Staff Blogs

By Manny Lewis

In our quest for justice and order, we’ve implemented systems that, while intended to protect the community, can sometimes wreak havoc on the lives of the very individuals they are meant to serve. The cash bail system is a glaring example of such an unintended consequence, particularly for underprivileged families. In this blog, we will explore the multifaceted repercussions of cash bail, focusing on a hypothetical scenario that illustrates its profound impact on a family teetering on the edge of economic stability. Through this lens, we will see how this system can reverse the work of creating a compassionate society, one that some may see as reflective of God’s intention for a just and caring world.

Cash Bail: A Primer

Before we delve into our story, let’s establish what cash bail is. It’s a system where a defendant is required to pay a set amount of money to secure release from jail pending trial. The amount is determined by a judge and is intended to guarantee the defendant’s appearance at future court dates. However, the ability to pay this amount is not evenly distributed across society, creating a chasm between those who can afford to buy their temporary freedom and those who cannot.

“The cash bail system, in its current form, is a mechanism that punishes people for being poor.”

A Case Study in Economic Precariousness

Imagine a man, the sole provider for his family, with a modest job and minimal savings. His life is already a tightrope walk over financial ruin when an argument with his partner leads to a domestic abuse charge. Arrested and unable to communicate with his employer, he is summarily fired after missing work without explanation, compounding his woes. In court, his bail is set at $70,000. To secure a bail bond, he must provide a non-refundable 10% ($7,000) to a bail bondsman, an amount far beyond his means. In desperation, his partner takes a predatory title loan on her car, but the high-interest rate is a ticking time bomb of debt.

The Consequences of Cash Bail

This man’s story is not unique. Cash bail disproportionately affects underprivileged families, who are often unable to afford the bail amount. Here are several ways in which cash bail can be detrimental:

1. Economic spiral: The inability to afford bail means that the accused remains incarcerated, unable to work and support their family. This loss of income can lead to evictions, food insecurity, and a cascade of other financial crises.
2. Family strain: With the primary breadwinner in jail, families are left to fend for themselves. Relationships strain under the weight of financial stress and the emotional toll of separation.
3. Cyclical poverty: To make bail, families may resort to desperate measures, like predatory loans, which can trap them in a cycle of debt and poverty from which it is incredibly difficult to escape.
4. Impact on employment: Job loss following an arrest can be devastating. Even if the charges are dropped or the individual is found not guilty, the damage to their employment prospects can be long-lasting.
5. Forced plea deals: Stuck in jail and desperate to return to their families, some may accept plea deals for crimes they didn’t commit, resulting in criminal records that further hinder their ability to secure employment and stable housing.
6. Mental health: The stress and anxiety of being trapped in a cycle of incarceration and financial instability can have severe mental health consequences not only for the detained individual, as well as for their family members. The uncertainty and powerlessness can lead to depression, anxiety, and trauma, particularly for children who are impacted by the absence of a parent.
7. Children’s well-being: Children are often the silent sufferers in these situations. They may experience disruptions to their education, social life, and overall sense of security. The long-term effects of parental incarceration on children can include educational setbacks, behavioral issues, and increased likelihood of future interactions with the criminal justice system.
8. Social marginalization: As families struggle with the stigma of arrest and incarceration, they may become isolated from their communities. This can result in a lack of social support and resources that are vital for overcoming difficult circumstances.
9. Housing instability: When rent cannot be paid because the primary earner is in jail, the risk of eviction increases. Housing instability can lead to homelessness or reliance on shelters, further destabilizing family life and children’s development.
10. Reversing God’s work: For those who view social justice through a religious lens, the cash bail system can be seen as antithetical to the teachings of compassion, mercy, and support for the less fortunate. It punishes the poor for their poverty, deepening inequality, and undermining efforts to create a society that reflects divine principles of fairness and assistance to those in need.

A Call or Reform

The case study we’ve explored is a microcosm of a systemic problem that calls for reform. The cash bail system, in its current form, is a mechanism that punishes people for being poor, further entrenching them in a cycle of poverty and legal entanglement. Bail reform efforts are gaining traction across the country, with some jurisdictions eliminating cash bail for non-violent offenses or implementing risk assessment tools to determine if defendants can be safely released without financial conditions. Reform advocates argue for a system that is more just and equitable, one that does not arbitrarily penalize individuals based on their economic status.

They propose alternatives such as:

• Pretrial services: Monitoring and support programs that help ensure individuals appear for court dates without the need for financial bail
• Community bail funds: Nonprofit organizations that use donated funds to pay bail for individuals who cannot afford it, allowing them to return to their families and jobs while awaiting trial
• Risk-based assessments: Using evidence-based methods to assess the risk of flight or re-offending, rather than using a one-size-fits-all financial bail system

Conclusion

The cash bail system, as it stands, is a machine of inadvertent oppression, disproportionately crushing underprivileged families under the weight of economic and social hardship. The story of our hypothetical protagonist is not just a narrative; it is a reality for many. To align our justice system with values of fairness and compassion, we must continue to advocate for bail reform and support alternatives that do not penalize poverty. In doing so, we move closer to a society that better reflects the ideals of support and rehabilitation, rather than punishment and exclusion.

To gain a profound insight into the realities within our community, I warmly welcome you to join me at Court Watch in partnership with the Minnesota Freedom Fund. This presents an invaluable opportunity to engage in our mission for justice by witnessing, documenting, and sharing experiences from the pretrial sentencing process. For those eager to learn more, please don’t hesitate to contact me via email at m.lewis@mpls-synod.org.

By Nicholas Tangen

Of soup and love, the first is best.
– Spanish Proverb

Lent is for me, the most wonderful time of the year. It’s the part of the church year where we don’t avoid the minor keys, where we face the reality of our own mortality and the power of the cross, and maybe most importantly, where it’s the season of soup.

Like many churches, my own congregation, Gustavus Adolphus Lutheran Church in Northeast Minneapolis, hosts soup suppers before Wednesday evening worship during Lent, with a handful of members volunteering to bring in a pot of soup to share each week. So far this Lent, I’ve had a wide variety of soups at these suppers, including Turkish Lentil, Potato Leek, several varieties of chili, Chicken Noodle, and many more.

Lenten suppers, and the soup often served at them, is a tradition dating back to the ancient church. Christians have long fasted during Lent, eating only at sundown, and allowed only bread, salt, vegetables, and water for the evening meal. There’s not too much you can make with those ingredients, except soup.

“Soup can be a comfort on cold evenings, a way to practice fasting as a spiritual discipline, and a catalyst for community building.”

In recent years many have thoughtfully pushed back on the practice of fasting, especially when it feeds into toxic moralizing about bodies, weight, and appearance. Fasting loses its spiritual dimension when it becomes attached to these dangerous ideas about body image.

But I am convinced that fasting continues to be a meaningful spiritual practice in the Christian life, as a way to expose ourselves to “… the distance between self-control and the compulsion to self-satisfaction,” as Sister Joan Chittister recounts. Practices of self-discipline like fasting allow us to face our own desires, to reflect on what is essential, and to be reminded of our dependence on the love of God.

LENTEN SOUP SUPPERS and their fare aid in the fast of the season by providing simple meals that stretch a few ingredients to feed a multitude. But more than that, create a space for the common table. Chittister in her book Wisdom Distilled from the Daily says: “At the common table, … we are taught self-control. There is only so much of the vegetables to go around. Everyone must get some. No one must take too much of anything. Nothing should be overcooked. Nothing should be wasted. Nothing that has been prepared for us should be rejected. Here, discipline and fasting are made real.”

Scripture is overflowing with stories centered on the common table. Just in the Newer Testament, we have stories like the feeding of the 5,000, the Wedding at Cana, and Jesus making breakfast on the beach for his friends. For the two friends on the Road to Emmaus, it’s not until gathered at the table that they realize they are in the presence of the Risen Christ. In fasting and the common table, we too open ourselves to the miracle of Christ’s presence in the face of our neighbor.

“Building community around the table confronts the epidemic of loneliness and isolation in our neighborhoods and builds the kind of social capital that contributes to the common good.”

In that spirit, my own congregation has extended an invitation to our neighbors to join us for our Lenten Soup Suppers and have been overjoyed to host and extend hospitality to a number of community members. The image of congregants and neighbors breaking bread, telling stories, and building community fills me with so much gratitude and so much joy. Building community around the table confronts the epidemic of loneliness and isolation in our neighborhoods and builds the kind of social capital that contributes to the common good. It’s a small representation of the feast of victory we’ll sing about on Easter morning.

Soup can be a comfort on cold evenings, a way to practice fasting as a spiritual discipline, and a catalyst for community building. It’s cheap and it’s easy to make. It’s a small, but powerful way to practice the presence of Jesus in community during Lent.

Here’s an old and simple recipe I’ve made often during Lent, from Twelve Months of Monastery Soups by Victor D’Avila-Latourrette:

St. Basil Soup

Ingredients

6 tablespoons of oil of your choice
1 large onion sliced
½ lb mushrooms, sliced
2 celery stalks, sliced
2 carrots, sliced
2 quarts of water
2 bouillon cubes of your choice
salt and pepper to taste
chopped parsley
(I’ve been known to add white beans as well.)

Directions

1. Wash and slice the veggies.
2. Pour oil into soup pot. Add the veggies and sauté for 2-3 minutes, stirring constantly.
3. Add the water and bouillon cubes. Cook the soup slowly in a covered pot over low heat for 30 minutes. Add salt and pepper and chopped parsley. Simmer the soup for ten minutes and serve hot.

By Pastor Wondimu Sonessa

At the age of 12, I had to travel on foot with my dad to our zonal capital called Mettu to get to a photo studio. This tiresome whole day commute was mandatory to submit four 3×4 photos required to register for sixth grade national exam.

I still remember mixed feelings stemming from that experience. On the one hand, it was such a joy to be one among hundreds of thousands Ethiopian sixth-graders who would sit for the exam at the end of the year. On the other hand, it was a devastating experience for a twelve-year-old child to travel the mountainous East African road in January, the hottest month of the year.

My dad and I started the journey early in the morning and travelled 53 kilometers (km) without seeing anyone traveling in the same direction. Finally, we came to a small town called Nopha where we stopped for lunch and to rest a while. I wish we spent a night there and continued the remaining 12 km the next day. But my dad was determined that we would arrive at our destination before it got dark.

“It is believed that getting someone to travel with you makes a long journey shorter.”

Therefore, we resumed our journey. As we were departing that small town, a man joined us. He greeted my dad and asked him whether we were going to Illubabor—which is the name of a zonal administration region where I come from. My dad confirmed. The man smiled and said, “So we are milto (miiltoo),” which is the Oromo term for a traveling company. He added, “As they say, two broken pieces are fixed on each other,” which is a popular saying by which strangers who meet on the road recognize each other as a traveling company or milto.

It is believed that getting someone to travel with you makes a long journey shorter. In fact, as travelers often take turn-to-tell stories, they get to their destination without feeling tired. Indeed, what was an enjoyable two-hour travel for the two adults was the scariest one dominated by a feeling of forgottenness and loneliness for me. My dad and his milto were walking too fast for me to catch up. As it was a market day, people returning from the market often blocked me from seeing my miltos; fear of strangers made the last hours of my day so horrible. My dad and his milto were intentional in this to keep me jogging behind them toward our destination.

AS WE WERE GETTING CLOSE to our destination, they slowed down so that I could catch up with them. As I was approaching them, I saw a big river on the right side of the street. As we together as milto were crossing over the bridge to the other side of the river, my dad told me that it is Sor River. I immediately remembered my social science class (maybe in fifth grade) where I learned about this river that provides electric power to the zonal capital called Mettu — our destination where there is the photo studio.

After the whole day of traveling on foot, we arrived at where I could see not just the river I heard about, but also the electric light it provides. I was filled with joy. Although I was very tired, I was eager to enter the city of Mettu and see how the light makes life easier for the city people at night.

Getting to the other side of the river, we turned to the right side of the bridge where we rested a while and washed our feet. Suddenly, our milto opened his bag and shared his snack with us, which strengthened me to walk up the hill and enter the city. Immediately, we visited a photo studio, and a photographer took my picture.

I FOUND IT INTERESTING to integrate this childhood experience of mine with the incident Luke narrates pertaining to the twelve-year-old Jesus traveling to Jerusalem with his parents for the annual festival of the Passover (Luke 2:41-51). When the festival was over, his parents started to return and traveled for a day without realizing that the boy Jesus stayed behind. They assumed that he was with “the group of travelers.”

The Greek Bible uses the term synodia (συνοδίᾳ), which means “a traveling company, group of travelers, caravan,” … or milto (if I am allowed to add). It is formed by combining the preposition syn (which means “with, together”) with a root word hodos (which means “way, journey”). The amalgamation of these two terms gives as the word synodos (synod), which denotes “a journeying together, a company of fellow-travelers.”

“Our gatherings for worship, conferences assemblies, synod assembly, and Churchwide assembly send out the message to the world that we are synodia together. We are partners on the road, the milto that share strengths and weaknesses.”

The Christian church refers to the union of its congregations as a synod, not just to rescue the biblical term but also to reclaim the spirit of belonging and togetherness that characterizes early Christianity. Today, the common faith and confession bring us together as synodia.

Our gatherings for worship, conferences assemblies, synod assembly, and Churchwide assembly send out the message to the world that we are synodia together. We are partners on the road, the milto that share strengths and weaknesses. A strong synod is the outcome of healthy relationships and well-connected congregations.

As milto/synodia, we are imperfect, the distorted image bearers, and the broken pieces which need to be fixed on each other. We are called to share our gifts, experiences, resources, and visions to reach our destination together. This may not require signing a covenant, but a slowing down and humble attitude of the mature and stronger ones among us in order that we be reachable and comfortable for others to travel with.

The younger ones are also expected to keep jogging to catch up so that God’s mission may progress forward without hindrance. Whenever we contribute to the expansion of God’s kingdom through sharing worship space, writing a check for mission support funding, being a fiscal agent for the new starts, committing to partner with the strategic ministries, engaging in ecofaith stories or faith and neighboring practices, we testify that we are the synodia.

By Pastor Craig Pederson

“Time keeps on slippin’, slippin’, slippin’, into the future …”
               From the song, “Fly Like An Eagle,” Steve Miller Band, 1976

In the synod office these days, we are living a kind of dual existence: We staff members are fully immersed in the ministry areas to which we have been called, while we are also fully engaged in transition planning for the future. In fewer than three months, a new bishop will be elected to lead our synod into its next chapter of ministry in partnership with congregations and with ELCA Churchwide.

These are significant times! We are filled with gratitude for the relationships we have developed over the years. We are reflecting on goals achieved and others that remain unmet. We are evaluating our policies, procedures, and workloads to determine how they can best be transferred to a new bishop and staff so they can decide what to keep and what to let go.

“Seasons of change can open the imagination to new opportunities, but can also raise uncertainty about a clear path forward.”

And these are holy times. Each of us is attentive to our own baptismal callings in life and ministry, discerning how the Spirit of the Living God is abiding with us in the present and guiding us into our futures.

And these are exciting times! Mostly, that is – seasons of change can open the imagination to new opportunities, but can also raise uncertainty about a clear path forward.

RECENTLY, I ATTENDED a worship service where I sat behind a lovely family. The mom and dad were late-middle aged, and their adult son appeared to be cognitively impaired. The interaction between them was quite sweet. The young man was fidgety, but he found various ways to occupy himself when he lost focus on the worship experience.

One activity that held his attention was scrolling through the calendar app on his mom’s iPhone. I was close enough that I could see the numbers on the calendar as he rapidly swiped hundreds of years into the future. Then, all of a sudden, he pressed his finger firmly on the screen to stop the scrolling. He had landed on the year 3041! He proudly showed his mom, who looked at it a few seconds, then turned her attention back to worship.

The young man resumed his aggressive scrolling then stopped again – this time on the year 4264. I was amazed – 2,200 years into the future and the Apple calendar still looked the same as it does today! Apple is a dominant global company; … do they know something about the future that we don’t?

“It would be reassuring to scroll ahead on our calendars a few days – or a few millennia – to see what will be happening in our world.”

As he continued, I grew worried about how much longer this scrolling exercise could last. His mom appeared to feel that way as well as she motioned for him to hand her the phone. He refused, then went back to his rapid time travel into the future.

But soon his swiping slowed, then finally ground to a stop. The calendar ceased to respond to his swipes somewhere in the year 8,000, and it wouldn’t go any further. He set the phone aside and looked disappointed that his futuristic journey had been halted.

Again, I wondered if this was a sign of some sort of apocalyptic reprieve: If the Apple calendar doesn’t end until well into the 8^th millennium, does that mean we can chill out about the urgency of global warming, or concerns about starvation or overpopulation, or fear of mutually assured destruction between global military forces?

All kidding aside, it would be reassuring to scroll ahead on our calendars a few days – or a few millennia – to see what will be happening in our world. But we can’t do that. Instead, we entrust our present and our future to God.

IN THE MEANTIME, we would do well to heed the prophet Steve Miller (and later Seal) who sang:

I want to fly like an eagle
‘Til I’m free
Oh, Lord through the revolution.
Feed the babies
Who don’t have enough to eat
Shoe the children
With no shoes on their feet
House the people
Livin’ in the street
Oh, oh there’s a solution …

OK, neither Steve Miller nor Seal are canonical prophets of the Old Testament. But Isaiah is, and he wrote:

Have you not known? Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. …
But those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength,
they shall mount up with wings like eagles,
they shall run and not be weary,
they shall walk and not faint. (Isaiah 40: 28, 31)

Time keeps on slippin’ into the future. Praise be to the God who promises to lead us and meet us there.

By Johan Baumeister

I am fond of spending time in canoes and on paddleboards, floating on the crisp waters of Minnesota. These waters reflect the natural beauty of our state and have long been gathering places. For countless generations, the waters of Mni Sota have been at the center of Dakota and Ojibwe lives, families, and communities.

The complex and often painful history of Minnesota is also reflected in these waters. I can’t do justice to the pain here; I can only acknowledge it.

“A deep understanding of local ecosystems and traditional land management techniques offer invaluable insights for sustainable resource management and conservation.”

Justice requires accountability that I cannot fully deliver. No one is responsible for actions they did not commit. But I can deliver my voice and my vote; I am accountable for those things. And as Scripture reminds us more than once, the truest reflection of God’s image calls us to repair those systems which are broken, to offer healing to those who need, and to lend our voice to calls for justice.

You might be scratching your head at this point, asking why the synod’s climate justice organizer is writing about Indigenous rights. That is a fair question and deserving of a good answer. We all know that colonization dispossessed Indigenous people of nearly the entirety of their traditional lands. These lands were often rich in biodiversity and crucial for environmental balance. Today, Indigenous communities are disproportionately impacted by climate and ecosystem changes.

And yet Indigenous knowledge and practices hold valuable solutions for climate mitigation and adaptation. A deep understanding of local ecosystems and traditional land management techniques offer invaluable insights for sustainable resource management and conservation.

Recognizing Indigenous rights to land, self-determination, and traditional knowledge is not only a matter of Indigenous justice; it is also essential for achieving a just and sustainable climate future for us all.

Who is in need of healing?

I believe that we are all in need of healing. All cultures and voices have intrinsic value and worth; one of the ways that historic oppression of Native Americans has harmed us is by suppressing culture and voice of First Nations peoples.

“Repair must be just.”

What has been lost is hard to quantify, and even harder to rebuild. I know from my own work that in learning more of Indigenous ways of knowing and ways of caring for the land, the environmental movement has benefitted from those voices. You can learn more about the process of healing and be invited into specific action by the ELCA’s Truth & Healing Movement.

How can we repair broken systems and lives?

Repair must be just. It needs to be as comprehensive as possible. And, most importantly, everyone must be represented at the table. Reservations were not created with the prosperity of their inhabitants in mind, nor were boarding schools built to preserve and honor Native culture. These systems were built around the perception that Indigenous people would be just fine, if they just weren’t so Indigenous.

So, instead of thinking of how to fix things for Indigenous communities, we can work with Indigenous communities to ensure future prosperity. I echo the 2022 Churchwide Assembly of the ELCA in its call to support creative efforts to restorative justice.

As the synod’s Congregational Organizer for Climate Justice, I know of one such opportunity here in Minnesota. Rise & Repair is an Indigenous-led coalition of climate justice and Indigenous rights groups. Check out its platform and 2024 legislation.

The EcoFaith Network has been a member of this coalition for two years now and we are eager to help equip Lutherans to faithfully express our shared values for justice. Please join me on Tuesday, March 11, at the State Capitol to rally for Rise & Repair and talk with your legislator about why it is important to you that they support Indigenous Rights and Climate Justice. (RSVP for Tuesday, March 11 event.

By Pastor John Hulden

Pastor Rusty Halaas (white suit jacket) on the stage of the youth gathering in Madison Square Garden in New York City in 1970.

Imagine you were given the task of dreaming up themes for a five-day event for 15,000 teenagers at a triennial ELCA Youth Gathering. Where would you turn in the scriptures? What phrase could work to grab and hold the attention of high school youth? Would they choose to wear that theme on T-shirts, water bottles, fanny packs, and more?

Thanks to my dad (Pastor Rusty Halaas, 1926-2018), I’ve been involved in these life-changing faith formation gatherings for teenagers before I was a teenager. I got to tag along in 1967 to the American Lutheran Church youth gathering in Seattle when I was seven years old – and have been to more than a dozen gatherings since. (Before I was born, my dad was the host pastor and planner for the 1957 Evangelical Lutheran Church (ELC) Luther League convention in Missoula, Montana.)*

I wasn’t surprised when a recent study showed that the “Big 4” influencers for faith formation in the ELCA are Sunday school, summer camp, campus ministry, and the triennial Youth Gathering.

WHO HELPED TO FORM your faith? My most influential Sunday school teacher, Vic Acklund at Bethel Ev. Lutheran in South Minneapolis, taught me about grace. I’ve lost count on the number of Lutheran Bible camps I’ve visited. I also served on the board of Pathways in Northwest Minnesota. When I attended Concordia College in Moorhead, there were two campus pastors, the Revs. Carl Lee and Ernie Mancini. They both knew my name and pointed out my gifts for leadership and ministry. (And as you might imagine, I can bore you with way too many youth gathering stories.)

Event booklets from old Lutheran youth gatherings

Did you notice that only one of the “Big 4” is done exclusively in the congregation? We need to work together to support outdoor ministry experiences, campus ministry pastors, as well as the biggest faith formation event the ELCA hosts every three years.

Last week I was in New Orleans to hear all about this summer’s ELCA Youth Gathering. There is still time to find a teenager or two and sign up and take them. I can give congregations who have yet to register the lowest rate – if you register before February 14. Please connect with me soon if you haven’t signed up for the youth gathering yet! Scroll down to see the blurbs about the events from the synod’s enews.

“Did you notice that only one of the ‘Big 4’ faith formation events is done exclusively in the congregation?”

And, about those five themes: The almost all-volunteer run 2024 Youth Gathering has chosen five themes for five days in a row this summer. Psalm 139 is the scripture foundation: “O Lord, you have searched me and know me. … I am fearfully and wonderfully made, … [so] get a clear picture of what I’m about; then guide me on the road to eternal life.” (mashup of NRSV and “The Message”)

Created to Be BRAVE – You Are Not Alone
Created to Be AUTHENTIC – You Are Seen
Created to Be FREE – You Are Loved
Created to Be DISRUPTIVE – You Are Called
Created to Be DISCIPLES – You Are Sent

I am so looking forward to this summer in New Orleans, and I can’t wait to add a “Created to Be” T-Shirt to my gathering collection. But there will be no fanny pack for me.

*You can view a 30-minute silent movie of the 1957 ELC Luther League gathering in Missoula, Montana. The theme in 1957 was “Built on a Rock.” Westwood Lutheran, St. Louis Park, Minnesota, was there with a banner (@ 19:14). My 31-year-old pastor-Dad is present in his red western shirt at the BBQ (@ 15:35) and is speaking to the crowd at the rodeo arena (@ 22:36). In 1957 the gatherings didn’t use hotels; instead, the Lutheran churches in Missoula arranged home stays for the thousands of teenagers and their adult leaders. A list of previous Lutheran youth gatherings in the US dating back to 1895 is also available.

By Mercy Zou Taithul

I grew up in a small town called Lamka, Churachandpur in the northeast of India. To be specific my street is call P. Kamdou Veng. (P stands for Phiamphu, the Chief of the street surname; Kamdou is his name; and Veng means street.)

I was surrounded by my close family, with my oldest auntie and her whole family living right opposite our house, and relatives also live in the house next to ours on the right. So, I grew up mostly with my siblings, cousins, and other relatives in the same neighborhood.

“The monsoon season blesses us, as pots and buckets are filled with water, kids run under the rain screaming with laughter, parents make paper boats for their kids, and everyone drinks garam (hot) chai/tea with family.”

Our neighborhood is a fun, friendly, loving, caring, and simple yet happy life. It’s a neighborhood where you can go to one neighbor’s house and borrow a glass or sugar, salt, rice, etc., and pay it back whenever. It’s a neighborhood where the doors and windows are wide open. It’s a place where you can walk into other homes without appointments; the open door signifies that we are home and you are always welcome in our house.

It’s also a neighborhood where there’s no such thing as daycare, though you don’t have to worry about your kids in times when you need it. Your neighbor will look after your kids for you and vice versa.

DURING THE SUMMER season (also the mosquito season!), the weather is warm and humid, but there is beautiful sunshine. It’s a time when we get to enjoy and share organic fresh fruits and vegetables – mango, jackfruit, greens, potatoes, and many others – from our backyard with family and neighbors.

On the one hand, the monsoon/rainy season blesses us, as pots and buckets are filled with water, kids run under the rain shouting and screaming with laughter, parents make paper boats for their kids, and everyone drinks garam (hot) chai/tea with family. On the other hand, there can be flooding, draining, and muddy roads. The water can get knee high, one reason why there aren’t basements like Albuquerque.

Pre-winter and winter season (November to February) is a busy season filled with weddings and holiday events such as Chavang Kut (a big day to celebrate the harvesting season on November 10. On that day, each tribe wears its traditional attire and performs it traditional bamboo dance, and so on. It is also a day to acknowledge hard-working farmers and to give thanksgiving to God.

“Before Christmas day the whole community celebrates Advant Christmas together by making a bonfire, creating music, and dancing in a circle by age categories.”

Most people get married during this time of year, probably due to the lack of strong rains. Wedding events are huge with hundreds of attendees. (Everyone from the neighborhood and community are invited.)

Christmas Eve, Christmas, New Year’s Eve, and New Year’s Day are celebrated within our own community (morning to night). We sing, dance, worship and eat together within our own congregation. However, before Christmas day the whole community celebrates Advant Christmas together by making a bonfire, creating music, and dancing in a circle by age categories (kids, young adults, youth, and older adults). Tea is available throughout the night, and the goal is really to just have fun and bond with others whether they are new or old members of the community.

Based on my experience growing up, I thought every neighborhood had fun together in ways such as these. When I began my study abroad, I realized that my new culture is completely different. This awareness makes me appreciate my original culture even more. I feel blessed to be a part of that community and neighborhood.

There are many other things that I would love to share with you – more details on how our weddings are celebrated, the jokes that we share, the living style and so much more. If you’re curious to know more, I am more than happy to share with you.

By Manny Lewis

In today’s society, cash bail has become a glaring example of systemic racism and inequality. It is a disgrace that people of color bear the burden of this unjust system, perpetuating a cycle of poverty and injustice. Interestingly, there are biblical parallels that shed light on the problematic nature of the bail system.

The cash bail system operates on the assumption that freedom can be purchased. However, this notion favors only the affluent individuals who can afford to buy their way out.

Numerous studies have consistently shown that people of color, particularly the Black and Hispanic communities, face higher bail amounts for similar offenses compared to privileged white individuals. (I’ve seen this with my own eyes as I’ve participated in Court Watch through one of our nonprofit partners, Freedom Fund. But that’s a long story for another blog.) This disparity perpetuates an unending cycle, denying marginalized individuals their release and negatively impacting their lives and those of their loved ones.

“The disparity created by the cash bail system perpetuates an unending cycle, denying marginalized individuals their release and negatively impacting their lives and those of their loved ones.”

The Bible is full of stories that reflect these patterns. Some depict religious leaders who manipulated religious laws to oppress and further marginalize the vulnerable. Well, surprise, surprise, we have our own modern-day leaders who support the cash bail system and who display traits reminiscent of these ancient figures. By burdening people of color with unfair economic hardships through the law, they keep the cycle of systemic injustice spinning.

From the story of Joseph in the Bible, we can draw parallels to the struggles faced by those ensnared within the cash bail system. Joseph, a righteous man, was falsely accused and lacked the resources to prove his innocence and gain his freedom. Does that sound familiar? This is exactly what happens to many individuals caught in the web of this flawed bail system. They find themselves locked up unjustly, unable to afford the necessary resources to fight their cases and secure their release.

IT’S TIME TO take action. It’s time to move beyond mere complaints and work to dismantle the cash bail system, which perpetuates inequalities and racial biases. Advocating for legal reforms, raising awareness, and providing support to communities affected by this flawed system could be an important part of our faith commitment. It’s time to foster a more just society where money doesn’t determine whether you rot behind bars or get a fair shot at justice.

“Joseph, a righteous man, was falsely accused and lacked the resources to prove his innocence and gain his freedom. Does that sound familiar?”

Cash bail serves as a stark reminder of the deep-rooted inequality and racial bias that persist in our society. By highlighting the connections between this flawed system and biblical narratives, we shed light on the plight of people of color and ignite a passion for change.

Let us challenge the status quo, dismantle the chains of oppression, and restore fairness and dignity to all individuals, irrespective of their race or how much money they’ve got in their pockets.

By Bob Hulteen

Saturday is Epiphany – January 6, the twelfth day of Christmas fulfilled. I don’t know about you, but for me it has usually been the day when the tree comes down and the decorations are put away (at least in theory).

Epiphany is the celebration of light. While it has always been an important church festival for me, in an age with white supremacy on the rise, the dialectic of light and dark becomes a problematic point of celebration. The incompatibility of Jesus’ life and ministry with the use of Scripture to oppress – by macro or micro aggressiveness – causes pause in my language.

And yet, the use of light and dark also seems relevant. Sometimes it seems like the appropriate metaphor. So, what to do?

“How then can the use of language of light and dark be redeemed?”

As Episcopal Minister and Hebrew Bible Scholar Wil Gafney has said: “Some of the fear of the dark is ancient and instinctual and mercenary. … My over-used but nowhere near retirement ‘Black Lives Matter’ sign says, ‘Black Lives Are Sacred.’ Blackness is sacred. But the world has lost sight of the goodness and sanctity of blackness. That is why it is so easy to kill us and our children and so easy to justify our deaths with fear, fear of the dark. Public Enemy prophesied rightly on Fear of a Black Planet: Fear of blackness. Fear of black people. All in service to a divinization of whiteness and light to the point of idolatry.” (See “Holy Blackness: The Matrix of Creation” on the website Womanists: Wading in the Word.)

How then can the use of language of light and dark be redeemed?

ABOUT A YEAR AGO, I was blessed to receive a copy of Ladder to the Light: An Indigenous Elder’s Meditations on Hope and Courage, by Steven Charleston. I was excited to find out about this book because Charleston had been a Luther Seminary prof when I first met him, and he later wrote several articles for me when I was associate editor of Sojourners.

Having served as the Episcopal Bishop of Alaska in the 1990s, he gained notoriety and was able to build quite a following on social media 20 years later. Ladder to the Light is a collection of his regular pandemic postings on hope and courage, woven together with connective tissue that highlighted the wisdom of a life well-lived.

Charleston’s deep resonance with the Native American nations of the Southwest U.S. influences the central motif of the book, which is the kiva, “a square or circular underground chamber, covered by a roof of wooden beams with an opening in the center. You enter a kiva the same way you enter a submarine: by descending the ladder. Once inside the packed earth chamber of the kiva, you are in darkness. … The kiva is a sacred space. It serves the same function as a cathedral, as a place of worship.”

Charleston continues: “… while a cathedral’s soaring arches or a mosque’s great domes are designed to point us upward, the kiva is intended to point us downward. The spiritual focal point is not above us, but below. We are not to look up, but down. What we seek is not in the sky, but in the earth.”

“Epiphany is a time of triumph and hope – a hope made tangible and abiding because God loved us enough to send Jesus.”

As a primary place of growth that only happens in darkness, the kiva symbolizes spiritual resistance. It is a place that offers an alternative direction, a new vision for what could be. It shadows a darkness that resembles a womb, creating an opportunity for new birth.  It is a “nurturing darkness” that is “a place of formation and growth.”

And yet, Charleston also explains that we don’t stay in the womb. While darkness is essential, so is light. It is the ladder that offers movement back and forth between two sources of life-giving formation. The ladder, taken one rung at a time, that allows us to move between mutually beneficial spaces. The rest of Ladder is Charleston’s explanation of the different rungs of spiritual realization – faith, blessing, hope, community, action, truth, renewal, and transformation.

CHARLESTON CONCLUDES that “we are all in the kiva together. Whatever our politics, whatever our religion, whatever our culture, …” It reminds of my high school music teacher’s explanation that music is about both sound and not-sound. He would say that music moves us both by blocs of sound and blocs of silence, stressing that jazz solos were best when they included moments without notes, as well as times of improvised runs.

And, Epiphany – this celebration of light – has to remembered in this balance with darkness. It is not only a time of visits by Magi (possibly three kings representing Africa, Asia, and Europe in most depictions) , but is set contextually by Herod’s murder of the Holy Innocents. As Jim Rice, my colleague at Sojourners, reminds us in Living the Word: Reflections on the Revised Common Lectionary, “While some kings may come to bow down to Jesus, some come to kill.”

But he also writes: “But this season is not Herod’s; it rightly belongs to the one who incarnates the living God. It is a time of triumph and hope – a hope made tangible and abiding because God loved us enough to send his only son. In that epiphany, all things are made new.”

The balance of light and dark, a ladder to new possibilities, a hope for a future where wisdom and growth are celebrated, may be just what we need to survive this January 6.

By Bishop Ann Svennungsen 

“Where Shepherds Lately Knelt” is a hymn from All Creations Sings (#909, with text by Jaroslav J. Vajda and music by Carl F. Schalk). I invite you to listen to and reflect on the lyrics.

Where shepherds lately knelt and kept the angel’s word; 
I come in half-belief, a pilgrim strangely stirred.
But there is room and welcome there for me. 

In that unlikely place I find him as they said;
Sweet newborn babe, how frail! And in a manger bed: 
A still, small voice to cry one day for me. 

Can I, will I, forget how Love was born, and burned
Its way into my hear — unasked, unforced, unearned, 
To die, to live, and not alone for me; 
To die, to live, and not alone for me. 

WE PRAISE GOD for you as you:

• Prepare to welcome pilgrims of every kind to the manger
• Rehearse music that will touch the depths of the human spirit,
• Proclaim the good news the Love is Born in Jesus — for you, for me, for all.

And we hold you in our daily prayers — that God’s incarnate Love will meet you and bless you in your own pilgrimage this season.

With graitude for you and for the partnership we share,

–Bishop Ann Svennungsen and the Minneapolis Area Synod Staff