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By Pastor John Hulden

So, what scripture is carrying you these days?

Our prayer list is long: Global pandemic. George Floyd, killed on a Minneapolis street by Minneapolis police. A social uprising demanding justice for black bodies, because Black Lives do Matter.

Prayers are important. Yes, and … so is acting in love for your neighbor. How do our prayers prepare us to act?

Let’s open our bibles. Not just hold them up in the air. Let’s let scripture carry us, speak to us.

The Rev. Al Sharpton preached last week on Ecclesiastes at George Floyd’s memorial service: “To everything there is a season.” What new season might be this for you and me? A season of protest? of speaking truth to power? of listening to people most affected by systemic racism?

AS AN OLD WHITE guy, I’ve learned much from listening to people of color these past weeks. A respected elder said last week that she is just so tired, after decades of fighting injustice. I have heard a rejection of the “a-few-bad-apples” metaphor for terrible police behavior. Instead, it is not the apple or even the tree that is bad; it is bad soil.

Some folks are calling this a double pandemic (the virus and systemic racism), and they are renaming it COVID-1619. It has been 401 years since the first slaves were forced onto this continent. And I had no idea about a catchphrase used throughout much of the 20^th Century: “I’m free, white, and 21.” The catchphrase, used in this video, means you can do anything you want, as long as you are white and 21.

“Some folks are calling this a double pandemic – the virus and systemic racism.”

So we listen, we pray, we act, and we let Bible stories teach and inspire us. Why? Because as Lutherans we are people of the Word. We love to hear the story. We love to tell the story.

Here are some bible stories that are carrying me.

Shiphrah and Puah and Jochebed, Exodus 1 & 2

Two Hebrew-African midwives were told by Pharaoh to kill baby boys as soon as they were born. Shiphrah and Puah break the law and risk their lives by helping Jochebed give birth to a baby boy. Jochebed raises Moses in secret until she floats baby Moses down the Nile. But Jochebed did not send Moses in that basket just anywhere down the Nile. Jochebed was strategic. She floats Moses towards the Pharaoh’s palace. As if to say, “My baby is so adorable, there is no way you won’t keep him!” With the help of the crafty big sister Miriam, the princess of Egypt adopts Moses and then, the government pays Jochebed to nurse her own child. Moses never missed any lullabies sung to him by his mother.

Speaking of Lullabies, take a look at Luke 1:46-55

Mother-to-be Mary sings the Magnificat during her meeting with cousin Elizabeth. My NRSV calls this song “Mary’s Song of Praise.” Hogwash. This is a revolutionary anthem sung to baby Jesus in and outside of Mary’s womb.

In all four gospels, Jesus begins his ministry by enlisting help … from teenagers

Don’t believe all those pictures of old, bearded disciples. In Mark 1, James and John left their dad, Zebedee, in the boat with the hired men when they chose to follow Jesus. Life expectancy back then was in the 30s. If Zebedee was in his 30s, his sons James and John were (bearded?) young adults. (On our synod staff, for instance, think more John Mai [far right] than Bob Hulteen.) What can we learn from today’s teenager-disciples leading the protests across the U.S. and world?

One last story.

Pay attention to the lessons Jesus taught his young adult disciples from the get go. In Mark 2:1ff, having just called the disciples in Mark 1:16, four rambunctious vandals break into a house through the roof. They make a hole big enough to lower their paralyzed friend into the room where Jesus was. After the social uprising in our cities these past weeks, does this story tell us something new?

Whatever we do during this extraordinary time, keep praying, open our bibles, and let the stories carry us. But beware, four law-breaking dudes might be the ones carrying us to Jesus.

Three officers looked on. They looked on for eight minutes and 46 seconds. They looked on as their fellow officer killed George Floyd by kneeling on his neck.

How could this happen? How could they simply watch? And, then, in the midst of our questioning, we hear the distant voice of the prophet, Nathan, calling our names, just as he spoke to David, “You are the ones who stood by. You are the ones who looked on, saying nothing, doing nothing.”

“Neutrality isn’t really an option.”

Neutrality isn’t really an option. According to Ibram Kendi, “there is no such thing as a nonracist or race-neutral policy. Every policy in every institution in every community in every nation is producing or sustaining either racial inequity or equity between racial groups” (emphasis mine). We can’t stand on the sidelines; sidelines don’t exist. We can’t just look on. Trying to look away is just another way to support the racial inequities developed in our country over centuries of racist policies and practices.

The calling of God is Micah 6:8, to “do justice,” not just to avoid injustice, but to do the kind of justice that overturns systems promoting inequity and discrimination.

SO WHAT CAN WE do? What can we say? For starters, those of us who are white can listen to our siblings of color; we can study the racist history that shapes us; we can seek a deeper understanding of the racist policies we’re called to dismantle; we can imagine and work toward a future where racial equity is the lens guiding our lives.

We can begin with learning. If you’re reading this on our Facebook page, take a moment to type a comment about a book or article or podcast or documentary or movie that’s been helpful for you. Here’s a racial justice discussion guide for the movie Zootopia – good for both children and adults.

The books I’m currently reading are Louise Erdrich’s The Night Watchman and Ibram Kendi’s How To Be An Antiracist.

“We can imagine and work toward a future where racial equity is the lens guiding our lives.”

In just two weeks, June 17, we can join others across the ELCA for an online prayer service as church to commemorate the Emanuel 9, the nine people shot and killed on June 17, 2015, during a Bible study at Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina. We will provide more information or you can visit www.elca.org/emanuelnine.

Though a word of hope may seem distant, I end with another Kendi quote:

There will come a time when racist ideas will no longer obstruct us from seeing the complete and utter abnormality of racial disparities. There will come a time when we will love humanity, when we will gain the courage to fight for an equitable society for our beloved humanity, knowing, intelligently, that when we fight for humanity, we are fighting for ourselves. There will come a time. Maybe, just maybe, that time is now.*

May it be so. And may we – each one of us – be about this holy work.

*Ibram Kendi’s quotes are from his book How to be An Antiracist, and from his introduction to Jason Reynolds remix of his book Stamped from the Beginning.

By Meghan Olsen Biebighauser 

It’s looking like this will be the summer that my daughter Frances will be ready to ride her bike without training wheels. She takes after her Mama — overly cautious, not much of a risk-taker — and so her cycling journey has been a slow but steady one, like my own 30 years ago. 

We both tend to panic when we feel unsupported or unsure. (My fellow Enneagram sixes will get it!) And, we rely pretty heavily on that protective figure steadying the bike as we go.  

These last months have brought me back to those feelings of instability, unease, and general … wobbliness. We’ve all been thrust into a new situation, a scary one, and we’ve had to adapt, adjust, learn things as we go.  Even the most expert among us has felt like a novice navigating this crisis. 

“We both tend to panic when we feel unsupported or unsure.”

Both in the workplace and at home, everything feels new. I can’t be the only one who was expecting five bananas in my online grocery order and ended up with five dozen, right? Right? 

Or there must be others also struggling with first-grade simple arithmetic? We didn’t use “math mountains” when I was in school!

Every day we wake up to a new day of uncertainty and try to discern which voices to use as a guide – Dr. Fauci? Gov. Walz? Who is steadying our path?  

Frannie circling her block

WE’RE IN THIS WEEK between the Ascension of Jesus and the Festival of Pentecost, and I find myself wondering how the disciples must have felt. Obviously Jesus’ ascension was an amazing sight to behold, and they returned with renewed faith and commitment. But, … also, Jesus was no longer there with them, at least not in the way that they were used to.  He was no longer physically among them — steering, supporting, cheering them on, picking them up when they fell. I imagine they felt a bit wobbly. 

“The only way to steady yourself is to keep going.”

As Frances is learning to navigate our neighborhood on two wheels, we tell her that, to ride a bike, you sort of have to shush your own instincts. Her instincts tell her that when things get wobbly, she should lean to one side or the other to correct it, or maybe even just stop altogether. She might feel that the instability isn’t safe, so we should just head back and put the bike in the garage. But we remind her that, when you’re wobbling, the best, safest thing you can do is keep pedaling with all your might. The only way to steady yourself is to keep going.  

As we head into the season of Pentecost, that day when the Holy Spirit comes crashing into the world bestowing power and bringing her own brand of recklessness and holy chaos, I’ll be reminding myself to keep pedaling through the wobbles, and invite you to join me, with the Holy Spirit wind at our back, trusting in the future towards which we are pedaling, even if we can’t see it.  

And wear your helmet.  I mean, mask. 

By John Mai

In my experience with small-talk, it helps to have a fun fact about yourself. The more interesting it makes you seem, the better. For the past few years, my fun fact has been that I grew up near Portland, Oregon. 

Living in Minneapolis, that fun fact tends to be a pretty good attention grabber. (Though, it seems like anyone who isn’t from either Minnesota, Wisconsin, or Iowa is pretty foreign around here). I graduated from Luther College last spring, and the decision to move to Minneapolis was a pretty easy one. Even though it was moving halfway across the country from my hometown, I was staying in the Midwest, which was feeling more and more like home. 

“Was my decision to do a year of service really in my best interest?”

The decision to do a year of service was not so easy. I saw Lutheran Volunteer Corps as an opportunity to get well accustomed to Minneapolis, get good job experience, and meet new people. However, it could also be viewed as an opportunity to be unpreparedly thrown into the work force, live with strangers, and not make any money. 

I think both of these perspectives are valid. Doing a year of service presents both a lot of challenges and, through these challenges, invaluable rewards. Ultimately, the life skills, the compassion, and the connectedness to my community that I have gained from this year-long experience are readying me to springboard into my personal and professional future. 

John Mai (center) and his housemates from LVC.

AT LEAST, THAT WAS the case until this pandemic hit. I’ve been extremely fortunate to have a job at the synod office during the past few months, but I have no idea what the future will hold for me when my program ends. It’s an understatement to say that the job market is taking a hit. Job postings I was interested in have since disappeared. I’ve hoped to put my music major to use by conducting a church choir, but people probably won’t be singing together for a long time. 

“God has led me to my current job at the synod office, and I trust that She will continue to lead me to the next one.”

Last summer saw what is debatably the best job market our country has ever seen, and this summer will be drastically different. It makes me question, “Was my decision to do a year of service really in my best interest?”

In spite of doubt, uncertainty, and not knowing what the future holds, I do have faith that I will land on my feet. God has led me to my current job at the synod office, and I trust that She will continue to lead me to the next one. The future will certainly hold challenges, but these challenges will bring invaluable rewards. Thanks be to God!

By Bob Hulteen

This was the time of year that my dad would pull me out of school to spend the day with the North Dakota state legislature. As the State Supervisor of Property Tax Assessments, he worked on the seventh floor of the State Capitol in Bismarck. It was his calling (in a very Lutheran understanding of calling) to ensure fairness and equity in social policy through tax regulation.

Finding me a spot in the gallery, he would trick me into listening attentively to the debate of the senators and representatives, saying he needed to know the best (and worst) arguments for his work. Proud of my father’s vocation, I listened with religious zeal to the elected officials make their best case on this or that side of an issue. I would vigorously record the conversation to share with my dad over the dinner table those evenings. 

“I listened with religious zeal to the elected officials make their best case on this or that side of an issue.”

I was amazed at the debate between the giants of the legislature. While I knew even then what my faith-inspired perspective was on most topics discussed, I could appreciate the serious way in which these men and women interacted. They cared for the common good, I believed. Though the route to the end goal differed, I believed that they all were committed to a social order that worked for all, and especially for those most at the margins. 

MOTIVATED BY A DEEP political antagonism recently rife in the country, the ELCA Churchwide Assembly last August voted to produce a social message on discipleship and civc engagement. Social messages, like their “social statement” cousins, are teaching documents that address issues worthy of theological and sociological reflection for people of faith. Unlike social statements, which must be passed by a super-majority at a Churchwide Assembly, social messages are prepared and adopted by the ELCA Church Council, the denomination’s highest legislative body.

Currently, “A Draft Social Message on Government and Civic Engagement: Discipleship in a Democracy” is circulating. Drafters are seeking reactions from members of congregations by the deadline of May 27. (You can read the draft social message and fill out a response form.) How should Lutherans engage the world of policy and politics? 

While having insights to offer, one of the chief shortcomings of this document is its failure to recognize the sustained and enduring power of the systemic forces that abuse and attack the most vulnerable. Throughout most of the social message, there seems to be an assumption that individual actions can exacerbate or solve problems without acknowledgement of the systemic and structural forces (let’s say “powers and principalities”) at play. 

Individual moral actions certainly have a place, and personal accountability is important. But, surely, we can agree that structural forces impinge on the opportunities and options some individuals even have. Fairness and equity cannot even enter the discussion until there is acknowledgment of the invisible (and not so invisible) forces that hold back disproportionately. I would have hoped that would be front and center in this social message.

“And, it’s not like we don’t experience our social, spiritual, emotional, and even physical connectivity.”

In this moment more than most, we are increasingly aware of the critical nature of neighbor-love. Within our church culture, we are stating unequivocally that we choose to self-isolate to ensure that we don’t risk infecting our neighbor or overwhelming our healthcare system, not solely out of fear that we will be infected. Along with the church in Corinth, in a time such as this, we can understand that what the hand does (by washing for 20 seconds) can affect the health of the eye. 

And, it’s not like we don’t experience our social, spiritual, emotional, and even physical connectivity. It’s all around us, including in our political and governmental systems. 

As the 2020 Minnesota Legislative Session comes to a close, I am mindful of the 2015 Synod Assembly. Assembly planners invited Sen. David Senjem (R-Rochester) and Sen John Marty (DFL-Roseville), both Lutherans, to be interviewed by Bishop Svennungsen in front of the Lutherans assembled. The two senators discussed many controversial issues being debated that very weekend in St. Paul. Representing different caucuses, there were points of disagreement, but also of agreement. The voting members appreciated both the honesty and the humility of the elected officials.

Walking with Sen. Senjem to his car after the interview, he said, “I’m so grateful for this experience. At this point in the [legislative] session, I can forget how much I like John Marty as a person.” Having just “debated” sensitive issues in front of a large crowd, he felt compelled to reflect on his connectedness to someone who sits across the aisle. 

That’s the way disciples talk. May we all find that voice.

By Pastor Craig Pederson

While our locations are on opposite sides of the globe, our experiences over the past several weeks are remarkably similar:

• Some communities feel like they may be islands of respite from COVID-19, but then the first case is confirmed and they realize life is forever changed;
• Travelers from one part of the country to another bring the likelihood of accelerated coronavirus transmission;
• The closure of major businesses throws many out of work, disrupts supply chains, and causes increasing mobility as desperate workers seek employment elsewhere;
• The possibility of a 14-day national lockdown to slow the spread of the virus causes a surge in demand for food, medicine, and personal items -– a surge driven by both prudent planning and panicked buying; 
• Concerns about crime increase as food becomes more scarce in already disadvantaged communities;
• Misinformation about the origins and transmission of the coronavirus adds to the anxiety and confusion of an already complex public health situation.

These are the conditions being experienced both here in our Minneapolis Area Synod and with our Global Companion partner half a world away, the Lutheran Church of Christ in Nigeria (LCCN).  

My heart sank last week when I saw multiple news reports from northeastern Nigeria — where LCCN is primarily located — showing chaotic and sometimes violent scenes around hunger relief trucks that were being overrun by desperate residents who had depleted all of their food resources. 

“Archbishop Filibus and the bishops of the nine dioceses in the LCCN are seen as credible leaders in their communities.”

Then, just a few days later, Bishop Svennungsen received an email plea from LCCN Archbishop Musa Filibus requesting assistance from our synod in dealing with the rapidly increasing hunger situation. In part, Archbishop Filibus wrote:

By midnight Friday 24 April, the government is most likely to announce a national lockdown [NOTE: This lockdown did take effect}. This is extremely difficult because an estimated 60% or more struggle daily for their livelihoods and they cannot afford a 14-day lockdown. Hunger and COVID-19 lockdown cannot go together. We can see already that crime will increase — people have to eat to stay indoors. Already the Bishop of Abuja where the lockdown has been more intense tells us that people are now caught between COVID-19 and hunger. Many have no choice but to go out against the restrictions for their survival. 

While this is a clear Macedonian call for help (Acts 16:4-10), it should also be noted that the LCCN is far from helpless in the fight against the coronavirus. Archbishop Filibus and the bishops of the nine dioceses in the LCCN are seen as credible leaders in their communities. Filibus has posted public service announcements to explain and demystify how coronavirus works, and government officials have asked to broadcast his videos on television. LCCN will also launch an appeal to receive donations in anticipation of worsening hunger conditions in the coming weeks and months.

BUT OUR SIBLINGS in Christ have asked for help. The Minneapolis Area Synod Council is responding to Archbishop Filibus’ request by sending $35,000 from the synod’s Resurrection Fund to provide financial support for food assistance. This amount comes out of the “tithe” portion of the Resurrection Fund that is designated to support ministries outside of the boundaries of our synod. This is a tangible, timely action to live out the mantra we’ve been hearing about the coronavirus battle — that “we are all in this together.”

Anyone interested in contributing additional funds to this LCCN hunger relief effort may send a check to the Minneapolis Area Synod and designate it to “LCCN COVID-19 Relief.”

Meanwhile, we continue to reach out to the churches of our synod to listen, encourage, and respond to ministry needs and opportunities as we are able. We are in this together, in the unity of the Resurrected Christ who brings light and new life in dark and difficult places. 

By Pastor John Hulden

A friend of mine asked for laments on her Facebook page last week. All day Good Friday, while in quarantine, she fasted and prayed those laments aloud. This was her way to be in community while physically apart.  

John’s writing his thank you notes by hand, … and in a blog!

A pandemic is surely a time for lament. People are sick from this virus. We fear this virus, and for good reason. This virus is a killer, and it will keep killing people, young and old, for weeks and months to come. We must be vigilant. We must “shelter in place” — or my preferred phrase, “just stay put!” We need to listen to the scientists and the epidemiologists, now and in the future.

“Despite the radical changes imposed on our lives by this pandemic, I witnessed Minneapolis Area Synod congregations celebrating the Festival of the Resurrection yesterday.”

I’ve already lost count of how many weeks we’ve been in quarantine. Then, yesterday happened. Easter! Christ is Risen. Christ is Risen, indeed!

Despite the radical changes imposed on our lives by this pandemic, and still holding on to the many laments we carry and share. … nevertheless, I witnessed Minneapolis Area Synod congregations celebrating the Festival of the Resurrection yesterday. Wow! I saw amazing creativity and resiliency in adapting to these forced changes in our lives and in our way of doing and being church. So today, on Easter Monday, I have one overwhelming feeling: Gratefulness.

MAY MY LIST OF “thank yous,” in no particular order, encourage you to remember to be grateful during this time of lament.

Thank you, Ignatius, Mom, and Jimmy Fallon, … for reminding me to write thank yous.

Thank you, sister out in Washington State, … for driving Mom over to see our big brother (staying six feet away).

Thank you, God, … that Jesus didn’t stay dead.

Thank you, parents in our synod, … for leading faith activities at home.

Thank you, “mute” and “stop video” buttons, … on Zoom calls.

Thank you, Lutheran theology, … for teaching us that God works through the government. 

Thank you, church techy people on the backside of the cameras and in front of soundboards, … for helping our congregations use the internet more effectively.

Thank you, Creator, … for the super moon last week and for spring.

Thank you, pastors and deacons, … for morphing into pandemic televangelists.

Thank you, Facebook messenger, … so this grandma can connect with our adorable grandson after his haircut.

Thank you, women at the tomb, … for going to the cemetery even though resurrections were illegal.

Thank you, justice organizer colleagues, … for your upcoming email on new ways to love your neighbor.

Thank you, King David, … for the Psalms.

Thank you, church staff people, … for your creative leadership and dedication.

Thank you for Zoom games … like escape room and home scavenger hunt (someone yells out an item, the first one back with the item wins, but don’t yell out scissors — because you shouldn’t run with scissors).

Thank you, stimulus package, … so congregations can keep paying their staff.

Thank you, Bill Withers and John Prine, … for poetry, melodies, and legacies through song.

Thank you, health care workers, … and the workers, family,  and friends who help health care workers.

Thank you, church musicians, … for continuing to use your talents to help us worship.

Thank you, happy thoughts, … drawn with chalk art. Photo credit: Katie Schroeder (Sons Peter, 7, and Julian, 5, were the chalk artists.)

Thank you for the upcoming stimulus checks; … may those who are able give that money to the poor. 

Thank you, hearts, … for being on so many windows.

Thank you for creativity … that erupts from living and working with severe limits.

Thank you, scientists, … for being so smart.

Thank you for deep learning; … may this disruption help the Spirit unveil to us what is really important.

Thank you, Palestinian Christian leader Nora Carmi, … for your words: 

Let me tell you something from the land where the whole thing actually happened. In Easter 2020, we get to celebrate like the first disciples did. There wasn’t ‘church’ or ‘priests’ or fancy worship services — there was only the good news that Jesus had risen from the dead! Now go and tell it as fast as you can! (quoted in an email from Sojourners Magazine 4/7/2020)

By Bob Hulteen

I remember sitting at a retreat center the first time I went through a training on crisis communications. I remember worrying that just using the word “crisis” would stir a whole bunch of emotions. Weeks like the last one can put a communicator on edge.

How do you respond when you find yourself in a crisis situation – like our collective experience of the COVID-19 pandemic? Is your gut instinct to be highly anxious and take e9, ery precaution possible? Or, rather, is t to completely downplay the situation and become skeptical of every red flag and precaution taken? Do you find yourself scrolling endlessly through web pages for information about Coronavirus or trying to shut the laptop off entirely and watch Netflix instead?

It’s helpful to check in with ourselves and know our primary way of coping with all the new, hard, and life-shifting information being thrown our way on a daily and hourly basis. Our own stress is real. Suddenly a normal day becomes full of hundreds of individual choices that now not only impact your own health but the health and safety of others.

“Do you find yourself scrolling endlessly through web pages for information about Coronavirus or trying to shut the laptop off entirely and watch Netflix instead?”

Now, this all becomes even more complicated when you need to not only deal with your personal responses and the disentangling of information and unfolding collective situation, but are also the person making and/or communicating decisions to a whole community (that you are called to love and care for). That is no easy task.

Pastor Andy Romstad sagely quoted Michael Leavitt in this week’s notice to his congregation about worship plans: “Everything we do before a pandemic will seem alarmist. Everything we do after will seem inadequate.”

THERE IS NO magic bullet during a time such as this. But, we can provide is calm leadership (even when we don’t feel calm) grounded in our values, and walk with folks as we deal with this crisis together in community.

Tone is the first communications consideration in stressful times. Urgent appeals must sometimes be made, but they don’t need to be made urgently. Once our reptilian brain is engaged by another’s heightened energy, our response can become antithetical to the best outcome possible. Communicators, even while relaying challenging information, can provide a context that allows for deeper understanding and less aggressive instincts to take over.

“We can have social connecting even as we have physical distancing.”

Can you hear a difference in tone and do you respond differently to these two quotations: First, “Effective immediately, due to the Coronavirus epidemic, all services are cancelled until further noticed.” As opposed to this: “Our leadership has been in regular conversation and has decided that, out of concern for our neighbor both near and far, we will suspend public worship and events at our congregation for the foreseeable future. We will regularly update you to unfolding plans, and hope that you will contact us with concerns and prayer needs so that we might stay in contact with you.”

The second iteration invites into the process. The first simply pronounces, which can lead to suspicion and apprehension.

As a side note, keep this in mind when you as a communicator are on social media. Be a presence that builds understanding more than extinguishes it. Even as you deal honestly with your own fears and concerns, find wording and images that invite rather than divide. Perhaps, after you have typed your post or your tweet, take two disciplined breaths and consider if your words will create the impact you desire.

WORDS, OF COURSE, ARE also important. We want to reflect clearly our values in the way we talk about crises. As Christians, we can talk about our call to love neighbors. Normally that call drives us into social relationships that includes opportunities to be present together – in worship, in service. But, in this moment, loving our neighbor likely means staying home from those activities, at least some of them. And, we should be very intentional about the precautions we take if we do gather with other people.

We are being told by professionals that maintaining physical distance from other people is the way we will be able to suppress the spread of the virus. It is, in fact, loving the neighbor. And, such intentional distancing is also the only way that our health care system can build the capacity to stay on top of the pandemic.

And, we can have social connecting even as we have physical distancing. Through our encounters with people, we can encourage them to maintain their social connection in other ways – phone calling, letter writing, emailing, texting.

“Even as you deal honestly with your own fears and concerns, find wording and images that invite rather than divide.”

We also need to be explicit in our talk about generosity in times of communal challenge. We are community together/ church together. As the Body of Christ, we incarnate our hope by living into our call to live for the sake of the world. That includes supporting financially our own congregations, as well as our ministry organizations like Lutheran Disaster Response. And, it requires awareness of those neighborhood partners – nonprofits and social service agencies – that must also continue to serve the needs around our congregations.

Last week Bishop Ann has said, “In a health crisis, we may need to find and create new ways to share the good news, to practice communal prayer, to provide mutual support, and to build beloved community.”

For a time such as this, we are all called to be agents of good communication. We embody our aspirations by speaking words that are honest and true, but also confident and calming. We, all of us, professional communicator or not, can be tangible signs of hope in our communities.

By Pr. Craig Pederson

It’s Monday afternoon, and the last thing I thought I’d be doing right now is writing a blog entry. I expected to be packing and preparing for my family’s Spring Break vacation that was to start tomorrow. Our destination: Los Angeles and San Francisco for 10 days of fun in the sun. Yay!

You can probably see where this is going. After much consternation and conversation, we decided to cancel our vacation because of concerns about the coronavirus. The possibility of a major outbreak while we were there, along with the risk of Lisa and our kids being exposed to the virus and possibly not being allowed to return to school for two weeks when we return (Lisa works at their school), were simply too much. And, my synod office colleagues probably wouldn’t be thrilled with a coronavirus carrier in their midst either.

So I’m back in the office today and have a relatively open calendar for the next week and a half. Our family has talked about substituting a shorter getaway locally, … and the unexpected gift of this additional free time means, of course, that we can do more projects around the house. Yay again!

Not wanting to miss an opportunity, our trusty Communications Director Bob Hulteen said, “Hey, we have an opening on the blog schedule this week. Do you want to write something?” “Uhm, … sure!” was my ultimate response.

Actually, this affords me the opportunity to share a story that has been on my mind in recent weeks, another story involving the unexpected gift of being in a situation far different than was anticipated.

OUR REDEEMER OROMO Evangelical Church (OROEC) is a vibrant congregation in the South Minneapolis Conference of our synod.  While vibrant, they have also lived in a state of conflict and anxiety for the past 2 ½ years.

A bit of background: OROEC experienced a split in 2012 after debating the implications for their church following the ELCA’s 2009 vote to ordain LGBTQ pastors living in committed relationships. Many of OROEC’s members were affiliated with the Ethiopian Evangelical Church Mekane Yesus in Ethiopia before coming to the United States. Mekane Yesus has a conservative biblical and theological understanding of LGBTQ issues. While they were grateful for the ELCA’s hospitality and support of establishing OROEC here, some OROEC members could not align themselves with the ELCA’s inclusive stance. Those members ultimately left OROEC and started a new church.

“As you can see, one of the inspiring characteristics of OROEC is their confident, faithful reliance on the will of God to lead them.”

To the surprise of many OROEC leaders and long-time members, this issue came back up again in 2017. The causes and motivations for the recurrence of this issue are complex and not pertinent here, but I will say that this time around the schism threatened to break the congregation.

OROEC spent over two years in conversation, prayer, Bible study, and discernment about how they might retain their ELCA identity, respect the different views of their members, and remain in relationship with local Oromo churches from other denominations who disagreed with them on this issue. Bishop Ann and I met several times with both sides of what came to be known as the “Stay-ELCA” and “Exit-ELCA” factions, but the schism was deeply embedded and reconciliation was elusive.

Members of the Exit-ELCA group achieved a majority on the Church Council in 2019. They initiated the constitutional process to leave the ELCA last summer, and they organized both active and inactive members to be eligible for a congregational vote that was scheduled for September. The outcome seemed to be a foregone conclusion.

“Our Redeemer Oromo Evangelical Church spent over two years in conversation, prayer, Bible study, and discernment about how they might retain their ELCA identity, respect the different views of their members, and remain in relationship with local Oromo churches from other denominations who disagreed with them on this issue.”

At the request of the congregation, I was present as an observer on the day of the vote. When all ballots were counted, a majority of OROEC members had voted to leave – however, the total was three votes shy of the two-thirds majority required by the constitution. In other words, the vote to leave the ELCA failed by three votes.

Here is how that day was recounted in the most recent OROEC newsletter:

What we witnessed on Sunday 22 September 2019 clearly affirmed that God is with our church, His church, and this church. We say this convinced not because Exit-ELCA Group, in spite of working on it relentlessly yet did not get the required 2/3 majority. The result was stunning for both groups. The exit-Group was definitely 100% sure that it would get what it was working for and was very relaxed and ready to celebrate the outcome. The OROECM/ELCA members did not expect the surprising result either but left the whole thing to God. In short the result was not what we all expected but rather God’s verdict for His church, we call it Devine (sic) intervention. As we watched everyone’s face, when the result was announced everyone was stunned and shocked and what had happened has not sunk in yet, for both groups in disbelief though we need to come back to our senses and accept that God’s way is different from our ways and our calculation. He was and is simply watching us from above and in control.

As you can see, one of the inspiring characteristics of OROEC is their confident, faithful reliance on the will of God to lead them. Bishop Ann and I met last week with OROEC Pastor Wondimu Sonessa and two Church Council officers. They wanted to express their gratitude for God’s guidance and for our assistance through their struggles. They were excited to tell us about the spiritual renewal that is taking place in their church, and to share their strategic plan for the future. And, they wanted to know how they can find partners for ministry and become more involved in the life of the synod after years of isolation and internal conflict.

The faithful members of OROEC are experiencing the unexpected gift of being in a place they did not imagine. If you would like to learn more about this remarkable church, please let me know – I would love to put you in touch with them! As it turns out, I have some extra time available these days.

By Emilie Bouvier

Looking back, I can point to the moment I first demonstrated that I’m a community organizer at heart – and a church organizer at that.

I was in first grade. I was a pastor’s kid in a small town church in rural Nebraska. As most pastor’s kids can relate, I spent a lot of time at the church, and was mostly the quiet, contemplative sort. I listened closely and felt a sense of spiritual connectedness even from that young age. So naturally, one Sunday when I watched the congregation gather for communion, I knew I wanted to be a part of it.

When we got home from church that day, I excitedly and seriously asked my dad (aka the pastor) if I could take communion. Now, my poor dad – navigating the tension between pastoring, parenting, and upholding the parish culture as a lowly first-call pastor – kindly explained to me that kids have to wait until 5^th grade to take communion. “But why?” Well, I was told, it’s about being old enough to really understand what it’s all about. “But I DO understand … !” I started to expound my theological understanding. But then came the best kind of response you can offer to an over-achieving first-born – “Well, sweetheart, not everyone does. Yes, you really do have a lot of understanding for someone your age, but it wouldn’t be fair if you got to take communion and your classmates didn’t.”

“So naturally, one Sunday when I watched the congregation gather for communion, I knew I wanted to be a part of it.”

Now, this satisfied me for all of about 10 minutes. But, of course, young theologian and organizer-at-heart that I was, I suddenly knew what I had to do. The next day, when my dad came home from work he found me sitting at the kitchen table with construction paper, markers, and glue sticks. I was busily preparing little pamphlets explaining all about communion, and invites for all friends at church to come to a communion class that I was going to host.

To me, it was simple. There was a problem – not everyone understands communion – and I was simply going to solve that by leading a workshop and getting all my classmates involved so we could then all take communion together.

You take a big picture problem, break it into a solvable issue, then go get all your people together to do something important so that things are more fair. That’s organizing 101. Bonus points if there’s a theology workshop is involved.

AS I STEP INTO my new role this week as the synod’s Director of Organizing, I’m thinking back on my own path to this vocation, and the work that lies ahead. I first started my work at the synod as a contract congregational organizer, spending 10 hours a week doing 1-1s and meetings with congregations about environmental justice. Now, we have a team of four, with a whole pile of markers, flip chart paper, and protest signs piled in the corner of our shared office. Go find your peers, find your construction paper, and make things happen.

We have some serious problems in our midst. Our fragile and finite planet is faltering under the weight of our collective decisions, with devastating effects. Racism infects all the systems and structures of which we’re a part. Payday lenders continue to prey on the financially vulnerable, draining resources from local communities.

“To me, it was simple. There was a problem – not everyone understands communion – and I was simply going to solve that by leading a workshop and getting all my classmates involved.”

Yet, in the past number of weeks, more than 100 eco-minded folks from 35 congregations around the synod showed up learn and take action at an event geared toward climate and water stewardship; six leaders of colors dug in deep at organizing training and are leading on the synod’s SOAR team (Strategic Organizing Against Racism) to strategize local action on structural racism; two rostered ministers met with Rep. Tom Emmer’s congressional aide, connecting local stories about predatory lending to the conversation at the national level. You take a big picture problem, break it down, and find your people.  

I think back on all the workshops on issues and organizing tools, from past Bishop’s Theological Conferences to this year’s series on “The Challenge of Leadership: Ministering in an Election Year,” and I think of how our capacity for understanding has grown over the past years, as we seek to be courageous, strategic, organized in our current context. Practice organizing 101. Bonus points if there’s a theology workshop involved.

Now, I’ll confess that I didn’t end up getting to take communion during first grade. As it turns out, my pastor-dad had already pushed the congregation to move first communion up from confirmation to 5^th grade, which was met with much push-back, and knew he didn’t have the political capital to push it any further. He says it was an early lesson for him on pastoral authority verses congregational piety. If it were me now, I’d go back to the (Crayola) drawing board and look for a more winnable issue to empower youth leadership in the church.

Organizing is definitely not easy work, but it’s a joy to be called into it. And I couldn’t ask for a better faith community or a better team of colleagues with whom to share this calling. Now, let’s grab the markers and get to it!