Archive for the ‘Newsletter’ Category

When the poor ones, who have nothing, still are giving;

when the thirsty pass the cup, water to share;

when the wounded offer others strength and healing:

We see God, here by our side, walking our way;

we see God, here by our side, walking our way.

– José Antonio Oliver, ELW #725

Beloved of God,

In spite of serving as a pastor in the Lutheran Church for 33 years, I had never heard the name Jehu Jones, Jr., until last month.  His story, as the first African American to be ordained a Lutheran pastor, is at once an inspiring example of determination against all odds, and “a melancholy and indeed shameful aspect of Lutheran History.”[1]

His father, Jehu Jones, Sr., who had purchased his own freedom from slavery, was a pew owning member of St. Philip’s Protestant Episcopal Church and proprietor of one of the finest hotels in Charleston, South Carolina.  A tailor by trade, Jehu Jr. had inherited his father’s name and business.  He brought his own children to St. Philip’s for baptism in 1815.  But shortly after the Lutheran Church of German Protestants (St. John’s Church) opened its doors to blacks in 1816, Jones and his wife Elizabeth became members.  Their subsequent children were baptized there by Pastor John Bachman.  In October of 1832, Jones felt a call to be a missionary in Liberia.  But he knew that, because of his race, southern Lutherans would not ordain him, so he sought an avenue of service in the North.  He arrived in New York City with letter from Pastor Bachman in hand and made contact with Pastor William Strobel, a former member of St. John’s, and after examination was ordained by the Ministerium of New York on October 24, 1832 at the age of 46.

But when Jones returned to his native South Carolina to prepare for the trip to Liberia, he was arrested and jailed under the Negro Seamen’s Act, which forbade any free Negro from reentering South Carolina and directed that free blacks could be jailed or put on the auction block.  Appearing before a judge, Jones was told he must spend time in jail or leave immediately.  He chose to leave, and after stopping home long enough to say goodbye to his wife and children, the youngest of whom was 3 days old, he departed Charleston for New York.  Exiled from his native city and unable to join the group from Charleston about to embark for Liberia, Jones sought another way to reach the colony, but his efforts and those of his supporters were rebuffed and the dream of ministering in Liberia was set aside.

In the spring of 1833, joined by his wife Elizabeth and nine children, he chose Philadelphia as his new home.  Arriving there with letters of recommendation, he was discouraged by leading Lutheran clergy from establishing a Lutheran church.  “The people will hate you because of your color,” he was told; why not join another communion—such as United Methodists, Presbyterians, or Baptists—who already count pastors of color among their ranks?  That, Jones insisted, was not an option; he was Lutheran through and through.  And so the establishment of a Lutheran mission to the black citizens of Philadelphia began to take root.

Using his own resources and those acquired through a fundraising tour, he bought land and began building St. Paul’s Church, the first independent African American Lutheran congregation.  But when the church encountered financial difficulties, rather than lend them aid, the Ministerium of Pennsylvania took title of the church building and failed to assist its pastor.  The New York Ministerium also rejected his appeal for funds, and eventually the building was sold to pay off acquired debts.  His subsequent appeal to the Synod of New York for permission and support to establish a Lutheran mission for the black community in New York was not only rejected by the synod, the validity of his ministry itself was called into question and he was unrightfully censored.

The institutional church failed Pastor Jones abysmally.  Even after all this, Pastor Jones continued to be faithful in keeping his Philadelphia congregation together without a building and he continued to preach. As late as 1851, at age 65, he could proudly assert, “I continue to preach to the colored congregation of St. Paul Lutheran Church.”  In the face of the Lutheran Church’s unfaithfulness to him, Pastor Jehu Jones remained faithful to the gospel.  He died September 28, 1852, the victim of prejudice, rejection, and institutional abuse.

In his book, DEAR CHURCH: A LOVE LETTER FROM A BLACK PREACHER TO THE WHITEST DENOMINATION IN THE U.S., ELCA Pastor Lenny Duncan makes an impassioned plea for our church and society at large to acknowledge our captivity to white supremacy. The community Duncan serves in the heart of Brooklyn takes its name from Pastor Jehu Jones; it’s called Jehu’s Table.  Duncan’s book, the subject of our Adult Sunday class through this month, is provocative and challenging.  And it belongs at the center of discussions about the prevalence of white racism in church and society and in congregational life.

This month, as we celebrate the various ways our congregation has engaged and is engaging in ministries of social outreach, assistance, and advocacy, we remain mindful of the reality that systemic oppressions of all kinds bedevil our culture at every level. The church’s responsibility in the midst of this reality is not only to feed the hungry and bind up the wounded, but to consciously engage and defeat white supremacy and the other demonic forces within us and without that call into question the image of God that resides in every human being.

Jesus’ ministry among those who were marginalized, his model of bringing them into the circle and challenging the forces—both social and spiritual—that supported them, must be our model. The impulse to reach out and serve, as you’ll see in the article by Boots Winterstein below, is embedded in our congregation’s DNA.  That’s something to celebrate, even while we remain alert to the continuing work to which God, and siblings in Christ like Pastor Duncan, call us.

[1] Philip Pfatteicher, New Book of Festivals and Commemorations.  2008.  Much of what I share here is taken from Pfatteicher’s article on Rev. Jones, an essay in The Lutheran Quarterly, Volume X, 1996 by Karl E. Johnson, Jr. and Joseph E. Romeo, as well as from Lenny Duncan’s book, Dear Church….(Augsburg Fortress, 2019)

Peace Lutheran Wall Hanging - Sharpened

Below are a series of articles written by Boots Winterstein and Eldon Olson to tell the story of Peace during our congregation’s 75th Anniversary Year.  Our culminating celebration will take place on Sunday, November 24, 2019, with Worship at Peace at 10:30am, following by a celebration luncheon at neighboring Fauntleroy UCC Fellowship Hall.

If you would like to receive updates and/or an invitation to November 24th celebrations, call or email: 206-935-1962, office@peacelutheranseattle.org

 

ARTICLE 1: A PIECE OF PEACE HISTORY

The first of a series of occasional articles on the story of Peace as it heads into its 75th anniversary year. The writer, Boots Winterstein, describes herself as a “recently-adopted member of Peace, eager to discover more of the family history,” who is enjoying perusing Peace’s boxes of clippings and photos. Boots spent most of her childhood in West Seattle and remembers “Papa” Karlstrom in his later years. This first article arose out of her curiosity to know more about what may have led the Karlstroms to establish a Sunday School in the Gatewood area in the 1920s.

PREQUEL

The 1920s in West Seattle meant summer houses and resorts on the beach, model Ts and rutted roads, streetcars, forested hillsides, moving picture theaters, and a new trestle bridge connecting the peninsula to the mainland. Some old-timers remembered the good times fondly. Others called young, growing West Seattle a “spiritually neglected town.”

But there were churches:  Congregational, Methodist, Presbyterian, Baptist, Episcopal, Roman Catholic, Church of Latter Day Saints—many begun as Sunday Schools by established churches on the mainland—and three Lutheran Churches.  Significantly, all but one of the congregations were in the more established part of West Seattle, north of “the Junction,” where two streetcar lines met at Alaska and California Avenues.

The geographical exception was the brand new St. James Lutheran Church, an Icelandic Lutheran group, near Roxbury. Strong ethnic identities marked all three Lutheran congregations; Hope Lutheran, though English-speaking, was in the German tradition. The other Lutheran church on the peninsula, today called First Lutheran Church of West Seattle, conducted its services in Norwegian.

When Swedish Lutheran immigrants Pastor Otto and Alva Karlstrom settled in the Gatewood area, their church home became Swedish Lutheran church (later renamed Gethsemane Lutheran Church) at 9th and Stewart in Seattle—many rutted, muddy roads and a trestle bridge away.  The Swedish Lutheran church also supported the brand new Lutheran Sailors and Loggers Mission in Pioneer Square which had just been founded by Alva and Otto.

The same generous spirit that prompted their founding of the mission in Pioneer Square may well have been behind Otto’s and Alva’s Sunday School. Early Sunday Schools were marked by a strong sense of Evangelicalism—a desire to share the Gospel. Sunday Schools were often separate from churches and frequently had their own organizations, even their own buildings. There are indications that this separation from the worshipping communities may have been the source of the downtown Swedish Lutheran Church’s reluctance to support the Karlstrom’s fledgling Sunday School in West Seattle.

Sunday Schools in those years often met Sunday afternoons rather than Sunday mornings. It’s likely the Karlstroms had very full Sundays, trekking several miles back and forth for morning worship, and then gathering neighborhood children together for Bible stories in the afternoon. It was obviously a true “labor of love.”

But Pastor Otto and Alva were called away to other work, and, not having official church support, the Karlstrom’s Sunday School ended a short time later. Twenty years later, the Karlstrom family name shows up again, this time as founding members of the newly-organized Peace Lutheran Church up the hill. This time the mission among Swedish Lutherans in West Seattle had the enthusiastic support of the congregation downtown. More about that next time!

ARTICLE 2: BEGINNINGS – What’s in a Name?

This is the second in a series of 75th anniversary articles by Boots Winterstein and Eldon Olson. Today we turn from the 1920s, when Swedish Lutheran immigrants Alva and Otto Karlstrom began a Sunday School in the Gatewood area (see the October 2018 edition of Peace Notes), to the 1940s.

Fourth Sunday of Advent, 2018.  I spot Jan Stenberg in the narthex.  “Jan, I’ve been looking at photos and clippings about Peace’s history.  I’ve seen many pictures of you!  When did you come to Peace?”  Big smile!  “1949!  We newly-weds took a train from Michigan to follow family who’d moved to Seattle.  When we visited the little white frame church on the hill, we knew we were home.

And to think only five years before the newlyweds arrived, the corner of 39th and Thistle was an empty lot, Peace Lutheran congregation didn’t exist, and the world was at war!  How had a new congregation and a beautiful worship facility come together in such a short, tumultuous time?

Wartime Seattle meant newcomers by the thousands, recently arrived for jobs in the burgeoning defense industries in the Duwamish valley.  It meant painful separation from loved ones back home and far away in Africa, Asia, and Europe.  Wartime meant the draft.  Rationing—gasoline, rubber, sugar, butter, cheese, flour, fish, canned goods, shoes, paper.  Five-minute limit on long-distance calls.  Women in trousers working alongside men in defense industry assembly lines. Newsreels at the movies.  “White Christmas” and “I’ll Be Seeing You” on the radio.  Re-location of Puget Sound Japanese Americans to inland “camps.”  And, by the time a tiny group of people met to consider starting a Lutheran congregation in southwest Seattle, news of unspeakable horrors emerging from places called Birkenau and Auschwitz.

West Seattle had spread south to accommodate newcomers desperate for housing.  “War box” houses popped up alongside 35th.   Already in 1942, the Federal Works Agency had built 1300 units of housing in the area known as High Point to house defense factory workers.  Realtors speculated that growth would continue at war’s end.  Seattle had been “discovered.”

In 1943, the Home Missions Board of the Augustana Synod of the Lutheran Church (the national group with which Swedish Lutheran Church downtown, now renamed Gethsemane, was affiliated) agreed to take on southwest Seattle as its area of mission.  By December a Sunday School was begun.  November 28, 1944 saw the formal organization of Peace Lutheran Church with 46 charter members, among them the Karlstrom family, Gethsemane members, who over 20 years before had begun a Sunday School in the Gatewood neighborhood.

December, 1944, was especially significant: the first worship services of the new congregation and the installation of Peace’s first pastor, Luther Anderson.  In short order the congregation bought both a parsonage on 35th and property at 39th and Thistle.  On July 7, 1945–in the interval between the ending of the war in Europe and the U.S. detonation of the first atomic bomb in New Mexico—the newly-named Peace Lutheran Church (surely a name born of faith as well as hope) broke ground for its future chapel.

However, there was one nearly insurmountable obstacle to the building plans: in wartime and its immediate aftermath, how could they obtain building materials?  In a move which can only be described as Spirit-led, the Peace community found a solution: they built their new chapel with salvaged wood from army barracks which they themselves had demolished.

March 3, 1946, built solely by volunteers and one contracted carpenter, Peace, the “church on the hill,” was dedicated to the glory of God.

“They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.” (Isaiah 2: 4b)

ARTICLE 3: Inclusivity and Diversity at Peace

This is the third in a series of 75th anniversary articles by Boots Winterstein and Eldon Olson. Today Eldon traces our Congregation’s journey toward a more diverse expression of humanity.

At its origins in 1944, Peace was located in a neighborhood which was then regarded on the city’s fringe. The neighborhood consisted largely of nuclear families living in “single-occupancy” homes (as the city codes of the day specified) – mom, dad, and kids, with schools, churches, and public resources located conveniently within easy commuting distance.  A glance at the photo of the commissioning of the new congregation reveals happy young families, lots of young children, all-male leadership (Board of Administration), and generally well-dressed models of that generation’s “ideal” American families. Congregational life included a large Sunday School (325 children enrolled by 1954), small groups for stay-at-home moms, and a well-supplied nursery for infants.

This model was repeated countless times throughout post-war America. The motto was “Growth!”— spreading the Gospel through the proliferation of new congregations in rapidly-growing new urban housing developments. The notion of “inclusivity,” whenever it came up, simply meant that everyone within the neighborhood was welcomed. That probably included everyone in the Peace neighborhood.

But perhaps not considered was that “inclusivity” might involve diversity. As the culture of our neighborhood changed, people aged as their children left home, properties appreciated in worth, leaving limited-income persons out of the local market, more highly priced neighborhoods “with spectacular mountain views” joined the middle-income housing supply, people of varying abilities moved in, families who had two moms or two dads bought houses. There was an influx, particularly after the Korean War, of Asian, South-sea Islanders, Hispanic persons.  Apartment houses replaced single-family homes along the major traffic corridors. Property “covenants” were challenged in the courts, allowing “persons of color” to buy homes in certain city neighborhoods where they had previously been denied homes. Schools were challenged to include programs for children with “alternate learning styles and abilities.” All of this has happened within the lifetime of Peace.

Inclusivity has always been easy for Peace – diversity has been more complex.  Within memory, Peace had become a congregation with few children or younger families, no ethnic or racial variety, generally static or declining membership. Then some changes began to take place–changes that were prompted by changing the paradigm from inclusivity to diversity—reaching out to our neighborhood, rather than simply opening our doors:

  • Let’s change our building so that the neighborhood has full access to the building itself. Let’s build an entry that encourages the use of our structure for the general needs of our neighbors, a public space with an outside patio.
  • Let’s deliberately call a pastor from an ethnic minority so that a Samoan presence becomes part of our congregation. This plan, though earnestly engaged, proved difficult, painful, and unfruitful.
  • Let’s add staff to lead youth and family ministries, reorient our worship and fellowship, and slowly change the age distribution curve of our congregation.
  • Let’s make a statement to our neighbors about our commitment to environmental and ecological issues. Let’s add raingardens and cisterns, solar panels, a creation-centered focus to our worship life. Let’s make our concerns more than an internal conversation.
  • Probably our most effective deliberate act: let’s make an intentional outreach to gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgendered persons. Let’s align ourselves with a population that has been culturally maligned and marginalized.  

That last action, studied and planned over many years of congregational reflection, has had great significance. Once we decided that diversity of sexual orientation is our public stance, the doors seemed to open.  We no longer think of ourselves as “cradle” Lutherans; struggles and conversations about diversity in genders and orientations have opened windows through which some very different breezes have refreshed our life together. We’ve increasingly realized that greater diversity not only changes the way our congregation faces its neighborhood, it also enriches the quality of our life together.  We are diminished by any lack of diverse voices in our midst.

The most delightful element of diversity in recent years has been the resurgence of young families with their young children who reflect a good deal more racial and ethnic diversity than at our mid-20th century founding. The whole congregation seems renewed by the weekly presence of 15 to 25 small children at their special time of worship. And we now have a partner in our building space, a congregation of Korean language, Seattle Covenant Community, led by Pastor Ko. 

It has been a long and sometimes difficult journey for Peace – 75 years that represent struggles of our nation and our neighborhoods. But we’ve learned some very profound lessons along the way.

ARTICLE 4: The “FLOW” that is Peace

This is the fourth in a series of 75th anniversary articles by Boots Winterstein and Eldon Olson. Today Eldon speaks of three distinct confluences that have contributed to our Congregation’s journey.

We’re familiar with several images for the church – a building certainly – ours at the corner of 39th and Thistle. Or perhaps the more literal Biblical image – a gathering, a collection of those who are called out. That’s probably the most common theological meaning for the church.

But think for a minute of a church such as Peace as a river – something flowing through our neighborhood for the last 75 years. During the course of that “flow,” some people have come – some have left, some ideas have “floated” – some have “sunk.”  No one has ever drowned here, but we’ve certainly been watered by occasional tears of grief or joy, many of us have known torrential cataracts – yet we’ve all been splashed with Baptismal grace.

Most of us in the congregation have flowed here from somewhere else. We usually think of ourselves as joining a congregation. But most of us have gradually flowed into the Peace river. We came from yet other rivers, streams, or springs – tributaries, so to speak. As we began to flow into Peace, we brought with us certain flavors of our sources, flavors which contribute to the vitality and “taste” of Peace.

The pioneer sources of Peace came from Gethsemane Lutheran church in downtown Seattle. The former Swedish Synod, Augustana, asked Gethsemane to encourage some of her West Seattle members to form a new church. First a Sunday School, then a small group convened by a parish worker, meeting in a portable classroom of a local grade school; then, in 1944, a formal congregation with a permanent address and a called pastor (75 years ago this November). The flow from Gethsemane, challenged and supported by the Augustana Synod, consisted mostly of young families who were occupying an emerging neighborhood in West Seattle. They invited neighbors, who themselves came from several denominational “streams,” to join them to form a new congregation. They first built a chapel, then an enlarged church building.  The selection of the name “Peace” coincided with the hopes and prayers that accompanied the gradual ending of World War II.

 In more recent years, there have been at least three distinct confluences that have contributed to the present congregation. During the late ‘80s, continuing through the ‘90s, First Lutheran Church of West Seattle went through some “troubled waters,” bringing a significant group of neighborhood members to Peace. First Lutheran was formed in the early 20th century by the former Evangelical Lutheran Church (ELC), a Synod which embraced largely Norwegian ethnic origins. Peace itself had gradually shrunk to a much smaller congregation, while many from First had been congregational leaders. So the “flow” from First was both welcomed and renewing.

In 2005, St. James Lutheran Church of White Center neighborhood closed its doors, transferring yet another group of very active members to Peace. St. James’ history had been with Lutherans of the Icelandic tradition, and its ministries had been largely formed by the influx of immigrant and low-income persons who came to that neighborhood with marked needs for social ministry and family services. Formed in 1928, St. James was served for much of its history by the Rev. Kolbeinn Simundsson, its founding pastor. What was once the St. James facility in White Center is now an Islamic Mosque and school, serving the Somali immigrant community of Seattle.

Calvary Lutheran, a congregation of the Lutheran Church – Missouri Synod, began in 1926 as a mission station of Hope Lutheran Church in West Seattle and organized as a separate congregation in 1933. Originally housed in the church-looking building at 32nd and Trenton, the congregation established a school and church at 35th and Cloverdale. Although the membership of Calvary declined, interest in ecumenical partnerships and social ministry steadily increased, so that, when the church properties were sold in 2006, a worshipping community continued through its ministries at The Kenney Retirement Home and the distribution of its assets with its community ministry partners. Eventually, nearly a million and a half dollars were distributed to 18 congregations and agencies in support of ministries of justice and mercy. Peace inherited a dozen former Calvary members and a critical endowment for social ministries.

Over the years, there were Lutherans of other stripes and ethnicities, Episcopalians, Presbyterians, Roman Catholics, Methodists, and Congregationalists who “flowed” our way.  In recent years, the congregation has continued to grow.  Unlike most congregations, our average age is decreasing as younger families become part of our “flow.”  (We’ll have more about those current trends in a later Peace Notes article.)

The history of Peace embraces the varieties of “flows” from which we are comprised. There’s a current adage that congregations without “flow” tend to “rust out.”  It might also be said that they tend to lack flavor. As the salmon of the Pacific seem to recognize that there’s a flavor to each tributary, this river rejoices in the many flavors that have enriched our community.  Though complex and sometimes challenging (we each seem to remember our former streams fondly), Peace has been able, over its history, to accommodate and treasure the richness of this river of faith.

ARTICLE 5: PROVIDERS, PROCLAIMERS, PRESIDERS, The Role of Women at Peace through the Years

This is the fifth in a series of 75th anniversary articles by Boots Winterstein and Eldon Olson.  Today Boots traces the evolving role of women within Peace and the larger church.

“The twelve were with [Jesus], as well as certain women…who provided for them out of their resources.”  – Luke 8:1-3

CHAPTER 1. The scene is harrowing: “Three women made coffee and sandwiches in the new kitchen, standing in three inches of seepage water, cooking on hot plates balanced precariously on apple boxes.” Describing the 1946 dedication activities of the new chapel, the writer opined: “We like to feel that this fine spirit is typical of all Guild activities.”

Indeed! The women had their act together, organizing the women’s auxiliary weeks before the official organization of the congregation. From the start, they raised money for the new chapel, fed the volunteer builders, and staffed a Sunday morning nursery (sometimes in their own homes). They emptied their treasury to purchase two hams for the congregation’s first anniversary. They prepared meals: Men’s Club, Father-Son Banquets, Communion.   

As Peace grew rapidly in the baby boom years, women taught Sunday School and planned social activities: holiday celebrations, Mariners’ parties, children’s activities, plays.  As longtime member Connie Benjamin recalls, of then and now: “Peace is my home.” Her mother, Shirley Swallow, played a major role in making the Peace of the 1950s and ‘60s an extension of home, perhaps a reminder of the Midwest congregations where many of the parents had grown up. Peace became a community of stability and connection after the disruptions of WW II and the Korean Conflict, amid the fears of the Cold War.

Women were voting members, a decision made in 1907 by the Augustana Synod. Women appear occasionally in Peace’s lists of congregational leaders, usually as some type of secretary—financial (Jan Stenberg, take a bow!) and office (June Eaton). The business of the congregation was led by a Board of Administration, consisting of Deacons and Trustees. A review of congregational yearbooks from 1948-65 showed all male names for the Board of Administration. But…what’s this? A paper insert into the ‘64-’65 directory gives a new list of officers to replace the officers elected in their annual meeting just a few months before.  A Church Council had replaced the Board of Administration, and it included (gasp) women! What happened? And why?

CHAPTER 2.

Aha! A look at the previous year’s directory, ‘62-’63, shows an elected position: Delegate to Final Synod of Augustana Lutheran Church. A bit more digging reveals that June 28, 1962, four Lutheran bodies, including the Augustana Synod, joined to become the Lutheran Church in America (LCA)—one of the three predecessor bodies of our current Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. Prior to the merger, the four bodies had approved three official documents, including an approved Constitution for Congregations which included expanded women’s roles throughout the new church body. 

Why had it taken so long? Were some afraid this might lead to women’s ordination? What would it look like to see a woman presiding at the Lord’s Table? Or to get used to a woman’s voice from the pulpit?

Women’s ordination came to the LCA in November 1970. In a significant “first,” Pastor Sheryl Biegert was installed as pastor of Peace, June, 1991, beginning nine years of strong pastoral leadership, which included increasing accessibility and inclusivity in all its aspects, all part of a forward-looking celebration of Peace’s 50th anniversary.  Pastor Biegert was truly a groundbreaker for the Peace community.

Remarkable lay professional workers had paved the way: Gladys Peterson who in 1943, on behalf of the Augustana Lutheran Church, made a survey of the Gatewood area and began a Sunday School; Sister Hilda Peterson, a deaconess serving a downtown mission who served the young congregation in a variety of ways; Parish Worker Sandra Bowdish Kreis, now Pastor Sandra Kreis, remembered for her  creative and caring work with youth, 1962-63, whose path after Peace led her to work with street youth, campus ministry, and “Licensed Lay Pastor of Theology” before ordination and pastorates throughout western Washington.  

Chapter 3?

Are we there yet?  Will there be another chapter?  Our Northwest Washington Synod of the ELCA has to date had only male bishops.  Then there’s the presidency of the U.S.  Just sayin’…

“But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb…Suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. “He is not here, but has risen”…Then they remembered his words, and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James and the other women with them who told this to the apostles.….” – John 24:1-10

ARTICLE 6: Pastors and Interns who have served Peace through the years

This is the sixth in a series of 75th anniversary articles by Boots Winterstein and Eldon Olson. This month Eldon recalls pastoral leaders who have served Peace over 75 years.

During its 75 years, Peace has been gifted with some outstanding pastors, interns, and lay professionals.  Our more long-term members remember them fondly for the years of service they spent at Peace, with all sorts of anecdotes about congregational events, challenges, and important times of pastoral presence and ministry.  While, for some, their tenure at Peace may have been brief, most of our professional leadership, when leaving Peace, went on to other arenas for ministry. Several had ministries after their Peace years that were very impressive.

Among the ten Seminary Interns who passed through Peace as part of their seminary candidacy processes, six became parish pastors, one (Karis Graham) now serves as a Deputy Director for the US Agency for International Development after a career as a chaplain in the US Navy; another, Sam Giere, is now Assistant Professor of Homiletics at Wartburg Theological Seminary in Dubuque, Iowa;  and a third, Thomas Holtey, has become a Chaplain for the Hospice network of the Red River Valley in North Dakota.  Whatever they may have learned about parish ministry while at Peace, they also sensed a freedom to embrace very diverse challenges of pastoral vocation.

Prior to the current ordained pastoral ministry of Erik Kindem, we’ve had nine pastors who served under regular call and another five who have served during long-term interim processes. Most of them are now deceased (Luther Anderson, 1944 to 1949; Ernest Bergeson, 1949 to 1961; John Paulson, 1961 to 1966; Theodore Johnstone, 1967 to 1973; Maynard Kragthorpe, 1973 to 1976; Donna Riley Williams, 2002 to 2004; and most recently Philip Petrasek, 1979-1990).  Two other former Pastors have retired from parishes they served after their Peace years (Carl Moll, 1976-1979 and Sheryl Biegert, 1991-2000).  Peace has also had the services of several very helpful interim and experimental ministries (Pastors Linda Milks, Polaia Mereane Tausili, Gretchen Diers, Linda Nou, and Martha Myers).  Several stories:

Pastor Anderson, our founding pastor, came to Peace directly from Seminary. After he left Peace, he became a leader in refugee resettlement, helping settle immigrants who were displaced by World War II.  He would continue this ministry in New Jersey and Florida parishes, helping resettle boat people from Viet Nam and refugees of the war in Bosnia.  In recognition of his work, he received the “Salt of the Earth” award from the Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service. During his career, he was directly involved in the resettlement of over 250 refugees.  While he was Pastor of First Lutheran Church in Fort Lauderdale, an estimated 1.2 million meals each year were served to the poor and homeless of that community.

A lay parish worker, Sandra Kreis, served Peace during a break in her college years. Although women were not ordained in those years, she wanted to experience what a career in the service of the church might be like.  She went from Peace to complete her college and, by the time she graduated, seminary to become one of the first ordained women pastors in the Northwest. She has recently retired from her last call at the ELCA church in Aberdeen.

Pastor Theodore Johnstone left Peace to assume pastorates in California, notably in Palo Alto, where he served a large congregation which is the Campus Ministry site for Stanford University.  His son, Theodore Johnston Jr. was ordained to serve several pastoral positions in Southwest Washington, following his father’s interest in the integration of pastoral care with services of mental health. He was a pastoral counselor in the Tacoma area for many years. His daughter recently visited Peace during Christmas season, with rich memories of her family’s heritage at Peace.

Pastor Linda Nou was a much beloved interim pastor, effectively serving a sequence of difficult interim pastor positions in the Western Washington area. She was also fluent in Latvian, and, after her tenure at Peace, became the Pastor of the English language church of the Lutheran World Federation in Riga, Latvi,a during the years when Latvia was struggling to find its independent voice in the dissolution of the Soviet Bloc.

In addition to the history of Peace’s roster of pastors, interims, interns, and parish workers, Peace has also contributed at least three of its youth to ordained pastoral ministry: Dennis Kalweit, Karl Gronberg, and George Beard.

In its 75 year history, Peace has been well-served by professional leadership. Our present pastor, Erik Kindem, is already our longest serving called pastor, lending a note of stability and depth to what have sometimes been short term pastorates. Peace has been able, throughout its history, to have a high regard for its pastors, while valuing their ease of working with gifted laity. For most of us, our sense of vocation has been both enriched and honored by those who have lived out their sense of vocation in professional offices of ministry.

Whether we are laity of Peace, pastors who are regularly called to Peace, or persons who spend time among us in discernment and training for ministry careers, Peace has been well-served by enriching the vocations of others.

ARTICLE 7: TIME FOR A QUIZ!

This latest article in our series takes the form of a quiz.  Test your knowledge of all things Peace!

Over 75 years, the people of Peace have worshiped and served in a variety of settings.  See how many matches you can find to the questions listed.

QUESTIONS

  1. First worship site
  2. Year Chapel was completed
  3. Number of people Chapel could seat
  4. First refurbishing
  5. Year new addition was dedicated
  6. Reminders today of original Chapel
  7. Author of “Farewell Message to the Mortgage”
  8. Year of dedication of the Peace remodel inspired both by Vatican II and the desire to be more accessible
  9. Architect of last sanctuary and narthex remodel
  10. Location of stage (“rostrum”)
  11. Original location of current baptismal font
  12. Recent efforts to increase accessibility
  13. Inspired by desire to be good Earth keepers
  14. Location of “the attic”
  15. Dark wood panels removed from chancel
  16. Year wheelchair lift was added, plus addition to north side for office, workroom, library.
  17. Number of baptized children in 1959.

ANSWER OPTIONS

  1. 1983
  2. 282
  3. Cisterns, raingardens, solar panels
  4. E. C. Hughes Elementary School
  5. 1949
  6. 1994
  7. David Kehle
  8. 160
  9. 1946
  10. 1956
  11. Arched windows in western wall of narthex
  12. Chapel
  13. 1993
  14. Patio, ramp
  15. East end, lower level
  16. Above narthex
  17. Al Bartol

FULLER EXPLANATIONS

  1. D
  2. I. Stand in narthex, facing north. You are there!
  3. H
  4. E. Just 3 years after being built, Chapel was refurbished with pews, organ, wine-colored carpet,and “blush pink,” rose, and light green paint.
  5. J. Chapel was refashioned into classrooms and Mothers’ Room (see last question), and new addition was attached to the East.
  6. K.
  7. Q. (See quotation at end.)*
  8. F. Remodeling completed in time for 50th anniversary. Remodel included moving altar out from east wall, enlarging chancel and narthex, moving communion rail to floor level, angling pews and west walls of nave and adding clear glass to west walls of nave.
  9. G. (Our very own architect!)
  10. O. Stage was where current storage room and youth room are located.
  11. L. Dedicated in 1950.
  12. N. (Preceded by a major excavation).
  13. C
  14. P. Ceiling of Chapel was higher than ceiling of remodeled narthex.
  15. M. Part of major ‘93-’94 remodel. Panels held lovely brass candelabra, but panels were “real dustcatchers and impossible to clean.”
  16. A
  17. B. Really! They and their families were the main reason for the 1956 addition of our current sanctuary and classrooms on both levels. It was all about the baby boomers.

*Excerpt from “A Farewell Message from the Mortgage,” 1977, by Al Bartol: “…Beware of sitting back complacently in the satisfaction of having accomplished your goal, for in complacency, growth and progress die. May your experience with me be long remembered and may it have indelibly written on your memories the fact that the higher the goal the more in earnest is the effort and the greater the joy of accomplishment.  Farewell, and may God guide you in the work ahead.” 

ARTICLE 8: Worship – The animating core of the life we share

In this latest article in our 75th anniversary series, Eldon lifts up the animating core of the life we share: Worship.

In 1944, as the carnage and chaos of the war was coming to an end, our ancestor generation began a congregation and defiantly named it Peace.  Using several consecutive worship spaces, engaging multiple pastors and music leaders, there have been, in these 75 years, over 4,000 Sunday worship gatherings (we had two Sunday services for several years), annual seasonal celebrations for Lent, Holy Week, Advent, and Christmas, and other public rituals of our life together.  Our worship life at Peace has been our most consistent common experience.  And rightly so – that’s why congregations are formed in the first place: to provide a community within which worship, our most ordinary gathering, takes place.  Although Peace has been gifted throughout its history with pastoral and liturgical excellence, it’s that gathering of ordinary people for the worship of Word and Sacrament, that sense of a “gathering” (a congregation) of ordinary, common-minded people (a koinonia) to engage one another in the tasks of listening, confessing, and engaging God’s grace (a liturgy) together.

The symbolic banner which was created for our Anniversary ideally portray our history and our identity – we’re a bunch of scraps, remnants that together form a cross which radiates to become something far greater than any of us could accomplish alone.  No matter who we are, that sense of gathering, adhering, and radiating define who we are and who we’re called to become.  We commonly refer to the words and music of worship as our liturgy, using numerous variations of ancient patterns over the years.  But liturgy is everything that happens when we come together – the handshakes, the hymns, the smiles of friends, the words of scripture and homily, the drama, meals and “foretastes,” the tears of regret and loss, the celebrations of birth, life, and change – the common “stuff” that pulls us magnetically together.

Over the 75 years of Peace, it is worth noting that there have been some variations—some trends—that mark the course of our common journeys. Here are a few you might have noticed – but the list isn’t definitive.  Think for a minute – then add your own…

  • We speak less in the first-person singular – more in the first-person plural. “Me-talk” has given way to “we-walk.” Rampant cultural individualism has created a pervasively lonely people. It’s relieving to hear about our common faith – my doubts, thoughts, convictions, and resolutions take on new meaning when I hear the echoes of everyone around me.
  • The call to live a Christian life seems more ambiguous. We used to be called to purity, moral integrity, and the relinquishment of a few naughty habits. Now we’re more likely called to end intolerance, establish justice, renew creation, and advocate for peace on earth. It’s the common challenge of everyone at worship – we need to undertake the dimensions of our callings together.
  • We used to focus our worship on words – readings, prayers, lyrics of hymns, sermons, etc. But now there are moments of deliberate silence, music (have you noticed that more people now stay for the Postlude music – just to relax and hear the beauty?), graphic arts, drama, fabric arts – to name a few. Sacraments (especially Baptism) are festive occasions for everybody – not private moments of piety. The symbolic elements of worship seem to take on increased dimensions of meaning.

These are some trends that you might recognize. However, the core of our life together remains consistent over our 75-year experience together.  Our worship life continues to be the adhesive that binds us together.  But it’s more than a private Peace-party.  It’s also the adhesive that ties us to every other Christian assembly throughout the world.  Much as we treasure our Peace family, in worship our family expands to include countless others.  And the profound mystery of our worship is that, when our souls are gathered, we somehow sing and pray on behalf of our neighborhood, our city, our fellow citizens on this earth, and our earth itself.  Whenever Peace has worshipped during these 75 years, the world has joined us as the fullness of the Body of Christ.

ARTICLE 9: Seeds of Social Ministry at Peace

In this latest article in our 75th anniversary series, Boots traces the roots of Social Ministry at Peace.

It all began with a phone call to me from Pastor Erik: “I’ve been looking at the archives, and I discovered that your father was one of Peace’s first guest preachers.”  That intriguing discovery led to hours of immersion in photo albums and written histories and, eventually, to this series of 75th anniversary articles.  Here is the subject that started it all.  – Boots Winterstein

School backpacks, blood drives, meals at the Welcome Table and lunches for Angeline’s; quilts, gardens, letters to legislators, Tiny House, seal raft, socks, Fair Trade, Open Door Ministry – “So much is going on!” people say of Peace.  What’s the back story?

Bold Beginnings.

It began with the women. Even before the formal organization of Peace in late 1944, the women organized the Mary Martha Guild to “provide Christian fellowship for members and friends and to aid in furthering the work of the local congregation and the Church at large.”

In addition to starting a Sunday morning nursery, raising funds for a new worship facility and providing meals for the volunteer builders, the women took homemade snacks to the servicemen and women at the Lutheran Service Center in downtown Seattle, prepared food and clothing packages to send to war-ravaged Europe, and, as soon as World War II ended, adopted a French war orphan.

The women’s generous spirit permeated the congregation. Written across the top of its first newsletter, were the words: “Peace Lutheran Church, now under construction, dedicated to the service of God and our fellowmen.”  Peace was blessed with bold, outward-looking leadership, both lay and pastoral. The young congregation’s first post-war budget included, in addition to the construction costs of the new church building:

  • Wartime relief in Europe
  • The Lutheran Tuberculosis Sanatorium, Denver, Colorado
  • China Relief
  • The Augustana Synod’s Columbia Home for the Aged in Seattle (a relationship still maintained by Peace)        

In 1949, Peace’s first pastor, Luther Anderson, was called to another congregation. That November, as Peace celebrated its fifth birthday, members read the following message in Peace Notes from their new pastor, Ernest Bergeson, as he urged members to support a clothing and shoe collection for what is now Lutheran World Relief: “Some 13,000,000 refugees are existing (not really living) in Germany and Austria. The Germans can’t fit them into their economy, but the stupidity of our statesmen at Potsdam has dumped them there.” Clearly, words and actions furthering both mercy and justice are part of Peace’s DNA.

Extraordinary Connections. There is more to the story: unique and fruitful connections with three significant Lutheran social ministry organizations, all within a few blocks of each other in downtown Seattle.

The Lutheran Compass Mission, had been founded twenty five years earlier as The Lutheran Sailors and Loggers’ Mission by Swedish immigrants Alva and Otto Karlstrom; by the early 1940’s the mission had transitioned to providing shelter, meals, and direction to men who had lost their jobs in the Depression, many of whom had gravitated to Seattle in hopes of bettering their lives. Alva and Otto, with their children, were founding members of Peace who brought their passion for sharing God’s grace with the poor and ignored to their new church home.  Several Peace people served on the Board of Directors of LCM, including AA Gronberg, who later served as the agency’s Executive Director with Peace member Jan Stenberg as his executive assistant.  Today, the Lutheran Compass Mission continues its mission as the Compass Housing Alliance, a highly-regarded Seattle-area provider of housing and support services.

The Lutheran Service Center, a war-time ministry of several national Lutheran church bodies provided religious and recreational services to servicemen and women stationed in the Seattle area. A deaconess from the center worked with Peace’s growing Sunday School, and the Center’s director regularly shared updates of the Center’s work with the women’s organization; Peace members shared their gifts (and homemade treats!) with the “just-passing-through” military women and men.  As the Lutheran Service Center prepared to conclude its ministry at the end of the war, its leaders brought together local Lutheran lay and clergy leaders to consider how to continue to work together to serve families and children whose lives had been affected by the war.

From these conversations came a new pan-Lutheran child and family service agency, Associated Lutheran Welfare. A good friend of Peace, my father Ruben Spannaus, was the agency’s first director. The young agency’s first casework supervisor was Peace member Reinhold (Ray) Karlstrom, son of Alva and Otto, who with his wife Sig Karlstrom, played significant roles in forming Peace into a vibrant servant community.

Peace Lutheran Church and Associated Lutheran Welfare were siblings, both born in the same year—1944; both responding to the societal changes brought about by the war and fueled by a vision of peace and wholeness.  Associated Lutheran Welfare continues today as an extension of Peace’s ministry, now known as Lutheran Community Services Northwest, recognized widely for its innovative services with children in foster care, family support, and work with asylees, refugees, and immigrants.

Another significant connection is Peace’s many-years-but-still-current relationship with the Millionair Club Charity (yes, the spelling is accurate), which describes itself as “a temporary staffing agency,” but which is, as we’ve learned from talks on Pass the Hat Sunday, so much more.  While serving as Executive Director of the Lutheran Compass Center, AA Gronberg received a call to the Millionair Club and Jan Stenberg followed him there, serving as Business Manager for 13 years before retiring.

Peace’s deep and fruitful relationships with its ministry partners showed in its choice of its first guest pastors who served in the summer of 1946 when Pastor Anderson traveled east to marry his beloved Lilian:  Peace’s “Papa Otto” Karlstrom of the Compass Mission, Pastor Rudolph of The Lutheran Service Center, and Pastor Spannaus of Associated Lutheran Welfare.

Going Green.  The last decade has seen the merging of creation care and social justice at Peace.  In addition to being recognized by Seattle Earth Ministry as a Greening Congregation, people of Peace have engaged in a variety of actions and projects to live up to that reputation: marking a Season of Creation in worship each year, engaging in environmental advocacy on a variety of fronts, installing rain gardens and cisterns for better water stewardship, putting a solar array one the roof to reduce our carbon footprint and contribute excess solar energy to the grid, growing gardens whose fruits stock local food banks. Perhaps we are beginning to realize the full meaning of some very old words: The earth is the Lord’s, and all that is in it; the world, and those who live in it. (Psalm 24:1)—a rethinking of the answer to “Who is my neighbor?”

Seeds planted…seeds nourished. Seeds still bearing fruit, 75 years later. Thanks be to God!

ARTICLE 10: Whither Peace?

In this 10th and final article in our 75th anniversary series, Eldon invites us to consider what trajectories of mission we may be grappling with as the future unfolds.

On this occasion of celebrating Peace’s 75th Anniversary, it is important to conclude our occasional reflections with a strong note of challenge for the future. Remembrances and histories can too easily degenerate into nostalgia (with its comfortable illusions) or smug self-satisfactions (with saints and heroes from whose gene pools we emerge). It’s difficult to imagine what sort of future Peace will have 75 years from now – or even 10 or 20. Such speculations are also dangerous – not only are they likely to be fallible, they also tend to be somewhat arrogant.  The future is, and will remain, embraced within the mystery of God’s purpose for our congregation.  It is possible, however, to get a sense of trajectories. For instance, based on all the hints that life has provided, it seems likely that we’ll all gradually get older. That’s a pretty safe trajectory—one all of us will likely experience– and the very mention of this reality invites us into thoughts and conversations that form community. Whatever the future may bring to your plate, be assured, we’re all in this together!

With these reservations in mind, let’s speculate, as a community, directions that seem to be emerging. Please regard these speculations as invitations for your own thoughts. What trajectories do you sense for the future of Peace? What conversations will call us into this community that we now mark at the milestone of 75 years?

During the last several years, threads of barely discernible fabric have emerged. Pope Francis, whose encyclical, Laudato Si’, our congregation discussed several years ago, challenged the world Christian community to a conversation about what sort of planet home we can envision living in. We know what sort of world our actions have hastened—a world that is endangered and at a tipping point. But it is not clear what sort of future world awaits us as Earth suffers the throes of abuse and exhaustion.

This is a profound moment in the life of the church – we will either enter this conversation with creativity and commitment, or, by default, we will join the ranks of the abused and exhausted. The setting for this future will be different from those we have known. Instead of being spoken to, even by experts, we will each contribute through speech and habit our perspective on the challenges of Earth’s future in small group settings.  We each come from a background of both faith and life on this Earth that qualifies us for the conversation.

  • How can we think about the future through the lens of ‘sufficiency’ rather than ‘abundance’?
  • How can we delight in a handful of dirt, with all its intricate forms of life, rather than the landscapes of majesty and beauty?
  • How shall the diminishing resources of the Earth be apportioned in ways that are just, satisfying the hungers of all humanity, not just the rich and powerful?
  • How can he help create a culture of compassion, even for flora and fauna, instead of a culture of competition?
  • What sort of economy will this conversation allow?
  • Can the dichotomies of our democracy’s politics (left and right in theatrical combat) prevail?
  • How can we sanction a new way of discerning truth-telling, finding each other credible?

These are enormously challenging questions that will face us, likely to increasingly dominate social, political, scientific, economic and cultural conversations for the 21st Century. Whatever else may be suggested by the trajectories of today, they will likely center on the concern for what is happening to our Earth.As a Christian congregation, these are also profoundly faith-questions, questions that call the church to conversation. We’re good at conversations – we’re also good at hearing diverse thoughts and plans. We have that recurrent Biblical mandate: “Do not fear!” If we fail to have the conversation regarding “whither this Earth” within communities of faith, someone will assume a role of expertise and authority in a way that will violate all of us.

These are some thoughts about a future for Peace. What are your ideas? What trajectories do you sense? It’s time, on this 75th Anniversary, to pause long enough to ask that question.

Pastor’s Pen for September 2019

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Luther & Lilian Anderson December 1946

Luther & Lilian Anderson, December 1946

I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth.

So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth.

– 1 Corinthians 3:6-7

 

 

Beloved of God,

The Letter of Call from the Lutheran Board of Home Missions was dated January 14, 1944, and it was directed to a seminarian in his senior year at Augustana Theological Seminary in Rock Island, Illinois.  Though it would be six months before the candidate was approved for ordination, he’d already been identified by the Board as a good fit for a new mission start that was to be established in the “southwest section of the city of Seattle.” Starting annual salary:  $2,100; with a housing allowance “not to exceed $60 a month for rent.”  The seminarian’s name? Luther Anderson.

Luther said YES to the Call, and on September 10, 1944, he conducted his first worship service as the mission’s founding pastor.  There was no building—that would come two years later.  Worship was held in an E. C. Hughes School portable classroom.  Years later, on the occasion of the congregation’s 50th anniversary, Pastor Anderson shared this remembrance:

“The first service was memorable. It was my first service as a young ordained pastor. Eighteen attended that first worship; there were only 15 when I pronounced the benediction. One lady left early to fulfill a promise to her husband, another fainted and was taken home! I wondered what my ministry was to become.”

It was while serving Peace that Luther met and then married his wife Lilian in July 1946.  (Lilian, like Luther, was a child of a Lutheran pastor.  She was born in China and lived there for many of her early years.)  A new Call in 1949 took Luther and Lilian from Peace Lutheran to First Lutheran Church in East Orange, New Jersey, where he served until 1960.  In 1960, he accepted a Call from First Lutheran Church in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, where he remained until retirement in 1985.  Retirement, however, didn’t last long.  In 1986 he accepted a call to serve as Assistant Pastor at All Saints Lutheran Church in Tamarac, Florida; a position he served for the rest of his life. Pastor Anderson died in April of 2002, and two months ago we received word from their son Eric Anderson that Lilian passed away on June 12th of this year. We also received another communication from Eric.  It came while I was on vacation—and it came as a total surprise: Luther and Lilian Anderson had left a bequest to Peace in their will.   Eric sent paperwork for us to fill out, but we still didn’t know the amount of this legacy gift.  On August 20, I sent Eric the following email correspondence to Eric:

We are both surprised and grateful that your parents Luther and Lilian felt such affection for Peace that they would choose to include the congregation in their final tithe.  What a tremendous gesture!

We are in the midst of our 75th capital campaign right now, building on the momentum of the congregation’s 75th anniversary.  This all comes to a culmination on Sunday, November 24th.  A major project we’re engaged in at present is the updating and refurbishment of the narthex.   We want the building, both inside and out, to reflect the vibrant nature of our growing community.  Our narthex redesign effort is aimed toward that goal.  I think that utilizing your parents’ legacy gift to support this effort would be very fitting and would further serve to inspire others.  Can you tell us the scope of your parents’ gift?    Depending on the size of their gift, there may be additional areas where their gift could be applied.  Thank you again.  Yours in Christ,

Erik Kindem

That evening, after a council meeting in which the question of capital project funding figured prominently, I checked my email.  Eric Anderson had responded.  The amount of Luther and Lilian’s final tithe gift to Peace would be $27,083 (!!!)   Immediately, I wrote back:

WOW!  What astounding generosity!  I’m overcome.  After finishing our monthly church council meeting I found your email in my inbox.  What a tremendous gift!

The God-timing of Luther and Lilian’s gift is amazing.  September 10th will be the 75th anniversary of Luther’s first worship service at Peace.  I wish I could tell both him and Lilian that Peace, after ups and downs, is a joyous and vibrant community with a keen since of faith-centered welcome and a strong community outreach beyond its doors.  Your parents’ final act of generosity will be such a powerful witness and testimony to the current people of Peace.  We look forward eagerly to receiving the gift.  Our desire will be to put the gift to work right away in the remodeling effort I described previously, which builds on the very physical structure that your father was instrumental in establishing…  Soli Deo Gloria!  – Erik Kindem

In his first letter to the Corinthians Paul reminds that community who gets the credit when good things happen in ministry:   “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth.”

The seeds of what would become Peace Lutheran Church were sown before Luther Anderson arrived on the scene.  (See my Pastor’s Pen article from September 2018 as well as the History of Peace Series available on our website.) And after his time of watering those seeds, the continuing formation of Peace was passed on to other leaders, each of whom in the ensuing decades brought their own gifts to bear.  And God gave the growth.  No one could have predicted that Peace would hold such a strong place in the Andersons’ hearts 75 years after Luther’s ministry here began…no one but God.

Luther and Lilian Anderson knew something about the generosity of God.  No doubt they experienced it growing up in the household of faith.  But I wonder if, as they witnessed Peace families offering time, resources, and sweat equity to establish this congregation, a new layer of understanding about God’s generosity didn’t cement itself within them.

Through their years in ministry after leaving Peace, their knowledge of what God could accomplish with and through them and the congregations they served continued to grow.  During the 25 years they served in Fort Lauderdale many changes were afoot in the larger world, as millions of people from across the US and around the world came to call Florida home.  As Fort Lauderdale grew and changed during this period, so did Pastor Anderson’s vision of the ministry. He expanded the influence of the church outside its walls, starting one of the first Cooperative Feeding Programs in the area, and became an integral player in refugee relocation programs—particularly those dealing with Asian refugees. Over his lifetime Pastor Anderson was instrumental in the resettlement and sponsorship of well over 250 refugees from around the world.  And he participated in numerous organizations as part of his social ministry.

Luther and Lilian knew that the gifts they’d received and the assets they’d saved through lifelong, faithful stewardship were meant to be passed on.  Their tremendous legacy gift supporting the mission of Peace affirms that truth.  75 years later, their affection for this congregation and its mission rings out loud and clear… “And God gave the growth.”  

As we enter the final three months of this 75th anniversary year, culminating in our celebration on November 24, there are many opportunities for giving.  I hope the Andersons’ example will inspire you—as it has me—to reach more deeply and participate more fully in the efforts to equip our facilities for faithful ministry in the next 75 years.

 

The LORD appeared to Abraham by the oaks of Mamre, as he sat at the entrance of his tent in the heat of the day. He looked up and saw three men standing near him.  When he saw then, he ran from the tent entrance to meet them, and bowed down to the ground.  He said, “My lord, if I find favor with you, do not pass by your servant.  Let a little water be brought, and wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree.  Let me bring a little bread, that you may refresh yourselves, and after that you may pass on—since you have come to your servant.”  And they said, “Do as you said.”

– Genesis 18:1-5

Beloved of God,

This story from Genesis shows Abraham to be the consummate host of three unexpected guests who show up of the blue.  Abraham offers them food and refreshment, and when they give him the green light, he sends his servants scurrying to make it so.  Only later is it revealed that these unexpected guests bring crucial news about the promise Abraham and Sarah had received from God— that they would be the progenitors of a whole new people.  These guests, later tradition suggests, are none other than the Holy Three.

We all have stories of hospitality—received or given—and how they have changed us.  As I write, I’ve just returned with Chris from our 20th anniversary get-away to an Italian Villa bed and breakfast (in Tacoma of all places!), where we experienced the marvelous hospitality of our hosts Toni and Martin.  While visiting with other guests during a sumptuous breakfast the morning of our anniversary, we received a recommendation for a small, intimate restaurant where we could celebrate in style.  We took the recommendation and ran with it and, boy, are we glad we did, for it added a wonderfully rich layer to our celebration and to our appreciation of excellent hospitality.[1]

Twenty-two years ago this month, while driving back from the Midwest after dropping my son Nathan off at college, I was the recipient of another unforgettable experience of hospitality—one totally unexpected.  After putting my “pedal to the metal” on a marathon leg of driving with the goal of getting home to Portland as soon as possible, I arrived at Coeur de Alene, Idaho, thoroughly tuckered out.  Unable to keep my eyes open any longer, but not wanting to shell out for motel room, I pulled off I-90 at a rest stop just east of town.  Finding a payphone (no cell phone back then!) I made a call to my still-newish girlfriend Chris Hauger.  All I got was her voicemail.  So I let her know that was taking a break at a rest stop outside of Coeur de Alene, too tired to drive any further.

Earlier that summer, Chris had occasion to introduce me to dear family friends Jeanne and John.  Chris had met Jeanne and her children in Ethiopia when she was a girl and their families had stayed in close touch ever since.  Jeanne and John, it turns out, lived in Coeur de Alene, and when Chris received my phone message she —unbeknownst to me—went into high gear.  While I was taping newspapers over the windows of my van and preparing to lie down for a few hours, Chris was reaching out to Jeanne and John by phone.  She told John how concerned she was for me; that I was at a rest stop somewhere outside of Coeur de Alene; that I needed a safe place to get some rest before continuing on.  John assured Chris: “There is only one rest stop it could be and I know just where it is.”  Before they hung up, they’d hatched a plan that John would search me out using Chris’ description of my van, and offer me lodging at their home for the night.

As I lay in the back of my Dodge Caravan behind papered windows—just on the edge of sleep—with nasty visions whirling about in my exhausted brain of what might happen if somebody tried to break into my van while I slept, I was startled by a loud knocking on my front window.  Bolting up quickly as adrenaline flowed, I prepared myself for whatever I might encounter on the other side of that window.  Finally, opening my door cautiously, I looked out and there was a big burly man with a mischievous smile on his face.   Holding out a phone, he said, “IT’S FOR YOU.”

It was John.  And the voice of the other end of the phone?  It belonged to Chris.  “John and Jeanne are ready to put you up for the night, Erik.  Is that alright?”  Alright?!  YES—AND THEN SOME!  So I pulled the papers from my windows, followed John to their house in town, and was welcomed into the safety and comfort of their home for the first time, treated like a long lost son.  The next morning, after a hardy breakfast, I took my leave, deeply appreciative of Jeanne and John’s hospitality and mindful once more of the way grace can show itself in our lives when we least expect it.

From that time on, John and Jeanne’s home has been a regular way-station for us as we’ve journeyed—first as a couple and then with our children—to Kindem Family Reunions in Whitefish, Montana.  This year, on our way back from Whitefish at the end of July, we’ll be stopping in Coeur de Alene once more.  This time so we can attend Jeanne’s memorial service; where sadness at her passing will be mingled with gratitude for the deep friendship and hospitality which has been such an incalculable gift through the years.

Wherever your summer takes you, I pray for experiences of hospitality—received and given; for sacred encounters in which grace becomes known.

 

[1] The restaurant, in case you’re interested, was Over the Moon Café, located in Tacoma’s Opera Alley.

“We sing the glories of this pillar of fire, the brightness of which is not diminished even when its light is divided and borrowed. For it is fed by the melting wax which the bees, your servants, have made for the substance of this candle.”

– From The Exsultet, sung each year at the Great Vigil of Easter

“Go to the fields and gardens, and you shall learn it is the pleasure of the bee to gather honey of the flower. But it is also the pleasure of the flower to yield its honey to the bee.  For to the bee a flower is the fountain of life.  And to the flower a bee is a messenger of love.”

– Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

Beloved of God,

“The bees, your servants…”  I love that line—and listen for it each time the Exsultet is sung during the Easter Vigil.  Truer words were never spoken, as I’ve been learning of late while reading two books that trace the natural history of bees: BUZZ: The Nature and Necessity of Bees, by Thor Hanson, and Bee Time: Lessons from the Hive, by Mark Wilson.

The first bees evolved from wasps about 125 million years ago—soon (in geologic time anyway) after flowering plants begin to appear.  These primordial bees made the transition from being predators to being gatherers of nectar and pollen from flowers—an innovation that initiated an explosion in the diversity and abundance of flowering plants and bee species, enhancing the survival of both.  This exchange between bees and flowers, as Wilson points out, is pretty basic:  Flowers provide sugar in nectar and protein in pollen; and bees transfer pollen from flower to flower as they collect the nectar, thereby fertilizing the flower. (Gibran, in the quote above, gives this utilitarian arrangement an eloquent touch.)

One delicious byproduct of this encounter—honey—has served as an important food source for human beings ever since our pre-human ancestors began walking upright on African soil.  In fact, recent studies of early human diets suggest that a significant source of calories, trace vitamins and minerals upon which our forebears depended for survival came from “hunting” honey—a practice that continues in many parts of the world today.  Over the eons, human beings have been fascinated by the complex cooperation that allows honey bee colonies to thrive.   Along the way we’ve discovered many uses for the byproducts of bees, including the beeswax from which the candles we use in worship are made.  Our Scriptures turn to bees to capture holy things and sacred promises: The psalmist enlists honey to help describe the treasure which is God’s word: “The ordinances of the Lord are true and righteous altogether. More to be desired are they than gold, even much fine gold; sweeter also than honey, and drippings of the honeycomb.” (Ps 19:8-10) And to extol the virtues of the Promised Land—“a land flowing with milk and honey.”

But the more than 20,000 species of bees in our world, with their wildly diverse patterns of living, have a role which goes far beyond satisfying the sweet tooth, extending the daylight, and embroidering literature. They are vitally important to human survival because of their pollinating role in agricultural and natural ecosystems.  Approximately one-third of all crops benefit from or are dependent on insect pollination—mostly by bees, a reality to which the vast majority of us, unless we’re farmers or orchardists, are oblivious.  When we bite into an apple or crunch down on a handful of almonds, the image of the humble bee likely doesn’t come to mind, nor a sigh of “thanks” escape our lips—but they should!

The collapse of honeybee colonies in recent decades (dubbed “colony collapse disorder” or CCD) along with the accelerating disappearance of less common bee species and the endangerment of others, has caught the world’s attention.  And that of our worship planning team.  This decline is not caused by a single factor but by a complex mix of factors, including the widespread use of insecticides and pesticides, disease outbreaks, and the reduction in the diversity and abundance of nectar- and pollen-producing flowers.   A crisis is afoot that portends massive implications for our world.  As we mark this month’s Season of Creation at Peace we’ll be learning more about bees and pollinators, and the role they play in our fields, gardens, and orchards.  All this in the service of revitalizing our God-given vocation as Earthkeepers.  Come learn with us from the bee how to be more faithful servants!

 

There in God’s garden stands the Tree of Wisdom, whose leaves hold forth the healing of the nations:

Tree of all knowledge, Tree of all compassion, Tree of all beauty.

Thorns not its own are tangled in its foliage; our greed has starved it, our despite has choked it.

Yet, look! It lives!  Its grief has not destroyed it nor fire consumed it.

See how its branches reach to us in welcome; hear what the Voice says, “Come to me, ye weary!

Give me your sickness, give me all your sorrow, I will give blessing.”

There in God’s Garden, #342 in Evangelical Lutheran Worship

Words by Pécselyi Király Imre (Hungary, c. 1590—c. 1641)

Beloved of God,

Toward the end of the film masterpiece, Return of the King, the last of three films based on The Lord of the Rings trilogy by J.R.R. Tolkien, as the dark minions of Mordor mass for battle and the end of all that is good seems inevitable, the story takes us to the White City of Gondor—Minas Tirith.  Minas Tirith represents the nations’ last, best hope, but the steward of its throne has tipped the scale toward madness, and now the fate of the whole inhabited world lies on a knife’s edge.  At the pinnacle of the alabaster city’s mountain bulkhead, in the plaza high above the plain where the decisive battle will be joined, stands the White Tree of Gondor.  It is a symbol of the nation’s long kingly heritage, its dignity, wisdom, endurance and fruitfulness.  But this once great tree has lost all its leaves, and the bare limbs that remain seem to portend that the noble tree, like the nation itself, is destined for oblivion.  But as the siege of Gondor begins and casualties mount, we watch as, inexplicably, a single white blossom on the tree—unheralded and unnoticed—opens; a sign that, in spite of all evidence to the contrary, all is not lost, and a future with hope is still a possibility. It’s a stirring moment but one that is easily missed.

This month the Science-Policy Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services (IPBES) of the United Nations issued a summary about the state of species on our planet home that was hard to miss.  It was shocking.  Elements of the natural world—both plants and animals—are declining globally at rates unprecedented in human history.  As many as one million species are under threat.  In addition, the rate of species extinctions is accelerating, with grave impacts on people around the world now likely.  “The health of ecosystems on which we and all other species depend is deteriorating more rapidly than ever,” says IPBES Chair, Sir Robert Watson.  “We are eroding the very foundations of our economies, livelihoods, food security, health and quality of life worldwide.”[1]  What are we to do with this information?

From earliest days, Easter has been celebrated as the “8th day of creation” because in raising Christ from death God has ushered in a whole new world.  Baptismal fonts through the ages have often taken on octagonal shapes because of this very recognition. Questions that God’s people keep alive during this Easter season include:

  • How do we as a community which gathers around the Risen Christ live the resurrection life?
  • How can we live in such a way that our choices and commitments mirror the risen life to which our Lord calls us?
  • How can new patterns of living support the renewal that his rising presages?

These questions pertain to the choices we make each day and are firmly rooted in our care for the neighbor—which includes the many species with whom we share planet Earth and on which our own survival as a species depends.

One of my new(er) favorite hymns is the one quoted above, by Hungarian hymnwriter Pécselyi Király Imre. Imre, a Lutheran pastor, lived during the Reformation era, a time of tumultuous change when every strata of society was undergoing sea change. Originally fashioned as a meditation on Jesus’ seven last words from the cross with fifteen stanzas,   contemporary hymnwriter Erik Routley provides a paraphrase of six of those stanzas in the form we have in our hymnal. Using the great image of the Tree as both Cross and Christ, the hymn lifts up the healing and saving role of the crucified and risen One while at the same time demarking the “thorns” that threaten the Tree. What I find particularly moving about this hymn is how it speaks truthfully about the threats we face without allowing those threats to undercut the testimony of hope. Like that single bloom on the White Tree of Gondor, this hymn testifies to hope at a time when hopelessness threatens to overwhelm.

The IPBES report from a group of global scientists includes a call to action. It tells us it’s not too late to make a difference, but only if we start now at every level from local to global. “Through ‘transformative change’, nature can still be conserved, restored and used sustainably – this is also key to meeting most other global goals. By transformative change, we mean a fundamental, system-wide reorganization across technological, economic and social factors, including paradigms, goals and values.” The report omits the term “spiritual” from the list of factors, but for us who follow in Jesus’ footsteps it is essential, and in fact grounds, informs, and abets all the others. As the stories from the book of Acts make clear throughout this Easter season, Christians are people primed for transformative change! The incarnation and the resurrection of Christ affirm the sacredness of this Earthly realm, and the pouring out of the Holy Spirit on God’s fledgling people exemplifies God’s commitment in Christ to “make all things new.” For followers of Christ, despair is never an option; hope gives shape to every dream and endeavor we set our hearts to. With crisis in the natural world looming, we have the opportunity and obligation to get out in front and lead by example.

 

[1] You can find the summary here: https://www.un.org/sustainabledevelopment/blog/2019/05/nature-decline-unprecedented-report/

“Thus says the LORD: Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old.

I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you perceive it?”

– Isaiah 43:18-19

Beloved of God,

We know them—people dominated by narratives from their past; narratives that hold them captive; narratives from which they are unable to extract themselves.  There may be good reasons for this.  And yet, staying stuck in old patterns exacts a price on the present, and can prevent us from seeing the promise and the possibility of an alternative future.  We know them, and at times we are them.

While I was in Minnesota recently, visiting my mother Shirley in her final days, I was simultaneously going through personal items at my parents’ home as we prepared to put the house on the market.  The first night there, I found a neat pile of items from the past that had been collected and set aside.  A few of them delighted me—the “lost” penny collection from my childhood—including two WW2 vintage aluminum pennies—which I was convinced my younger brothers had raided to buy candy at the corner store.  And the wonderful handwritten notes (in fine cursive script!) I’d received from Montana classmates after moving to Minnesota in the midst of my 4th grade year.  Those I brought home.

There were other items that didn’t make the return trip to Seattle.  Most of these consisted of letters I had written to my parents through the years, some of them during times of significant trial.  As I began reviewing them I could feel the weight of those trying times begin to bear down on me once more.  After a quick phone call to a confidant, they found their way into the recycle bin.  The relief was palpable.  I would not allow bygone events to wriggle their way into my present or my future.

The prophet Isaiah says as much to God’s people as they prepare to leave the land of their exile and head home:

“That old material that once dominated your lives?—leave it behind. I’ve got something better in store for you—in fact it’s unfolding right now, and if you pay attention you can see it!” 

This is God’s message to us all in the death and resurrection of Christ: those old narratives and conflicts, the old prisons, the personal and collective hells that have kept us captive have been breached once and for all.  God is doing a new thing, and it is marvelous in our eyes!  The future is OPEN!

Holy Week and Easter Blessings!

Pastor Erik

 

“Judging others makes us blind, but love gives us sight.

By judging others we blind ourselves to our own evil and

to the grace which others are just as entitled to as we are.”

– Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Discipleship

Beloved of God,

Their names run the gamut from the 16th century English poet John Donne to the two 18th century slaves-turned-abolitionists Harriet Tubman and Sojourner Truth; from the 5th century’s Saint Patrick to the 20th century’s Saint Oscar Romero.  What do they have in common?  In each case, their commemoration date or feast day on the church calendar falls on a Sunday during Lent this year.  Add to these the name Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Lutheran pastor and resister during Hitler’s 3rd Reich, and we end up with a season peopled by followers of Christ who demonstrated uncommon courage through acts of love and discipleship in the face of fear and institutional injustice.  Look for their names, their faces, and their deeds to be woven through our worship life as the season of Lent unfolds.

Each of these extraordinary persons lived out their vocations in full understanding of their need for community; and each has something to teach us about the value of community in our 21st century world—a world which, though more socially “connected” than ever, is marked by estranged relationships and the inability to talk across “enemy” lines.  The life stories of these diverse witnesses inspire us to see our own with fresh eyes.

It was the poet and pastor Donne who penned the lines:

               “No man is an island entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main…

any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind.” [1]

This is the reality we seek to live each week when we gather as God’s beloved community around the Eucharistic meal.

Our family has felt the embrace of this beloved community in a profound way over the last month in the aftermath of Kai’s sledding accident.[2]  Church community, school community, neighborhood community, medical community—all of them, all of you—rallied to weave a dense layer of prayer and care around our family in the face of trauma.  We lift our hearts in gratitude to God for you—tangible emblems of God’s ever present, compassionate accompaniment.

There are many examples of ongoing trauma besetting our world.  By refusing to allow fear to control or silence them, these ordinary people named above became extraordinary witnesses, telling the truth, breaking down barriers, challenging the status quo, putting their own lives at risk while leading others to freedom.

Minutes before being assassinated while presiding at Holy Communion in San Salvador, Archbishop Oscar Romero told his congregation: “Those who surrender to the service of the poor through love of Christ will live like the grain of wheat that…only apparently dies. If it were not to die, it would remain a solitary grain.  The harvest comes becomes of the grain that dies… We know that every effort to improve society above all when society is so full of injustice and sin, is an effort that God blesses, that God wants, that God demands of us.” 

If Bonhoeffer is right—that judging blinds us but love gives us sight—then perhaps this Lenten season can become an opportunity for practicing less judging and more loving.  The traditional disciplines of Lent—prayer, fasting, almsgiving—sets us up beautifully to do just that, and to follow our Lord on a pilgrim’s journey that will lead us from death to life.

With you on the Way,

Pastor Erik

 

[1] From MEDITATION XVII, Devotions upon Emergent Occasions

[2] By God’s mercy, Kai’s healing is progressing well.

“Oh, the house of denial has thick walls and very small windows

and whoever lives there, little by little, will turn to stone.”

– Mary Oliver

 “Something there is that doesn’t love a wall…”

– Robert Frost

Beloved of God,

One of the great motivations for us to move forward with our plans to “refresh” our sanctuary and narthex with new carpet, paint, lighting, furniture, and windows, is to make our building space and facilities match the bright, vibrant and welcoming nature of our community.  Phases 1 and 2 of this project call for us to focus on spaces within the building, but conversations will inevitably lead us to evaluate the outside of our building as well—the face we project to the neighborhood and community beyond our doors.

We’ve done quite a bit in recent years—via God’s Work-Our Hands projects, patio events, raingardens and cisterns, Tiny House build, ramps, little library, solar panels, HUB work—to give neighbors a view into the priorities of this congregation that gathers at 39th and Thistle.   When we replace the westside narthex windows (Phase 2) with ones which are more energy efficient and which allow us to visually connect with the world outside our building (and visa versa), we’ll be taking another step toward seeing our mission more clearly.  That mission to “venture beyond ourselves” (Vision Statement) calls us to always be looking for ways to connect with the people and world around us; ways to join in the work God is already doing there.

While we’ve been moving forward with our facility plan, the news cycle in the greater world has been dominated by conversation about the need—or not—for a wall along the U.S. Mexico border.  Poet Mary Oliver, who died last month, reminds us that walls not only separate people and things, they damage the souls of those who erect them. (See excerpt of her poem above.)  The next line of her poem reads: “In those years I did everything I could do and I did it in the dark— I mean without understanding.” Entrenched positions put blinders on us from which there is no escape.

During this Season of Light we are called to follow Christ beyond our personal or corporate entrenchments. To remind us how difficult this can be, as February begins we hear the story of Jesus’ sermon in this hometown of Nazareth. At first, the community seems to welcome his message – proclaiming liberty to captives and letting the oppressed go free sounds perfectly fine to them.  But the ensuing conversation devolves into an argument about insiders and outsiders and the next thing you know, the hometown crowd is ready to throw Jesus over the cliff!

St. Paul, who planted many congregations throughout the Mediterranean world and who struggled to help them grasp the implications of being grafted into Christ, spoke powerfully about the importance of reconciliation, which at its heart is about breaking down barriers so relationships can be restored. In Ephesians he writes: “For Christ is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups (Jew and Gentile) into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us.”  And in 2 Corinthians Paul testifies to the God “who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation.”

In his poem, Mending Wall, Robert Frost takes us with him as he and his neighbor go through their annual process of “setting the wall between us” which weather, man, and beast have breached. In the middle of this exercise, Frost wonders aloud why they do it.  “Good fences make good neighbors,” comes his neighbor’s reply.  And Frost challenges: Why do they make good neighbors?  Isn’t it where there are cows?  But here there are no cows.  Before I built a wall I’d ask to know what I was walling in or walling out, and to whom I was like to give offence.  Something there is that doesn’t love a wall, that wants it down.”  In the end, Frost concludes of his neighbor, “He moves in darkness as it seems to me, not of woods only and the shade of trees.”

A good deal of the opposition Jesus experienced in his ministry—including in his hometown—had to do with how he pushed the presumed boundaries of God’s circle of care outward, so that it encompassed those whom law and tradition had walled out.  When at his crucifixion the curtains of the Temple are torn in two from top to bottom—the last wall between God and humanity is breached.  But we human beings are good at building and maintaining walls and fences.  And so the work of erecting them in locations both new and old continues ad nauseam.

Yet, however much we find ourselves tilting toward the task of erecting or reinforcing barriers that would divide, Jesus shows us—and great poets remind us—not to mindlessly accept the convention of wall building, but to bend will and body instead to the task of their dismantling.

Peace,

Pastor Erik

Dr. Eldon Olson, retired pastor and member of Peace, is the author of this month’s Pastor’s Pen column.

“Stir up your power, Lord Christ, and come!”

I was staying for few days at our Seminary in Oakland, California several years ago and happened to be there for the first weeks of Advent. On the first day of Advent, instead of the regular morning Matins service, the entire Seminary community met in the chapel to ‘stir up’ the ingredients of Christmas Fruit Cake – the old-fashioned kind with all sorts of fruits, candies, nuts, and spices. They observed this annual ritual of fruit-cake production since each of the opening prayers for Sunday worship for the weeks of Advent begins with the petition “Stir Up!” (“Stir up your power, Lord Christ, and come!”, “Stir up our hearts, O Lord!”,  “Stir up the wills of your faithful people!”, and again “Stir up your power and come!”).  Although I’m not a big fan of fruitcake, the ritual of beginning Advent with a festive community appeal to “stir up” left a lasting impression.

The phrase “stir up” could have at least two nuances. On the one hand, it could mean to get organized, to start up a momentum, an impulse that gets things going. This suggests some sort of collection, gathering, or assembly – something that calls otherwise unfocused and diverse people to get their collective act together. This is certainly part of Advent’s message – it’s time to awaken to a new year, a new collective attention to the season of beginning, birthing, or new life. Wake up! Come together! Pay Attention! Those of you who would prefer to slumber through winter’s hibernations,  “Stir up!”

John the Baptizer, who enters our Sunday texts as Advent begins, brings the more jarring meaning to the call to ‘stir up!”.  His intention is to provoke a revolution, incite a reformation, instigate a rebellion.  “Stir up!”  “Repent!” shouted to a crowd to arouse them to action.  When this message is conveyed by the strange figure of John it is a loud harangue by a long-haired and unwashed prophetic character.  Clad in hippie-type tatters of animal skins, the call isn’t simply to come together for a new beginning – it’s much more provocative.  It’s more like Paul Revere, riding through the night with news that a rebellion is upon us – not just another new beginning, but a cataclysmic event that will set your world on its edge.  With this announcement, our collective consciousness will never be the same again.  Whatever is coming will be momentous!

Another Biblical image for this is the rather strange image of time itself having gotten filled up – “in the fullness of time.”  Literally, it’s that Time itself is now pregnant!  The clock isn’t just monotonously ticking off its usual hours and days so we can be lulled by the predictability of its tick-tock – the very clock is about to explode!  Those who use this image even designate the struggles of this Advent moment as the “labor pains” of the coming delivery.  You’ve heard about the consistency of seven days a week, seven days of creation – well, you’re about to witness the eighth day, a day no one has ever imagined before.  Or another image – the tiny seed that no one notices is about to burst into a huge tree that can shelter every bird in creation!

How do you begin to describe something that’s beyond human imagining?  How do you wrap your head around a new creation, populated by a new humanity, subject to a new structuring of human behaviors and relationships? That’s the challenge of Advent!  It’s mind boggling! Our normal response to news of such complexity or magnitude might well be to become overwhelmed.  But the appeal to “stir up” comes to us each year with the nuanced response – be excited and alert to the promises of a coming Messiah, and be bothered by the illusions and evils this Messiah comes to dispel.

But wake up! Or better yet, “Stir up!”