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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.

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.