Staff Blogs

By Pr. John Hulden

I love cheeseburgers. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always loved cheeseburgers

When I was 8 years old or so, my family stopped in a small town in Oregon for a mid-trip lunch at a main street café. After all of us had ordered, I looked out the big picture window and a hippie van pulled up and parked. It was a mom and a dad and a couple of kids. The long-haired dad popped out of the flower-stickered VW van, and came in the café.

Our server (back then, we called her a waitress) met him at the door and pointed at the sign that I hadn’t noticed until just then: “We don’t serve Hippies.” Did I mention this was 50 years ago? Circa 1968. When the Hippie Dad walked back outside, my Dad got up.

Oh no, I thought. My Dad is going to do something. My Dad talked to the waitress. My Dad wanted to talk to the manager, but the manager wasn’t there. The next thing I know my Dad told us we are leaving this restaurant because they won’t serve food to the family in the VW van.

“There were many justice stories in 1968—so many, you might get tired of old guys like me recounting them.”

What? Now? Really? I already ordered my cheeseburger. I could smell it cooking back in the kitchen!

Out the door we went. My parents talked to the family for a while, then we climbed back into our Ford Galaxy 500, and we were on the road again. I don’t remember what I had for lunch that day, but it probably wasn’t a cheeseburger. But I will forever remember that almost-lunch stop in Oregon.

WHAT IS YOUR justice story? When were your eyes open to an unfairness, to racism, to sexism, to oppression, or to your privilege?

Fifty years ago last week Martin Luther King, Jr., was gunned down and killed in Memphis while standing with the striking garbage collectors.  All through this year of 2018, we will continue to look back 50 years ago at the times and troubles of 1968. Yikes. What a year for our country.

“I could smell the cheeseburger cooking back in the kitchen!”

There were many justice stories in 1968—so many, you might get tired of old guys like me recounting them. Here’s hoping our young people, our families, our communities, and our church are “woke” enough in 2018 to notice the justice stories all around us this week.

P.S. Thanks, Dad.

By Rev. Deb Stehlin

Have you recovered from your Holy-Week-into-Easter observance? If you’re leader in a congregation, you’ve probably preached, sang in the choir, and made sure there’s enough toilet paper in the restroom. Today, you might still feel like you’re walking through wet cement.

But it’s a good kind of tired, right?

Because Christ has risen! Christ has risen, indeed!

“What’s significant is the effect the resurrection has on people.”

The way gospel writers tell it, the resurrected Jesus was hard to recognize. There was something different about him; and yet something the same.

Which leads us to wonder: What does resurrection look like?

I’LL TELL YOU WHAT it doesn’t look like: a butterfly. When people try to explain the resurrection by describing how a caterpillar goes into its cocoon and after a time emerges as something new, I want to scream, “The caterpillar did not die!” In my opinion, this absolutely falls short in helping us to comprehend resurrection. But in the absence of clear details, I sort of understand how the butterfly simile came to be. Sort of.

Here’s what I think – the witnesses to the resurrection have something more important for us to know than crystal-clear descriptions of the risen Jesus. What’s significant is the effect the resurrection has on people.

Mary Magdalene becomes the first apostle. Peter becomes a bold preacher. Communities form and live in the radical new way of Jesus. Stephen is not afraid to die.

Somehow, the resurrection of Jesus impelled people to take risks. Big ones.

“What does resurrection look like?”

In my work, I get to see the beautiful risks people are taking all the time. In just one week, here’s what I witnessed:

• A church council and pastors work to let go of internal conflict to focus on mission in their neighborhood.
• English-language learners and Spanish language-learners gather in a Richfield church basement to sing and build relationships.
• Three rural congregations in the northern part of our synod gather for midweek Lent worship because they’re practicing what it might be like if they form a parish.
• Philip’s in Fridley decides to generously share their space with a new synod ministry led by Pastor Nhiabee Vang that will reach out to Hmong people.

These brave ones are doing what the risen Jesus told his followers to do: Release the tight grip on what has been, and just let go — with a sense of wonder about what the living Christ will do next.

By Pastor Kelly Chatman

I read a recent headline that stated, “Florida teens staged a walkout to protest gun violence in solidarity with their peers, and these future voters are going to change the world.”

I want to thank God for the leadership and witness of youth. Young people have been known to carry God’s voice of liberation, justice, and compassion in the face of resistance. This vocation is just as true in the church as it is in society.

“The Lutheran Youth Organization and its triennial youth gathering have been at the vanguard of the church daring to lift up new and emerging voices of freedom and liberation.”

I had the pleasure of serving as the director for youth ministries in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America from 1995 to 2000. At that time, our office had responsibility for 500,000 high school-age young people across 11,000 congregation in the United States and Caribbean.

The opportunity to work alongside amazing youth leaders was an absolute blessing. Before I ever met those youth leaders, an amazing network of parents, Sunday school teachers, pastors, and congregations had nurtured and mentored them in their faith. I am pleased to see a number of those young persons are pastors and congregational leaders today.

I observed firsthand an amazing Lutheran Youth Organization (LYO) hosting its Triennial Youth Gathering. It was like witnessing the United Nations in session. LYO and its youth gathering have been in existence for more than 100 years. This organization has been at the vanguard of the church daring to lift up new and emerging voices of freedom and liberation. LYO speakers included the Revs. Martin Luther King, Jesse Jackson, and Bernice King. (You can believe there was always backlash and resistance.)

“Aren’t you just a little excited to know we are a part of church body with the time-honored witness of investing in young people as a force for justice and freedom?”

Throughout its history, the church has invested in young people and their faith and leadership, daring to make a difference in the world. During my years working directly with young people, I witnessed them standing against discrimination and injustice, even in the church. During the past 100 years, Lutheran youth have protested the war in Vietnam, have participated in civil rights movement, and have been far ahead of our denomination in the commitment to diversity, inclusion, and racial equity. LYO members were trailblazers in the issue of sexual orientation in the church.

YOU MIGHT BE WONDERING why I am writing about LYO and the Lutheran youth gathering now. Da! Have you noticed the response of young people to the tragic shooting at Parkland High School? That sounds at least a little familiar to what has been going on in the church for more than a century. Aren’t you just a little excited to know we are a part of church body with the time-honored witness of investing in young people as a force for justice and freedom?

So, let’s turn our attention to guns and violence. Let’s listen and pay attention to our young people because on these issues we have not done so well. Young people are once again leading the movement (processional), much like someone we will soon follow on a donkey, entering into Jerusalem.

By Emilie Bouvier

Several months worth of large-sheet calendar pages decorate my office wall; if you’ve been by, you’ve seen them. I like how the sheets motivate me to plan ahead and see the momentum that we build through organizing across the weeks and months. But I’ll admit, when I ripped off the calendar month of April and wrote “Earth Day” in large letters in the box with the number 22, I let out a deep sigh.

“Our dedication to earth care must be more than an activity fair or stacks of flyers and brochures on ‘how to go green’ that end up in the recycle bin (oh the irony) mere days later.”

Don’t get me wrong, I’m inspired by the history of Earth Day, and recognize the important place it’s had in the environmental movement. The Earth Day Network shares a compelling history of the day, recognizing that in 1970, when the celebration of Earth Day began, “Americans were slurping leaded gas through massive V8 sedans. Industry belched out smoke and sludge with little fear of legal consequences or bad press. Air pollution was commonly accepted as the smell of prosperity. ‘Environment’ was a word that appeared more often in spelling bees than on the evening news.”

How far we’ve come! Yet, there’s still so much work to do. And I more often see Earth Day as a way to decorate calendars than an opportunity to join the swelling numbers of the protests and calls to action that marked the first Earth Day of 1970. Our dedication to earth care must be more than an activity fair or stacks of flyers and brochures on “how to go green” that end up in the recycle bin (oh the irony) mere days later.

WHAT IF PROGRAMMING around Earth Day was less about a box to check off than an opportunity to identify and engage new leaders within congregations who care about environmental stewardship? How might our worship, forums, or after-worship-tabling resist the norm of a “one-off” theme and instead lead a church toward the next step in earth-keeping – something that perhaps the pastors or green team have been dreaming of but need some support or buy-in from the congregation in order to move forward?

Yet even if we use Earth Day well, our efforts ought to overflow and upset our calendaring-as-usual. We so love our commemorations and programming routines that we create a calendar rhythm that tells us exactly what to celebrate and talk about when. We could learn a lesson from our liturgical calendar, which even amidst its cycles and seasons harbors something unique: When we do it right, the incarnation and resurrection inherently break open the whole cycle.

“We could learn a lesson from our liturgical calendar, which even amidst its cycles and seasons harbors something unique: When we do it right, the incarnation and resurrection inherently break open the whole cycle.”

I so love when our creation justice reflects this incarnational and unexpected-power-upending reality of Christ. We do this when we show up at hearings or protests – whether it’s at City Council or the Standing Rock Reservation – because that’s where our voice is needed in a particular and critical moment, regardless of what day it is. We do this when we practice environmental concern in our worship and learning at surprising or unusual times.

I think of the beautiful “Gather at the River” gathering, when 25 of us celebrated and learned about water in December of all times – but it was just in time to talk about the impacts of road salt on water quality before the winter storms, and to take in the beauty of the flickering lights from downtown shimmering off the Mississippi River as we lit candles in Advent and prepared for the birth of Jesus.

It’s a simple practice, really. Just ask “What’s next?,” What do we need?,” and “What can we do?” in discerning how to take action for the sake of all creation — and then put it on the calendar.

By Pastor Deb Stehlin

Yesterday, a friend and I went to see the In the Heart of the Beast Puppet Theater production of “Make Believe Neighborhood.” It’s a masterful mash-up of the story of the radical Christian, Mr. Rogers, with vignettes of people who are making the Phillips neighborhood more, well, neighborly. That includes Pastors Luisa and Patrick Cabello Hansel of St. Paul’s Lutheran Church.

Patrick and Luisa puppets (with the Patrick puppet wearing a plaid knit vest just like the real Patrick) made art and planted seeds and, in so doing, created more love in the neighborhood. That’s pretty cool, huh? The production showed what can happen when neighbors say, “I like you just the way you are,” across race, language, and culture in the most diverse neighborhood in Minneapolis.

I think that being a Christian community that’s following the way of Jesus is an act of resistance — especially in a time when powers and principalities want us to be divided and scared.

During the big snow storm a couple of weeks back, Pastor Kelly Chatman was sitting in the coffee and bike shop operated by the congregation’s non-profit.  It was near the end of the day.  The snow continued to come down hard and cars were getting stuck in the snow. Suddenly, he heard the manager of the bike shop yell, “Community!” The employees immediately ran outside, the manager picked up a shovel, and a team of young adults ran across the street. He watched as they came to the rescue of a woman whose car had become stuck in the snow.

AT FIRST LUTHERAN in Columbia Heights, a young father is preparing for his infant’s baptism. Because he feels safe in that community, he told Pastor Bonnie Wilcox, “You know, I don’t think I was ever baptized. Do you think I could get baptized, too?”

At Cross of Peace in Shakopee, a father who is an awesome confirmation leader also experiences church as a place where people “like him just the way he is.” And so, he was able to tell his congregation at the annual meeting that he never was confirmed and wants to say yes to his own baptism — even as he helps prepare teenagers to do the same thing.

I think that being a Christian community that’s following the way of Jesus is an act of resistance — especially in a time when powers and principalities want us to be divided and scared. I know that there are a lot more stories in our synod about the power of community and how that can change neighborhoods — and people. I thank God for all the ways you make your neighborhood more, well, neighborly. It matters so very much.

By Bob Hulteen

My funny bone praises God for the dry (and sometimes not-so-dry) humor provided by The Onion, a news source that has its fingers on the pulse of American culture. Staff writers take dry news stories and bring them to life, much like the Valley of the Dry Bones.

As a comic book enthusiast, the article that caught my attention this week was titled “Man Prefers Comic Books That Don’t Insert Politics Into Stories About Government-Engineered Agents of War.” Now, because I read the letters to the editor pages in comics, I know that recent efforts at inclusiveness have been driving some of my fellow comic book patrons crazy. Ms. Marvel is now a Muslim high school student; the “Totally Awesome Hulk” is now an Asian character, replacing Bruce Banner in order to breathe new life into a tired storyline; and, for a while, Captain America was African American (in a beautifully written story that was also very poignant). Fandom has had a fit.

The Onion article even quotes the fictional Jeremy Land, saying, “I’m tired of simply trying to enjoy escapist stories in which people are tortured and experimented upon at black sites run by authoritarian governments, only to have the creators cram political messages down my throat.” Like all good satire, that quote hurts.

OF COURSE, AS A good church person, I don’t just read comic books. I also keep up on religion news stories, such as the Episcopal Diocese of Washington, D.C., declaring its commitment to the gender neutrality of language about God. In fact, gathered in assembly the voting members of the diocese were resolved that “if revision of the Book of Common Prayer is authorized, to utilize expansive language for God from the rich sources of feminine, masculine, and non-binary imagery for God found in Scripture and tradition and, when possible, to avoid the use of gendered pronouns for God.”  

Anyone not part of the dominant culture is well aware of the political nature of the dominant culture.

The repercussions from people outside the denomination have been fast and furious. In the comment section of “Juicy Ecumenism,” a blog published by the Washington-based think tank the Institute for Religion and Democracy, several people called Episcopalians cultists, and remarked that God has been happy being called “he” all throughout history and is still satisfied. You know how the author knows? Her KJV Bible tells her so.

(I’m hopeful that the ELCA will bring more light than heat when discussing its draft Social Statement on Women and Justice to be discussed and voted on at the 2019 Churchwide Assembly in Milwaukee.)

Of course, anyone not part of the dominant culture is well aware of the political nature of the dominant culture. It isn’t that there aren’t politics in the “norms” of culture: it’s that they are the familiar ones. So, offering a differing political perspective can feel like introducing the idea of politics into “non-political” assumptions for someone who has yet to reflect upon it.

We are all prone to locking in our brains the ideal of what we have grown up with. Not too many spheres within society challenge us to expand our thinking, perhaps even to see through another’s (less log-clouded) eyes. The Christian faith, however, requires that of us.

I pray we can live up to that challenge, … because it’s no laughing matter.

By Rev. Craig Pederson

I have a LinkedIn account, as many people do. I can’t remember when and why I set it up, but there must have been an invitation of some kind, or an article I wanted to read, that required me to set up a user profile.

Now, I’ve given LinkedIn enough information about myself that it really knows me. Like a personal coach or a good friend, LinkedIn sends updates to my email inbox every couple of weeks suggesting new connections I may want to make – connections that may be of mutual benefit to me and to the “connectee”.

Recently I received an update that said, “Do you know Ann Svennungsen? You have 49 connections in common!” Why yes, in fact, I do know her! That same update also suggested I may want to connect with some guy named John Hulden, and someone else named Jeni Huff. … How amazing, I just happen to know them too (both being dear colleagues in the synod office)!

“It is … essential that Christians and Muslims endeavor to establish relationships of trust, integrity and a shared vision of their place in the rich interreligious landscape.”

Social media and targeted applications provide almost limitless platforms for us to develop our professional and personal relationships. The algorithms that drive these platforms are powerful and mysterious in how well they get to “know” us. (For example, why are the shoes I looked up online last night now appearing on the newspaper web page I’m reading today?)

WITHOUT THE USE OF algorithms, but with a genuine desire to foster relationship and understanding, the 2017 Synod Assembly resolved to encourage congregations to explore connections with a specific population in their communities: their Muslim neighbors. The resolution was rooted in the acknowledgement that Muslims face increasing challenges, fears, and even acts of violence resulting from sometimes misinformed public rhetoric.

The resolution lifted up the work of the ELCA Consultative Panel on Christian-Muslim Relations, which stated, “It is … essential that Christians and Muslims endeavor to establish relationships of trust, integrity and a shared vision of their place in the rich interreligious landscape.” One of the mutual benefits of these relationships is that they can help break down negative stereotypes that don’t represent the majority of common believers who are trying to be faithful to their understanding of God’s will in their lives.

“The synod’s resolution was rooted in the acknowledgement that Muslims face increasing challenges, fears, and even acts of violence resulting from sometimes misinformed public rhetoric.”

So what are some of the ways our congregations might connect with Muslims? The synod’s resolution suggests that we:

• sponsor one or more educational sessions on Islam or on interrupting religious bias, or partner with another congregation in doing so,
• reach out to build local relationships with a non-Christian place of worship or another religious institution, particularly any being targeted for hostile words and actions,
• write and endorse a statement condemning hostility in the name of religion and expressing solidarity with members of other faith traditions,
• initiate and engage in inter-religious service projects which include spiritual reflection and discussion, and/or
• engage in advocacy actions, such as writing to school officials requesting training for faculty and staff in understanding Islam and dealing with religious diversity; writing letters to the editor or contacting legislators advocating for protection of religious minorities; advocating for respect and accommodation in individual workplaces for religious diversity.

The resolution also called for a synod task force that could make resources available to congregations to assist in this important work. This task force has begun meeting and will be providing resources in the months to come.

Some connections in our lives come naturally, even effortlessly – like clicking a link in an email. Others take time, intention, and commitment. Jesus made connections with those who were often blamed for demanding too much of others: the sick, the poor, the disabled, the widow, the children, the Gentiles. In the year to come, let us model Christ’s humility and openness by getting know our Muslim neighbors.

A colleague stirred her coffee and mused, “I wonder how the new tax law will impact how my people give to the church next year?” She is curious, because the standard deduction has roughly doubled for all filers. (Important resources are available to explain the impact of this tax change.) It’s expected that fewer people will itemize deductions such as charitable contributions. And without the incentive to save money on taxes, will that dampen peoples’ incentive to be generous with our congregations?

This is a great teachable moment.

What a perfect time to have a conversation with members of your congregation about why they give. Prepare by considering what motivates you to be generous. Approach the topic of generosity with curiosity.

“What a perfect time to have a conversation with members of your congregation about why they give.”

When I reflected on that in terms of my own giving to my congregation, I made a “top 10 list.” And saving money on my taxes fell quite low in my priorities!

1. My relationship with God has changed my relationship with money.
2. Because it all belongs to God anyway, I’m just taking care of it.
3. I want more people to hear the really good news about Jesus.
4. My money has power to do good things in the world.
5. It’s an act of worship.
6. It’s the most important thing I do to be less self-centered.
7. It fills me with joy to be generous.
8. Part of my offering fuels the work of the wider church, such as starting new congregations and supporting justice work and disaster relief.
9. I’m proud to be an ELCA Lutheran and want to support the institution.
10. It reduces my tax bill.

I wonder what your list includes?

STEWARDSHIP EXPERTS ADVISE that if you want to create a healthy money culture in your congregation, talk about money when you’re not asking for it. God cares about all our money, not just the portion we give away. It matters how we earn it; how we spend it; how we save it; and how we share it.

Pastor Greg Meyer at Jacob’s Well in Minneapolis regularly teaches his people how to make a budget and stick to it, and helps people to connect how they use their money with their faith values. That’s good stuff.

Let me know if you have this conversation in your congregation. I’d love to hear what you learn.

By Emilie Bouvier

Okay, so I love waiting, I really do. There’s something about the practice and ritual of waiting that feeds the soul. But I’m also really anxious to dig into the reality that were all waiting for – the incarnation, God born among us. So, I’m going to skip ahead a little and dive into our incarnational promise a week early.

I know, I know. But, I think Jesus came last year too, so we’re good, right?

I’ve been thinking a lot about incarnation, because I’ve been increasingly aware of what a scary yet profound promise it is to see God entering into the messy, complex realities of our incarnated lives. In our current moment, I feel we are hyper-aware of the big picture issues we face – systems and structures that harm, a political environment fueled off racism and unabashed greed, a deteriorating climate, and the list goes on. How on earth does Jesus break in, in all Christ’s transformative power and utter human-ness?

“What does God’s breaking-in, challenging, transforming, healing look like embodied in us?”

Yet, somehow we hold to this promise and, perhaps with a bit of fear and trembling, recognize that we too are a part of this incarnational reality. We don’t remain unchanged or let off the hook. If we’re at all serious about how God works in-and-through the world, we must recognize that part of that happens in-and-through us. It’s going to be beautifully messy and imperfect, and it’s going to challenge and transform us.

LAST WEEK I SAT a couple rows back from two pews full of Bishops at the installation service for Rev. Dr. Curtiss DeYoung, assuming the role of CEO of the Minnesota Council of Churches (MCC). Waves of emotion welled up in me as I saw images of MCC’s work over the years flash across the screen – Blessed Ramadan signs and Iftar meals, a historic press conference of judicatory leaders speaking out boldly against the Muslim ban early this year, congregations hearing new voices through the Black Clergy Speakers Bureau, presence and solidarity with Dar Al-Farooq in the wake of the bombing last summer. This is incarnational ministry.

I find myself circling back to this: What does God’s breaking-in, challenging, transforming, healing look like embodied in us?

For the ecumenical assembly gathered there that evening, there were some pretty clear pictures offered up. Three sermonic charges to CEO Curtiss may just as well have been charges to all of us who minister as a part of this greater church.

• Elona Street Stewart, a native leader and Ruling Elder in the Presbyterian Church, called on us to recognize the stolen land on which we stand, to include and lift up indigenous voices, and to recognize the multiplicity of tribes and stories within the native community.
• Sindy Morales Garcia, program associate at Wilder and a young Latina voice, charged us to ir a la frontera, to go to the borderland, willing to being de-centered and to stand at the margins with recent immigrants.
• Dee McIntosh, millennial African-American pastor of Lighthouse Church, preached a profound word on the waters of Revelation: that we ought to be more like the water in the neighboring villages – water that is hot for healing or cool for drinking – but we cannot be lukewarm.

These are about as profoundly incarnational charges as I’ve heard.

“Theologians have long recognized how stained glass speaks to our incarnational reality. The design is only possible when the divine light meets the physical material of lead and glass.”

Retiring CEO Peg Chemberlin also spoke, as she passes her role on to Curtiss DeYoung – a leader whose leadership mostly looks like shining light on others, getting out of the way, and getting young people of color into leadership. Her charge recognized and reflected this commitment, as she added these words to the mix: “Increasingly the world is splintered into self-interest shards, none of which can carry a commitment to the common good. In such times, your job is to gently build those shards of many colors into the stained glass window of hope for the future.”

This vibrant image resounded with what I know to be true of stained glass – that theologians have long recognized how it speaks to our incarnational reality. The design is only possible when the divine light meets the physical material of lead and glass; that meeting point of holiness and tangible reality is the point of illumination.

May our lives and vocations, in this season especially, seek to minister at this incarnational intersection.

By Bob Hulteen

“Wait. Just wait.”

The luminous blaze bouncing off the shiny red ornaments on a Christmas tree adorned with spray-can snow was too enticing. Homemade bows encircled the boxes adorned in green, red, and yellow, filling the space under the tree. I longed to “free” the treasures that awaited by a slow, methodical disassembling of the wrapping paper to find that surprise awaiting.

Wait. Awaited. Awaiting.

Advent is always more than pre-Christmas.

As a young boy, I remember the December sermons and songs about waiting. I thought I was merely being taught a morality tale about discipline. Don’t open the Christmas presents early. Wait until you’ve been to the Christmas Eve service and come home to a full table. Wait until the dishes were cleared and the table cleaned. Wait until my father read the passage from Luke 2 about Caesar Augustus and poor shepherds and a refugee family and a multitude of angels.

Wait.

BUT, DECEMBER IS ALWAYS more than department store or online sales. Advent is always more than pre-Christmas.

It is waiting. But it’s waiting that is also preparing. As the Baptizer reminds us, it includes “preparing the way of the Lord.”

Are we ready? Are we prepared?

One of my great fortunes is the fact that Vincent and Rosemarie Harding – inner circle leaders of Martin Luther King’s band of justice-bringers – would once a year or so come and spend a week at Sojourners Community. They would always bring a word of healing and a word of challenge; they encouraged us to graciously accept the things we could not change and to engage those that we could.

One memorable reflection offered by Vincent — when members of Sojourners were feeling especially powerless around the Reagan administration’s policies in Central America, South Africa, and the Philippines — included the insight “we cannot create a social movement; we can only prepare for the social movement and then engage it as it arises.” Vincent was a believer in the power of the Holy Spirit, he was.

So, as I imagine John in the wilderness “making straight the way,” I wonder when the time is coming. When will we see the lion lie with the lamb? When will we see the mountains made low? When will justice roll down like the waters?

Or, is the time already around us? Are we ready? Are we prepared?