Broken lines, broken strings, Broken threads, broken springs,

Broken idols, broken heads, People sleeping in broken beds

Ain’t no use jiving, Ain’t no use joking, Everything is broken

– Bob Dylan, Everything Is Broken[1]

Dearly Beloved,

The lyrics of Bob Dylan’s song, Everything is Broken, describe the human condition about as concisely as anyone has.  Things don’t work out like they’re supposed to; everything is broken.  Islands in the Caribbean and states along the Gulf— along with countries half a world away—have experienced this reality viscerally the past month in the wake of devastating hurricanes and floods.  As recovery efforts continue, questions about the storms’ relationships to our changing climate are close behind.  Climatologists began making links to this possibility decades ago, but instead of following the science, many of our nation’s elected leaders and the constituencies they serve still have their heads stuck in the sand. Their intransigence on this issue is one more sign of our collective brokenness. As the gut-check we call Corporate Confession puts it: “We are captive to sin and cannot free ourselves.”

Over the eons, Earth has developed finely tuned feedback systems.  For decades now those systems have been relaying messages to us loud and clear, but for a variety of reasons we have failed to heed them.  In their book “Big World/Small Planet,” Johan Rockström and Mattias Klum describe how the Holocene Epoch—a period of tremendous stability and natural harmony for Earth that began roughly 11,700 years ago—is ending, and how we’re entering the Anthropocene Epoch—an era of massive human impacts on Earth.   This shift, which began with the mid-18^th century industrial revolution, accelerated in the mid-20th century.  “Our way of life,” they write, “is threatening to trigger catastrophic tipping points that could knock the planet out of its stable state…The world as we know it has become an increasingly complex, turbulent, and globalized place, not only socially and economically but also ecologically.”

Seem like every time you stop and turn around Something else just hit the ground

Broken cutters, broken saws, Broken buckles, broken laws,

Broken bodies, broken bones, Broken voices on broken phones

Take a deep breath, feel like you’re chokin’, Everything is broken

Michael Truog and Deb Hagen-Lukens of our congregation recently attended a climate training event led by Al Gore and his Climate Reality organization.  They will be sharing what they learned on two different occasions this month—the first, during Adult Sunday class on October 1st and the second on Wednesday, October 18th at 7pm.  I hope you’ll take advantage of one of these opportunities to hear more on this issue.

The themes we’re exploring this month as we commemorate the 500th Anniversary of the Reformation movement are: Liberated by God’s Grace (10/8); Humans are Not for Sale (10/15); Creation is Not For Sale (10/22); Salvation is Not for Sale (10/29).  At first glance these themes may not seem related to the discussion above, but they are.  The liberation God offers us in Christ includes liberation from fantasies about our right to exploit this good Earth without regard to limits and without respect to the natural systems which make this planet hospitable to life. Hope for the future God is working to bring to fruition can only spring from truth telling; never fantasies or falsehoods.

If mending this broken world is what God is up to in Jesus—and I believe it is—then our part begins with a fearless inventory of all things broken—personal, social, ecological. Metanoia is the New Testament word for this process by which we, through the gift of grace and the power of the Spirit, turn away from the path which would have us place ourselves at the center of the universe, and turn toward the path that leads toward love of God, love of neighbor, and love of Earth.  As we make this “about face” we find ourselves restored to the vocation God gave us in the very beginning—that of Earthkeeper.

In the midst of all the  challenges we face, we stake our hope in the Word who became flesh, whose love is “deeper than all that is wrong”; who uses us, fragile clay jars that we are, to bear good news in this broken world. – Pastor Erik

[1] © BOB DYLAN MUSIC OBO SPECIAL RIDER MUSIC “Everything is Broken” was released on his 1989 album, Oh Mercy.

“If you don’t know the kind of person I am

and I don’t know the kind of person you are

a pattern that others made may prevail in the world

and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.”

– William Stafford ^[1]

Beloved of God,

The turn of the calendar to September initiates a series of shifts in our life together as a congregation, most notably in our worship life and Christian Education programming.  Add to these the start of fall school terms, sports practices and games, music lessons, and the like, and it makes for schedules that can feel overwhelming at times.  How do we find our way through the thicket of appointments and obligations?  When do we breathe?

I invite you to see your involvement in our congregational life not as one more in a series of obligations but as an opportunity to connect more deeply with others who share the journey of faith, and with the Source of faith and life itself.  At a time when our culture is fragmenting and increasingly virulent rhetoric threatens to undermine the search for common ground, Christ’s presence in Word and Sacrament gives us solid ground on which to stand.  In the company of Jesus we experience an acceptance that touches the marrow of our souls.  In the company of Jesus we learn to see each other through compassionate eyes.  In the company of Jesus we can risk sharing the hopes and longings that animate our hearts.

The opening lines of William Stafford’s poem, “A Ritual to Read to Each Other” (a new favorite) aptly describe the dangers we face living in a fragmented, disconnected world.  Absent a caring community where we can know others and be known, “a pattern that others made may prevail in the world and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.” There are many entities active in the world which seek to bend our minds toward their “truth”; toward how they would have us see the world and act in it.  Being a person of faith means remaining awake and vigilant about which voices we listen to and whose steps we follow.  Incorporating Christian Education—whether it be adult forums, Sunday School, Bible study, confirmation class—into the pattern of our lives keeps us awake to ways of practicing our faith day in and day out.  Stafford’s poem continues:

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,

a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break

sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood

storming out to play through the broken dike.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant’s tail,

but if one wanders the circus won’t find the park,

I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty

to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,

a remote important region in all who talk:

though we could fool each other, we should consider—

lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,

or a breaking line may discourage them back to

sleep;

the signals we give — yes or no, or maybe —

should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.

When it comes to the “mutual life” we share as citizens, as human beings, as Earthlings, Stafford’s warning strikes deep.  So much seems to be up for grabs; so many routes into the future look like beelines into dark places.

But the hope which is ours through our crucified and risen Lord is that no matter how deep or endless the dark may seem, it cannot and will not thwart God’s plan to redeem and heal all things.  As Easter reveals: even the deepest darkness—death—could not eclipse the Light which shone in the manger at Bethlehem and burst out from the empty tomb.  Each of us will make choices this fall.  I invite you to invest yourself in our congregational life.  To choose from among the many doorways and opportunities that have been set out for connecting to Christ Jesus and to others.

With you on the way,

Pastor Erik

[1] “A Ritual to Read to Each Other” from The Way It Is: New and Selected Poems. Copyright © 1998 by William Stafford.

Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm;

for love is strong as death, passion fierce as the grave.

– Song of Solomon 8:6

Beloved of God,

Our family will be heading on an extended road trip this month; one that’ll take us from Seattle to Whitefish, MT, for the Kindem family reunion; then on to Havre, my boyhood home; across North Dakota to a Minnesota family camp where we’ll connect with Chris’ former music ministry colleagues; then on to the Twin Cities to see my parents and other family and friends. The territory we’ll traverse going and coming will evoke memories of years gone by, and we look forward to sharing those memories and places with Kai and Naomi—as well as adding new ones. I relish the chance to point out specific landmarks that stand behind the boyhood stories I’ve told, and to tell of other experiences I had “when I was your age.”

On the way back west, we’ll stop at places in South Dakota and Montana that have a place in Kindem and Hauger family lore. Along with the planned adventures, there will be, no doubt, some unplanned, spontaneous ones because that’s how it goes on road trips. Even when traversing familiar ground, we’ll keep our eyes peeled for new discoveries.

Throughout July and August our Sunday readings from the Hebrew Scriptures will trace the story of our Biblical patriarchs and matriarchs as they live out their destinies within the frame of God’s covenant with Abraham and Sarah.  In many ways, the drama that Genesis portrays unfolds like an extended road trip. Abraham and Sarah receive a call from God out of the blue, and they leave the settled life they’ve known for a life on the road. That decades-long road trip—chock full of highs and lows (more of the latter than the former)—finds them trekking all over the geography of the Middle East. But it’s the geography of faith that Genesis is most interested in telling about.

What makes these stories so compelling is the fact that the characters in these stories are delivered to us warts and all. Abraham, Sarah, Hagar, Ishmael, Isaac, Rebekah, Esau, Jacob, Rachel, Leah, Dinah, Joseph—not one among them is unblemished. No, they all have their faults, their weaknesses; shadow sides that remain hidden even from themselves. And because of this honesty, we’re encouraged to let down our guards a little, to see ourselves in their stories—and the whole human tribe, with its full spectrum of light and darkness—between the lines of these ancient tales.

Entertaining as they sometimes are, these stories haven’t been passed down from generation to generation for their entertainment value (though they can be that!), but rather because there is something in them that speaks of how God deals with the most enigmatic creature in creation.  As frustrated as the Lord becomes, God never throws in the towel with the human family.  If there’s any better news than this I don’t know what it could be. God is in this relationship “for better or for worse”; God’s passionate love “as fierce as the grave,” will not be denied; it abides. Wherever the summer takes us, let’s hold fast to that truth. For when we do, we’ll be poised to notice the many times and many ways which God companions us, all the way through the alley.

With you on the journey,

Pastor Erik