.

Sometimes it is an expression of grace just to listen as a neighbor or friend vents about schooling decisions, or navigating unemployment benefits, or the struggle of doing a socially-distant visit with grandparents.

And, it’s always an expression of grace to drop off ice cream for the grownups.

By Pastor John Hulden

Bread for the World was in the news a few weeks ago. Florida Congressman Ted Yoho resigned from its Board of Directors after his very uncivil exchange with New York Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.

Bread for the World (“Bread” for short) is not often in the national news spotlight. But it should be. They do amazing work fighting hunger and hunger related causes.

Bread has been my favorite nonprofit advocacy organization since I was a teenager.

As a kid, I was deeply bothered that people were dying all over the world from hunger and hunger-related causes. (FYI, it still bothers me.) The answer, of course, is to send money and food to starving people in the “third world.” Right?

Thanks to Bread I gained a deeper understanding of world hunger. Plopping a boatload of rice on the dock of a majority-world country makes the price of rice plummet in that country. The poor rice farmer is undercut and can’t sell rice for a profit. My teenage mind was blown (poof!) by such second-level thinking.

I CONVINCED MY ENTIRE high school youth group — all three of us — to raise awareness about would hunger by organizing a Hunger Meal. For our Hunger Meal, we got a bunch of people from church to buy tickets, and then we served most people watery soup, a handful of people rice and beans, and a lucky few a full course meal.

We made placemats with world hunger facts. We told them world poverty and starvation rates — and how that related to which meal they were served. We also tried to ignore the grumpy people who didn’t like getting fooled into thinking they’d get a full meal deal.

I also remember seeing a few trying to sharing their “first world” meals with others — but no, we teenage leaders would not allow it. That was against the Hunger Meal rules! (Like the Hunger Games, the Hunger Meal had hard, fast rules!)

Way back in the 1970s, Bread for the World, along with the American Lutheran Church’s World Hunger office (one of the predecessors to today’s ELCA World Hunger program), taught me a very important lesson: If people are starving, you not only need to feed them right now, but you also must be compelled to ask, “Why are they starving?”

Suddenly, grappling with the challenges of world hunger shifted my teenage compassion in dangerous new directions. I started to recognize the difference between charity and justice.

“If people are starving, you not only need to feed them right now, but you also must be compelled to ask, ‘Why are they starving?’”

Art Simon, a Lutheran pastor in New York City, started Bread for the World in 1974. Art’s brother Paul Simon served as a U.S. Representative and Senator from Illinois from 1975 to 1997. The late Sen. Simon was known for saying, “Someone who sits down and writes a letter about hunger … almost literally has to be saving a life.”

Should I feed a starving person? Yes! But I should also write a letter to Congress. Bread has been teaching us how to do that for almost 50 years.

THE U.S. ALLOCATES $26.6 billion (or well under 1% of the federal budget) for overseas poverty-focused development assistance (PFDA). If enough people write a letter to Congress to increase that amount, legislators will be impacted and lives will be saved.

But should we team up with the government to fight hunger?

Yes! We would fail if fighting hunger were just up to churches. If the roughly 400,000 churches in the U.S. tried to raise $26 billion to fight world hunger on their own, each church would have to come up with $65,000. If U.S. churches tried to replace welfare programs here in this country (not even including Medicaid), each and every church would have to pony up roughly $1,157,500 — every U.S. church!

We just can’t have enough garage sales to make that happen. We need to entice the government to help fight hunger, here and abroad.

Thankfully, our Lutheran theology is unequivocal about our gracious and justice-seeking God working through the government.*

“I started to recognize the difference between charity and justice.”

So, … what does this mean? Besides voting and writing a letter, here is one example:

If your church participates in Feed my Starving Children or something similar, … great! But please, please, please don’t stop there. Give folks the opportunity to ask: Why are the children starving in the first place? Take the time to meet before and after you pack those meals. Use this ELCA World Hunger discussion guide for meal packing events. After that discussion, use Bread’s toolkit to organize an offering of letters to Congress.

And, please consider having teenagers lead this effort. They can get it done.

*see the reference to “good government” in the Small Catechism, 4^th Petition of the Lord’s Prayer, What then does daily bread mean? ELW p. 1164. And articles on the two realms of God, the left hand (temporal governing) and right hand (spiritual governing), e.g. https://www.livinglutheran.org/2016/10/luther-helps-todays-citizens/

By Rev. Dick Magnus

Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.
1 Peter 2:10

I love this reminder that we are the people of God, richly blessed with God’s mercy and richly gifted to be God’s hands and hearts in our world!

At the beginning of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America in 1988, the church set a goal that in 10 years ten percent of the membership would be people of color and language other than English. Today we remain one of the whitest denominations in the country. So, we admittedly haven’t done as well as hoped on our goal. Why can’t we do better?

How are we doing with this goal in the Minneapolis Area Synod? Well, we have much to celebrate and much to build on.

MN Swahili Christian Congregation, sharing a building with Holy Trinity in Minneapolis, continues to do great ministry with Kenyans, Tanzanians, and other Swahili speakers from central Africa.

Christ the River of Life Lutheran has a vibrant ministry with Liberians.

Redeemer Lutheran on the Northside has a dynamic ministry with African Americans, spawning the incredible ministry of the Redeemer Center for Life. 

Our Redeemer Oromo Lutheran Church shared a building for many years with Bethany Lutheran in South Minneapolis, but has had its own sanctuary for more than a decade. This congregation is deeply committed to the synod and the ELCA, and takes significant leadership within the Oromo community.

Northside Center for Leadership and Neighborhood Engagement is a new venture arising this year which seeks to assist congregations in appropriately reaching out to the diversity in their neighborhoods.

Lao Evangelical, worshipping at Elim Lutheran in Robbinsdale, reaches into the Lao community in Minnesota, a community that often doesn’t receive much attention. Lao Evangelical is seeking partner congregations.

“I hope you are excited about these ministries, claim them as your own, and look for ways to support them.”

Amazing Grace, worshipping at St. Philip Lutheran in Fridley, is a strong and growing congregation for Hmong siblings. A partner congregation would be well-received by the leaders of Amazing Grace.

St. Paul’s Lutheran on the Southside continues to reach Hispanic families along with their Anglo members. They have developed the creative La Semilla Center which has provided mosaics throughout their neighborhood.

Tapestry in Richfield continues to reach Hispanic families through English-as-second-language and Spanish classes, food ministry, and justice seeking work for Hispanics in its area and beyond.

Trinity Lutheran in Riverside enjoys a multicultural membership including Africans, especially Amharic-speking Ethiopians, and African Americans.  They also have a deep relationship with a Somali Mosque in their neighborhood.

Cristo Obrero in Shakopee is creating a growing ministry in trailer parks with Latino families. They often begin with youth involvement in soccer and proceed into culturally relevant experiences of the faith.

All Nations Indian Church, a congregation in partnership with the United Church of Christ, is deeply involved in support of the church’s deep involvement with our urban American Indian population by working for health, justice and peace. Members of the congregation are significant leaders in the surrounding Indian community.

I hope I didn’t leave anyone out, but I want all members of synod congregations to know that we have good work going on. I hope you are excited about these ministries, claim them as your own, and look for ways to support them.

One of the extra ways we support several of these ministries in this time of COVID-19 and the aftermath of the murder of George Floyd, is through grants from the ELCA COVID-19 Special Appeal. Our synod has received $17,500 to help mitigate some of the losses experienced.

I believe so strongly that, along with these ministries and our siblings of color and language, we can be a force to heal divisions and more and more reflect the vision of God’s people living together in peace and love. We are God’s people richly blessed with God’s gifts of mercy, love, and grace. And yes, in the Minneapolis Area Synod we can do better than 10% people of color and language!

I know we can!

By Eric Howard

I was driving through a small town north of Tucson, Arizona, headed back to my college dorm room. I was making a turn in when I saw the police lights against the night’s sky. Call me naive, but I didn’t know where to pull over safely, so I drove into a neighborhood where it felt okay to stop. I rolled down the window; the rest was a blur.

Several more cops arrived. A police officer questioned me at the tailgate as others searched my dad’s old pick-up truck. The police officer told me they thought I was someone else, then released me.

“My experience with the police that night is part of my coming of age story as a brown American.”

That experience is part of my coming of age story as a brown American. Having been raised in a white, middle-class family, it was part of my awakening to the unintended consequence of racial bias in our public safety system. This uncomfortable truth has never felt more egregious than George Floyd’s murder by a white police officer.

AT ONE SYNOD-SPONSORED debrief about George Floyd’s death and the social unrest that followed, a pastor told a story about a parishioner frustrated by the destructive acts around the church. The church member had been praying for understanding when a moment of clarity hit: The destructive acts are actually about pain. Deep pain around the church he never knew was there. He asked himself: why haven’t I seen this pain? Where have we, as a church, been?

My interaction with the police that night years ago left me with a feeling of mistrust that’s been with me ever since. (Who will they think I am next time?) Mistrust is painful and destructive: physically, mentally, spiritually.

“The church member had been praying for understanding when a moment of clarity hit: The destructive acts are actually about pain.”

I don’t know that Minneapolis parishioner mentioned in the debrief, but I know today’s protests against police brutality are cracking open something new – a new place where that parishioner and I might acknowledge, for the first time, a common pain.

At the synod, we strive to support congregations as they live out God’s call to do justice and love mercy. My hope, always, is that our work is a catalyst for stepping into the boldness and newness of Christ. At the moment, here’s what that looks like:

Pray. 30 Days of Silent Prayer: Healing the Heart of Our City

• African American-led collaborative to heal the pain of racism and the devastation of COVID-19 through silent prayer and meditation.

Give. Responding in Faith Fund

• Fund to support long-term racial justice and short-term restoration of neighborhoods impacted by social unrest.

Act. Organizing Forum Series

• Monthly forum series to help congregations live out God’s call to do justice. Catch the next forum on Thursday, July 23.

Hope. Ministry Imagination Grants

• Get inspired by grant recipients innovating in today’s challenges.

By Pastor Kelly Chatman

Since the beginning of the pandemic and death of George Floyd, the world seems to have shifted. The ways we gather and seek to walk in close relationship with God and neighborhood have changed radically.

I miss how we were able to gather on Sunday mornings in the company of one another. I miss the opportunity to greet and be greeted by people who were familiar to me. I also miss the opportunity to greet people I had never seen before.

I love church. I love Sunday morning.

Sunday morning worship did not go away. Church has not gone away either. The challenge – or opportunity – that this time of pandemic has offered us is to take what we have experienced in church all these years and go mobile. Yes, that is right, I am saying let us take this time of COVID-19 to the streets, to our neighbors in our neighborhoods.

I HAVE LONG BELIEVED in the church as a powerful institution. There is no other institution I know of that claims that it does not matter who you are or where you come from, you are welcome here. What if the “here” is not just a building or hour of the week but the very promise of God, embodied in the people of God.

I am excited by the radical realization that the church is a teaching institution. The church forms us for life not only on Sunday morning but also in everyday life. The curious church not only teaches through our consumption of cognitive thought, but also through our experience and exploration as well. Visiting nursing home or distributing food offers encounters with people who are different from us, an experience at least as valuable as what we learn from a book.

“What if the ‘here’ to which all are welcome is not just a building or an hour of the week but the very promise of God, embodied in the people of God.”

And this experiential view of learning through the church brings me to an opportunity I hope might interest you. This month African-American faith leaders in North Minneapolis decided that, in response to COVID-19, the murder of George Floyd and increase in gun violence, they would take faith to the street. Under two large tents set up in a parking lot along Broadway Avenue, these leaders have dedicated the month of July as “Thirty Days of Prayer for Healing of the City.”

Each hour clergy and lay leaders gather under the tent for prayer lasting 8 minutes and 46 seconds. If you are not able to attend, please consider joining in this dedication to prayer. Take time out and pray for 8 minutes and 46 seconds in your home or in your neighborhood. While you are at it, invite someone in your neighborhood to join you on Sunday morning when we can safely gather once again.

By Emilie Bouvier

A photo in my phone from five weeks ago shows an empty can of Sprite and a wrapper sitting in the baptismal font at the front of the sanctuary at Holy Trinity. Just outside the frame are pews stacked full of canned goods, diapers, and baby formula. I have to tell you: In this moment of reckoning and resistance, my understandings of sacrament and liturgy have shifted.

The waters in that font and sanctuary were not static. They were not confined to a placid pool, but rather were waters in motion – water carried in plastic bottles and, yes, even in cans of Sprite – flowing forth to meet the thirst of neighbors still reeling from the trauma.

“De-centering ourselves in our building use is now happening in real time in more tangible ways than we could have imagined.”

My own congregation, Calvary Lutheran, looks similar. As I open up the church to set up the community table, I walk through the Narthex where I’d usually be hanging out for coffee hour – sharing treats and conversation after worship.

Now it’s a back-stocked staging area as we offer snacks and cold drinks outside the front steps to folks going to and from the George Floyd memorial site one block away. Emergency supplies of diapers, soaps, and personal care products are stacked alongside granola bars, Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, and Gatorade.

I’D BE LYING IF I said the Sundays I’ve come to host the community table right after our weekly Zoom worship haven’t been the sacramental-feeling coffee hour I’ve normally experienced at Calvary. We’ve intentionally talked as a congregation about what it would look like to have the doors more widely open.

We were already looking for ways to de-center ourselves and do better to foster connection with our wider neighborhood and community in how we gather. Now it is happening in real time in more tangible ways than we could have imagined.

But it’s not just about naming Christ present with us as we “break bread” with our neighbors in different ways. It’s not just substituting Luna bars and fruit juice on the sidewalk for coffee cake and lemonade in the Narthex.

We also have to be willing to name that Christ’s body broken mirrors the broken bodies of George Floyd, Philando Castile, and Jamar Clark; of Ahmaud Arbery and Breonna Taylor; of Eric Garner and Trayvon Martin. We recognize that Jesus’ death under the rule of an oppressive empire brings the realities of empire and injustice into focus, and reminds us that our God is a God of justice and transformation. We see anew that the work of collective liberation is God’s work – work in which we are called to participate.

“The waters in and around that font were not confined to a placid pool, but were waters in motion – water carried in plastic bottles – flowing forth to meet the thirst of neighbors still reeling from the trauma.”

As with good liturgy, I often find that my body learns the movements, and then my theology catches up. I take a knee and pray long with neighbors, strangers, and a speaker at a mic in front of the George Floyd memorial. I chant. I raise my fist. I join fellow church members and friends old and new as we carry loads of bottled water and bags of laundry soap into the church. These bodily motions become a liturgy that shape me.

We are all invited to find ways to learn and experience these moments and movements in our bodies too. And then may we intentionally let our theology catch up.

By Jeni Huff

Jesus was an exemplary servant of others during his time on Earth but, in his agony, before he was crucified, Jesus stepped away for time by himself to pray in the Garden of Gethsemane. Jesus recognized the sacrifice he was being called to, but also his need to be centered, prepared, and self-aware.

I’m your typical Enneagram 2. I could tell you what the people around me need, but I can rarely tell you what I need. For that reason, I’m the synod office’s self-proclaimed self-care advocate, checking in regularly on people, asking what they’re doing to take care of themselves, and encouraging a good work-life balance.

I also eagerly coordinate staff fun and bonding activities for the synod. I believe strongly team-care is important, too.

As I write this, I’m on the eve of a seven-week furlough and it’s already heavily booked up with ways I’m going to help other people, but I know I need to take my own advice and try to find time to take care of myself and rejuvenate. As a working mom of two little boys under 3, I don’t get much time for that.

“I would say, check in with yourself on your privilege, take a little time for self-care, and then get back out there and join the fight with more energy and conviction.”

Recent events in the Twin Cities have fostered conversations about whether self care in the midst of fighting racism is a privileged position, afforded primarily to people with security and means. Can we even take a minute to rest when there are people literally fighting for their lives?

I would say, check in with yourself on your privilege, take a little time for self-care, and then get back out there and join the fight with more energy and conviction. I’ll remind you that you can’t care for others if you’re not caring for yourself.

IN THE MIDST OF THE chaos that is 2020, what are you doing for self-care? What are you doing for family-care? What are you doing for team-care?

From a recent poll of the synod staff, here are some ideas for self-care:

• Having a session with your therapist
• Getting some exercise
• Buying yourself flowers
• Eating a good meal when you’ve been living on Fritos for days
• Enjoying a bowl of ice cream
• Doing an at-home pedicure
• Basking in some air conditioning
• Doing a puzzle
• Enjoying warm weather and nature
• Getting some decent sleep when you’ve been up for days protesting or helping protestors

Think about a similar list for you. What self-care practice can you implement into your life?

I also think connecting with others and finding opportunities for laughter are important for us as individuals and to make a more cohesive team. Such things are key for surviving these times where people are increasingly isolated because of COVID-19.

Here are a few activities the synod staff has done via Zoom these last few months:

• Shared pictures of our home work spaces and guessed which photo went with which staff person
• Voted for “most likely” categories
• Played online versions of boggle and trivia
• Wore a special shirt (or other clothing item) on a Zoom call and explained why it is significant

What can you implement into your team?

If Jesus could take some time away to decompress, you can too.