The Election of a New Bishop

I don't have much information about the Presiding Bishop-elect, Bishop Yehiel Curry.  I do know that many people whom I love and/or respect are overjoyed at his election, so that fact makes me feel some easiness in my soul.  Still, I do not discount the size of the task at hand.

Last night I wrote an e-mail update to the congregation where I serve as Synod Appointed Minister.  I realize that they may not be nearly as interested in this bishop election as I am, but I wanted to update the ones who wanted more information.  My spouse encouraged me to include information/reminders about the fact that I serve at the discretion of the bishop of our synod, and I thought it was a wise suggestion.

Here's what I wrote:

Dear Faith Evangelical Lutheran Members,

I write with good news of our national denomination and its impact on us at the local level. The national church gathers in a Churchwide Assembly every few years to conduct the national business of the church, and this year, a major task was to elect a Presiding Bishop.

I know that it hasn't always been easy to follow the Churchwide Assembly proceedings as they were livestreamed, so I thought I'd write to us all to let us know that Bishop Kevin Strickland, our bishop of the Southeastern Synod, came in second in the election for Presiding Bishop of the ELCA (the national leader of the church), which means he remains our bishop of our synod.

I don't know as much about our bishop-elect, Bishop Yehiel Curry, who comes out of the Chicago Metro Synod, where he is bishop of that synod. But I do know that plenty of people whom I respect are happy that he was elected, which makes me feel like the ELCA will have good leadership.

As I looked at the roster of candidates from the beginning to the end of the election process, I was happy to see such a wide range of faithful people from so many parts of the country, people with all sorts of backgrounds. One must be ordained in Word and Sacrament to be nominated for Bishop, and I was happy to know that so many people are answering God's call this way, both at the individual level and by the willingness to serve on a national level.

I am selfishly happy that Bishop Strickland will continue to be our bishop; he is the one who approves people like me who are serving as Synod Appointed Ministers, and not every bishop would be as supportive as he has been. Had Bishop Strickland been elected Presiding Bishop, a new incoming bishop for our synod might have had very different ideas about who should be leading churches; I serve at the discretion of the bishop, and a new bishop would have been an unknown quantity.

I look forward to seeing what the coming years will bring for the ELCA, on both the national and local levels. I know that the world needs the kind of vision that churches like ours have for the future, and I look forward to hearing more from our new Presiding Bishop-elect.

Peace,
Minister Kristin

Strange and Yet Familiar

What a strange week it has been in so many ways.  And yet, in some ways, the strangeness feels familiar.  Here I'm thinking the news of the FBI raid and classified documents hundreds of miles from where they should be stored, in the possession of Donald Trump in Florida--in some ways, it seems unprecedented, and in other ways, I shrug and say, "Of course it goes this way."  Traces of polio in the NY sewer system?  Of course it goes this way.

All yesterday, my brain returned to Salman Rushdie, who was attacked on Friday night by a man with a knife.  Yesterday morning, the news came that he was on a ventilator, and I dreaded where this story was headed.  But this morning, he's speaking.  Still, his injuries are so severe that in some ways, it seems shocking.  Yet in others, it seems like the logical outgrowth of the times we live in--and a fearsome road sign.  How does this trajectory end?  In armed civil war, as in the nineteenth century in so many countries?  Or with more of us taking more precautions of all kinds?

As I thought about Rushdie, about attacks on artists, my thoughts drifted to my own work.  While my mean inner voice sneered that I needn't worry, my rational brain thought about my work that would challenge those of a traditional Christian faith . . . or those with a traditional view of gender . . . or those with specific views of what should be taught in the classroom.  While most of us won't face the kind of severe threat that Rushdie has faced (hopefully we won't), we are none of us as safe as we might think we are.

I have been getting back to poetry writing, after a season of being mostly away--in part because of my broken wrist, in part because of moving.  Three weeks ago, these lines came to me as I thought about my spouse and myself and the ways that we have such different interests and how it can be hard for me to understand his approach and how he might be baffled at my midlife shift to seminary:

He's never seen a wall

he didn't dream of moving.

She rewrites every sacred text.

I thought these lines might make a good poem, and I tried.  That approach went nowhere in the first incarnation.  

But as I read updates and tweets and posts from the Churchwide Assembly* for the ELCA (which is the group of moderate, mainstream Lutherans which is one of my current worshipping preferences), my poem went a different direction and became something more interesting.  I had a glimpse of it and wrote this tweet:

"Wrestling with a poem that will include this line: 'She rewrites every sacred text.' It will include chickens and drying herbs and a churchwide meeting in a far away place. And some sort of art with fabric."

I am at the point with this poem where I am not sure if it is finished.  Does it have more to offer?  Should I just leave it alone?  It feels like I have more to say, but I'm not sure exactly what or how.  Once I might have been sure I would sort it out.  Now I am just as likely to wander away and never come back to this poem.  Is that O.K.?  Is some essential part of myself being lost?

Yesterday, I ordered books for seminary classes this fall, lots and lots of books.  I made this Facebook post:  "Just ordered all my books for Fall seminary classes and am now enjoying multiple freak outs: Can I really read all of these books in one term? Can I really do this work? Each book is inexpensive, but all of them together cost how much? And I know that the answer is that I am a strong, capable woman who can do this work and afford these books, but my inner freak out voice is not easily banished. Note to self for future terms: perhaps order the books one class at a time, instead of all at once."

Again, a process so strange, yet so familiar--I've successfully completed one year of seminary studies.  Why am I having anxiety now?  And yet the anxiety is familiar.  And perhaps that is why my brain returns to these patterns, so strange, yet so familiar.

*For more on what a Churchwide Assembly does, see this post on this theology blog.

Churchwide Assembly 2022

I have been following (and I use that word loosely) various updates (mainly in the form of tweets and Facebook posts) from the ELCA's Churchwide Assembly.  Watching the national form of this flavor of the Lutheran church conduct its business from a distance is an interesting exercise.  

The actual business is interesting, but so are the various reactions and then reactions to the reactions.  It's clear that the church has so many ways to break a human heart.  I could make that argument about any institution.  I could go even further and say that any person or institution or group can break our hearts in a number of ways, and in a way, it's a good thing.  It means we care.

Back to the ELCA:  I see a church that's trying to do the right thing, to move in life-giving directions, to correct what's gone wrong with the trajectory.  Some will grumble about how long these processes take, and I understand these grumblings.  I can also see that mistakes could be made if we moved too quickly.  It's a tricky needle to thread.

There are questions that I can't answer, questions about whether or not we have too much top down authority.  There are ways that I wish the corporate church would empower local congregations and individuals, but I don't have many expectations that way.  I've seen some react in horror that the national church behaves like a corporation, but in fact, it is more like a corporation than a congregation, and as such, it has a different set of priorities.

I have seen national gatherings of other denominations rip themselves to shreds over various questions, and I'm grateful that the ELCA isn't doing that this year.  I hear the people who would say that we're avoiding the hard questions, so it's not a good thing.  But I don't think so.  We're considering the questions in our traditionally slow and deliberate way.

I do think that the next Churchwide Assembly could be explosive, once we've had a chance to consider these issues.  And we'll be electing a bishop.  But then again, we'll have had time to consider these issues, to argue, to hash out differences.  Maybe it won't be explosive.

It's also sobering to think about how the world might be very different in 3 years. We may look back and shake our heads at what we thought was important at past Churchwide Assemblies.

Summer Cancellations

And now, the summer cancellations have begun.  The Wimbleton tennis tournament will get more publicity, but today I read the email that told me of the cancellation of June onground intensive for my certificate in spiritual direction.  We will meet again in January of 2021, and we will keep reading our way through the book list.

Part of me is not surprised.  I am surprised that the decision was made this early, but I know that there may be some larger issues of which I would be unaware.  Or maybe it's out of an abundance of caution.  There was also going to be a shift in oversight of the program, as the director was going to retire in July. 

Now I guess we may not see him again.  Or maybe he'll come back in January to say good-bye.

In the realms of losses, mine is a small one.  It's a delay, after all, not an outright cancellation.  I can wait an extra 6 months to get the certificate.  I can keep doing the reading and stay connected in all the virtual ways we're creating/using now.  I was not depending on this certificate to make a pivot to a new job.

I think of all the other gatherings this summer:  what will be cancelled?  Political conventions?  Synod Assemblies?  Church-wide gatherings?  Summer camps?  Conferences?

These are strange times we live in.  I know that, but every so often, that knowledge hits me in the soft parts of my body, and I can scarcely breathe.

When Your Denomination Becomes the First Sanctuary Church Body in the U.S.

Yesterday the Churchwide Assembly voted to declare the ELCA a sanctuary church body.  The news reports I've read say that it's the first church denomination to do this--so it's hard to know exactly what this will mean.

From what I've read, yesterday was a day of declaring support for immigrants.  There was the declaration along with a march to the ICE building in Milwaukee where the marchers had a prayer vigil.

Last night, hundreds of miles away in Mississippi, ICE raided chicken processing plants in 6 cities, arresting approximately 680 people.  Apparently these raids had been planned for awhile--I'm not suggesting that the raids had anything to do with the events in Milwaukee. 

Cynical people might ask what difference it makes, to be a sanctuary church body, when these kinds of arrests still happen.  Some people might want the church to do more.  Many of us might be wondering exactly what we can do.

This week, I'm also thinking of the center in Homestead that had been a holding place for unaccompanied minors.  It was closed suddenly this week, with the children taken to airports in the middle of the night.  Do we consider that closure a success?

For months, I felt frustrated at the inability of any of us to "do something."  There were legislators who traveled to the site in Homestead; some of them were allowed inside, and some weren't.  There were groups of people who never left the site.  They kept watch and also held up signs of support so that the children could see them during the day.  There were prayer vigils and letters.

Did that work matter?

There were news stories and increasing worry about the lack of an emergency plan once hurricane season started.  There were local government agencies that began to ask for more information.

There are many ways to do social justice work.  It's hard to say what might have led to the shut down of the institution.

It's also hard to know if we should call this a win.  We're told that the children have gone to a variety of places:  reunification with families and other institutions where they will be safer in the event of a storm.  What should a sanctuary church body do now?  Celebrate?  Keep on keeping track of these children? 

I know that there were many foster families who had volunteered to take these children in.  But that option was not allowed.  To me, that seemed like a great option, so I feel that there's some larger picture we're not seeing.  I want to believe that the larger vision is one of bureaucratic mismanagement or difference of vision, not some larger evil.

I am deeply worried that we are seeing some larger evil, and that it's so large that I can't really believe that I'm seeing it.  I am strengthened knowing that I am part of a larger structure, many larger structures actually, that are committed to resisting this evil.

A Female Bishop!

It seems to be my fate to be away from the Internet when big things happen at our ELCA national assemblies. In 2009, I was at Hilton Head when the national gathering voted to be more inclusive on issues of sexuality; I wrote about it when I returned in this blog post.


And now, in the weeks after the move, when my home Internet access has been limited, I hear news of a female bishop to lead the ELCA. The possibility wasn't even on my radar screen. I had no idea until my mom wrote an e-mail asking me what I thought of our new woman bishop.

I did some Internet searching, and honestly, I'm still not sure of what I think, although I am struck by how little information is out there about her. I love what the outgoing bishop said when he talked about it not being an election, but a call that will be accepted.

I would have predicted that a woman would never be elected bishop, given the elections that I witnessed in my Synod Assembly back in May (I wrote about it in this blog post). I would have predicted that a woman, or maybe several women, would make it to the final rounds, and then we'd draw back and go with a choice that felt safer, in other words, an older, white male.

I'm glad to be proven wrong.

You could argue that we're not being particularly edgy in our choice. Is it really so groundbreaking to elect a woman?

I would say that it is, still, even in this day when we've had plenty of women in a variety of leadership positions. We still don't see many women in the TOP leadership position.

I am old enough to remember a time when women couldn't even be pastors, and there are still plenty of churches out there full of members who will tell you why men make better pastors.

But honestly, I'm old enough now to believe that we've all got important gifts. Why should we deny anyone the chance to use those gifts? Even people who have been deeply wounded can make a huge difference; out of the wound comes their strength.

In some ways, by focusing on gender in such a binary way, we're being very 20th century. I predict that there will come pitched battles in the not-too-distant future about the transgendered and inclusivity. We will look back with longing at the battles fought over gender, and perhaps homosexuality.

I think of my grandfather who was a pastor in various southern states in the U.S. during much of middle years of the 20th century. My mother remembers that the pastors of the communities--all white, all male--would gather to discuss what they would do if a black person or family arrived to worship.

I'm fairly sure I don't want to know what my grandfather would have done. It was a different time, and the emphasis was definitely not on diversity, the way it is now.

Now it seems quaint, this old discussion about what to do if a black family came through the door. Now it seems impossible to believe we ever would have worried about such things.

I predict that in 100 years, maybe less, we'll feel the same way about gender. We'll marvel at the fact that it took so long for women to be allowed to preach, for a woman to be elected Bishop.

With God's grace, perhaps we'll bask in the more tolerant society that our struggles have birthed. Maybe we'll rejoice that we occupy a place where anyone with the gifts of national leadership will be nurtured and given wings.

Political Conventions and Church Assemblies

Today we've watched the Republicans try to decide what to do about their convention.  To be fair, I'd have made similar decisions; with Saturday's forecast, it made sense to delay the convention.  It was difficult not to smile at the outcome.  In this article, Dana Milbank notes:  "Completing the cosmic joke, the weather would have been fine for a convention in Tampa on Monday: gusty, with intermittent showers and sun. But minutes before the 2 p.m. start of the abbreviated session at the Tampa Bay Times Forum, the wind and rain picked up and the National Weather Service issued a tornado warning for Tampa’s Hillsborough County. By the time the brief session ended, the sun had returned."

Some of us might wonder the Republicans decided to hold their convention in a coastal city at the height of hurricane season. But recent years have shown us that few cities are safe from weather surprises.


The larger issue: why have a convention at all? We know who the nominee will be. What is the point? Why spend all this money?

I’ve had similar thoughts about church assemblies, both at the synod and the national level. Some years, clearly we need to meet. We have elections to complete, decisions about who will provide leadership. Some denominations need to vote on how to spend the money that the Church collects. Some denominations meet to train members in various issues. Some denominations need to vote on social issues periodically.

But in this age of technology, do we need to meet in person? Do we need to spend the money and stress the various environments by descending on a city?

I can only vaguely imagine how much the political assemblies are costing. I shudder to think. When I go to Synod Assembly, it costs several hundred dollars for the hotel room, and then there’s the registration fee of over $100. I spend even more on food. And there’s the cost of travel: gasoline and wear and tear on the car. If we calculate the time off that I have to take, the cost continues to rise.

I understand that it’s good to assemble. I understand that we can network and get good ideas and do trouble shooting—I understand that some of us need to do that in person. But the harder question: is it really worth the cost?

On the national level, the stakes rise. The costs go up, the travel takes more time, some of us must take more time off.

We might argue that the national assemblies only take place every few years. But the question still remains. Is it worth it?

ELCA Churchwide Assembly--My Post at Living Lutheran

How often does your denomination gather to meet as one body?  I'm a member of the ELCA, the largest group of U.S. Lutherans, and we gather every other year.  This year, this very day, Lutherans from across the country are heading to Orlando.

You may be wondering why we do this.  You may be wondering if it's the best use of money and time.  You may be wondering if the Lutherans are up to something substantial, like the sexuality decisions of 2009.

Well, I can't answer that last one, but I do wrestle with the other issues over at this post at the Living Lutheran website.

My pastor will be blogging the Assembly, and he begins with this post.  I look forward to hearing what he's experiencing.  Our Synod often meets in Orlando, site of this year's Assembly, and I wonder if Churchwide Assembly will feel different.

I imagine that at some point we won't all gather to meet like this.  We won't have the luxury of fairly inexpensive airline tickets.  We won't get price discounts from resorts.  Or maybe we'll have something better than we can even imagine now.  Maybe we'll be such an expansive group that we'll need to meet, maybe even more often.  Maybe Lutherans a generation or two from now will look back to the tumultuous times and be thankful for what we did to stabilize the foundations of their denomination.

Even if you're not a Lutheran, I'd love for us all to join in prayer for the larger organization meeting this week.  May God grant them wisdom and a vision for the future!