From the Bishop's Desk

I walked through hell and into heaven. Literally.

I visited the UNESCO World Heritage site in Lalibela, Ethiopia, in December of 2021.

Eleven rock-hewn monolithic churches, architecture and engineering wonders were built some 1000 years ago by King Lalibela. Tradition says that King Lalibela dreamed of the churches, as a New Jerusalem for the Coptic community. The churches are brilliantly engineered and connected through tunnels, and trenches,  when the rains come the baptismal fonts, all filled with water. These churches are still home to vibrant Ethiopian chuches.

My host wanted me to experience an ancient practice of walking from hell to heaven, by entering a tunnel between two churches.  With bare feet and a bit of trepidation we entered the rock tunnel. My host had instructed me to have one hand above my head guiding the ceiling and one hand out to the side to feel the walls.

 It was PITCH black. There was no adjustment to the dark so you could see. It was completely dark and that was disorienting. I was grateful for my guiding hand placement and feeling the cool rock on my feet as I placed each foot forward.

I may have said something like….”yikes”….”I don’t like this” “how far?” I heard my host who had swiftly moved ahead said, “one step at a time, just take one step at a time” . And she faded into the distance.

One step, feeling my way trying to reorient when everything seemed off. 

I walked in complete darkness,  there was no light at the end of the tunnel.   

I heard others enter the tunnel behind me, equally disoriented and uncomfortable. I offered, “one step at a time, just take one step at a time.”

It was quiet, I think in darkness we try to hear better. One step. One step.

Finally after what seemed like forever, we turned a corner and a small bit of light could be seen….the light grew and I came to a rickety ladder leading out of the tunnel. There was sunlight.

Up I went, feeling the warmth of the sun as I went. I was grateful for the many hands that reached out to help me off the ladder and out of the hole. I was enthusiastically welcomed into heaven, by many who had also just experienced this trek through hell. 

We have all experienced situations where we feel like we have gone down a dark hole, and felt isolation and disorientation.   

Cancer diagnosis, relationship strain, addictions, work stress, loneliness, death of a loved one, fear of coming out, anxiety about the future.

In these situations, the community’s words, “one step at a time, just take one step at a time” become life-giving. We are reminded that we do not walk alone but have a God who journeys with us every step of the way.  A God who is never the author of the challenges we face, but one that walks alongside us without judgement.

Our church communities are important to reach out and help us. To welcome us in.

The goalposts of our ELCIC church have shifted significantly in the last year. New leadership in many areas and we look forward to welcoming a new National Bishop in July.

It can be disorienting, but together, as God’s church we walk…….. one step at a time.

The goalposts of the world have also shifted significantly in the past months. It feels disorienting.  We as Canadians find ourselves in new realities. We are called upon now more than ever to be the church, to reach out to all, especially those who do not look like us, talk like us, dress like us, or love like us.

We have been asked to have our elbows up to support Canada, shop Canadian and vacation in Canada. I would love to see those elbows up but linked with our multicultural neighbors, our queer family, Indigenous first people, and Mother earth. Together we step forward into our new reality.

One step at a time, making sure no one is left behind, no one falls.  One step.

I remember her hands. Rich with age spots, the birthmarks of life, they were, strong, rugged, and extremely skilled. She would “hold” our baby when still in the womb, expertly feeling for size and position. She had done this thousands of times, with an eagle eye for what was typical and what needed attention, she was Mother Earth of midwifery. This is Elsie Cressman of St. Jacobs Midwives, Ontario. She caught our first two babies who were born in 1993, and in 1995 at home under her expert and compassionate care. Birth is not something done to you or prescribed, midwifery always allows the pregnant body to proceed naturally.

(Acknowledging this is not possible in all situations, or the choice of some) Midwives guide, encourage, and help to reposition, as the birth process begins, with a calming presence.

For thousands of years, bodies have given birth. It was a remarkable reminder that I was joining a worldwide, age-old communion of birthing bodies.  A continuing bond of life.

Birth is transformative, amazing, puzzling, powerful, at times terrifying, painful but also exhilarating. Throughout the night, Elsie sat with us, talking through contractions, giving me options, guiding gently, laying on of those skilled hands, we laughed, we listened to her stories, marveled at her experiences, we ate pre-prepared babymoon muffins, Elsie was a calming presence. Janelle, our firstborn, quietly but powerfully in the wee hours of the morning, was birthed into the world in the dark. She took her first breath.  Sacred space.

Sometime later, as a newly ordained pastor, I attended my first death. It was in the wee hours of the morning, in the dark, I sat with the family, talking through breathing changes, gently guiding around touch, prayers, goodbyes, and thanks. We laughed, listened to stories, marveled at experiences, and ate muffins. Quietly and powerfully, in the wee hours of the morning, in the dark, this man was birthed into a new life.  He took his last breath. Sacred space.

Sometime later, as a newly ordained pastor, I attended my first death. It was in the wee hours of the morning, in the dark, I sat with the family, talking through breathing changes, gently guiding around touch, prayers, goodbyes, and thanks. We laughed, listened to stories, marveled at experiences, and ate muffins. Quietly and powerfully, in the wee hours of the morning, in the dark, this man was birthed into a new life.  He took his last breath. Sacred space.

Barbara Brown Taylor suggests, “New life starts in the dark. Whether it is a seed in the ground, a baby in the womb, or Jesus in the tomb, it starts in the dark.” ~From Learning to Walk in the Dark

This year, the lectionary cycle has us reading the Easter Gospel from Luke. 

The women came to the tomb focused on death, shocked by the trauma of the death they witnessed, ready for burial rituals, and they encounter the open tomb and the question, “Why are you looking among the dead for one who is alive. He is not here; he has been raised. “(Luke 24:5)

The women experience confusion, awe, and fear, yet they leave this sacred space, and they are transformed.

Our churches are transforming. We are right here in this sacred space of transformation. Called into life in new ways. Take a deep breath.

I hear the fear and confusion.  Looking back at what was…. we used to…..

What did we do wrong? We should have……!!

 But we cannot focus on death, we focus on the life that comes from the empty tomb, the empty womb, the empty church spaces.   We believe in new life.

We overturn our expectations, and hope will be renewed.

We have wise midwives in the church who will talk us through changes, challenges, goodbyes, some repositioning, and thanksgiving.  We will laugh, listen to stories, marvel at experiences, and probably eat muffins. It will have some painful times, but out of the dark, and confusion, God’s new life is on the way.  God is at work.  We join the generations and generations of followers of Jesus who have experienced challenges in life and birthed new life. Sacred space.

Promise.

Dr. Rudine Sims Bishop is a professor emerita of education at The Ohio State University, known as the mother of multicultural children’s literature. Bishop writes about children’s literature using the image of Mirrors, Windows and Sliding Glass Doors. (Perspectives, Vo. 6, no. e, 1990, Choosing and using Books in the classroom) 

Mirrors offer reflections and build identity. Windows offer new views and a view of someone else’s experience and sliding glass doors offer an invitation to step into the story and be part of it.  Bishop states that when children cannot find themselves reflected in the books they read, or when the images are negative, they learn they are devalued in society. 

I love this analogy for the church. Our church.  We need mirrors that reflect all images. Created in God’s Image, each person is valued, called by God, claimed and loved unconditionally in the sacrament of Baptism. This is God’s action of love. 

Windows allow an opportunity for new views, to look at our siblings in Christ and appreciate who they are. 

For far too long the church has only allowed the mirror image of people who look like us, talk like us, dress like us, eat like us, love like us, we have missed the rich diversity of God’s family. Especially our 2SLGBTIQ siblings. Queer folks have been devalued, mistreated, deeply hurt by our actions, as have persons of color, which is addressed by the Racial Justice Committee and the Circle for Reconciliation and Justice. 

 Sliding glass doors invites us to step into a new reality. The new Queer Committee of the Eastern Synod is inviting reflection, prayer and discernment.  As a committee of the Eastern Synod Council, the committee will; 

1. To provide opportunities for education and self-awareness of queer persons, our relationships with them and the experiences of life in the church.
2. To bring concerns of Queer persons before congregations on a regular basis and to equip rostered leaders and lay people with resources and support for worship, learning, and pastoral care.
3. To encourage and facilitate participation in the RIC (Reconciling In Christ) process within Congregations, the Eastern Synod ministries and staff.
4. To coordinate an intentional public presence at pride events across the territory of the Eastern Synod.
5. To respond to current world events by calling the church to advocacy and action.

Definitions of Queer from the Committee

Queer is a term that offers a unifying and celebratory way of appreciating those whose gender and sexual orientation identities are not heterosexual or cisgender. Once a derogatory term that has caused much harm, the word ‘queer’ has been reclaimed by many in the 2SLGBTQIA+ community as a way of appreciating difference instead of stigmatizing it. Some people prefer to identify as ‘queer’ instead of a specific letter of the acronym as a way to gain a measure of privacy, while claiming a place in the larger community.

Members of the Queer committee reflect; 

Rev. Victoria Featherston (She/they) : Rev. Victoria hopes that the work from the Queer Committee will inspire congregations to engage in brave spaces where shared narratives will stir up in congregations an embodied theology of welcome. Victoria brings a passion for liturgy, naming the ways that the church has harmed the queer community and a Lutheran presence at Pride events.

Rev. Ralph Carl Wushke: Rev.Ralph Carl, until recently pastor of First ELC, Toronto, and the first gay pastor to be reinstated to the ELCIC clergy roster says, “the Queer Committee in the Eastern Synod is a prophetic step. There have been many advances towards erotic justice since the ELCIC adopted a new statement on human sexuality in 2011. Nevertheless, there is much work still to be done regarding education about gender diversity and sexual orientations. More congregations could embrace the Reconciling-in-Christ process. There are old wounds that need healing still. I see the Queer Committee as a key adjunct to essential work being done by other Eastern Synod committees, like the Racial Justice Committee and the Circle for Reconciliation and Justice.”

Sherry Coman: I’m grateful for this opportunity to join with other 2SLGBTQIA+ folks in our Synod to help lift up story, wisdom, and vision for how we can become a more universally and sustainably safe and welcoming church. I’m excited by the creativity and energy on the committee and the ideas that have already been generated.

Rev. Brett Ballenger: As the first openly queer person to complete candidacy in the Allegheny Synod, ELCA, 30 years ago, I have witnessed and experienced the pain the church causes as well as the life it imparts when it celebrates our varied giftedness. I am excited to be a part of this group that will foster more ways of celebrating queer folk and seeking reconciliation and reparation. 

Rev. Lori Pilatzke: Healing hope that the church will someday be a safe place for everyone where God’s love flourishes

Rev. Adam Snook: I am thrilled for the opportunity to walk alongside my friends and colleagues as we celebrate the beautiful diversity which God has created. As a gay person and leader in this church, I am hopeful that this new Queer Committee and portfolio will encourage a renewed commitment to dialogue, education, healing, reconciliation, and creating safe spaces where all God’s children feel welcomed, celebrated and valued around the table. 

God’s deepest peace as we reflect on our image held in God’s love and walk together to a more inclusive tomorrow.

My world rocked when my Mom died. It has now been more than 20 years, but the memories are crystal clear.

 I knew she was dying, and thanks to the popular book, “Tuesdays with Morrie” ( Mitch Albom, Doubleday, 1997) I had initiated Mondays with Mom.  Every Monday we talked. We sorted childhood photos of my three brothers and I. We divided up “stuff” that she wanted each of us to have.  Mom had Myasthenia Gravis and in the early days of this auto immune disease, the treatment was invasive and damaging. She was on oxygen and the compressor hose limited her distance and movement, so we usually met at her house.  One day she asked if I could be a pastor with her. My inner voice said NO, screamed NO, I don’t want to talk about death. Not with you.  But my outside voice said sure, what do you want to talk about. “Tell me about heaven” she asked through teary eyes. “Do you think your time is close to going there?” I asked. She nodded.

What did a pastor of less than ten years experience know about heaven?  I said she would be free of her oxygen hose!! She laughed. I said she would be free, at peace, held in love. 

Gaining courage, I said, she would be okay, it would be okay, she would not be alone and we, all her children and family, would miss her dearly and remember her and her legacy, but we would be ok. She was free to go and I thanked her for being a wonderful Mom, a loving Grandma and for teaching me about compassion.  It was a hard conversation, but I am SO grateful we had it.

She died that week.  Grief is hard, but this conversation was a beautiful bridge to the continuous bonds I have with my Mom.  I live compassion daily because of her.

Grief is a human emotion felt when we experience loss; human loss, health, employment, pets, relationships. Grief is a challenging topic.  We live in a death averse, grief illiterate society. We don’t want to talk about it.

Pauline Boss wrote, “The Myth of Closure: Ambiguous Loss in a Time of Pandemic and Change (W.W.. Norton 2021).  She poignantly wrote about unresolved grief, not associated with the death of a loved one. Ambiguous loss is grieving someone who is still with you but the circumstances have changed. For example, someone with Alzheimer’s or a traumatic brain injury, severe depression, divorce, missing people, climate change, racism.  Boss pointed out that we all grieved deep ambiguous losses during the pandemic.  The losses were immense, and largely unnamed.  Loss of security, freedom, family traditions, ability to travel, social connections, jobs, childcare, graduations, weddings, celebrations, church traditions and predictability.

I have been in a church every Sunday since being elected Bishop and I listen deeply.  I hear a church that is deeply grieving. The church is grieving many levels of ambiguous loss. Loss of certainty, loss of the clarity, loss of beloved Bishops, loss of what was, full churches, youth groups of the past, large choirs, big Sunday Schools.  Grief can often bubble up as anger. People feel like control is lost, but it really isn’t, things are changing. Change is okay. We are a resilient church.

I took an intensive course on grief and loss over Holy Week and I found myself writing grief papers intermingled with Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter sermons.

It was quite profound. The ambiguous grief the disciples did not understand, the trauma of the crucifixion and the lack of clarity and predictability, how to understand resurrection. It was frightening and chaotic.  And yet, Jesus was there, breathing peace, telling them to let go, to not be afraid and to be commissioned as God’s disciples, to go and share God’s love. And they did, and so will we.

The continued bonds of Love are far deeper than the last 50 years of baby boomers and post-World War II population and church growth in Canada. The continuous bonds of God’s love extends far back. Out of chaos, our story and God’s story unfolded and continues to unfold. We will not be alone, we will not be afraid, we will go out and be God’s people in a changing society. God’s church is not dying, it is rebirthing. Peace to new beginnings.