Tuesday, March 31, 2020

How do We Think About God in the Midst of This Global Pandemic?


This thoughtful piece was written by my friend and colleague.
The Rev. Dr. Karen Bloomquist, Oakland, CA, theologian-at-large and pastor in the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Americal

In the midst of this global pandemichow might we think about God or the divine? Not as causing this or saving or rescuing us from this unknown “enemy,” but as empowering compassion, creativity, and innovative human action in the midst of this crisis. Not that we succumb to fear and hopelessness but that we act in the face of such. This is quite different from superficial optimism or turning away from what is occurring, but in ways that are informed by and directed by data, science and good practices. 

God is community, active in and through human communities, as they together stand with those who are suffering, fearful and anxious. This now is done virtually, coming together ironically by staying apart physically. As a theologian-at-large, I am aware that many do not image or think of God in this way, but the essence of the divine is in how this empowers or inspires compassionate reaching out to connect with others, with love and justice. God is creativity itself and inspires human creativity, even for those who are skeptical about “God.”

How might this be sustained after the crisis of this pandemic passes? “Wellness” is more than what individuals do for themselves; it is societal, even global. Embodiment and human touch are crucial. Priority must be on those who are most vulnerable. A new sense of the public good might emerge.

Friday, March 27, 2020

WW II Shaped Me for COVID-19


It was a different time. I won’t compare my childhood WW II years to COVID-19 today, but I do remember: shelter at home; shortages; united efforts; quarantine; racial discrimination; uncertainty.

I remember the darkness. My formative years from birth to six were in Des Moines. We lived less than a mile from the “War Plant.” (Solar Aircraft was a government-converted industry for wartime production.) During black-out drills we were isolated in our homes in total darkness at night for fear of being bombed.  Bombing in the middle of country?  That did not happen, but we did not know that then.  In the middle of a crisis, one does not know how things will turn out--when the war would end, or how. Mother put a tiny night light in our bedroom doll buggy so my sister and I wouldn’t be afraid of the dark.

Shortages.  Each family or individual was issued coupons for such limited supplies as butter, sugar and coffee. My Daddy ran a gas station. It was not a profitable time to run a gas station; petroleum was needed for the war effort.  People at home had to limit driving; they were issued gasoline coupons. Each night Daddy would bring them home; Marianne and I pasted them in booklets for him to turn in.

I remember the shortages and physical limitations, but I also remember being united under the leadership of FDR, a trusted president. President Roosevelt collaborated with allies and encouraged while he organized people at home. 

Entering kindergarten at age 5, I carried newspapers bundled together with string to school. School children collected scrap metal, and tin foil. (Recycling decades later would not seem strange.) We saved dimes in stamp books; $17.50 in dimes could be exchanged for a $25.00 War Savings Bond.

People planted  “Victory gardens.” This eased the burden of commercial farmers working to feed troops and civilians overseas. Fruits and vegetables were grown in backyards and on school grounds, and parks. By 1944 an estimated 20 million victory gardens produced 8 million tons of food.  (I think now of support for local organic farming and sustainable agriculture.)

Diseases did not stop for the war.  Before a vaccine for whooping cough became widely available, when I was 3 and my sister 5, Marianne, and I and our mother contracted whooping cough. We were quarantined inside our house for 10 weeks.  Mother almost died.  Daddy couldn’t come home. He did have two sisters in Des Moines. The health department put quarantine signs outside houses to prevent highly communicable diseases from spreading.  Though very young, I remember sleeping with a sheet over my crib with a humidifier providing steam for me to breathe. (Although widely considered to have been eradicated, outbreaks of whooping cough have returned in recent years due to not all people having their children vaccinated.)

But the war was the constant focus. An uncle and my older cousins served in the military overseas.  We listened daily to the news on our radio.

Yes, the United States came together. But not everyone.  I remember mother saying how upset she was that during time of struggle and sacrifice, there were people who made profits off the war. I learned early that during a time of crisis some will always look out for their own gain and gratification.

And there was racial discrimination. We were at War with two enemies, I heard as the “Nazis” and the “Japs.” One the U.S. described as Hitler’s German National Socialist Party, with the  swastika symbol. The other the U.S. described and symbolized as a “slant-eyed” people.  Japanese Americans were incarcerated in concentration camps. German Americans, such as myself, were not.

I was in first grade when the war ended.  I vividly remember VE Day and VJ day, WW II ending in Europe and Japan. We celebrated downtown in Des Moines.  (We knew little of the devastation of our atomic bombs.) And I remember, too, listening to the radio, and for the first time hearing news other than about the War. I recall being surprised. All my formative years I had not experienced anything but war news.  As a child I was not shielded; this was my reality, even though Mother kept the small light hidden in our doll baby buggy. What had I learned?  What shapes our lives?

But, of course, times were different then.  It may have been a different time; however . . .  

Friday, March 6, 2020

Women's Voices will Persist


Two women, so intelligent, competent and passionate, Elizabeth Warren and Rachel Maddow, sat in Elizabeth’s home last night talking about her taking her name out of the running for the Democratic nomination for President of the United States. 

Elizabeth was thinking about all the little girls who would have to wait to see a woman as president. So many millions of us have had to wait since Hillary was defeated, not in the popular vote, but in the Electoral College. So many women and men saw such promise in their being six women candidates, and people of color, and a gay man among the 2020 candidates.

As I watched Elizabeth, my mind went back thirty years, to 1990, when there were no women Lutheran bishops in the world. A number of us women had been willing to be candidates in various ELCA synods, so at least people could envision the possibility. I was nominated in a synod in Minnesota; so many people from across the country sent encouraging support. As the balloting drew close, and there was a very real chance I would be elected, with much prayer and discernment, I took my name out of the running, telling the assembly, “I feel clear that I am to continue my calling to be a teaching theologian of the church as a professor at Wartburg Seminary. . . I don’t like to disappoint people. . . There are many extraordinarily gifted women in this church ready and capable of being bishop today.”

I do not mean to equate my situation with that of Elizabeth Warren, except with that piercing empathy I felt for her.  Women and girls would have to wait. 
However, soon after my vocational decision, a Lutheran woman was elected bishop in Germany, and in 1992, April was elected in the ELCA, followed by Andrea, and more, and women of color and then Elizabeth as Presiding Bishop of the ELCA.  And I count it a great joy that some women whom I had been privileged to teach at Wartburg are now synodical bishops.

As Elizabeth Warren and Rachel Maddow talked last night, almost sister to sister, it was clear to me that their gifts will continue to be used.  Their persistent voices will continue to be heard.