What Do We Believe This July 4?

As we approach July 4, one of the “holy” days of American civil religion, some random comments on where we are in this ever unfolding contemporary religious dimension to the American society:

As noted before in this blog, I deeply care about and am thankful for the United States of America and believe we should dedicate ourselves once again to vigorous participatory democracy. In order to do so as members of various faith communities in this pluralistic society, it is important to understand that as Robert Bellah wrote in his groundbreaking article in Daedalus in 1967, “while some have argued that Christianity is the national faith…few have realized that there actually exists alongside of and rather clearly differentiated from the churches an elaborate and well-instituted civil religion in America…[that]requires the same care in understanding that any other religion does”

I have been studying American civil religion (ACR) for well over 30 years now and have written extensively on the subject. But it keeps changing! It is not a dead religion. Lately I have wondered if we in the United States do not rather have an American corporate religion, as the power struggles between the U.S. government and BP would attest.

Each time I work with groups of people, whether students or congregational adult forums, I use a discovery method so that people are engaged in their own learning. We list the various elements of a religion listed around the room on chalk board or paper: Holy Days, Shrines, Holy Writ, Hymns, Symbols, Saints, Martyrs, Priests, Prophets, Rituals, Creeds, Gods. Participants fill in what they have seen in the world around them. ACR is indeed our “other faith” which shapes and forms what we believe every day. Over the years participants have suggested I add the categories of “Missions” and “Ecclesiology/Church”














Two weeks ago in Wartburg Seminary’s one-week intensive course, “The Church as Learning Community,” students, added some of their own ideas from summer of 2010 (By the way, the views in this post are my own. The class was a wonderful group of people with diverse views...I simply wanted to share some of their ideas and show you their picture!):
Mission: To spread our form of democracy
God: “happiness” (there are a lot of books, videos, etc out of happiness right now, perhaps because this is time of fear and uncertainty)
Creed: The Creed, “In Debt We Trust” has been shaken to the core
Ecclesiology/Church: Cell phones and Face Book
Shrines: Malls, banks, Arlington National Cemetery
Prophets: Sarah Palin (the list is usually all male) and Sarah Palin wannabes

Actually Sarah Palin was shown on the cover of Newsweek as “Saint Sarah” last week theorizing that the Christian right, long a group that confuses its brand of civil religion with its brand of Christianity, melding them together in a religious patriotism, is poised to become a women’s movement. By “feminist,” however, these women do not mean a movement of liberation and shared partnership of women and men working for global peace and justice, but a “kind of submissive, pretty, aw-shucks demeanor with a fiery power, a spiritual warfare.” (Newsweek, p.37)

Is there room for “Repentance” in American civil religion? Shame? Jonathan Kozol‘s recent book The Same of the Nation: The Restoration of Apartheid Schooling in America, chronicles the educational gap in educational opportunities among rich and poor, black and white. But repentance?

Shame? The misnaming and missing of bodies at the holy “shrine” of Arlington National has been called a shame.

Where are we this July 4th? Where are you? These are random thoughts, hardly comprehensive of all the news, all the beliefs, all the "holy" shrines and hymns. Do we believe in "Freedom" as an icon? Is it "my" own independence that I worship? But don't we really need to be interdependent? And surely our belief in the corporate world to take complete care of our needs, particularly the needs of the poor has been shaken. In fact globally, decisions are usually not made on the basis of what is good for the needs of most of the poor of the world, but what is good for the corporation.
So, where are our gods? What do we hold dear? What beliefs and creeds hold us? What holds us together as a nation? What holds our attention?

And, in the midst of it all, what do the radical creeds of a radical Gospel of cross and resurrection empower us to do as we seek to serve all people in God’s created and hurting world?

It's Not That I Don't Like Children's Sermons...

A friend recently asked what I might recommend on children's sermons from a theological perspective and how to engage children in worship more as opposed to the three minute stint up front.

I responded: First of all, I'm glad you are asking and not just making assumptions that: l) Of course we should have children’s sermons; 2) The goal is to have "our" cute kids in front of the church; or even 3) It's the only way to keep kids interested in going to church.

I would begin by asking about the nature of the worshipping community. And I would also ask, as I do in the book, The Ministry of Children's Education, "Who is the child?" and "Whose is the child?" The first question would move you to a conversation about God and the body of Christ and how all members, small and large, are active participants and not mere spectator or audience. (As you know, many adults "enjoy" the children's sermon because they like the amusement factor when a child answers an abstract question in a concrete way.)

Thinking positively, beginning with the nature of the worshipping community opens the doors wide to creatively thinking about the ways people of all ages and abilities can be involved in praying, praising, hearing and speaking the Word of God, and serving and being empowered for ministry in daily life. I have seen congregations--maybe your own--do that. Like the young girls who play chimes beautifully at Bethel Lutheran Church in Aurora, CO, here having fun on the sanctuary steps before the service. I have seen children and adults serving as ushers together. I heard the most clear and moving proclamation of the Word when a 12-year-old, with good preparation, read the lessons. I have worshipped from folders with colorful covers individually designed by the young children. I have seen a child in a wheel chair bring forth the bread for communion. I have been fed by my own sons at the altar on their confirmation day years ago.

And, coming from the other direction, I would love to talk with an education committee about how the pastor(s) can be engaged with children around the Bible at other times than on the altar steps on Sunday morning. I know, I know, they are busy. But, too busy to teach the children the Bible? "Let the little children come to me" and I'm too busy? Recently, on my way home from Colorado, I was with Pastor Randy Fett in Grand Island, Nebraska. He serves a 2000 member ELCA congregation. It was midweek and he spent the morning engaged with the texts for the upcoming Sunday, first with children from the day care center and pre-school.
He used not just the story from the Gospel, but also the Psalm. No story line there. But he and the children with their whole bodies lived out the praise of the Psalm. Later he and I met with some of the oldest members of the congregation and engaged the same texts. Or, more clearly, the texts engaged us. We carry the Word and the Word carries us. Here was the wisdom of the ages, the pain and joy, and the still unanswered questions, from the same text in the same church on the same morning. We are called to engage and be engaged by the scriptures by all the people all week along. That is the joyful challenge to which we as a congregation and its councils and committees are called.

Having broadened the question from both directions, I then come back to the more narrow subject. It's not that I was avoiding your question. I answer by not taking the beloved practice of children's sermons away from people, but by helping them experience that as only a small part of the potential of children's ministry, all ministry, in the church. Yes, I have seen children gathered around the pastor sharing the text for the day while the congregation listened on. It's not that I don't like children's sermons. I just don't like children's sermons done badly.

Here's where I come back to the "Who is the Child?" and "Whose is the Child?" questions and some rubrics I have for children's sermons.
1. They need to be grounded in the Word of God, not just lightly connected through some cute story. Here's where I find books on children's sermons can be counter-productive. I think it is difficult to prepare a children's sermon. One should spend a great deal of work on it. Too often it's just an afterthought. There are, of course, pastors who deeply care and carefully prepare.

2. Those who give children's sermons need to be and become theologically educated. That means pastors need ongoing growth theologically. And it certainly means that theologically trained leaders, pastors, diaconal ministers, deaconesses, associates in ministry, need to be working with any lay people who are preparing children's sermons. I believe this about ongoing theological education for and with those with teaching ministries in the congregation as well, of course.

3. The name: “Children's sermon” implies children don't listen to the "real" sermon. And there are those adults who proudly say "I got the most out of the children's sermon." "Children's time" assumes that's the only time the pastor or caring adults spend with children, or that being in front is the only place of worship. So, name? Maybe the problem with the name reveals the problem with the concept.

4. All of the above has been speaking to "Whose is the child?" Certainly the child is a person created by God, beloved by Christ and filled with the Spirit. The child does not belong to the parent. The child, all children, are children of the whole congregation. And seeing children as special enough to be seen and heard in church is very important. I do not mean to diminish that. Likewise the caring congregation needs always to be reaching out to children from the neighborhood and beyond. How does our comprehensive ministry of the Word do that? And how does the place of the child in Sunday worship do that?

5. "Who is the child" asks the very, very important developmental question. The fact that I have come to that last means it is not of least but of utmost importance. I think it would be great for those who work with education and worship to take time to learn more about child development, particularly about concrete reasoning and abstract concept. And, while you are at it, talk about the problems with asking, "Guess what I'm thinking" questions. This kind of adult education would be helpful for the whole range of ministry among children.

The Risk of Love

Jon Larson, co-president of the senior class of Wartburg Seminary, 2010, gave a commencement response which included these words, ever more poignant, because he was in Haiti in January, surviving the earthquake in which his cousin, dear friend, and classmate, Ben, died.

Jon spoke of beginning a new journey, "a journey where we are equipped, guided and guarded by the Holy Spirit, but more than that, where we are now a part of each other. As we leave this place with our hearts full of all kinds of emotions, we also leave here with love for one another in our hearts. We are forever yoked together for strength in sharing the burdens and the accomplishments to come in the future. Even though we are not side by side, we can feel the love as we hold each other up in prayer, as we are a listening ear, and--if we are lucky--as we still feel the impression of a hug.

"We are bonded together and guided today by love. Love is oh so risky! We know this all too well. We are surrounded by individuals and communities who have risked much: those present in this room, those in our lives, and those absent. Love is indeed risky because in fully giving of ourselves in love we risk changing through the love of the other. Risking in love can be pain-full and can also be joy-filled, and it is everything in between. That is exactly what we are called to do: risk everything in love. We risk because we believe and proclaim that God has first loved us, giving us all we need, and Christ is our ultimate example of love.

"So we ask: "Will we risk? Will we love the people we are called to serve with all our being?" YES..we will, with the help of God." Brothers, and sisters, that is how we walk into the world."

Malcolm Ridgeway has been a friend of mine since the days when our families were neighbors in Detroit years ago. For the past eleven years he has been in prison and we have written many, many letters to one another: Living Epistles one might call them. Malcolm reminds me of the Apostle Paul because he carries on a ministry among the men as pastor, preacher, teacher, social worker, counselor and friend. A recent letter began:

"I pray that God's grace continues to abound in and through you. You hear God's call, 'Here I am Lord, send me.' We are fellow laborers in God's vineyard. I pray that God sends more laborers because the harvest is ripe."

In these years he has been moved around from Detroit, to a prison in rural Michigan, then to Muskegan, and now back to Detroit. He says, "I am once again in Detroit. I am overjoyed. If I have to be incarcerated, I'd much rather be here, close to family. I hate that they had to make that long drive to see me. I dearly miss the men I left in Muskegan. I developed some friendships that will last me a lifetime. It's like that every time I leave a prison. I'm like Joselph. Everywhere I go God's favor rests upn me and I meet people with whom I connect and in no time at all it's like we've known each other all our lives. But it was time to move on. Guys here leave and go home everyday, so there will be a lot of opportunities to put something on their minds as they head for the streets again. I give thanks to God for the people God has placed in my life. God is an awesome God."

Recently, after I had shared with Malcolm some of my own journeys away from Wartburg, he said, "I pray that God continues to open doors for you." To hear those words from a man in prison was amazing!

We are called, called together, to love, to risk, and to move on. Sometimes we have a say in where we are called. Sometimes we do not. Sometimes doors are open. Sometimes they are not. Sometimes they are locked. Sometimes we face life. Sometimes we face death. But God leads on the journey, on the risk of love.

To assist you in your journey of faith, I invite you to click on to "Grace and Peace to You: A Yearlong Devotional Journey Through the Epistles"

Home

How did my little 4-year-old legs climb all those stairs through the courtyards of Windsor Terrace apartments from Ingersoll to Grand Avenue? I remember my mother, my sister and I climbed up that steep hill home from the bus when we lived on Lincoln Court during the first few years of my life in Des Moines, Iowa. I climbed those many stairs again the last day of my journey home from Colorado and Nebraska. Why did I want to climb those stairs? The little bungalow is no longer there. The land is now part of Des Moines University. I guessed students now lived in Windsor Terrace.

Why does one look for, long for, "home" when even the house no longer exists? I have been on the road for eight weeks now, spending March teaching in Sweden and during April lecturing, preaching and leading workshops in many congregations in Colorado and Nebraska. Long drives allow one to count and take stock. I figured I have lived 17 places during my lifetime. And then I counted that the various places I have stayed these past two months added up also to the number 17. I can see each one of them in my mind's eye. Each in their own way was "home" if for 15 years or for only a night or two.

I lived in only two different places until I was 11, when my father died. And then we moved around a bit. By the time I left "home" (meaning my mother's house) in Mason City, Iowa, after graduating from community college, there had been six. We had owned none of them, always renting a bungalow, duplex or apartment. And then there were the young adult years of Valparaiso University, my first call in St. Louis, graduate school and Burton's first call, back teaching in Valparaiso: five more. During Burton's many years of pastoral ministry we have lived in six homes, three of which were church parsonages, and three of which we owned ourselves. Does that add up to 17? I think so. Oh, I could very well add the apartment at Iliff School of Theology in Denver where I lived for six months during my Ph.D. residency. That was actually the only place I lived by myself. I think it's important to do so at sometime in one's life, to discover who one really is.

Are the houses and apartments where you have lived still there? Can you see them? Do you recall feelings of joy and loss, struggles and accomplishment while you lived there? Whom did you love? Who loved you? Who is no longer alive? Who shared your life for a brief time? A long time? Who sat at your table in those places you called home? What strangers did you welcome there? During these past two months we stayed in Swedish hotels with Scandinavian decor a school/retreat center, and in a l000 year old parsonage. (Burton traveled with me.)

In Colorado and Nebraska I stayed 8500 feet high in Vail where homes are measured in the millions and out in the country in a parsonage of a four-point parish in rural Western Nebraska. I, traveling alone, was privileged to visit Wartburg Seminary graduates I have taught 5, 15, 20 and 25 years ago. And I learned at their tables, the tables in their kitchens and the tables of the altars in their churches. In each place people are "at home" whether the congregation has 2000 members or 25. I can see each one in my mind's eye. I heard about joys and losses, struggles and accomplishments. I, the stranger, was welcomed and loved. I give thanks for Christ who welcomes us all to each of those tables and in whom we find our home. And, as I go home to my office at Wartburg Seminary, where so many people through the years continue to "find Norma" I give thanks for that home, and for Christ's call that leads me, and all of us on all kinds of journeys. I have learned much in these past eight weeks. And I also hear the voice of Pastor Randy Fett, as I completed my last speaking engagement, "Norma, continue to teach."

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.