The Leadership of Collaboration

Yesterday it was a second page story and today it's on page 5 of the morning paper. And it didn't lead the evening news last night either. Why? Why is the fact that leaders of 47 nations gathering for two days in Washington, D.C. at the invitation of President Obama not headline news? And, for that matter why was the top headline, "Armstrong attacks Obama Space plans?" (I'm looking at "USA Today" the paper available in my motel in Denver)

A nuclear weapon killing hundreds of thousands would have caught our fickel attention. The question is more than the phenomenon of "If it bleeds it leads." The long, hard work of collaboration is not seen as strong leadership.

During the second afternoon of the two-day Nuclear Security Summit, I was sitting around a table with a church staff quietly planning collaboratively, and giving attention to the careful, courageous leadership necessary to work collaboratively.
A conflict ripping the congregation apart would have caught our attention.

Why is it that leading in a collaboratively style is seen as weak? Collaboration is desperately needed, both in congregations and in the global community. And it is possible and can be learned.

Page 9 of the morning paper reported a story describing how lawmakeres rarely work together today. "They merely find convenient allies, i.e. lobbyists--in order to get anything done."

In a competitive society, "attack" is strong. Listening is weak. In a dangerous world, or when things become dangerous within the church, secret meetings, taking sides, tear down reigns. What is needed is careful, open collaboration.

What is the leadership of collaboration? Do we recognize and respect it when we see it? No, it is not "anything goes." That's abdication. Nor is it taking control and keeping control at any cost. That's authoritarianism.

It's setting and maintaining a trustworthy environment. It's having each one speak themselves present. It's encouraging and uplifting the contributions of all at each stage of planning, gently modeling how to bring out a hesitant person's or a small nation's ideas while helping a more dominant one to relinquish the floor. Collaboration is hard work. It will take months or years. In this instant gratification world we want fast decisions and quick results. Co-labor is hard and needs to be sustained by ongoing mutual accountability.

That's what I saw going on around the table yesterday at Abiding Hope Lutheran Church in Littleton,Colorado. That's what I saw going on at the Nuclear Security Summit.

King's Death an Easter Challenge

Martin Luther King Jr. died on April 4, 1968, at the age of 39. His was a Lenten death. This year April 4 begins the Easter season. We are challenged once again, 42 years later, to pick up the call to work for justice, particularly the unfinished business of calling out on behalf of people who are poor, to ask why does the United States incarcerate more citizens than any nation in the world, particularly people of color, and to carry out our vocation of seeking a just and peaceful world. These are resurrection challenges!

I write this the day between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, the Saturday when Christ lay in the tomb and disciples were confused and afraid. Walmart promises "Easter costs less at Walmart." What kind of an Easter dare they think they are selling?

This Saturday is a heavy day, and yet a day to prepare for the Easter season journey. "Why do you seek the living among the dead?" "Go, tell the disciples that he is going ahead of you to Galilee."

I, like most of us, am perplexed, unsure, confused. Where is Christ leading us? I, like most of us, live between Lent and Easter, and yet Christ calls us forth.

I am packing my bags this day to head out again, this time not overseas but to various speaking engagements in Colorado and Nebraska. So that you will know where I am:

April 4 (with Burton) Bergen, Rowland, Iowa
April 10 and 11 Bethel, Aurora, Colorado
April 13 and 14 Abiding Hope, Littleton, Colorado
April 17 and 18 Mount of the Holy Cross, Vail, Colorado
April 20 Our Savior's, Greeley, Colorado
April 23 Lodgepole, Chappell and Oshkosh, Nebraska
April 24 and 25 St. John, Alliance, Nebraska
April 28 St. Paul's Grand Island, Nebraska

I go because circumstances warrant such travel. I go because I have been invited. I need to remember that it is Christ who calls us forth to vocations in the public world because the work of justice is not done. This year we remember Martin Luther King's work on Easter Sunday....and every day thereafter. Blessings on the journey.

Punctuality and Pedagogs

We have been hosted so very graciously and well while teaching in Sweden. Particularly notable to me (since I love people being on time)is the impecable punctuality. Since we do not know Swedish and we are being met and handed off to the host at the next diocese or theological institution, we are totally in the hands of the Swedish people. We have a list, and then precisely at the appointed time the next host appears. Likewise I am using a variety of teaching styles throughout the day, interspersed with Fika (coffee breaks...a word they insisted I learn) I am continually surprised and appreciative when the group automatically returns to the room at the appointed time. Now this may seem insignicant, but it coincides with my commitment to mutual accountability. People in Iowa are punctual, too. I'm not comparing. I'm simply appreciative and saying punctuality assists learning community.

Our host in Stockholm is Rune Larsson, from whom I received the invitation to come to Sweden. One would have thought that I as a Lutheran would have been invited by the Lutherans. Rather, the connection is ecumenical. Rune, who is with the Covenant Church had read my book "The Church as Learning Community" which was published by a Methodist publisher (Abingdon). We became acquainted through the Religious Education Association, an international, interfaith professional organization. While in Sweden, of course, most of the participants are Lutheran, part of the Swedish Lutheran Church. So our assocations ecumenically often lead us full circle back to our own communion. On our first Sunday we worshipped with the central Covenant church in Stockholm, which was a wonderful experience, a vital church with mission outreach. In many ways it was very similar to Lutheran worship in the States. The Covenant Church in Sweden may have more in common with the ELCA than with the Swedish Covenant church in the United States.

Thinking about being the church, whether the "established" church in a country, or county, or being the one who is different leads to important questions about being a Christian in the world and in one's own daily life. Nineteen years ago we visited the Lutheran Church in Namibia, shortly after independence, the 20th anniversary of which Wartburg Seminary in Dubuque is celebrating at this time. The question the Namibians posed while we were there was, "How do we be the church when those in ruling power are no longer the enemy, but we can now be in official leadership?"

The Lutheran Church is no longer the officially established church of Sweden. So what is its role now? And what can we learn from the small churches in Sweden, the Covenant,the Baptist, and the even smaller Methodist church? While we are here they are meeting to take the next steps in joining together, along with choosing a name which may be something like "Community Church." What is our calling, our vocation, in the public world as various churches at various points in history?

Meanwhile, we hear news from the States that the Texas school board has passed a series of resolutions to change the curicuulum in Texas schools. This has implications for the entire country since many textbooks for public scools across the nation are published in Texas. The nation is now to be portrayed not as pluralistic but as Judeo
Christian. The nation will be described not so much as a democracy but as a republic with an emphases on capitalistic corporations shaping young people. The USA is to be seen as a exceptional nation in the world with an exceptionalist role to play. There are more resolutions. The role of the Civil Rights movement is to be downplayed.

Although in the USA there is no state church, what do these measures mean for teaching about the nation and about a certaian kind of Christianity's place in the nation?

All of us at each point in time need to continue to discern the church's vocation in the public world.

One more story about teaching and learning. We took a train to Gothenburg. Some (including ours) are still being cancelled because of snow on the tracks. We took a train an hour later (ah, the convenience of public transportation). We were greeted warmly by yet another host, Annika Broman. I sat in the front of a taxi while she and Burton got in the back. They were surprised when a taxi driver popped in the back seat with them. It seems he was the teacher for the new driver in the front. We were glad the teacher was there in the evening traffic. Interestingly, the next day when once again Annika took us by taxi, another man popped into the back seat with her and Burton. This time we discovered the learner was watching while the teacher was driving the cab. He new man told us clearly that before he could be at the stage of driving himself he has to observe his teacher. Annika and I were delighted at this one more example of informal teaching/learning communities all around us in which we daily partipate.

Candles and Cucumber Sandwiches

Just a few brief words about one person's impressions of our experience in Sweden (experience is always personal...and cannot be generalized.)

Not all Swedes are blonds
but I have never seen so many houses painted golden yellow. Against the bright blue sky, they remind one of their flag, and they brighten the long grey days.
Yes, most of the sports we see in our TV in our room are cross country on the snow
Children are well bundled and wear helmets outside our room to play on the hills because the snow is very icy. We watch our step.
Where to put the mounds of snow, one or two stories hight? Not in the sea, they say, so they are trucking it to the woods. One cannot count on it melting soon,

No sweets. Coffee breaks are cucumber sandwiches on dark bread with a little cheese. Hearty food and healthy.

Warm people who care for us well, tending us and handing us off to yet a new person as we go forth to speak and teach...and learn...in a new location. This afternoon it will be a train ride to Gothenberg.

There are candles on the table at every meal, including breakfast.
Lit candles to bring the light in a land yet filled with snow.
But, we here, like those at home in the United States, will celebrate the spring equinox together.

Norma

Bicyles in the Snow

I write from Sweden. We--husband Burton and I--arrived at the Arlanda airport, half way between Stockholm and Uppsala last Monday evening. After our long winter of Iowa ice and snow, we had worried a blizzard might hinder our leaving Dubuque, but it was Sunday fog that caused the plane from Chicago to simply circle overhead and head back for Chicago without landing. Burton quickly rented a car and we, plus two other stranded passengers, took off, making our l0 p.m. flight from Ohare to London.

We were greeted by a taxi which took us to Uppsala. Sweden, too, had had one of the longest, coldest winters in decades. The piles of snow still a meter high everywhere do not stop people, particularly students at the university, from traveling on their bicycles. On Tuesday, guided by our host, Berne Persliden, we walked to the cathedral which he told us is the largest Lutheran cathedral in Scandinavia. Begun in the 12th century, it retains its original beauty. Our eyes rose to the magnificent height; I also noticed out of the corner of my eye as we went by the chapel behind the altar, a woman, dressed plainly, standing there. When the Reformation came to Sweden, the statue for the veneration of Mary had been removed from the chapel. The woman, so lifelike one had to look twice to see she was a statue, is “Mary returned.” In her eyes one can see all women.

I was invited to Sweden to lecture at four locations, primarily on my book, “The Church as Learning Community,” and also on lifelong faith formation, leadership and ministry in daily life. The first was Johannelunds teologiska hogskola in Uppsala. What a amazing joy Wednesday morning at 8:30 to see 170 students (half the seminary) come for the lectures, most studying to be Lutheran priests, and also those who will become diaconal ministers and educators. Their attentiveness all day (we ended at 3:30) for my four lectures, small group discussion in Swedish, and a panel of eight students interacting with me, they in Swedish and I in English, was most gratifying. We dealt with ecclesiology and various images of soteriology. Many said they had not thought before about everyone being a teacher and a learner. They were concerned about ordinary people being intimidated by teaching authority. They wanted to know more about “starting from the other direction,” where people are in their daily lives. I give thanks for them and for that full and wonderful day.

The next day was equally long and challenging when I gave four lectures to priests and educators of the diocese of Uppsala, just six blocks from our hotel. No, we didn’t ride bicycles; we walked. The church in Sweden, of course, had been a state church. My interest in issues of church and state led me to many questions about the Lutheran church now since disestablishment in 2000. Still most Swedes belong to the church, but membership does not translate into regular worship or regular lifelong learning. This day the lectures and conversation were different, but the gracious hospitality of Nina Carlsson Garloev and Bertil Murray and the receptiveness of the group to the topics was no less. They of course know English well, but still it is a challenge to listen all day in English and to stay engaged. I tried of course to speak clearly; I could see connection in their eyes when we dealt with issues of power and partnership and authority, working from the book by Craig Nessan and myself, “Transforming Leadership.” The topics from both books merge when we talk about “setting trustworthy environments for us to be different together.”

Karl-Eric Tysk, a priest and scholar whom I knew when he was a student of ours in a D.Min. program at the University of Dubuque, brought us north to Storvic and Kungsgarden where we have been staying for two nights in his rectory, a very large home built in medieval times and brought up to date in the l9th century. He has a pastorate of two parishes which combined have five churches and l0,000 members. Services are held in each church every other Sunday. Sweden, like Finland and Estonia, is today a very secular country; the church is important as part of the heritage.

We worshipped with some of the 35 staff at the beginning of their Friday work and I told them how the Wartburg community would be gathering for worship also on Friday morning. We attended a small village funeral where Karl-Eric spoke the Word with warmth and dignity to the family in attendance. He then drove us further on to visit a most beautiful part of Sweden with lakes and mountains. The snow itself is piled high like small mountains. But the bright sun promises that spring will come.

Today we go to Stockholm for more lectures at the central event for which we were invited. Burton, also, will give a lecture on the use of media. Later in the week we go to Gothenberg.

Chapel with Marilyn

“Lead me, guide me, along the way,” begins the well known hymn. Last Wednesday Marilyn Robinson, a second year Master of Divinity student here at Wartburg Seminary, and I were privileged to lead the Wartburg community in the Wednesday morning communion service. Faculty take turns preaching and presiding at worship and students assist in planning and leading daily chapel. Nothing was unusual in that regard.

I frequently quote theologian Letty Russell, a mentor of mine and many others from Yale Divinity School, when she wrote, that Jesus did not say to the blind person, “You can walk,” nor to the person who could not walk, “You can see.” Jesus met people in their need and also cared about societal problems related to those human needs.

Letty's words remind me that each of us is unique in our need and that our ministry to people should to be specific to their individual needs.

Chapel with Marilyn last week bore that out and took me one step further. Marilyn has problems with sight and I, because I live with the chronic illness CFS, have difficulty standing. So together, and with the guidance of sacristan Gloria Stubitsch, we had to figure out how to lead that day in a way that would honor Wartburg's liturgical tradition, and be possible for each of us. We talked. Because we would be seated in the chancel and the lectern and communion table are down on the floor in the midst of the people, we wondered how Marilyn would move down the steps. I could guide her, walking with my cane, but she suggested putting blue tape on the edge of each of the three stairs so she could see them better. And she would need large print for the first biblical text and the parts of the liturgy she would lead.

I need to sit as much as I can. I could stand with assistance of my cane while she held the large worship book. She would guide the people as to the appropriate times to sit and stand; I said “Just don't watch me. I quietly sit at those times and no one seems to notice if you are guiding them clearly.” Likewise I need a stool upon which to sit to preach and hand out the communion bread. I have done that for years and while I at first thought it would be a distraction to the community, I have discovered, here at Wartburg and other places I preach, that it actually communicates hospitality to those with a variety of disabilities.

So, we were moving along well in our planning, becoming partners. So much so, that soon I almost forgot whose need was which. “Oh yes, I don't need the large print for the Gospel lesson...that's your need.” And Marilyn found that she could easily see the stool I needed at the lectern. “I don't need to sit on the stool but it won't be in my way.” As our needs intermingled, our help for each other intertwined. Soon we were all laughing together!

The day of worship came. With prayer, careful planning and in partnership we were able to lead together. While some may have thought (and think!) that we would have needed others to lead in our stead, the service moved along with grace and dignity. The assisting minister usually prepares the table and pours the wine into the chalice, but I did that since Marilyn was not sure she could see well enough to pour well. I stood while at the altar, but raised one hand in blessing while simply holding on to the table with my other hand. Another team member, a communion assistant, moved my stool from the lectern to the place for distribution while people shared the peace. Marilyn and I took one another's arm, as needed, she to steady my body and I to guide where she could not see. I sang the Eucharistic liturgy and Marilyn, with her rich voice, led from memory the hymns (including also, “I Want Jesus to Walk with Me) from her African-American heritage.

One could say, “No one noticed,” these small measures and be accurate. No one seemed to think the service any different than usual. On the other hand, perhaps it is good if some did notice so that they might conclude, “All the people of God can participate in and take their role in leading worship.” Gloria said afterward, I had tears in my eyes as we sang together, “Lead me, guide me along the way.” I felt Letty's presence too. Christ meets each of us where we are and asks, “What do you want me to do for you?” and then calls us to follow him as servant leaders.

Is Haiti A Lost Cause?

My co-contributor, Christopher deForest, has visited Haiti six times over the past three years, leading groups on cultural immersion trips as part of his internship and seminary education. Here he shares a valuable perspective he gained from a 2008 visit:

Every week brings new, compounded fears for Haiti. Indeed, there are many reasons for great concern, and many experts are saying things will get much worse before they get any better. Some worry about the children – the many orphans created by the quake. Some worry about the coming rainy season, and what will happen to the millions now homeless. Some worry about the spread of disease. Some see all the rubble and worry there’s no place for it all to go.

And then there are those who worry about the essential stamina and spirit of the Haitians themselves. “Haiti was a disaster before the earth moved,” the argument goes. “They have never had a stable, working government. Their entire society has been in shambles for two centuries. How can they possibly find the strength and capacity to recover from this?”

I learned the truth about Haiti, as I led a small group of Americans there in May 2008. It was a month after the nation-wide food riots – in fact, we had had to postpone our trip because of the crisis. It was a Sunday, and we took a long drive in the back of a flatbed truck (a “tap-tap”) up a winding road to a small village at the top of a mountain.

We stop at a simple building, with a cross over the front door. A church. We are met by three village elders – two men and a woman. After a warm greeting, we’re led around the back into a clearing, up to the porch of a small house. Spilling out the front door of the house, all along its front, is a big group, obviously having a meeting of some kind.

Now, I have no idea why we’ve come here. Our Haitian guide has promised us “a surprise.” So I begin to worry: “Are we interrupting something?” But no one seems disturbed. In fact, everywhere I see welcoming, calm, and confident faces. The scene looks like a Norman Rockwell painting.

One of the elders speaks in Creole, and our guide translates. This is a “community union group.” They meet every Sunday afternoon, after church. They get together and take care of the needs of the community. Needs not being met in any other way. Sometimes, there is a sick member who needs to go to a hospital. Maybe there’s a hurricane coming and they need to prepare. Maybe a family is struggling and needs some help. Each week, they decide how to take care of these concerns.

Again, a worry enters my mind: I wonder if this group formed because of the food crisis, and how hard life has become in Haiti in the past year. So I ask, “How long have you been meeting?” This group has gotten together every Sunday afternoon since 1985. They are, in fact, one of five such groups in this region. And together, they have done many amazing things. They built the entire road we drove up the mountain. They organize holidays and events for the whole community. They’ve built houses, built their church building, farmed together, helped communities outside their own village, and helped children go away to school. Right now, in fact, they are building their own school – they would be glad to show it to us.

Then, another man steps forward. He holds in one hand a fist-full of Haitian money. In the other, a worn spiral notebook. He opens it and shows me a column of names – all 75 people in attendance, with check marks beside. This man is obviously the treasurer, and with pride he explains that every person comes to the meeting with one dollar. They give that dollar for the support of the community. And with those dollars, this community does everything.

I ask: “Does the government provide any support?” They laugh, shake their heads, and say that they only come up here during elections. They just had one, and candidates came, promising help, even leaving their cell phone numbers. After the election, none of those phone numbers worked, and the politicians have not been seen again.

Our conversation wanes, bringing new worries. I recall my place: I represent a U.S. charitable organization, so I ought to say something “official.” But what exactly do these people need from us? Do they want our money? Want us to lobby their government? Want us to bring in our first-world expertise? I didn’t know what to say, or even where to start. I babble something about being honored to meet them, offer to take their cause back to our country, blah-blah-blah.

I fall silent. Suddenly, I feel like a little child, in the presence of my wise and gentle elders, unequal to the task, to the moment, to whatever was being asked of me. So, I turn to our guide and ask, “Can we pray with them?”

Apparently, there is no need to translate. All around, broad smiles, like rising suns, dawn on 75 faces. They sigh and nod and laugh. They rise and step forward. It was like they were chiding, with all love and comfort, “At last, little one, you ask a good question.” And then, before I could worry about what to do or who should speak, a Haitian woman just starts to sing. A circle forms. Someone takes my hand on each side. We swing our arms in rhythm.

As the song ends, I look over to their pastor, assuming he’ll lead us in prayer, but someone else in the crowd starts to pray, then another, and another. Then there’s more song.

Then, someone is coming to me, a stranger, and he embraces me, and gently speaks into my stiff shoulders, “La Paix.” “The Peace.” “Peace be with you.” So around the whole circle we go, sharing this peace, hug after hug. La Paix. La Paix. La Paix.

Then, they walk us up the hillside, to see the school they are building. It is breathtaking. Six large rooms, almost finished, such a visible sign of their faith, built by them brick-by-brick, dollar-by-dollar, on merely one dollar a week, which for many of them is as much as a fourth of their weekly income.

Finally, they take us back down, and feed us delicious coconuts cut from their trees, and pineapples from their gardens. They load up our arms with food, load us on our truck, and wave to us as we drive away, down the road they built.

We came up that mountain, in all our worries, expecting to be needed, expecting to feel guilty, expecting… really, not knowing what to expect. We came down, realizing that we were hungry, we were thirsty, we were empty – and that they had filled us up. In fact, all they wanted from us that day was to fill us up. To share their joy. To show us their way.

Make no mistake. Right now, Haiti needs help. It’s a place full of destruction and death. But it continues to be a place with a long history of hope and an extraordinary capacity to heal. Haitians find faith and strength in community, in ways and times we can scarcely imagine. January 12^th was not the first time they’ve been shaken and crushed. Yet they have never been ones to set aside their belief in a God with the power to raise the dead. So don’t give up on Haitians. They are no lost cause.

That We May All Be One

Text: John 17:15-23 Sermon I preached at Wartburg Theological Seminary, January 20, 2010, one week after Ben Larson was killed among the tens of thousands of people in the earthquake in Haiti:

So many words to say. We need to speak them. For now, we ponder words from John’s Gospel.
Jesus prayed: “So that the world may know that you [God] have sent me and loved them
even as you have loved me.”

This text comes right before the betrayal, arrest and finally the death of Jesus.
We are a community being sustained by prayer these days. In our text Jesus is earnestly praying for the disciples. When in our grief we hardly can find words to pray, know that Jesus prayed for us. Jesus prays for us who are sent out into the world, and Jesus prays that we might all be one.

Jonathan Larson’s words: “The morning before the earthquake we spent walking the slums of Port au Prince with a nurse friend, administering help and praying with the people in pain.”

Jesus did not ask that the ones he loved be taken away from their work in the world, but that they be protected, not from danger, or persecution, but from the evil one, from thinking that evil has won out.
“Make them holy in the truth; your word is truth!” When we can no longer bear to look at the suffering, make us holy in your truth, oh God.
As God sent Jesus into the world, so send us into the world……
It would be so tempting to say, when a person dies on J-Term, “Don’t go out there.” But we will go back to Haiti, and to other places of impossible challenge and danger.
For that matter, where would it be safe to stay? Surely not inside our own churches, nor inside our own homes. Just as Jesus was sent to walk among those who are the poorest and outcast, with crowds pressing in on him in need of healing, Jesus sends us into the world.

Ben deeply believed that. I hear his gentle voice holding strong commitment to the global ministry of accompaniment. He walked and taught and prayed among and enjoyed the people of Haiti and in ultimate accompaniment, died together with tens of thousands in the earthquake.

April and Judd’s words: “In his young death, his life joins the bodies of the poor. In the Haitian rubble, Ben’s life joins these dear, beloved people.”

It is the truth that people die of hunger around the world every day behind the headlines. Jesus prayed that we not be swallowed up in denial, or in being afraid of those who hands reach out for help, but that we might be the incarnate body of Christ in the world.


This is the Week of Christian unity.

Jesus prays on behalf of those who do not believe in him. Jesus prays for all that “they may all be one.” “As you, Abba, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me and have loved them, even as you have loved me.”

I loved Ben. We loved Ben. We care about the people of Haiti. But what do we do in the face of such a catastrophe? It’s maddening to watch. Why can’t they just get that food and water to those who hunger and thirst? What do we do now?

Jesus tried to prepare his disciples, but we cannot be completely prepared. Can we imagine even a little bit more what his disciples went through as the events of the crucifixion unfolded? The fear, anxiety, confusion, upset, unspeakable grief? “What do we do now?”

Gloria [assisting minister] and I talked a few weeks ago about this worship service and text in the Week of Christian Unity, and while remembering the life, and commitment and death of Martin Luther King Jr. We said to each other that Christian unity is not just about the scandal of divisions among Christian church bodies, but also about the breakdown between and within churches by race, and class and economics. We live and people die in a world of vast inequality.
And Jesus said, “They are one.” And Jesus walked among the poor.

Oh, I know the complexity. And our complicity in the complexity. We know we are brothers and sisters by virtue of Creation and we believe globally we are brothers and sisters in Christ and yet the great economic gap between nations is laid bare in front of us daily on the TV and computer screen. “Security” barriers are needed, and keep hungry people from being fed.

And Jesus prays that we may all be one.

Jesus’ word of truth is that by going out into the world….there we become one.

We experience that in working together as Lutheran Disaster Response.
We see that in the work of ecumenical and interfaith relief and rebuilding agencies.
We observe that in airplanes and helicopters and ships from nations around the world coming together.

But it is not easy to work together. Lack of communication. Whose is charge? And in the midst I want to shout, “Just feed the people.” But who said that working together as One was ever going to be easy? There was another after-shock this morning.
Who said that working together to change systems that perpetuate disaster in the midst of catastrophe is easy?

In the midst of such fear and frustrations and fatigue, we believe that in diakonia, God builds the body of Christ and binds us together as one, forever.

We see that in the faces of suffering, courageous, Haitian people, sleeping side by side in the streets, who praise God in song.

Rene’s words: I heard Ben’s voice. He was singing. I told him I loved him and that Jon and I were okay and to keep singing. But the singing stopped after he sang the words, “God’s peace to us we pray.”

So, what do we do?
When Rene and Jonathan come back among us, and as we together try to help the people of Haiti, we dare not presume to know what they need. We learn from Jesus. (Jesus did not need people to need him.) Rather he asked, “What do you want me to do for you?”
How do we learn how to love? By loving.
How do we learn partnership? By being accompanying partners.
How do we as a church engage in mission? By being part of Christ’s mission, God builds the church.
How do we gain strength after such a horrendous global and personal disaster? By drawing on the Spirit’s power to serve, God multiplies such service and rebuilds our strength.

We cannot bear it and so God bears us up our wounds and binds us together as one.
Amen.

Accompaniment! Ben Larson dies with the people of Haiti

Ben Larson believed so deeply in walking with one another in the global church. He accompanied the Haitian people during his J-Term as a senior student at Wartburg Seminary. And he died together with tens of thousands of Haitians in the earthquake this week.

I am grieving deeply over the loss of this gentle, caring, pastoral man who loved to collect music of people in the global community. His wife, Renee, and cousin, Jon, also senior Wartburg students, were in Haiti and survived. They will miss Ben. His parents, April and Judd Ulring Larson and Ben’s two older sisters will miss Ben. Ben’s classmates, yet scattered all over the world during their J-Terms studies will miss him. I miss Ben already! The parishioners who will not now have the opportunity to have Ben as their pastor will suffer that loss, too, even though they never will have known him.

Ben’s joy and grace and love live on. I remember so much about him. I see him even now while I sit at my keyboard just a couple of hours after hearing of his death. I remember his passion for justice. I remember the way he had such great appreciation and respect for his parents, a clergy couple. Yes, April was the first woman bishop in the ELCA. And Judd is a caring, loving, gentle pastor. Ben would so clearly say—often—the things he specifically learned from each of his parents. Burton and I relate as clergy couple parents of three sons.

I miss Ben as his professor. He listened so well and then gently offered a profound and kind comment. I see him in front of me now.

re joined in the cross of Christ. We cannot comprehend the catastrophe in Haiti, a country of courageous, suffering people. We cannot make sense of it. Making sense of it is not our calling. We walk with Jesus wherever he leads, and in this accompaniment Jesus’ cross and resurrection is our comfort and our strength.

At 7:15 EST on Christmas Eve Morning

At 7:15 on Christmas Eve the Health Bill was passed by the U.S. Senate 60-39. It's name includes patient protection and affordable health care. Much has been written and will be written about the contents and concessions. Much is yet to be done as the House and Senate bills are reconciled and integrated. Which provisions will prevail?

But as I watched the vote this morning, just concluded at 6:15 a.m. my time, I note some seemingly small things. Certainly it's understandable that quite a few senators left the floor immediately following their particular vote...airplane travel will be difficult given the weather right outside my own window here in Dubuque. (Yes, we are starting out on the road this morning, too, to head towards the congregation my husband is serving as interim half way across the state.) But notable was the fact that it was the losing side who mostly left the floor.

And I also noted with some consternation that it seemed hard to find a channel that kept focused on the vote all the way through. (The vote took only 15 minutes, hardly a lot of time.) Even C-Span announced a few votes in that we would need to turn to C-Span 2 to see the rest of the vote while they cut away to take calls from viewers. MSNBC was doing a pretty good job letting us actually see our Senate at work, but when the reporter covering the vote was asked to clarify what was happening (two senators were yet out of the room and the vote was being held for a moment to make sure everyone could vote), she acknowledged that she wasn't paying attention because she was doing an interview with the Today show which would air shortly.

[In the time it takes to write this, I note Sen. Al Franken from snowy Minnesota, is lingering 20 more minutes, taking time to cross the aisle and talk personally to many Republican senators. And 92-year-old Senator Bird is still there, in his wheel-chair.)

Can we not stay in the room? Can we not pay attention? Is our attention span so short? Are we so distracted, even when something, such as informing the public, is our direct responsibility? Just things to ponder as all of us are called to careful, thoughtful, collaborative deliberation in the communal decision making in our daily lives.

It's Christmas Eve. We pray for safe travel as we watch and wait. Where will we see the Christ Child coming this very day?

Chronic Illness: Globally and Personally

Chronos is actual, specific time. Kairos refers to the timely moment, the “right” time. Chronologically I have been ill for 27 years this month. Chronologically the world has always been at war, somewhere. Chronologically the globe is warming. How much time, specifically, we “have left” is open to debate; however there is no doubt about the fact that the glaciers are melting at a faster and faster rate.

Was the speech President Obama gave in Oslo when he received the Nobel Peace Prize the right speech at the right time? It was a great speech. Great in spite of, perhaps because of, the challenge of the timing, right after he sent more forces to war. War is very much with us. He said, “The capacity of human beings to think up new ways to kill one another proved inexhaustible, as did our capacity to exempt from mercy those who look different or pray to a different God.” And so, in the midst of the chronic nature of war, he dared to live as a man seeking peace.

There are only a couple of days left of the 2009 United Nations Summit on climate change. “Will anything get done?” “What will have been accomplished?” “Will expediency cause such compromises that any action will be meaningless? “Will the nations that live in poverty be overlooked once again?” Long lines, protestors, entrenched super powers. And yet they gather. And we dare not be merely skeptical viewers; we must gather too. The earth is chronically ill. So what do we do? How do we live?

Twenty-seven years ago I was struck by a disease with a terribly misleading name, and with no known cause and no cure, Chronic Fatigue Immune Dysfunction Syndrome (CFS). I must deal with unrelenting exhaustion, weakness, depression, seizure-like episodes, triggered by sudden loud noises, with times of being unable to walk or speak. While many become bedridden, unable to work, with the aid of two wonderful doctors and supportive family and friends, colleagues and students, I have been able to life a fully productive life. Similar in a way to global warming, progress has been impeded by those who through the year have had doubts about how real the disease is since it could not be identified under a microscope, even though more than l million people in this country and millions more globally suffer from CFS.

This fall researchers have identified a strong connection between people with CFS and an infectious human retrovirus, xenotropic murine leukemia virus-related virus (XMRV). After so many years I have simply accepted that fact that I will need to live with this chronic illness the rest of my life. How do I receive the news that there could be a breakthrough, that things could change? Will research be too slow to make any difference?

On a much larger scale, we human beings have come to believe that war is inevitable. What would a world without war be like? And, in regard to climate change (also an unfortunate name that does not describe its devastating effects), people may assume there is nothing we can really do. Research will be too slow to make any difference.

The president’s poll numbers are down. Four years for a presidential term presents relentless chronological pressure to get something done quickly, lest “time run out.” President Obama knows this. And still he called the peoples of the world to vision, hard work and persistence in thinking about just war and the imperatives of a just peace. “Peace requires responsibility. Peace entails sacrifice.” He called for three ways to build such just and lasting peace: 1) We need to develop alternatives to violence that are tough enough to change behavior; 2) Peace is not just the absence of visible conflict; just peace is based upon inherent rights and dignity of every individual; and 3) Just peace includes not only civil and political right but economic security and opportunity.

Chronological time presses on. Sin is real. War is relentless. The earth is ill. Those of us who live with chronic illnesses grow weary. And one could say that all human beings are chronically ill, at best only temporarily able bodied.

So, in the midst of these realities, how do we hope? At the kairos moment Christ came and comes again. Christmas presents us again with realities and possibilities.

I cannot depend upon the identification of the human retrovirus XMRV to change my life, but perhaps, after all these years of no progress on CFS, maybe it will. Whether or not that will happen in my lifetime, CFS cannot hinder my commitment to live and serve. .
We cannot depend upon a U.S. president alone to solve the problems of war and make peace (our work being only to give him “grades.”) Working for a just peace is the responsibility of all of us. Obama’s speech in Oslo recognized the chronic human predicament, saying that human nature is not perfect and we do not live in an idealized world. And yet he said that if we lose faith, dismiss it as naïve, we lose our sense of possibility.

We cannot wait for countries to agree on one strategy to keep our earth from becoming fatally ill. The Copenhagen summit will end, but those attending and those of us watching are called to continue our commitment to live and to serve and to work towards global health. The kairos moment is here.

Chronically ill? Yes! A kairos time? In Christ, always.

Tithing is Big News

Christopher deForest posts this latest entry from his new location in the U.K:

Recently, a story broke here in Scotland about a 30-year-old Oxford academic, Toby Ord, who plans to donate $1.7 million to charity (to read the story, click here). He is not independently wealthy. As a scholar in the fields of ethics and philosophy his salary is not high, and he doesn’t anticipate big raises or bonuses. Nor does his pledge include contributions from his wife, his family, or any other source – merely from his own earnings.

So how does he plan to reach this extraordinary goal? Simply by giving 10% of his income every year until he retires.

Is that even possible? You’d think the numbers just couldn’t add up, but they do. And if one guy of modest means can give that much – what about two people? Five people? Ten? A hundred? A million?

That’s the whole idea behind a new grassroots movement called “Giving What You Can.” Maybe it’s premature to call it a “movement.” It only started three weeks ago, with the launch of their new website (click here). So far, they only have 23 “members” – that is, 23 people who have signed up to make the same pledge: to donate at least 10% of their lifetime earnings to organizations that are fighting extreme poverty in the developing world.

The group does not solicit or take donations directly; they merely invite you to take the pledge. And though they do endorse a few NGOs that they think are doing a great job, they leave it up to members to decide, on their own, where they give. All they ask is that the 10% goes towards aiding the poor or eradicating extreme poverty.

And how’s it all going, after three whole weeks? So far, a mere 23 individuals have pledged over $9.5 million dollars.

Unbelievable, isn’t it? The members also do something else that seems highly counter-cultural these days: they publicly post their names, right on the website. Not to boast, or to show off their moral superiority, but to make themselves accountable to each other and to the whole world. And to say, they believe they have a personal stake in the welfare of the whole human family, especially those who suffer most.

Again, let’s be clear: these aren’t wealthy philanthropists. These are at best middle-income academics. And half the listed members are students!

I am deeply humbled and inspired by what they’re doing. But one thing does give me pause. Scanning the list of members, not one claims to be clergy or faith-affiliated, nor are there any scholars or students of religion or theology.

I doubt there’s any deliberate exclusion. Rather, this may say something about the place of religion in society today – certainly in Europe, but increasingly in the U.S. as well. It seems, once again, that another creative and courageous secular group has taken what should be our message and mission, and they’ve run with it: a gracious invitation to reorient one’s life towards grateful generosity; towards simpler, more joyous living and giving. Once again, we religious folks are left in the dust, either because we’re seen as irrelevant, or out of touch, or ineffective – or because we’ve had our chance, and we’ve blown it.

Here’s another observation. Go to this link and read the stories in the press about this new group. The articles I’ve read all express a range of opinions, from doubt to shock to ridicule, not only that regular people could ever give this much – but also the very idea that anyone would consistently give 10%. What I find interesting is, never once does any journalist mention the historic religious practice of tithing – offering ten percent of your produce or income, either directly to those in need, or indirectly by way of church, synagogue or mosque.

Here’s my question: Has the whole world really forgotten what “tithing” is, and where this old concept comes from? Or have we religious folks so abused, misdirected, or marginalized the whole point of giving, that tithing has become a dirty word, or an onerous relic?

I do strongly encourage you to check out the website for this new group. They offer a wealth of data that de-bunks many myths about giving, and really makes a case for the power of personal commitment and, yes, for tithing. They may not start with God, but they end up in the place God invites us all to be: daring to believe that we are called to love extravagantly, and to declare that belief through a very public and personal witness.

Let’s celebrate and endorse this new way, that’s really very old. A way that finds its source and its hope, for us and ultimately for the whole world, in the crucified and risen Christ. Whether that’s old or new, it’s still very Good News indeed.