From the Bishop's Desk

At our 2018 Synod Assembly delegates engaged in some challenging conversations and exercises that identified how racialized differences, and the lack thereof, impacts the life of our church and its congregations. It accentuated the need for a better understanding of who we are as a predominantly white church and how we can engage and welcome a more diverse group of people in a good way.
   In support of the ELCIC’s strategic goal to foster Reconciled Relationships, the Synod Assembly mandated the establishment of a Racial Justice Advisory Committee to lead us in this important work. The following article highlights some of the actions currently underway to do just that. In addition, we are recognizing February as Black History Month by highlighting some extraordinary men and women who have contributed much to our past and present history both in Canada and the United States.
   I encourage you to participate in the online discussion, “PROJECT STORY” and, if you are able, to consider joining our visit to the Buxton, Ontario Historic Site, one of Canada’s first Underground Railroad communities that became home and refuge for many of the first slaves to escape the U.S. southern slave owners.
   We all have much to learn. Please stay tuned for further news and resources that might assist us in becoming a community of believers that better resembles Christ’s body in all its fulsome diversity!

I love Christmas. I’m no Scrooge. But year by year I have become more distressed, if not depressed, by the consumerist bacchanalia which dominates our North American commemoration of Jesus’ birth.
   Although we might try to deny it, most of us are quite aware of where we sit in humanity’s seating plan. We are a part of the 20% of the wold’s population that consumes 80% of its resources. And yet, in spite of our riches, in spite of our technological expertise and strength, many of us feel that we are dying of thirst. We seem to have everything, and yet more and more of us feel that when it’s all said and done, we are starving for that which has ultimate value! Ours is an age characterized by profound spiritual hunger and longing. As writer Anthony Giardina once wrote, “the best educated generation in history is anxiously in search of the one sentence that will teach us how to live!”
   On a number of occasions I have had the opportunity to visit poorer nations in the Global South. To experience the life of the church and its people in contexts that are very different from here at home. And on each occasion, I have been powerfully impacted by the depth of spiritual strength and beauty that I have experienced in people whose lives are a never ending experience of horrific poverty, want and violence. 
   On one of these visits near the conclusion of the civil war in El Salvador, a group I was with had a meeting with Dean Brackley, an American Jesuit theologian at the Central American University in San Salvador, home to the community of Jesuits who were massacred by the Salvadoran military in 1989. A member of our group asked him, “Why is it,” he asked, “that we experience such a profound spiritual vitality here in the midst of such violence and poverty, while at home, in the midst of abundance we seem to be living in a kind of spiritual desert?” 
   Dean’s answer has stayed with me and given me cause for many hours of reflection since. “We in the North,” he replied, “because we have so much, have a permanent low-grade confusion about what is really important in life and because of that, it is much more difficult for us to live the life of a disciple.” 
   It has been said, and wisely so, that it is only by being little that we can ever discover anything that is big. This, I think, is one of the key points of the gospel, that blessedness, the new and abundant life that Jesus points toward, is always found in smallness and humility. And maybe the only way for us to experience the life and the hope that Jesus calls us to, is by taking the risk of making ourselves a little bit smaller and admitting that for us today, left only to our own devices, it is impossible.
   St. Augustine once wrote that, “Hope has two lovely sisters; anger and courage. Anger, so that what must not be, will not be. Courage, so that what must be, shall be.” As we mark these holy days of Advent, may God grant us the gift of renewed hope, with enough anger to change that which must be changed and enough courage to become that to which we have been called to be! Who knows? Such gifts may make for a more holy Christmas.

Here’s a distressing fact. The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America is the whitest denomination in the United States. The 2014 Pew Research Center Religious Landscape Study found that 96% of the denomination’s members were white, 2% black and 2% mixed race or Latino. 
   We don’t have similar demographic data for Canadian religious groups, but I suspect that the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada would show similar numbers. This should be a matter of significant concern. Increasingly, over time, our demographic profile is becoming less and less representative of the general population as a whole.
   Here’s another fact. Jesus was a poor, often homeless, brown-skinned, one time refugee; an indigenous man who lived under colonial occupation.     Truthfully, there is not much about that profile that is typically represented in the composition of our worshipping assemblies. 
   Why is that? Is it merely the result of a few accidents of history and dominant immigration patterns? That’s certainly part of it. But that’s not all of it, not by a long shot.
   At our 2018 Synod Assembly, we stated a commitment to “the vital and urgent work of confronting the sin of racism and to the dismantling of racist and colonial attitudes present in ourselves, our church, and our society.” 
   We further committed ourselves to 
   1. in-depth self-reflection and learning with respect to the issues of racism, privilege, diversity, and right relationships, 
   2. individual and corporate confession of racism as a structural sin which exists in our churches and communities, 
   3. after the process of confession, repentance, self-learning, and reflection to humbly respond to invitations from communities that experience the debilitating effects of racism and with communities that live with privilege, to find ways to journey together, confronting the reality of racism.”
   To help us in this work we have created a Racial Justice Advisory Committee to lead our Synod in the work of racial justice awareness, learning, and advocacy. 
   One of their goals is to create safer spaces for conversations about race, in our Synod, Ministry Areas and congregations. They would like to provide a point of contact for those who could use some support, advocacy, and/or a listening circle for those who have had painful experiences related to issues of race and privilege. 
   You can find a helpful resource to use in your congregation at the following link https://www.easternsynod.org/resource/working-toward-racial-justice and contact the committee through their chair, Rev. Joanna Miller (mailto:joanna.e.miller@gmail.com)
   I wish these colleagues well in their work. Some of the conversations they hope to encourage will be difficult. The intent, however, is not to shame or belittle, but to challenge and motivate. 
   The hope is that our synod, in all its expressions, would become more inspired and better equipped to experience and express anew the liberating power of God’s grace to grow and bless human community beyond the lines of kinship, race, ethnicity and class by which we have typically defined ourselves.
   I believe that most of us long to be a part of a church whose corporate complexion more closely resembles the reign of God in all of its rich fullness and diversity. I know that I do. But I also know that we have some very challenging and difficult work to do before that vision can become a reality. I know that I need to change and that we need to change. 
   Can we do it? Absolutely! Will we do it? That, of course, remains to be seen.

The coming of autumn makes me think of transitions. And those who know me best know that I don’t particularly like them. When the kids were younger, I dreaded the approach of Labour Day and “back to school.” I liked the gentler routines of summer, the comfortable rhythms of just hanging out as a family, unburdened by the rigid schedules of September to June.
   When I go on vacation I struggle to transition to a time of rest and leisure, and then with the reverse as I transition back to work. I don’t like transitions in work relationships and through the years, numerous colleagues have experienced the posture of willful denial that I unashamedly exhibit when they contemplate the possibility of retirement.
   I know, of course, that transitions and changes are necessary. They are a requirement of life. I also know that most of the life transitions I’ve experienced have been a source of great blessing. Marriage. The birth of children. Ordination. Vocational changes. Welcoming new colleagues and partnerships. Embracing new challenges in life and in faith. Yes, all of them made me anxious. All of them made me fearful. But all of them also granted immeasurable and countless gifts of grace without which my life would be greatly diminished. 
   I think our experience of church is quite similar. Many of us would prefer that nothing change; our buildings, our liturgies, our music and our theological perspectives. But if we are to have life, change is inevitable. And I would maintain, for the most part, that the overarching trajectory of those cumulative changes is strongly toward and in support of the unfolding reign of God. 
   A few years ago I was invited to join one of our congregations for a sixtieth anniversary celebration. They thought it would be fun to replicate the worship style of the era in which they were founded. Clerics wore cassock and surplice. Our prayers were liberally salted with “these and thous”. We stumbled and bumbled our way through the Service Book and Hymnal (SBH) liturgy that was normative for North American Lutherans back in the day. And it was fun! But it didn’t feel particularly worshipful!
   After worship I heard countless comments along the lines of “I`m glad we don`t have to do that every week! Some of that language was pretty weird!” Truth be told, I suspect that many of those commentators would have been less than enthusiastic in their embrace of the SBH successors – Lutheran Book of Worship and Evangelical Lutheran Worship that eventually came along in the intervening decades. But in retrospect they recognized that the changes were good; they were needed and helped us to praise God in a new time and context with renewed vigour and vitality. 
   I`ve read that phrases like “do not be afraid” and “fear not” occur more than 300 time in the Bible. I`ve not counted them myself. But I do know that we, like our blessed forebears in the faith, need to hear these words repeated again and again and again! Our church is experiencing a lot of change, much of it quite necessary. But I suspect that has pretty much always been the case. That`s what it means to be a living body engaged in living relationship with a living God. The accompanying transitions are tough for some of us. I get that. They are, however, necessary and are carrying us deeper into God`s embrace. Fear not!

I have a pretty unique perspective on the life of our church. In my work I interact with an amazingly wide variety of congregations and rostered leaders. I visit your churches. I worship with you. I share food and drink with you. I counsel with you. I celebrate your joys and mourn your losses.
   Week in and week out I gather with you around Word and Sacrament. And whether the setting is rural or urban; the congregation large or small; I consistently hear the clarion call of the Gospel being proclaimed loud and clear with that wonderfully distinctive Lutheran grace note! “Salvation by grace, through faith.” 
   We share such a rich and inspiring faith tradition and perspective. I feel so blessed to be a Lutheran Christian. I am so grateful for the faith legacy that has been transmitted to me and to my generation by the generations of the faithful who preceded us.
   With the passage of time and the experience of numerous life lessons, I have begun to think more and more about those who are coming behind us. 
   I know firsthand how much the church of my generation has benefited from and been generously blessed by the gifts carefully stewarded and transmitted to us by the generations that served before us. Their legacy and generosity have positioned us to be faithful in our time and I am determined that the choices we make today will create the most favourable conditions possible for those disciples who will be working to serve and support God’s mission, 20, 50 and a hundred years hence. 
   A wise elder of our synod would often helpfully remind us that when we address challenging questions, we need to ensure that our ancestors get a voice and a vote; not the only vote, but a vote nonetheless! He was right. 
   But I have also learned from indigenous elders who have taught me that our successors also need to be given a voice and a vote. They’ve taught me consider the impact that my choices have for the seven generations coming after me. 
   The choices that we make as churches today will have major implications for the disciples of Jesus who are coming after us. I would like us to claim an increased sense of urgency to help establish conditions wherein, not only we, but the generations following us, can engage God’s mission in the most faithful way possible.
   Like the generations of the faithful who preceded us, we have numerous challenges in this day; but I believe that we have an even greater abundance of opportunities. We have options available to us that could not have been imagined even fifty years ago. But if those options are to have any value, they actually need to be chosen and acted upon.
   Dear people, we have been liberated by God’s grace! We have nothing to fear and everything to gain. Do we dare to believe it and act upon it? I think we can. I sure hope we will!

It’s a phrase we hear, read and perhaps say quite often. In moments of catastrophe and loss; in times of crisis or disaster, the flow of “thoughts and prayers” through my twitter feed can become a torrent. 
   And in its wake there is often a subsequent torrent telling us in no uncertain terms what we can do with our “thoughts and prayers!” Some are downright nasty. Some would require impossible acts of physical dexterity! Others offer the necessary reminder that “thoughts and prayers” without further action can often ring hollow and risk becoming empty and meaningless platitudes.
   Earlier today I received a voicemail message from one of our retired pastors, reminding me that today – as everyday – she had prayed for me, my family and for our church. She has faithfully engaged in this holy and generous practice for as long as I have served in this capacity. 
   Her thoughts and prayers have not been empty or meaningless. Indeed, they have been a constant and refreshing wellspring of encouragement and blessing to me and to the many others who are privileged to be included in her daily prayer list. 
   I suspect that a lot of the “thoughts and prayers” backlash has come as a result of the propagation of simplistic or just plain wrong understandings or what prayer is and how it functions. 
   In a piece I coincidently viewed this morning,Nadia Boltz-Weber reflects that ”I used to think that prayer was like the quarter that you put into God’s vending machine so he would release the gumball you wanted. Like prayer is like handing God some kind of wish list of everything you want and if you are a good little boy or girl, then Santa – I mean God- will make sure you get presents!”
   Now she has come to understand that “when we pray we hold ourselves and our loved ones and the world up to God and then we pass it off for the next person to do the same. And these prayers, those times when we mindfully hold others in the presence of God, are like gossamer threads connecting us to God and God’s children.” 
   Prayer is not about getting; it’s about connecting. When I pray, I am connected both to God and to the one for whom I pray. I am seeking to enter into the love that is the heart God’s being and to bring another person, community or set of circumstances into that place with me. 
   It is not a matter of popping quarter into a slot in an attempt to convince God to do something he wouldn’t otherwise be inclined to do. Rather it is a conscious act of but entering into the loving heart of a God whose total essence is blessing. And in that encounter we, and the world, are changed; for God’s grace cannot and will not leave us as it found us.
   When I pray aright, God inspires and emboldens me to express that same divine and loving essence in my words and actions; to become, in effect, an answer to another’s prayer. When offered aright, our thoughts and prayers can’t help but be further expressed in flesh and blood acts of faithful solidarity and generous companionship. 
   So don’t let the trolls scare you off. Your thoughts and prayers are needed and are more effective than you may ever have imagined!