In Loving Memory of Tsereha Tafere

Originally... Season of Creation: Storm Sunday
Jeremiah 23:23-29 and John 11:20-37

When the storm comes, don’t run for cover…

Don’t run from the coming storm ‘cause there ain’t no use in runnin’.

Yohannes Gabir, longtime member of Christ, stood in my doorway early on Thursday morning and he told us the unbelievable news that he had received a call that his dear friend, Tsereha had died. Tsereha? None of us could believe it… we really couldn’t even put together thoughts or find phone numbers or guess what to do next. The shock was so great that days later we are still trying to take it in… that beautiful, loving Tserha is no longer living and breathing here with us. Like a storm that swept through we are left with loss we can’t comprehend… and at the very same time, we know this truth from these strong words of Jeremiah.

There is nowhere where God is not.

The psalmist prays it too… Where could I go to escape from your Spirit or from your sight?If I were to climb up to the highest heavens,you would be there.If I were to dig downto the world of the deadyou would also be there.Suppose I had wingslike the dawning dayand flew across the ocean.Even then your powerful arm would guide and protect me.Or suppose I said, “I’ll hidein the darkuntil night comesto cover me over.”But you see in the darkbecause daylight and darkare all the same to you. (Psalm 139: 7-12, CEV)

There is nowhere where God is not.

In the earliest gospel, Jesus is sleeping in a boat during a storm and his disciples become terrified that their boat is going to sink and they will all drown… and in the midst of it, they wake Jesus with the words, “Don’t you care that we are about to die?” The first response in the story is that Jesus stills the storm… but the rest of the story is how Jesus answers that question—don’t you care? Jesus acts out the answer through all the rest of the story as he feeds and heals, teaches and restores, dies himself and is raised to new life. (Mark 4:35-41)
There is nowhere where God is not.

In the gospel of John, Jesus meets grief directly. His dearest friends, Martha and Mary, have lost their brother, Lazarus, and they have been sitting in vigil together for days. They are people of deep faith but their emotions run even deeper, why hadn’t Jesus saved the one they loved best? Mary wouldn’t even come out to meet him.Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.
Yet even now I know that God will do anything you ask.

Jesus says who he is - saying “Everyone who lives because of faith in me will never really die. Do you believe this?”

Martha expresses her faith in resurrection and in who Jesus is—Christ, the Son of God – the one that she has been hoping for.

After Martha said this, she went and privately said to her sister Mary, “The Teacher is here, and he wants to see you.” And Mary asks Jesus the very same question - Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Jesus weeps with them, wails with them… and the people said, “See how much he loved him.” Others said “He gives sight to the blind. Why couldn’t he have kept Lazarus from dying?” (John 11)

We wonder the same… why couldn’t God have kept Tsereha from dying?

It’s not that we don’t know the end of the story. We believe, we trust in the resurrection of the body, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, and life everlasting… but what is so hard to understand is this separation now, a separation that doesn’t make sense for a couple whose faithfulness gave strength to a whole family, really a whole community.

It doesn’t make sense for a new grandmother who wanted to love her beautiful daughters and sons, her beautiful grandson for years to come.

It doesn’t make sense in a faith community where we wanted to share her beautiful himbasha, receive the cup of blessing from her hands, and hear her voice reading scripture in her own heart’s language… well, we never wanted those gifts she shared with us to end.

And yet… There is nowhere where God is not. 

When the rain falls, let it wash away…

Let it wash away, that fallin’ rain, the tears and the trouble

Just a few weeks ago, we gathered here together for Elijah’s baptism.

I should just pause to say that this baptism and it’s timing was very, very important to Tsereha. In fact, she had Habte call me during the passing of the peace a couple weeks before to make sure that Lydia & Nick & I got to meet in time. We never dreamed we’d need to rely on these promises in this way so soon, but on that Baptism day, I said this, “By water and the Word God delivers us from sin and death and raises us to new life in Jesus Christ. We are united with all the baptized in the one body of Christ, anointed with the gift of the Holy Spirit, and joined in God’s mission for the life of the world.” We renounced everything that gets in the way of relationship with God and we said we trust God and God’s promises through whatever life brings.

We prayed, “Sustain Elijah with the gift of your Holy Spirit: the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the awe of the Lord, the spirit of joy in your presence, both now and forever.”

We know that this same faith that we prayed for in Elijah was the faith that lived in his grandmother. This is what she lived and taught each of us by her witness. She may have appeared to be small in stature, but she was great in faith. She was shy in some ways but she met life with tremendous courage and self-sacrifice for the good of others.

She has joined the saints, such a great cloud of witnesses, she is held in God’s loving embrace—and I can only imagine her wishing for us to deeply know these words of Jesus, “I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live.” (John 14:18)

There is love within you, there is love all around you… it is the unconditional love of your wife, mother, sister, who would only ask that you take care of one another now; it is the love of God who mysteriously goes with us through the valley of the shadow of death all the way through to the other side, it is the love of people who share our sorrow and help us hold onto to hope when our faith wavers; it is love that never gives up, that never ends.

When that love calls, will you open up your door…

You gotta stand on up and let it in, you gotta let love through your door.[1]

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[1]Wailin’ Jennys, Storm Comin’ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OguVb3uSZTs

In the dark, we see farther

Season of Creation: Cosmos Sunday

Genesis 15: 1-6 and Luke 12: 32-34

In the summer, in the north, darkness is in short supply. I usually think about that with gratefulness – I love the long summer days. But, when we wake with the dawn and go to sleep with the sun, in this summer season we’ve been getting a lot less sleep. Those of you who have had the experience of waking with young children at the crack of dawn know this struggle... you get why my sister-in-law (living in far northern Canada with five little ones & another on the way) has invested in room-darkening shades. Others of you – teens, for example – know how hard it is in summer to accumulate 15 hours of nighttime driving, when night doesn’t really start ‘til about 10:00 pm. In summer in Minnesota and especially in the proximity of a major urban area like this one we live in, darkness is limited. And it is only in darkness that we can really see the stars, really see out into the cosmos.

Abram receives a vision and shares a direct encounter with God in this early story from Genesis – the book whose title means formation, emergence, becoming… Abram’s name means “many” but this far in the story, Abram grieves because he is the opposite of many. He has no children. He feels alone. He has given up that he will ever have a descendent and this is the only marker of his worth that means anything to him. So God takes him out to the night sky and asks him to count the stars… it’s impossible.

And then God tells Abram that his descendants will be like that… more than anyone can count. Given that people of three major religions—Judaism, Christianity and Islam all look to Abraham (whose name means “father of many, parent of multitudes”) as their ancestor, we know now how the story came out eventually… just as God promised… but way back as they looked at one small part of the cosmos together, Abram had no way of really knowing that. He trusted God, he believable what seemed unbelievable.

What seems unbelievable to us today?

Maybe we can’t believe anymore in an end to violence… 

46 people died in Chicago last week Sunday

In Dayton, Ohio and El Paso, Texas and in Gilroy, California, 34 people died the last two Sundays and 67 more were wounded

My dear friend, a leader in her own local chapter of “Mom’s Demand Action” traveled to Des Moines, Iowa this weekend for the Presidential Gun Sense Forum…

Maybe we just can’t believe anymore in a country that allows people to walk into a Walmart or a City Festival or a restaurant or bar and open fire…

Maybe we can’t believe in a way forward through the rhetoric of fear that keeps things as they are… guns too easily in the hands of the hateful… maybe instead, it’s just easier to blame God for not giving us the vision we need to change things... 

Yet in the night, God points us to the stars. So that we might remember our small place in the universe, our limited vision, our inability to see how the whole story will unfold… yet also, our ability to trust in the promises of God who invites us to place our trust carefully.

Not in the ability to arm ourselves, however valuable that may be, but in the one who gives life and walks with us through death.

In our love of light, in our fear and worry about darkness, about not being able to see, in our lack of trust, we have filled the world with artificial light… and it impacts not only our physical and mental health but the health of many other species, especially nocturnal insects, amphibians, fish, birds, bats and other animals.[1]

Jesus said in sharp contrast to our efforts to control the night, “Do not be afraid… for it is God’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” That word can be confusing because we don’t fully understand what that means—what are we being given exactly? Well, certainly not what we think of first when we hear “kingdom” - not crowns or castles or armies or treasures… because the very next invitation is to sell our possessions. We release the security of things in order to gain something else. But then, the invitation is this—to invest in what doesn’t wear out, what can’t be stolen, what can’t be consumed. Invest in true treasure. “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Which makes me think of our Fifth National Night Out last Tuesday. Some of you set up and passed on the Facebook invite. Some of you were here all day, cooking & smoking chicken legs. Some of you donated your tables and chairs and others set them up. Some of you served lunch or invited people to come who were sharing lunch at Shobi’s on the corner of Rice and Sherburne. Some of you figured out how to set up sound outside. Some of you walked up and down Rice Street, inviting neighbors. Some of you invited youth to come & youth, you invited children to join you in games. Certain brave souls got up and sang karaoke; others danced; others listened as one neighbor, then another shared their thoughts—real and imagined. We were about as diverse a neighborhood gathering as any… and a small group of us got up to dance the Cupid Shuffle at one point, led by KICKS counselors from years past and including the two very young SPPD officers who joined us for that part of the evening. “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

It makes me think of Three Days of Awesomeness, a Confirmation & youth retreat that also came together this week… also now in its fifth year. For the past four years, we’ve been the guests of the Rahbergs at River Place Tree Farm, a place where when the skies are clear, there is a remarkable view of the stars. Where we reflected together on how God calls us together – calls us to serve, play & share – and then calls us out. “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” In the darkness, we can see farther…

There is a reason that we invest our time and resources in these kinds of gatherings—in Shobi’s lunches shared on the corner, in KICKS that gives young people a sense of “home” that lasts year after year, in music & food shared in Peace Garden that brought neighbors back again, neighbors who are learning to trust this community of faith, in Wednesday night suppers & evening prayer shared in Advent and Lent because when our treasure builds community, our hearts grow.

These past weeks, we have been in vigil with Shirley Brekke’s family as she neared the end of her life. As I visited this week, more than one person came in to say some word of advice about what the family should do to ease her journey… maybe you’ve experienced this, too… somewhat unwelcome advice about how you should be navigating the passage with a loved one near to death. One of her children looked into my eyes and here’s what I shared, “I hope you know, you are not doing anything wrong. Death is a great mystery.” Like any part of the future, things do not always unfold in our timing or as we would want or expect, but we wait in mystery, without firm answers, looking to the Creator of the stars of night, who gives us the ability to invest in true treasure together as we welcome God’s good dark that helps us see a bigger picture of our place in the cosmos… and trust in the future that God is creating in and through, within and even in spite of us.

At Shirley’s bedside as she grew nearer to death, I prayed a prayer that I know she loves… a prayer that reminds us to trust in the God who leads and guides us.

Lord God, you call your servants to ventures of which we cannot see the ending

By paths as yet untrodden, through perils unknown

Give us faith to go out with good courage, not knowing where we go but only that your hand is leading us and your love supporting us, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen

“Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

In the dark, we see farther… and step into it with faith, hope, love.            

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[1]https://www.smh.com.au/world/darkness-isnt-what-it-used-to-be--and-thats-not-good-20171123-gzravm.html, Amina Khan, November 23, 2017

Wilderness Wonderings

Season of Creation: Wilderness Sunday

Romans 8: 18-27 & Mark 1: 9-13

Today, we’re beginning a new series for the second part of the summer. We began this summer with a Season of Courage– listening to God’s prophets speak their bold words and inspire us to courageously listen to God and do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with our neighbors.

Now, we turn our attention to the whole creation. And in this first week, we begin with wilderness. Why? Well, at least partially because in Jesus’ own story in the very first gospel, the first version of why Jesus’ life and death mattered in the world, the very first thing that happens to Jesus is being baptized by John – whose prophetic work was shaped in the wilderness – and then after baptism, Jesus is sent to the wilderness too.

Wilderness seems really important as a place that shapes us, that molds our spirit, a place where fears rise up and are overcome, a place where we might experience awe, a place where we encounter wild animals and angels take care of us.

When we hear the word “wilderness,” some of us are already traveling in our minds—to the Badlands, to the Boundary Waters, or even farther… some of us are thinking of the little pockets of wilderness right here in the Twin Cities. Maybe we think of a neighborhood we’re hesitant to walk through at certain times of day or night… or maybe we’re thinking of a woodsy area where deer emerge each evening. Wilderness can be an image of desolation or a place teeming with life, just depending on our perspectives.

As many of you know well, this past week was our annual KICKS program – our summer day camp program for neighborhood kids that we host in collaboration with Rock of Ages and this year, St. Paul-Reformation. In addition, Lutherans throughout the East Side and as far as Taylor Falls made contributions that supported KICKS. It’s surely true that it takes a village to make KICKS possible… and again this summer, we rejoice that the village came together to feed and inspire a group of children, youth and young adults to build relationships with one another that change us for the better. All these things are true… and at the very same time, there are moments in the KICKS week that feel like wilderness every year. Two of the days were so very hot. Kids were complaining in the wilderness, even just laying down on the sidewalk and refusing to move… and counselors’ hearts grew as they practiced the fruits of the Spirit in these moments—patience, kindness, gentleness, self-control… moments of wilderness, where we are just so clearly not in control, can teach us to become the best versions of ourselves.

So how do we see wilderness – places and situations that are wild, that are not molded and controlled by us – as gift?

We hear this morning in Romans, that creation groans… like a pregnant woman bringing her child to birth. It is a blessing to be pregnant but we all know that before giving birth to new life, a mother goes through pain, lost appetite, sleeplessness, high blood pressure, struggles with mobility... Yet I'm the end is celebration.[1] Raising children, having KICKS, doing ministry together is good, good work that leaves us so very tired. There are pain, challenges, even groans along the way, but in wilderness we grow.
Life in Christ is like wilderness – we do not control it - but we share in it as we are led by the Holy Spirit whose work and will we can only find our way through together.

Our KICKS theme song this week was My Calling – the song is originally by the group AJR and adapted by Anne Zielske for our use. We’ll sing it as our song of the day today, and in it we sing these words:

And I wonder, is something in the water make me wanting more?

The earth aches with God’s work to do … so here I go…

Right away after Jesus’ own baptism, he goes to the wilderness.

It’s almost as if Jesus has to see the creation groaning for himself, has to be in deeper touch with the wilds in order to know his calling.

This week, one of our stations at KICKS was with Heidi Ferris who does eco-education throughout the Twin Cities... She helps kids and youth connect the dots between faith, science and youth leadership. One of the many insights she shared is about how our state has transformed from woods and prairie to mostly farmland and while that's amazing for feeding the people of our state and far beyond, it also has an impact on the whole creation... What does the loss of prairie mean for our neighbors the butterflies and other pollinators that our agriculture also depends on? But then she pointed out the value of even pockets of gardens, for example, the pollinator gardens that surround our church building can make a positive difference. And then her group identified 5 monarch caterpillars, 3 species of butterflies, 6 pollinator types, and 4 monarch egg… just in one morning!

Yes, the whole creation groans for God’s new life and renewal, and when we can’t quite see it yet, we wait with endurance. In my circle of friends, two families have been in the hospital with their teenaged children this week, in one case, an appendix burst on vacation... In another, a teen experienced a forty-foot fall from a cliff... Both of these families and several of your families have been going through the wilderness of being out of control as their beloved children are tended by medical staff and have to make their own journeys into and through rehabilitation... These journeys through injury and healing require so much endurance. 
And in the midst of our KICKS week, we also faced death. We received news our member Dan Washick died. Death is the final wilderness. Even as soon as baptism, we acknowledge death's power to take away and yet, because of Christ's resurrection, we also acknowledge in baptism that we have received new life that begins now... Through any wilderness - beautiful or fearful or both - that may come our way.

As I met with Lydia and Nick last Sunday, I said, "Baptism isn't magic" & they nodded in a way that I knew that they knew that already. Baptism doesn't promise to protect us from suffering or harm that comes in life. But baptism does give us promises... The promises we take with us into the beauty of the wilderness where wild animals meet us and into the terrors of wilderness, where angels care for us.

All week at KICKS, we talked about God's presence in our daily callings. Over and over our counselors in their daily skits, that looked at lot like today's skit with Ocho... That God is right with us in our daily work, in our daily lives, even when we can't quite see God. And those who shared about their vocation said this... Sometimes, we actually can see God's work moving through us and in spite of our doubts and fears, right there God shows up... In the courtroom, in our work providing play opportunities for disabled adults, in our teaching, in our greeting others at a front desk, in our working with immigrants, in government, giving medical care, sharing music, as a sanitation worker, as a retired person actively volunteering, as a child reaching out to a friend with care... There are so many callings, so many jobs, tasks, activities where God's Holy Spirit moves and lives in and through us.

Today, Elijah is baptized and we rejoice with you at this milestone. We will promise to walk with you and support you as he grows in faith and life. Whether you are experiencing the wilderness parts of life as bountiful or overwhelming, here we are for you.
Today, seven of our youth will head to Wapo...directly into the beautiful wilderness setting of lake and outdoor fun, but also, we recognize that many of our campers this year are going for the first time. We want to applaud you for your courage to go to a place you haven’t been and we will be praying for you each day for you to experience all the good the wilderness has to offer.  
Today, we give thanks for all that has been so good about KICKS again this year—and how it put God’s whole creation and God’s whole variety of callings in our minds as we move into the final laps of summer and dream with God about what is still to come.

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[1]Workingpreacher. Commentary by Israel Kamudzandu, 07/23/2017

 

In Loving Memory of Carolyn R. Knutson

Romans 8: 28-39 & Luke 10: 38-42

There are so many things to say about Carolyn. For those of us who work on a daily basis at Christ, she is probably the person we saw most often. So many of us can point to ways that she was generous with her time and showed care for others, sometimes through words but most often through deeds. Carolyn often came in to help in the office. Each week, she cleaned the sanctuary, tidying the pews and the coloring table. She was full of ideas for constant improvement. On Sundays, she would come in early to set up communion regularly before practicing with the Soli Deo Gloria choir. After worship, if there was a need, she would clean up after communion.

Carolyn was involved in the Hospitality Team, the CLC Women, the Worship Music and Arts Team… she visited the homebound and called them, delivered gifts to them and delivered messages back to me. She nearly always came to Advent and Lenten Wednesdays and when the Second Saturday meals came into being, she attended those community-building meals, sharing her special Welsh cakes at least twice and comparing recipes for the very best rØmmegrØt.

She has been so present in our daily life at Christ and although she was gradually backing away from a few tasks—giving up the watering of plants, for example—she was still so vitally involved. I vividly remember the last few conversations I had with Carolyn… when she told me that she wouldn’t sing with the choir next year and I tried to encourage her that even if she didn’t want to stand, we could bring a stool or a chair so she could still participate (an idea that perhaps horrified her). Another of those last conversations we shared was about the Reque kitchen, passing on her visions for what might be needed (or not) in that newly renovated space. I remember how one of her last critiques for me was about the amount of bread offered in Communion… and how I gave her too much and I promised to cut back, if I could, but knowing myself, I said, “If I forget, Carolyn, please just take the mistake as a reminder of the abundance of God.”

I remember on Mother’s Day, the day of the Blessing of the Kitchenette, and how she was so busy tidying up after worship that we had to call her name several times to draw her in… but we just could not start without Carolyn. And I remember the last words we exchanged that Sunday… I asked her after most people had left, “Do you have any plans for today, Carolyn?” And she said, “Yes, Thessaly and Alex are taking me out to W.A. Frost. Isn’t that nice?”
“Yes, it really is…” And I was filled with gratitude with her for this good gift—you, her grandchildren, who made this plan together with her that she got to anticipate and delight in. She deeply loved you—all her children and grandchildren—as I think you know well.

You know because she sewed clothes for you growing up and she made you “leftovers from scratch.” You know because “what happens at grandmas stays at grandmas.” She loved and protected you and at the same time she empowered you. She let you live your life. She sent you on a massive bike ride to visit relatives in Iowa! She forced you to play instruments! She did not hide her quirks—here, I’m talking about the Kleenex box filled with Kleenex to use a second time and the bag of strings “too short to save,” the wine made from Welch’s grape juice and her tiny portion sizes for herself—but her diligent frugality was paired with enormous generosity, and that is such an amazing combination of qualities. And as she aged, she was constantly serving, volunteering, contacting, visiting, driving, caring for others, including each of you gathered today.

This Sunday, we will hear this story from Luke—the story of sisters Martha and Mary. Here it’s paraphrased in Eugene Peterson’s The Message.This is one of the many things I treasured about Carolyn—how she would bring a different translation to the Women’s Bible study every month, always exploring how God’s word might come to us differently and new. Here’s the story.

As they continued their travel, Jesus entered a village. A woman by the name of Martha welcomed him and made him feel quite at home. She had a sister, Mary, who sat before their Guest, hanging on every word he said. But Martha was pulled away by all she had to do in the kitchen. Later, she stepped in, interrupting them. “Jesus, don’t you care that my sister has abandoned the kitchen to me? Tell her to lend me a hand.”
Jesus said, “Martha, dear Martha, you’re fussing far too much and getting yourself worked up over nothing. One thing only is essential, and Mary has chosen it—it’s the main course, and won’t be taken from her.”

I’m struck by how much this story looks like Carolyn—always so intent on welcoming others and helping them feel quite at home. Also, she was always keeping busy and probably often felt pulled away by all she felt compelled to do. She worried about who would join her and who would fill in the gaps… and now we feel the gap of her absence, too, intently. We didn’t get to say goodbye and thank you, and yet today we do that holy work.

We get to proclaim the faith that she lived out as faithfully as she could—that because of God’s deep love, all things work together for good.

That God is for us… after all if God gave us Jesus, can’t we trust God to provide everything else we need?

And that nothing in death or life, not our losses, not our suffering, nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. God’s love in Jesus moves toward us in deepest grief and surrounds and fills each one of us with what we need.

There is a legend that is often associated with Martin Luther that when he was asked, “What would you do if the end of the world was coming tomorrow?” He responded, “I would plant a tree.”

Carolyn’s death came in the very midst of working on a newsletter mailing for her alma mater, volunteering to be class agent. She was so committed to honoring the past and serving into the future she was volunteering once again as this life came to an end.

Yes, Carolyn was like Martha, but I also think about the part of Carolyn that was so very Mary, welcoming and then listening deeply… hanging on every word from you—who were to her like Christ, the Guest… as her loved ones witnessed, “She was more Christian than many, without having to talk about it… we owe her a lot.”

And so we say thanks to God for Carolyn: beloved sister, mother, grandmother, musician and friend, visitor, volunteer, believer, inspiration, beloved daughter of God and now part of the communion of saints. We give thanks to God for giving us her to know and to love. And we give thanks that through the power of the resurrection, she is not only in our minds & hearts but sits with Jesus, enjoying together the main course… that will never be taken away. 

How Dare You?

Season of Courage: Listening to the Prophets

1 Kings 5

Midweek, I learned I’d be preaching in Deacon Kari’s absence. She has gone to be a part of her young nephew’s care team after a very serious tractor accident. There is much good news this week for little Kaden after multiple successful surgeries. After being in very serious condition, he has had nearly all the tubes removed… and his family expects him to be transferred to a regular room. Although a long recovery is ahead, all looks very good. We give thanks to God for little bodies that can heal from very serious injury and for our devoted Deacon who is also a loving, devoted auntie.

So, when I looked at this week’s story from 1 Kings to see which prophet we would listen to for courage this Sunday, I was delighted to see that it was the story of Elisha and Naaman. There is so much to love in this story. First, there’s the fact that a very, very powerful man has such suffering that he is willing to try anything. Because he’s desperate, he listens to the most marginalized—first a slave, then his servants—and this listening to those he considers “least” leads to complete healing. 

But along the way of this story, there are some more juicy details that are just so real-to-life. Leaders are in poor communication & nervous tension with each other, thinking that this request for healing is really a test of power—and this most awesome of comments from a leader who actually realized he wasn’t God, “Am I God, to give death or life, that this man sends word to me to cure a man of his leprosy? Just look and see how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me." Paranoid to the last…

You’ve also got to love Elisha who speaks up to his own king and then when this very, very important foreign military leader arrives at his door?—maybe he was just feeling a little overworked that day, but he doesn’t even go out to meet this very, very important man face-to-face. No, he just sends a servant out with the prescription for what ails him. 

Naaman’s response is less-than-pleased. As a great man, he is used to people giving him far more respect than he deserves. So, his response is kind of like, “How dare you?!”How dare you not come out and perform your prophet thing? Call on your God, wave your hand over the spot, perform the cure! And then the cultural supremacy thoughts come out—aren’t our rivers much, much better than your little muddy Jordan? I’ve come from so far, “How dare you?!”

An important book came out this week—it’s called Dear Church: A Love Letter from a Black Preacher to the Whitest Denomination in the U.S.  and it’s written by Lenny Duncan, a Black Lutheran pastor in New York who is calling this church who has loved him and welcomed him in with such grace and promise to take it a step further and address together with him in a more powerful way arguably the greatest sin of our country—racism. Our national church body gathers this summer in a Churchwide Assembly—and in fact, our member Eric Miller will be one of the representatives of the Saint Paul Area Synod at that assembly—and at past assemblies of our national church, we have approved many, many well-written, challenging and powerful social statements but what Pastor Lenny is calling us to do now is start putting our words into action, start putting our money where our mouths are, start responding to our community in dire need, start living the values outside our walls that we as church say we believe inside them.

We are this very, very powerful nation and white supremacy/racism is like our leprosy. Our church has become sick with the disease of inaction. It hurts all the time but eventually, it’s going to kill us. In a meditation on the parable of the Good Samaritan, Lenny writes:

My death doesn’t seem to move you. My blood being liberally poured out on the streets of America hasn’t moved you to organize or advocate for systemic change. So I offer your own death to you as an alternative. Because the truth is, this church is dying, and I don’t want to see it die without the hope of resurrection.

The reason the ELCA is so white is theological, not sociological… Black people have been a part of the Lutheran tradition on this continent since the 1600s. Lefse and hot dishes aren’t the problem. Liturgical worship isn’t the problem…. But we have abandoned the inherent justice and equity that the gospel is rooted in. We need justice to be the heart of our work and life, not just something we do for “God’s Work Our Hands Sunday.” (To be clear, I’m not criticizing this important initiative. It just isn’t enough.) Our theology needs to change if we want our polity to change—if we want more people of color in our church… (Pastor Lenny Duncan writes that he has) started a new organization called Emmaus Collective to give definitive action steps for churches and to map those churches that are already deemed safer for persons of color… churches that are on the way to, or working on, dismantling white supremacy in their church culture.[1]

I think that we want to be on that map, and particularly, because if we do the work of dismantling racism, we will be so much more authentically living the gospel of Jesus Christ, showing up for one another not just at rallies or protests but “frontline direct actions that are responsive to the cries of the oppressed.”[2]Lenny writes that too many of our welcome words come with an asterisk—All are welcome*

*If you don’t challenge us

*if you don’t make me feel anything that isn’t positive for this hour and a half

*if you don’t make me question anything I have built my life around

Lenny describes how in worship, he leaves a moment of silence between the confession of sin and absolution, a moment that is just longer than is comfortable… and then he says, “Let’s sit in that moment for a bit longer, Church, and allow the discomfort to fuel our work toward reparation.”[3]

Naaman faced that long moment as he raged outside the door of the prophet who didn’t do ministry like he expected. But then (and the real mystery is why), his servants came to him and pleaded with him to step into the water, the muddy Jordan, seven times like the prophet said (because really, didn’t he want to be healed?). He listened and it made all the difference.

At just it’s fourth lunch served this summer, guess how many lunches Shobi’s Table served on the corner of Sherburne and Rice, just kitty-corner across the street from our back parking lot? Guess how many? 79 lunches… and I don’t think they’ve ever served less than 40, even in the rain, since under the leadership of Deacon Kari, our Synod has re-launched this ministry again together with a spirit of listening and partnership, with a spirit of openness to what our neighbors might have to teach us. In a way, it’s easy to bring people together around food… but the challenge is whether the discomforts we feel along the way in this life-changing project will lead us to give it up and move back into our silence, our offended “don’t you dare” spirit or if we, like Naaman, might be moved by God, working unexpectedly through the voices of faithful ones to show us the way to healing and new life. Deacon Kari tells me that with each meal, her excitement and passion for us to get this kitchen done—and do our part in this process of confession, reparations and reconciliation in our own neighborhood. Lenny says this, “It is a dangerous experiment but so is Christianity… he says, “The truth is that I’m willing to sacrifice my life so that you might know what freedom looks like by fighting for mine.” If we humble ourselves to listen to the prophets who give us the steps, give us the way forward, it will take courage and investment… but I suspect that God puts the voices in our midst at just the right time, when we are perched already to act, and God calls us toward freedom, healing, new life that we have been seeking anyway. God calls us… as we listen and respond, it makes all the difference.

God you have called your servants… give us faith to go out with good courage…

---

[1]Lenny Duncan, Dear Church: A Love Letter from a Black Preacher to the Whitest Denomination in the U.S., 18

https://lennyduncan.com

[2]Lenny Duncan, Dear Church: A Love Letter from a Black Preacher to the Whitest Denomination in the U.S., 20

[3]Lenny Duncan, Dear Church: A Love Letter from a Black Preacher to the Whitest Denomination in the U.S., 45

Why Are You Here?

Season of Courage: Listening to the Prophets
1 Kings 19: 1-15a                                                                                           

It’s true that things were never easy for God’s prophets. That’s why no one wanted the job.

God asked them to do impossible things and even success over false prophets led to retaliation and the promise of death. So Elijah is out in the wilderness, wishing he was dead.

Still, there God meets Elijah. An angel brings bread and drink to sustain him.

When he falls asleep again in despair, the angel wakes him for more nourishment and this time, it’s enough. It sets him on his path again. Forty days and his journey is complete. He arrives at Sinai (in Greek), Horeb (in Hebrew)… the mountain of God, the place where Moses met God way back when…And there, God asks Elijah, “Elijah, why are you here?”

God wonders, Why are you here?      We wonder too, why are we here?

On Wednesday, June 19^th, I gathered with a few others to watch Emanuel, a powerful documentary about the day when 21-year-old white supremacist entered the historic and important Emanuel A.M.E. church, attended Bible study with a loving, small group of faithful Black Christians and then as they bowed their heads to pray began to shoot and kill them. As he killed them, he told them that he had to kill them because they were Black and it was his intention to incite a race war. He purposefully did not kill one of the survivors, telling her she could tell the story. 

However, just 48 hours after these 9 tragic deaths, horrific for that congregation, for the city of Charleston and the whole nation, some relatives of those who died attended his bond hearing. They were coached to say nothing but they found themselves telling him and the world that they forgave him for what he did. “This was a radical act that almost no one saw coming. It wasn’t something the relatives of the victims had discussed ahead of time. In that moment, their hearts were moved, their spirits convicted to speak forgiveness—a profound evocation of scripture and its call for Christians.”[1]

“The willingness to forgive that many of the relatives of the victims displayed does not negate the anger they felt toward Roof, [especially since] he showed no outward remorse for his actions. And the film documents how other relatives of the victims weren’t willing to forgive, some of them still declining to do so—which is understandable. Anger is not contradictory to forgiveness… [especially when we notice] the way he was treated by police [he was treated gently & they bought him Burger King]—which was certainly different than if he had been a young black shooter—[especially when we consider] the racism that these families [and families right here in Saint Paul] still live among… Anger can be an important source of courage and a catalyst for change when channeled…”

But the more to the story that happened is that forgiveness and anger worked powerfully for good in the aftermath of this horrific, violent act. The people of Charleston came together in new and powerful ways in that moment and instead of inciting a race war, the people’s response created new opportunities for coming together to stand against white supremacy.

As we left the theater on Wednesday, a day that in many states is recognized as Juneteenth, or Freedom Day, movie watchers were hugging and crying. There was clearly more than one group attending from their churches and someone said, “Let’s make the coming together that happened in Charleston happen here!” Spontaneously a circle formed, Black and white hands, people of all ages joining together in prayer and a call for God to use us to mend the deep racism still present in our country and in our own community, in the hallway of the AMC theater in Rosedale. It was a reminder that as we gather we must re-commit ourselves, over and over again, to find ways to build meaningful relationships and cherish one another.

On Mount Horeb, Mount Sinai, in God’s dwelling place, God asks Elijah, “Why are you here?” And Elijah says he’s afraid to die. He’s afraid he’s the only true good person left. He feels utterly alone.

In a way, that’s ironic since in the wilderness, he wished to die.

Now, he’s afraid to die. But God doesn’t mock him for the fears that make both of those true at once. God must sense his deep fear, his deep inability to trust God, even after the show of God’s power in the face of false prophets, even after the sustaining food and drink along the way… somehow, Elijah (one of the greatest of prophets) does not or cannot see God… and so God wants to show him.

On the mountain, Elijah experiences God not in a storm or earthquake or in any show of force but in sheer silence. The silence doesn’t change Elijah. When God asks him again, Why are you here? Elijah answers with the very same words. He has not changed a bit. But God’s last word from the mountain for Elijah is that when he goes back, he will pass on the responsibility of being God’s prophet to another. Elijah has never been the only faithful and obedient prophet, he has never been alone.

God wonders, Why are you here? Why are we here?

It’s true that things are never easy for God’s people… we’re surrounded by strong winds of change. Fears of all kinds shake us up. We read and hear and experience things every day that get us burning mad. If it’s felt like you’re out in the wilderness these days, wishing you were dead or afraid to die, you’re not alone… 

Still, there in wilderness God meets us. God’s messengers bring us bread and drink to sustain us. When we fall asleep again in despair, we’re awakened again and get nourished so that we can make it through the whole journey, however challenging.

And then, along the way, as we make our way into God’s places, we find that God appears not in a show of force as we might expect but within a stranger, within us.

Why are we here?

To listen for God, to gain courage, to have our hearts and minds expanded, to renew our commitment to neighbors, to remember we have never been alone

God makes this invitation today—I want you to see me.

---

[1]Emanuel-DiscussionGuide.pdf      https://www.emanuelmovie.com

Peace I Leave to You

Honoring Lieng Chao Tann

Peace I leave to you... my kind of peace... So don't be afraid.

It is hard to know how to begin to tell the story of Lieng Chao Tann's presence at Christ. We know this... Mr. Tann or "Grandpa" as many called him in respect... He loved to be in church. Except when he was in China, he was present most every Sunday and his family shared that he was a motivating force in getting each one of them here... after all, he needed a driver! Huy, Chantha, Meiyong, Meipong, many of you… all took their turns driving and accompanying him. One of my favorite photos from last summer is one of Grandson and his Grandpa at the annual outdoor worship and picnic—Grandson in his sunhat and his Gong with his signature Christ cross and hat from China that says “Great Wall” on it, both faces beaming with smiles.

Each day that was not Sunday, Huy shared that her father was longing for Sunday. As Carol shared last night, Tsereha and Habte have sat near him for nearly 40 years... And I'm just imagining the impact of sharing peace with one another something like 2000 times. Only recently have some of us learned to say this in Khmer—Johm riab sua, Peace be with you.
But Jesus greets disciples often, in story after story, with this sustaining, reassuring, empowering word. Even in the face of death, Jesus says, "Peace be with you," not in a dominating, power-over-you kind of way but in this way, to take away all fear of the future.

For weeks, many of you have gathered around your father and grandfather, Gong, in a constant vigil. It has been beautiful to witness you care for him together, even in the middle of deep pain and sorrow. Grief and the loss of a patriarch can tear families apart, but you know what your father and grandfather would have wanted for your big family, full of diverse people and many opinions and personalities, he would have wanted for you to find joy and peace and connection. Just as you have been doing, he would want you to see what the others need and work together to meet those needs.

In the Christ Lutheran context, we knew your father and grandfather as a quiet presence, but you know how he could bowl a score of 100 at midnight, you know how he could bring in a northern without a net, just walking it to the shore like a dog, you know how he could hike all day long with sore feet but without complaint, you know the stories he could tell.
You know how he was like the Good Shepherd that we praise in Psalm 23, leading you in right paths for God's sake. You can imagine the deep valleys of grief that he went through and how God led him in love to a place of being surrounded at his time of death not by enemies but by those who tenderly fed him and anointed him to travel onto this next mysterious part of the journey from life through death to life beyond death. Through the love of the Good Shepherd, your shepherding grandfather has passed this role and this work on to you...

As you together celebrate a wedding in June, as you welcome a new child and grandchild in August, you will miss this beloved one and you will also know that he is still with you, part of the communion of saints, within us and mysteriously present in ways that we cannot fully understand but that we can trust are true.

All that said, change is deeply hard.

Those of you who were closest will notice the most how this absence changes your daily life. So many of us here will notice how our Sundays feel different. At the next All Saints Day, at the next new year, Lieng Chao Tann will be one of those remember, honored—now our ancestor, one of the saints, one of the great cloud of witnesses.

I have thought of that this week as I have looked up at the banner of your father, your Gong, and thought to myself, “Well, now we can never take this down …” We wouldn’t want to… but even if some day in the future that banner does come down, even then, Lieng Chao Tann’s legacy will live on: in you his loved ones, in the body of Christ that he has changed because he has walked together with us and been himself within it.

Also, I want to share a part of the story that I felt so lucky to learn in the visiting time after our storytelling last night… Thoeun Moen approached me and shared his family’s close connection with Lieng Tann. His cousin and Lieng suffered wounds of war together. They healed together. They arrived in the U.S. and amazingly found one another in an ESL class. They were allowed to be close like family, to eat at each other’s houses.

In spite of his can-do spirit and refusal to complain, you know that your beloved father and grandfather suffered. Jesus suffered. They were acquainted with sorrow. So if you are deep in pain at this loss, you are not alone… and you can trust in the promises of God who will bring you through the pain and sorrow of death and grief to new life.

One of my friends said this week that “The joy of having a shepherd lead us is that there is nowhere we can go where God has not already been first...” I needed to sit for a minute and let that sink in again. It was a word of life to me.

Your father, your grandfather has lived deep in the love of God. He has showed you the path of life and invited you to try to keep up with him on this path, invited you to even out-distance him in showing abundant love to one another as you go forward together. But if there are days in grief when this seems so very hard to do, when you are truly in the valley of the shadow of death, remember who is with you, who will meet you in love and friendship when you least expect it, whose table is always open to you, who will never stop offering peace.

Peace I leave to you... my kind of peace... So don't be afraid.

Christ at work, making things new… Alleluia!

Easter Sunday

John 20: 11-18  

In the gospel of John, Mary Magdalene comes to the tomb in the early morning, alone. The stone is missing so she runs to get the others—Peter and John come running. John arrives first but hesitates outside the tomb. Peter rushes in. They didn’t understand exactly what had happened at this point… and they went home wondering, with a glimmer of belief… but Mary stayed there at the tomb, weeping. She bent in to look again, and saw angels through her tears. “Why are you crying?” they ask. But she doesn’t wait to hear their answer.  Maybe in her distress, she is still searching for the lost body of Jesus… or maybe she saw some look of recognition in their faces…and turns…      Mary turns and there he is
but she doesn’t recognize him. She assumes the person standing there is the gardener.

Jesus the Gardener (on this Easter & eve of Earth Day)… I imagine Jesus bent down with dirt under his fingernails, planting seeds, watering tender plants… Well, what would youdo first if you were raised from the dead? “Oh, you know… a little gardening.” Like God the creator in the first garden, Jesus—who has been with God from the very beginning—the risen Christ is tending a garden when Mary turns toward him. 

And then we get to look on knowingly in this story, we know it’s Jesus while Mary figures it out.

“Why are you crying?” Jesus asks, and once more she tries to find her lost Beloved One.

Jesus says her name, and Mary recognizes her Lord—alive!

As unbelievable as it was, somehow she knew it was true.

Resurrection is like that. When we have resurrection stories, we usually start kind of like this… “Now, don’t think I’m crazy but…” And then we tell our story of life coming right out of near-death, or actual death.

When we’re in the middle of times of betrayal, suffering and death, when we’re in trauma or grief-filled waiting, it’s hard to hold on to hope of resurrection.

When we are able to hold onto hope even through the worst times, it’s a gift.

Like Jesus who on maybe the most disappointing night of his life created a meal for us to share every time we gather where we remember and experience Christ’s living presence in the ordinary things—bread, gluten free wafer, juice, wine—ordinary things, and the words “for you,” and in everybody who receives those gifts.

When we are able to hold onto hope even through the worst times, it’s a gift.

Like Jesus who from the cross as he was dying forgave strangers and promised paradise to criminals. Who from the cross created family between his mother and the disciple he loved, making sure they would care for one another when he was gone, so that when it was all finished they would able to be a blessing as family, to family that would one day extend all the way to us.

When we are able to hold onto hope even through the worst times, it’s a gift.

When we’re waiting, because we reached over and felt our loved one was cold as stone. When we feel like we’re in a tomb because everything we own is disrupted, or our relationships are strained, or we’re facing challenges that are completely overwhelming but we’re trying to move forward into new visions into a new day…

Holding on to hope for spring through snowfalls in April, with our chalk in hand, our bubbles to blow, our seeds ready for planting… this is all gift. Right now, we wait, but in time, we’ll be looking back at the waiting time, remembering how resurrection was both happening and on its way all that time, already and not yet. It was just hard to wait.

Mary’s gift was holding onto hope of finding Jesus’ body, just as tenaciously as she stood by through his ministry, even when he went to Jerusalem, even at the crucifixion. Once she realized Jesus was alive, she was prepared to hold onto him and never let him go again… but in this moment in his journey, raised from the dead but not yet ascended, Jesus points her forward. Your gifts of hope, love, and telling the story can’t be contained right here—I need you to bring these gifts to my disciples, hovering in fear and disbelief. 

Now, here in the garden, Jesus points out to Mary that he is no longer God’s Only Son… now, they are all God’s children. They are invited to have the same close relationship with God, kinship with each other, closeness with God’s purpose. They are asked to replicate Jesus’ relationship with God far beyond what they could have ever imagined.

So, what about for us? Today the apostle Mary comes to us and says, “I have seen the Lord! I thought it was the gardener, but when I heard my name, I knew Christ was alive! And listen to this—he said something so much like his ancestor Ruth. She said, “Your people will be my people, and your God, my God.” (Ruth 1:16). Jesus said to go to Galilee—our home territory—where he will ascend ‘to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’”

I can only imagine that once she delivered the message, she traveled on… back to Galilee, to her synagogue in Magdala (5 kilometers from Tiberias) to share the news of love and deep joy.

And I can only imagine that this is what God hopes we might do today… like Mary of Magdala shared the news of love and deep joy, that whatever our circumstances, the risen Beloved One calls our names and invites us not to hold on tightly to the source of love so much as spread it, break up evil from the inside with unfathomable love.

Maybe you’ve read or watched the film version of A Wrinkle in Time—it came to theaters about a year ago—based on the science fiction novel by Madeleine L'Engle (first published in 1962). At one point, a wise character says about the uncertain 14-year-old main character, “I think we need to tell her something, I think we need to show her why this is so important…” and then they begin to show a greater reality to Meg than she could have ever discerned on her own. They’re involved in a cosmic struggle between forces of hate and forces of love, and they ask her to use all her faults…
and the gifts she doesn’t really know she has yet in this cosmic struggle. She learns that finally those who are different, who have had wounds, who have doubts and struggles, but who practice deep love-in-action—these are the very gifts that are needed most.

Madeleine L’Engle’s vision was very shaped by the gospel of John—who also saw the influence of Christ as cosmic, and the need for knowing our belovedness to God as critical for this time, for every time.

But just in case we get to mystical, too out-of-body, too big, John also places the risen Christ firmly on the earth—gardening—and later on he’ll breathe on them and invite them to touch his wounds. They’ll cook and eat roasted fish together at the lakeshore. It’s all very down-to-earth. You’re invited to take this down-to-earth love to a family gathering today or to the next place you encounter a stranger. You’re invited to practice it as you share a ride, give an offering, sing and pray. As you finally plant your spring seeds!
Christ is alive and is already at work—making all things new—tending roots and branches, with buds that will become leaves and fruit.

Yes, this is all for you.

Alleluia! Christ is risen. Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia!