Staff Blogs

By Bob Hulteen

How much does the Bible have to say about salt? A Lot. (Get it? That’s kind of funny, right? Okay, please don’t let a bad pun keep you from reading the rest of the blog.)

Another question: How much salt does it take to contaminate a five-gallon pail of water? Guesses? The answer is one teaspoon, according to Gael Zembal, education and outreach coordinator of the Nine Mile Creek Watershed District, headquartered in Eden Prairie.

That’s part of the reason Gael and her colleagues from Riley Purgatory Bluff Creek, Coon Creek, and the Minnehaha Creek watershed districts offer fall/winter workshops for church staff about the use of salt on parking lots and sidewalks. As significant property owners within a community, congregational leaders have a responsibility to reflect on the impact of choices on the lives of their neighbors.

UNEXPECTEDLY FOR ME, WORKSHOP LEADERS acknowledged early on the requirement for property managers to be concerned for safety. But, by teaching participants about proper techniques, safety can increase even while cost and environmental harm decrease. Like most things, intentionality is the primary requirement.

Sitting through a two-hour interactive presentation, I learned the difference between deicing and anti-icing, an appropriate distribution pattern for salt on sidewalks, storage best practices, and the impact of small changes on Minnesota’s water quality. I even got to take back to the office a pavement thermometer (because the temperature of the pavement – not air temperature – determines the effectiveness of the various surface treatments).

“How much salt does it take to contaminate a five-gallon pail of water?”

Our public institutions, including the Minnesota Department of Transportation and the Pollution Control Agency, are committed to salt smart, meaning the use of an effective but limited amount of salt on roadways and walkways to protect public safety. These agencies have developed best practices. Watershed District office staff throughout our synod are willing to share their knowledge with institutional leaders (meaning us).

I encourage congregational leaders to do an assessment of salt use on your property. Then, coordinate with other congregations (either in your synod conference, text study group, or local ecumenical expression) to gather property managers and custodial staff for an in-service from your local watershed organization. It’s a fairly simple way to care for God’s creation.

After all, we are called to be “the salt of the earth,” not to salt our waterways. (Sorry, again, but that’s the best closing I could come up with. Look at the bright side; you don’t have to read any more.)

The story of about Lot’s wife being turned into salt is found in Genesis 19. The call to be the salt of the earth is from Matthew 5:13. Just FYI.

By Grace Corbin

On the last Friday evening of November, surrounded by the winter-decorated sanctuary of Central Lutheran, I sat expectantly as I waited for Augsburg’s Vespers Service to begin. Augsburg Vespers is a concert and a worship experience, led by Augsburg’s Music Department and Campus Ministry. Maybe a few of you have attended this beautiful worship that marks the beginning of Advent.

Ringed by my former fellow choristers, I was quietly anticipating an event that shaped my choir experience at Augsburg. There’s always so much to take it when attending Vespers. The sanctuary was beautifully decorated with blue hues and lighted trees. You can’t help but sit there and know that something awe-inspiring is about to take place.

Soon the orchestra began to play its opening number, and I was immersed into the longing of Advent. Then the whole audience was invited to stand and sing “Unexpected and Mysterious.” I had never heard this hymn before, but quickly fell in love with its unique melody. As I reflect now on this flowing song I am taken by the last verse.

We are called to ponder myst’ry and await the coming Christ,
to embody God’s compassion for each fragile human life.
God is with us in our longing to bring healing to the earth,
while we watch with joy and wonder for the promised Savior’s birth.

THIS WHOLE VERSE sums up what advent means to me. I continue to come back to the second half of the verse, God is with us in our longing to bring healing for the earth, while we watch with joy and wonder for the promised Savior’s birth. On this last day in this season of longing, we still wait with anticipation for many things. We wait for a little boy to be born, we wait for peace to come to earth, we wait for a source of hope. And in our longing, God is with us. During this time of anticipation for the birth of Christ, we are not offered answers, but the gift of presence.

“During this time of anticipation for the birth of Christ, we are not offered answers, but the gift of presence.”

During what is a busy season for church folk, who are you being present to? Is there someone in your life who could use your gift of presence? Or maybe, in this busy time, are you in need of the gift of presence?

Remember to take a break, take a breath, and pause with those people who are in need of your gift of presence. Soon a little baby boy will be born and the waiting will be no more.

By Bob Hulteen

Breathless, LonRay found me sweeping the porch of my Washington, D.C., rowhouse. “They set out all of Mr. and Mrs. Grant’s belongings on the street,” he yelled from the sidewalk. So, together we ran up 13^th Street for a block-and-a-half and, turning left, saw the lives of this 80-year-old couple spread across the sidewalk in front of what had previously been their basement apartment.

Although I had primarily worked as community organizer with tenants in mid-sized and large apartment buildings, I knew the Grants because they did have problems with their landlord and they had been engaged in some of the Neighborhood Watch activities. I knew that the landlord had not gone through the legal process of obtaining an eviction order; I knew that he had illegally removed their photographs and family heirlooms, making them vulnerable to the vulgarities of passersby.

“I don’t believe that faith is an abstract set of beliefs; for me, it is an overarching approach to real-life realities.”

After a quick conversation with one of my colleagues, I decided to break the lock on their apartment and to start moving the Grant’s possessions back into the apartment they had been paying rent for. When neighbors started helping, I did warn them that the police would eventually come and that they should be aware that, even though they were in the right by helping, it might involve getting tied up in the legal system. We talked about the privilege I had as a white person to engage this system. And together we made a plan.

AS A NEARLY LIFE-LONG participant on adult education committees, it is hard for me to admit that my faith has not primarily been formed in forums. I don’t believe that faith is an abstract set of beliefs; for me, it is an overarching and foundational (maybe even instinctual) approach to the human condition.

So, where has such formation taken place for me? My faith has been formed in the streets.

My faith has been informed by deep study and communal discussion during adult forums. But that is not where it is formed.

I have touched God more deeply huddled around a campfire in the middle of Plymouth Avenue outside the Fourth District Police Station building than in the church library listening to eloquent speakers. I understand what faith means more completely when marching after a verdict for yet another victim of state violence. I realize what the powers and principalities are more clearly when I am facing the police line on the Standing Rock Reservation. I experience the inpouring of the Holy Spirit when a remarkably diverse group of leaders are preparing to testify on increasing access for all.

“I understand what faith means more completely when marching after a verdict for yet another victim of state violence.”

I still love attending the adult forum at my congregation. Great thought and planning goes into addressing topics that speak to the times.

But sometimes forums can be abstract. And, especially as we wait expectantly for incarnation, I need something more concrete. For me, that often means standing on concrete is foundational to my faith.

By Pastor Kelly Chatman

Wishing you God’s richest blessing as we enter this Advent season and new church year. In addition to serving part time on synod staff, I am blessed to serve a wonderfully diverse congregation. Redeemer is a 110-year-old Lutheran congregation and in our Sunday worship we usually number around 100 people.

Among the worshipers are people of different ages, social, economic, racial, and economic backgrounds. I like to think that our diversity looks somewhat like the diversity of our city. There are a lot of things I would love to share with you about Redeemer but what I really want to share with you is the adult education series we just completed this week.

One of our congregation’s leaders proposed that the church council listen to a 12-hour podcast called Seeing White. She assembled a leadership team, offered facilitator training, applied for a Thrivent Action Team grant, and scheduled the ten-part Sunday adult education series.

NOW, I ADMIT THAT I was skeptical. I have served at Redeemer for 18 years and, during that time, I have made multiple attempts to get more than five or six people to participate in Sunday morning adult education and failed. Though I fully supported the series in concept, in my head I was thinking, “Right” people are not going to show up.”

But the team was not deterred. Those who were too busy to listen to the podcast during the week were invited to come early on Sunday morning to listen to that hour-long podcast session. Then at 9:00 a.m., people who had listened in advance would join the early-birds to discuss the week’s session. They would begin each session with a litany, followed by shared ground rules and facilitated time in large and small group discussion.

“The 25 people who gathered each week for adult education participated in a ten-week series addressing one of the most critical issues affecting our nation and church today. Race is reflected in our politics, economics, education system, and religion.”

Here is the amazing thing: People showed up. Each week a quarter of our worshiping community showed up to participate in this rich and important adult education opportunity. Wait, there’s more.

Those 25 people who gathered each week for adult education participated in a ten-week series addressing one of the most critical issues affecting our nation and church today. The issue of race is baked deep into the American experience. Race is reflected in our politics, economics, education system, and religion. Race influences where we shop, live, and worship. “We are swimming in the issue of race,” I have heard it described.

John Biewen, Scene on Radio host and producer, took a deep dive, accompanied with an array of leading scholars and regular guest Dr. Chenjerai Kumanyika. Loretta Williams served as series editor for this documentary series, released between February and August 2017. Seeing White was produced by Duke University and public radio.

I cannot endorse the Seeing White Podcast enough. The series is extremely well done, and it comes with a study guide. All you need is a leader on your church council who dares to think outside the box, a church council willing to say “yes,” a few folks to serve as facilitators, and a Thrivent Action Team to cover the cost of refreshment. Yes, you need a group of people bold and caring enough to “see white.”

By Pastor John Hulden

It’s Cyber Monday! I’m writing a blog instead of Christmas shopping online. You are welcome. We are also approaching the First Sunday in Advent.

Sheesh, it’s either really hard or an amazing opportunity for us church-y folk during this time of Advent-waiting and Christmas-shopping. Although being counter-cultural is not easy, it sure isn’t difficult to get on a soapbox or hop on our high horse or climb into a pulpit and rip into all the craziness of the holiday-shopping craze. I know I don’t have all the answers on how to really put Christ back into Christmas. (And I’m guessing I wouldn’t see eye-to-eye with the folks who sell those bumper stickers either. But I’m just guessing.)

“Did you know TVs are really cheap on and around Black Friday?”

Here’s my confession: Did you know TVs are really cheap on and around Black Friday? I got a Black Friday TV for my birthday last Friday. (Yes, Black Friday landed on my birthday this year.) I’m feeling a little guilty, but my family reminds me — it was a gift! Plus, it is supposed to have a really clear picture, and the outside of the box says it is a “smart” TV. That’s good, isn’t it?

SOME PREACHER SOMEWHERE, probably many years ago, tried to make a comparison between Santa Claus and Jesus. It didn’t work for me. I suppose it was a noble attempt to draw a clear line between crass-commercialization and the platitudes of the beatitudes. (Shoot, I just looked up the definition of “platitudes” — not the right word for the beautiful and powerful beatitudes — but it rhymed so well.)

Here’s my attempt at a better comparison during these paradoxical weeks leading up to the Festival of the Incarnation.

                                                                                          Jolly Ol’ Saint Nick                 vs.                     John the Baptizer                                         

• They both live far away from everyone       North Pole                                                                in the remote wilderness
• They both have a unique outfit                       red suit, big black belt                                           camelhair coat, leather belt
• Crowds gather                                                    at parties, the mall, and parades                         at the river way out of town
• Their message                                                     asks who’s naughty or nice                                   tells everyone they’re straight-out naughty
• Their unique diet                                                cookie and milk, then up the chimney               grasshoppers dipped in honey
• They point to                                                                ???                                                                     Jesus

Blessings to you as you navigate Advent and the inescapable Pre-Christmas Hoopla. I’ll do my best to muddle through, but I do know I plan on finding a midweek evening Advent vespers service.

Happy Blessed Advent.

By Bob Hulteen

“In the beginning, God created … “ What a profound context we reside in – God’s creation. And we are all “the created,” siblings directly with all people, but related as well to all living things. We are all of the stuff that God brought into existence, from igneous rock to sperm whale.

I remember first hearing the phrase Mitakuye oyasin – “for all my relations” – from hometown Dakota friends while I was still in college. I can no longer listen to the creation stories in Christian sacred scriptures without this image of connectedness and ultimate relationship.

Too often we forget that. Sometimes we are even encouraged to forget. Seasons of polarization and divisiveness, as we experienced in the recent period of elections, can create forgetfulness of ultimate truths (perhaps because it is to the advantage of some individuals for most of us to see differences rather than unifying factors).

Religious people can be manipulated in times such as this. We can identify more deeply with people from our own group affiliation rather than with the promise from Genesis that we are all related. Ecumenism itself then becomes countercultural by encouraging us to draw the circle wider than our reptilian tendencies normally encourage.

EARLY IN NOVEMBER, members of United Methodist (UMC), Episcopal (ECMN), African Methodist Episcopal (AME), and Lutheran churches gathered together in Faribault to learn skills about community organizing in order to be better stewards of our shared creation. We sang, we shared, we role-played, we laughed, some of us danced. (Don’t ask, please.) And, we realized we could develop a shared language around care for the water so abundant (and yet fragile) in our own state.

Why do we care about the quality of our water? Well, it is elemental; we all need it to survive. But, as faith communities, we also use it for our initiation rituals – baptism. Scripture is full of essential stories of faith with connections to water – from the crossing out of enslavement in Egypt to the baptism of the Ethiopian eunuch seeking to join the Jesus movement.

“Our AME siblings reminded the group about water justice, especially in the current reality facing residents of Flint and Detroit, Michigan.”

Our AME siblings reminded the group about water justice, especially in the current reality facing residents of Flint and Detroit, Michigan. Through no fault of their own, these citizens are forced to live out of bottled water, paying private companies for water taken directly from water sources that formerly provided them with free (via public) water.

At this November training, participants agreed to be part of a “Gather at the River” event that includes education and worship on December 13. Bishops and bishop-equivalents of the Minneapolis Area Synod, the AME, the UMC, and the ECMN will offer leadership as we learn about water and praise our Creator for the gift of water, as well as cry for water justice for those who are often the first to experience when our systems break.

Please save the date for the early evening of December 13 to join us; more information will follow in an upcoming synod enews. Or, contact Grace Corbin, g.corbin@mpls-synod.org, to express your interest. Celebrate our shared water systems and, even more deeply, our connected to all of creation. Do it for “all of our relations.”

By Pastor Craig Pederson

November 6 is Election Tuesday, bringing to fruition months (and in some cases, years) of hard work by candidates and their campaigns at the federal, state, and local levels. I acknowledge and appreciate this incredibly hard work that often goes unrecognized. As a democracy, we are strengthened when good people pursue public service as part of their gifts and calling.

Election Tuesday also brings to an end (mercifully, many will say!) the campaign ads that have increasingly inundated us on television, radio, social media, and print (where it still exists). We have come to expect this barrage of ads each election cycle, but this year’s assortment seems to have stepped it up a notch or two in terms of the negative tone and attack orientation of their content. This amplification of tone and stridency is likely the result of the increased polarization of political, ideological, and religious perspectives in our nation.

BUT THE UNITED STATES is not alone in grappling with these ramped up polarities.  In the past week I read two articles highlighted the contrasting viewpoints that exist in Brazil following two consequential elections there. One is from the Lutheran World Federation about the first woman, Rev. Silvia Beatrice Genz, elected as president of the Lutheran Church in Brazil. The other is from the Associated Press about the controversial new president of Brazil, Jair Bolsonaro, who has a long history of offensive comments towards women, the LGBTQ community, indigenous and Black people, and foreigners.

Whether or not you choose to read these articles, the common thread is this: The Church of Jesus Christ is entering a new chapter in its calling to speak truth to power and to provide tools for people to engage with our differences – in our nation, and around the world.

“The Church of Jesus Christ is entering a new chapter in its calling to speak truth to power and to provide tools for people to engage with our differences.”

In his insightful new book A House United, theologian Allen Hilton describes how the Church’s unique scriptural and practical experiences with “difference” can provide a lens for us to navigate the current roiling cultural waters. He recounts the significance of the church’s presence at key cultural and political moments in our nation’s history. He then reminds us how the Bible, rather than providing an obstacle-free roadmap to religious and civic life, shows that the movement of God’s people comes out of differences and resolution of conflict.

Ultimately, Hilton argues that “uniformity” is not the sign of faithfulness within the body of Christ, but “unity” of purpose in sharing the love of Christ is the standard by which we can measure our witness.

IN A SEASON OF heightened divisions like the present one, we might ask, “Can I really make a difference?” As an individual Christian, and as Lutheran congregations, the answer is “yes!”

But how?  Here are my humble suggestions:

1. Pray!
2. Vote!
3. Visit! Visit with another Christian who you know holds a different political perspective than you. Visit another congregation that leans in a different theological direction than yours, and perhaps encourage your own congregation to develop a relationship with that one. As Hilton writes, “courageous conversations” such as these can lead to small but mighty progress and understanding within the body of Christ. We can even become a witness and example to the divisive culture in which we find ourselves.

“The Church’s unique scriptural and practical experiences with “difference” can provide a lens for us to navigate the current roiling cultural waters.”

Let us not throw our hands up in despair, but rather let us put our hands out to invite others who are different from us into relationship. Let us honor God by honoring the diversity of people and perspectives God created.

Lord, have mercy on us as we seek to become the healing and reconciling presence you call us to be!

By Rev. Deb Stehlin

One of my colleagues is the Rev. Patricia Davenport. We got to know one another because she has served with me on the “new starts team” for the ELCA. She was recently installed as bishop in Philadelphia. I got to watch the worship service via live stream. Oh, what a celebration it was! Because she is the first African-American woman to be elected bishop in our denomination, there was good reason to dance and clap and let the praises rise.

It took 30 years for this to happen.

The preacher, the Rev. Dr. Wyvetta Bullock, spoke that hard truth, even as she thanked God for this moment. She also spoke the truth about our church, and our need to (in my words) be released from our bondage to whiteness. Then, she looked directly at Rev. Davenport and declared, “Bishop, this is not your work.”

In those words, I heard a call.

It’s my work.

“The Rev. Dr. Bullock said that leadership is ‘what you bring to any situation that needs what you have.’”

In her sermon, the Rev. Dr. Bullock said that leadership is “what you bring to any situation that needs what you have.” This situation of our church not reflecting the beautiful racial and ethnic diversity of our surroundings needs me to use my leadership to create right relationships. Another of my colleagues calls this “love work.” Not the sentimental kind of love, but the kind of love that is an action that seeks wellbeing.

DESCRIBING THIS AS LOVE WORK helps me to imagine each of our congregation leaders asking, “What kind of love work needs to happen here? What steps can our church take to create right relationships?”

I am significantly grateful for all the others in this synod who also feel called to this love work. Fifty congregations have racial justice liaisons who help their congregations learn new ways of being in our multi-racial, multicultural world. Our Unite Table helps people grow in their cultural competency and helps to hold the vision. Several leaders attended training in Chicago and came back with new energy. We hope to add a racial justice organizer to our staff very soon. A majority of our new mission starts are reaching new people in new ways and in new places. There are a growing number of people of color attending seminary. And a growing group of people of color are gathering regularly to build relationships and affect change.

This love work is good work.

By Emilie Bouvier

An unlikely group of people gathered at a Catholic retreat center last month in rural Michigan. We were a combination of faith leaders from institutions around the Midwest and frontline activists from Flint and Detroit working amidst the ongoing water crises there.

Amidst the aromas of cafeteria-style comfort food, I sat down for lunch the first day next to a woman my age from Flint as she was sipping tea. She was fairly quiet yet playfully snarky, and we struck up a conversation about the unique mug that she picked up at a thrift store on her way over. (For those of you who know me, it won’t come as a surprise to you that we connected over such things.) She described the teas she brought and their healing qualities, and I assumed from her soft and raspy voice that she brought the tea because she was getting over a cold.

That evening as we gathered in a circle outside at dusk, she had difficultly speaking loudly enough for the group to hear her. I was wrong about the cold, as she apologized for her voice she added very matter-of-factly “it’s because of the water.” The tea I had noticed was just one of many healing practices she had incorporated into her daily routine to deal with the chronic health issues she was experiencing on account of the water contamination. Her routine also includes waiting in line every week, sometimes for hours, for bottled water.

“The young woman described the teas she brought and their healing qualities, and I assumed from her soft and raspy voice that she brought the tea because she was getting over a cold.”

As the sun set we made our way around the circle, sharing snippets of our stories and of the reasons that brought us together. When we reached Bishop Bernadel Jefferson, an African-American Non-Denominational faith leader, her voice started with the same matter-of-fact-ness. But then, as she began talking about the effects of the poisoned water on her grandson, the volume and tenor of her voice revealed an edge of emotion and continued to rise. “He loved school. He was an exemplary student, selected to go on a national trip to visit D.C. with other students from around the country, … representing our city.”

She paused, letting the irony sink in of her grandson’s pride to represent the city that ultimately poisoned him. “He was an A student! And now he gets Ds! We know it was because of the water!” She was almost shouting at this point, filled with a mix of anger at government officials who told her the water was fine, resentment of a system that clearly didn’t count her family’s well-being to be as valuable as economic gains, and despair over seeing her beloved grandbaby now unable to live his full potential. Her voice broke off and the silence returned.

THE SOCIAL AND POLITICAL context surrounding these stories are equally wrenching. The poisoned water was the direct result of decisions made by unelected government officials. Because emergency managers are appointed, they effectively take away the democratic rights of residents who suffer the consequences of decisions made by them. Of Michigan’s state population, 15% are people of color. Of Michigan’s state population currently under the direction of an emergency manager, 70% are people of color. The water crisis is the result of structural systems that are rooted in and perpetuate racial injustice, and dismantle poor communities from which the state has clearly already disinvested.

When race and class cry out for treason, when sirens call for war; they overshout the voice of reason and scream till we ignore all we held dear before. These words come back to mind for me as I revisit the stories and swell of pain I experienced in that circle. They are lyrics of an Advent hymn in Evangelical Lutheran Worship (#252). I just discovered it this week and its poignant verses are still turning over in my head.

“The water crisis is the result of structural systems that are rooted in and perpetuate racial injustice, and dismantle poor communities from which the state has clearly already disinvested.”

When we hear these voices crying out, what is it that we need to let go of that we held too dearly before? Is it the belief that our governments are infallible? That corruption that doesn’t disenfranchise me directly, isn’t my problem? Do we need to let go of the grasp on corporations too necessary that we should turn the other way when we see our water being commodified? Or maybe is it the feeling that since the majority of Lutherans (since our denomination is 98% white) aren’t likely going to have our water contaminated, that we can externalize these crises and separate ourselves from it? Is it that the world seems too heavy to continue to grieve and for us to believe we can actually fix such problems?

Can you hear the voices of our neighbors crying loudly enough to let such things go? Can you let yourself sit with the struggle such that growth can flower from our grieving, … that we can catch our breath and turn transfixed by faith?

I’ll leave you with that challenge. And perhaps the challenge to sing hymn 252 sometime during Advent.

By Pastor Deb Stehlin

I had one of the most remarkable Sundays of my ministry not long ago. In the morning, I practiced the ministry of showing up, and joined the people of Edina Community Lutheran Church for their first Sunday after Pastor Stephanie died. I was a witness to these things: Seeing people enter the building and fall into each others’ arms, hearing broken-hearted people sing sustaining songs, smelling the perfumed oil as I traced crosses on mourners’ foreheads, and holding in my hand bread that carries the presence of Christ and strength for the week.

“The grief of an entire faith community is immense and is heavy. Is there anything strong enough to hold it?”

The community named the truth of their profound sadness, proclaimed the good news of the resurrection of Jesus Christ, and insisted that even as their hearts were breaking, they were being broken open for the sake of joining God’s mission in the world.

The grief of an entire faith community is immense and is heavy. Is there anything strong enough to hold it? Yes! A community that lives trusting the work of God in Jesus is indeed strong enough to hold all this.

AFTERWARD, I GOT IN MY car and drove to Fridley, where our new Hmong ministry is taking root. Pastor Nhiabee Vang invited me to show up to witness nine people getting baptized. This was the second such Sunday in which baptismal candles were stacked up to be ready for a large group of people who have heard the good news about God’s love for us in Jesus and want to be part of Christ’s body, the church.

There was such joy! Being claimed by this amazing, grace-filled God and being received by a vibrant Christian community as siblings, made the new Christians (and more experienced ones) feel buoyant and light. Where else can you go to be set free like that? What else can hold this immense, expansive promise of God, except for Christian community?

“Being claimed by this amazing, grace-filled God and being received by a vibrant Christian community as siblings, made the new Christians feel buoyant and light.”

My call was renewed that day. What a valuable, beautiful, and sometimes fragile thing is a faith community! What else has the strength to hold the worst that life brings, and can also carry the best that God has to give us? I want my life to be about the flourishing of faith communities, … because nothing else can hold what life and death bring.