A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots.  The spirit of the LORD shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the LORD.   – Isaiah 11:1-2

Beloved of God,

For some time it’s been our family tradition to join the “O” Antiphons Advent Procession at St. Mark’s Cathedral on the evening of the First Sunday of Advent.  This year, after a three year hiatus, we returned there once more.  Sitting with my family in the pew (a rare treat!) I recalled other times and places where my soul’s hunger for God and community was fed.  The experience at St. Mark’s brought me solace and connection, as after the service we found ourselves among a circle of friends, old and new, whose lives had entwined with our own along life’s varied path.

There is much about the ‘O’ Antiphons service that draws us: the music, the solemn procession of incense, candles, and banners; the ancient readings and well-crafted prayers; the experience of being one among many within that large, resonant space and within the larger body of Christ.  At the center of the service are the seven “Great ‘O’ Antiphons”  themselves, whose origins date to the reign of Charlemagne (771-814), if not before.  For at least the past 1,200 years, then, these seven have been part of the daily evening prayers of the Western church during the week before Christmas.

O ROOT OF JESSE, which stands for an ensign of the people; before whom the kings keep silence, and unto whom the Gentiles shall make supplication: Come and deliver us, and tarry not.

Each of the seven an­tiphons addresses the Messiah using images drawn from the prophets of Scripture—Wisdom, Lord of Might, Root of Jesse, Key of David, Dawn of the East, King of Nations, Emmanuel.  Each title speaks of the coming One in terms both comforting and challenging.  For example, the “Root of Jesse” antiphon, based on the Isaiah 11 text we’ll hear December 4^th, testifies to one who “with righteousness shall judge the poor…and with the breath of his lips shall slay the wicked.”  This Messiah, the titles make clear, is no “steady as you go” status quo enabler.  The God to whom this Messiah testifies is a DISRUPTING GOD!

Throughout Advent we’re leaning into the holy disruption God intends for this world by coming into flesh among us.

In a world marked by disruptions of all sorts, we prepare ourselves for him whose arrival brings disruption of another kind: the DISRUPTION of injustice; the DISRUPTION of sin; the DISRUPTION of privilege; the DISRUPTION of the status quo.

A fourfold rhythm will mark both our Sunday liturgy and our midweek gatherings:  BREATHING… RELEASING… RECEIVING… REJOICING.  Our posture, during Advent, is one of alertness, as we prepare for the One whose coming brings holy disruption of the kind that is needed to re-create the world, and make it whole.

On the wings of a HOLY WIND, the HOLY SPIRIT breathes HOLY BREATH upon us this season.  Allow this Holy Breath, animating your lungs, to revive your life in community.  Allow it to stir in you, so that the world knows: you will not sit idly by while the world groans in pain.  So that the world knows: Christ the Disruptor is at the door, and he is far from alone.

O ROOT OF JESSE, you reach deep into our hearts, drawing forth our longing for justice: Come and plant within us a passion for your Reign; through the One whom we know as the Root of all righteousness, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Pastor Erik

“Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap; for the measure you give will be the measure you get back.”

Luke 6:38

Beloved of God,

November is a month of Thanksgiving in more ways than one.  It begins with our celebration of ALL THE SAINTS on November 6^th and the lifting up of their legacy to us in faith.  That legacy has been impressed upon me each year as we re­member those from our community who have gone on to join the heavenly chorus.  Some of those Peace saints have chosen to leave a legacy gift so that ministry through our congregation could continue with strength even though they were no longer present to contribute regular offerings.   Some will recall how, on the cusp of our congregation’s 75^th Anniver­sary celebration in 2019, we learned that founding Peace Pastor Luther Anderson and his wife Lilian had left a bequest to Peace in their will.  Their generous gift and foresight helped enable us to complete our narthex remodel project on time.  Talk about God timing!  But more than that, their legacy gift reminded us that building A CULTURE OF GENEROSITY at Peace has been part of our congregation’s DNA from the beginning. (You can read more about the timely gift from the Andersons HERE.)

As we bring our ANNUAL GIVING CAMPAIGN to a conclusion this month, our theme: BUILDING A CULTURE OF GENEROSITY is an invitation to continue the legacy of those Peacefolk who have come before us.  But it’s more than that.  It’s an opportunity to reflect on the impact the ministries of Peace are making in our lives and the lives of our households now and to envision how—through our intentional choice to grow our own generosity—we can make certain that Christ’s mission through Peace will continue to impact lives within and beyond our doors for years to come.

The MISSION MOMENT speakers during this campaign have each testified to the role that cultivating generosity is play­ing in their lives.  Amazingly, during the last three pandemic years new avenues of generosity have been in evidence at Peace, enabling us to continue ministry with strength and purpose in spite of the pressures the pandemic has brought to bear.

Generosity is more than a concept—it is a way of life we are called to make our own. Not out of guilt. Not because someone is twisting our arm.  Not so that we can bargain with God.  We cultivate generosity in our lives because we see such generosity reflected in the very design of the universe, in the superabundance of natural world, the life of Him who emptied himself so that we might be filled.  In the life we share with other siblings in Christ at Peace.

How will we grow our congregation’s “mission footprint” in 2023?  How will we meet the challenges that beset our world while grounding ourselves in the compassion and hope that comes with knowing we are part of the KIN-DOM of God?   Generosity will be a crucial ingredient in how all this plays out.  Our growth in generosity—multiplied like loaves and fishes—will bring our plans and ideas to fruition.  We’ll get there, together.

With you on the Way,

Pastor Erik

“I am grateful to God…when I remember you constantly in my prayers night and day.  Recalling your tears, I long to see you so that I may be filled with joy.  I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that lived first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now, I am sure, lives in you.”

1 Timothy 3:1-3

Beloved Siblings in Christ,

I remember with fondness and gratitude the letters my mother wrote, faithfully and dependably, during the years when I and my young family were separated by the miles from the rest of the family.  Those letters in her neat, careful script (before emails and social media were a thing!) were her way of extending her love and making our connection even stronger.  Later, when we moved closer so I could begin seminary, we had the privilege of being together on a regular basis, often traveling “over the river and through the woods” to join the rest of the family for holidays and special occasions.  To this day I don’t know how Mom, with all her other obligations, managed to find time to write those letters.  I see it now for what it was—a true act of generosity.

Paul’s second letter to Timothy is like those letters I received from home – personal, affectionate, encouraging.  Paul longs to see his young co-worker in the flesh.  He knows there is no substitute for the joy of being physically together. Because we are, as Paul says elsewhere, members of the one body of Christ, we need each other to be whole.  No one can be a Christian alone.  This is a primary reason why our efforts are trained on inviting you back into the rhythm of in-person worship and activities at Peace.  Your physical presence—makes all the difference, for without you we are not the same!  The wonderful level of participation on Rally Sunday was a resounding affirmation of the truth that in baptism God has made us siblings and called us into community together.  Ours is an EMBODIED faith, and you, dearly beloved, are physical embodiments of the gracious presence of the triune God.  Gathering together around God’s word and sacraments, beholding each other, making new connections, strengthening bonds for mission, discovering gifts—all this grows from being together.  (BTW, if you missed my sermon on September 18 where I explore this idea further, you can request a copy or find it HERE.)

October is month of harvests.  In coming weeks our family will make its annual trek to the Snoqualmie Valley to celebrate the generous way which Earth brings forth its gifts so that all might be fed.  The month will also include keeping an eye out for returning salmon in the Cedar River and Fauntleroy Creek—Sockeye and Coho making their final journey to spawn a new generation.  If there is a more profound picture of generosity in nature, I know it not, for these salmon come, as David Duncan has written, to nail “their shining bodies to lonely beds of gravel, not for anything they stand to gain, but that tiny silver offspring and 300 salmon-eating species of flora and fauna may live and thrive.”[1]  God’s benevolent, abundant design is behind it all—the Great Giver.

This month we will be launching our annual giving campaign—the first in three years—under the theme: CULTIVATING A CULTURE OF GENEROSITY AT PEACE.  Over a six week period we’ll explore this theme in a variety of ways, hearing from a variety of voices about the IMPACT Peace ministries are having in our lives and the larger community. Just as Christ did not live for himself alone, we do not live for ourselves alone.  The salmon knows this.  We know it too.  The gifts and resources with which God has blessed us are meant to be pooled and shared, bolstering our mission in Christ’s name in strategic ways, seeding a new generation, equipping us to continue our good work for the sake of this world God so loves.  I sense a growing momentum as I sit in on ZOOM meetings and hear of ideas and plans for growing our congregation’s “mission footprint” in 2023.  Generosity will be a crucial ingredient in bringing those plans and ideas to fruition.

With you on the Way, Pastor Erik

[1] David James Duncan, God Laughs and Plays. P. 167

“For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ…Now you are the body of Christ and individually members  of it.”

1 Corinthians 12:12, 26

Beloved of God,

IT’S TIME.

One year ago, after 18 months of pandemic “live stream only” isolation, we began worshipping “IN PERSON” again.  The joy of worshipping together in shared physical space was palpable!  It may have felt a bit risky at first, but data-driven health protocols implemented by our Safe Opening Task Force (SOTF) enabled us to gather safely over the past 12 months.  Now it is time to take another step toward full in-person engagement.

Beginning September 18, masking for worship and educational activities will be optional.  (Read more about this decision and details in the report from the SOTF on page2.) Why September 18?  September 18^th is Rally Sunday and the beginning of a new program year at Peace, a date our worship and education teams and church council have chosen to invite the people of Peace to re-connect, re-discover, re-engage, and re-join.

Rally Sunday will begin with cross-generational activities at 9:15am, followed by worship @ 10:30 and post-worship fellowship and mission fair @ 11:30.  Our theme for the day is—WE ARE THE BODY OF CHRIST: Everyone has an important role.  (Read more on page 3.)  It will be a time for re-connecting with each other after long separation (and for some newer members, meeting others for the first time); a time for re-discovering our place within the vibrant community of Peace Lutheran; a time for re-engaging in the ministry opportunities that are present in our community;  a time for re-joining the pattern of weekly education and worship as together we encounter God’s word and receive the Sacrament so we can be equipped for lives of service in God’s world.

Some of you will continue to wear masks in worship, and no one will discourage you from doing so or look at you askance if you do.  I myself will continue to wear a mask at points in the service and while distributing Holy Communion.  Others of you will be ready to participate in worship and Sunday School without a mask.  Soon the SOTF will send out a survey out to help gauge how you and/or your household may be affected by the new protocol and we urge you to respond.

As we take this step toward fuller in-person engagement in our community’s life and mission once again, I look forward to seeing more of you, to introducing you to new faces and people, and to revitalizing the mission we share.

With you on the Way.

Pastor Erik

“I was there to hear your borning cry, I’ll be there when you are old. 

I rejoiced the day you were baptized, to see your life unfold.”

Borning Cry, John Ylvisaker

Beloved of God,

There’s a crow “cawing” outside my office window at Peace right now.  A young bird, newly fledged, he’s trying to figure out what life is supposed to look like and how it’s supposed to work after one leaves the nest.

I discovered him yesterday evening as I was rolling my bike out the door to head for home.  There he was, hanging out by the railing, unperturbed as I stepped out right next to him.  Not used to such nonchalance on the part of crows, I asked him what was going on.  He gave no reply, but I did hear a distinct call from the tree in the neighbor’s yard across the street—the kind of insistent call that used to echo through the neighborhood when we scattered Kindem kids were being called home for dinner.  We all knew what that signal meant; knew that we ought to come without delay.  But this juvenile crow?

I reached out with the toe of my shoe to gently prod him off the porch, but he only waddled a few steps forward.  Are you injured?  I asked.  Again, no reply.  I prodded once more and watched as he stretched his wings long enough to glide down to the landing below the stairs.  His wings seemed to work fine.  No injury, as far as I could tell.   Again I heard the insistent calling from the tree across the street:  CAW!!  CAW—CAW—CAW!!!  And then his weaker reply: CAW!  Finally leaving my new young acquaintance, I headed for home… AND… when I arrived back at church this morning, there he was – still; companioned this time by one of his siblings (who was further along the flight curve than he) and a parent crow, who took to CAWING at me vociferously as I tried with soothing tones to let her know that I meant no harm.  Walking past the three crows I went inside to learn more about the behavior I was observing.

Internet bird sites confirmed that young fledgling crows will spend quite a lot of time on the ground over the span of one-two weeks as they go through the crucial phase of learning how to fly and self-feed.  Once they leave the nest, there is no return.  Crow parents are extremely protective of their young ones at this time, leading to behavior such as dive-bombing.  Well, I haven’t been dive bombed yet—so perhaps Mother crow has caught the drift that I bear her fledgling no ill will.  With a little luck and parental vigilance, I’m hopeful that my young friend will find his way in the world.

August is the time of year when many young persons, too, are engaging transitions of one sort or another.  Venturing off to a new school.  Getting accustomed to the new body that puberty has wrought.  Going on road trips. Venturing toward a post-college life or career.  Or, perhaps, pledging themselves to another – “till death do us part.”  Life at this crossroads —for human beings as well as crow-kind—can feel precarious.  As Poet Michael Meade has said:

It’s our knowledge of death that makes us pray.  Every path a child takes looks precarious to the parent’s eye. 

And it is, and “precarious” is an old word which means “full of prayers.”

After 65+ years on God’s good Earth, I’m still musing about what I want to be when I grow up.  At times I find myself wondering, as that young crow must, what life is supposed to look like and how it’s supposed to work at this time of my life.  So the journey continues.  And, thanks be to God, we don’t have to make that journey alone.  For we are accompanied by the one who said:  I will not leave you orphaned.  I am with you always.

With you on the Way.

Pastor Erik

“The individual is the meeting place of the four elements,” writes John O’Donahue of the ancient Celtic perspective.  “We have come up out of the depths.” We have this privilege, and with it a sacred obligation to live with meaning.  The word obligation sounds burdensome but is rooted beautifully in the Early French ligament – that which binds us together.”

– Lyanda Lynn Haupt, ROOTED: Life at the Crossroads of Science, Nature, and Spirit

Beloved of God,

“June is busting out all over,” and on its heels come Pentecost Sunday (also Scholarship Sunday this year) and our annu­al marking of a Season of Creation.  This year’s theme is inspired by Lyanda Lynn Haupt’s 2021 book, ROOTED: Life at the Crossroads of Science, Nature, and Spirit.  Lyanda, an urban naturalist, neighbor, and friend of Peace, invites us on a journey of rediscovering a core truth which sacred scriptures, mystics, artists, and indigenous communities across the globe have proclaimed for millennia: that all life is radically interconnected.  Over this three week season we will affirm our vocation as Earth-tenders to re-engage with these three strands—science, nature and spirit—rekindling conversation and rediscovering practices that will more faithfully embody God’s dream of Shalom for this world God so loves.  As any member of the Adult Sunday Forum can tell you, ROOTED a great read, full of keen observations, insights into nature and spirit, and practices that can bind us more closely to the natural world.  Lyanda will be with us on June 12 to talk about her book and what moti­vated her to write it.  I hope you’ll be able to join us for what looks to be wondrous and meaningful encounter.

The notion of “binding” lies not only at the heart of the word “obligation,” as Lyanda points out in the quote above. It lies at the heart of the word “religion” as well – re-ligio: to re-bind.  Jesus says as much when using an image that comes straight from the vineyard: I am the vine – you are the branches.  The more rooted we are in Christ, the more solidly at­tached to the Vine, the better we are nourished and the more we become our true selves by becoming more like him—a process that produces wonderful fruit for us to share.  This abiding, connecting, and producing begins right at the Eucharis­tic table.  On Pentecost/Scholarship Sunday, June 2, and on June 26, we’ll gather at the Feasting Table to actualize that connection!

During the Season of Creation we look frankly and purposefully at our relationship with our planet home with the aim of reinvigorating our knowledge and our relationships with this Earth God so loves.  After all, Christ was not born of this Earth—did not become a creature among creatures—to teach us how to flee the world in order to find God, but to teach us how to live fully here and now, within the creation and within the community that the Creator intended for us from the beginning.  This Earth, this vineyard, is the domain in which we have been planted.  It is from this soil and from this Vine, that our lives unfurl.  As the alarming evidence of global warming tells us, falling short of our vocation as Earth-tenders has grave consequences.  In Week Two of Season of Creation Peace member and climate activist Deb Hagen-Lukens will share how we are called as people of faith to push for changes that protect all of creation and progress we’re making in how we heat and cool our homes, power our industry and move ourselves and our goods around the world.

On Saturday, June 25, as part of our Season of Creation, we are working with the Duwamish Alive Coalition to offer a tour of the West Seattle Bog (that’s BOG, not BLOG!)  You might recall Marian Christjaener’s arti­cle in the April edition of Peace Notes about the bog. The nearly 10,000-year-old Roxhill bog, which is part of the Roxhill Park natural area, adjacent to Daystar, serves as the headwaters of Longfellow Creek, and may be the only natural peat bog left of 26 that were once in the Seattle area.  Stay tuned for more info about a TOUR in the works for Saturday, June 25^th.      [continued on page two]

Later this month, after our son’s graduation from Chief Sealth High, and our daughter’s graduation from Pathfinder K-8, our five member Kindem/Hauger household will embark on a long anticipated journey to Scotland and Ireland.  The trip, twice delayed due to the pan­demic, is finally coming to fruition, and we couldn’t be more excited.  It includes a pilgrimage to the Isle of Iona for a one week sojourn with the Iona Community, as well as two weeks in Ireland.  On our first trip to Iona in 2014, we lived in commu­nity with people from around the world, sharing meals, worship, music, faith conversations, hikes, and playful moments, and along the way strangers became friends.  Our experience on Iona, a holy place of pilgrim­age for nearly 1,500 years, left its mark on us.  We look forward to what the Spirit will show us this time.

Filling in while I’m gone will be several new voices.  Rev. Mel Jacob, retired ELCA pastor newly at Peace with his wife Mary, will lead worship twice in my stead, and Pastors Pam Russell and Chris Ode will also serve as guest pastors.  Upon our return at the end of July we look forward to swapping tales with you.

With you on the Way,

Pastor Erik

For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.

– Jeremiah 29:11

Beloved of God,

The instant Itzhak Perlman rolled onto the stage at Benaroya Hall April 20th, applause erupted from the packed house.  The adulation was palpable.  And for the next 90 minutes, Mr. Perlman traced his life journey through music and story, sharing with us how a kid born to a working-class family in Tel Aviv in 1945 came to be a preeminent violin virtuoso.

Perhaps you know some of his story.  Itzhak’s love affair with the violin began at the tender age three when he first heard a violin played on the radio.  In response to his enthusiasm, his parents acquired a miniature-sized instrument for him to play, but when confronted with the squeaks and squawks it made, he lost interest.  The following year, he was stricken by polio, which affected his legs, but not—like so many others—his lungs.  God endowed young Itzhak both with a rare musical talent and a buoyant and resilient spirit, and at the age of five he returned to the violin.  Perlman’s humor was on full display when he mimicked himself at a young age, being goaded by his mother to keep up his practice and—like students everywhere—finding clever ways to work around the mandate!

His first teacher Rivka Goldgart, helped establish a firm foundation so that, at age 10, he was ready to audition for legendary violinist Isaac Stern.  Mr. Stern encouraged him to keep up his studies, despite advice from others who thought it would be impossible for  Itzhak to have a performing career because of his disability.  Not much later, American TV host Ed Sullivan discovered Perlman during a talent-scouting mission to Israel and Perlman was invited to make his first appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show in New York.  That opportunity opened up a new world for Perlman.  By the time he was 19, he had appeared on the Sullivan show five more times.  Following Isaac Stern’s advice, the family moved to America so Itzhak could continue his studies.  He made his Carnegie Hall debut in 1963, (a milestone that left him quite chagrinned afterward when a newspaper strike prevented him from reading a review of his performance in the NY Times), and, after studying at the Juilliard School, won the prestigious Leventritt Competition in 1964.

Yet, despite all this, there was a thread of doubt that ran through Perlman’s presentation that April evening; not his doubt about his potential but rather the doubt he sometimes perceived in others—particularly music critics—whose early reviews of his performances raised questions: Was it his musicality and technical capabilities that caught their attention? Or was it a mixture of his gifts and their surprise that this young, disabled kid, forced to use crutches to maneuver on stage, could play at all?  Perlman raised this issue about others’ doubts in him several times throughout the program before finally putting it to bed.  Over time, he acknowledged that, as music critics and reviewers came to know him, they focused less and less on his mobility limitations and more on his artistic brilliance.  Thank God.

This thread he spun that evening resonated deeply for me in a personal way.[1] When my father, Rev. Roald A. Kindem, headed up the Office of Communication and Mission Support for the American Lutheran Church in the early 1980’s, Disability Awareness was a growing area of concern for the church and for society at large.   A decade before Congress passed the Americans with Disabilities Act, Dad conceived of a plan to raise awareness among Lutheran congregations by producing a major film on the subject.  To fund the film, he proposed a special benefit concert featuring opera singer Irene Gubrud, who was made a paraplegic in a carnival ride accident at age 15, and—you guessed it—Itzhak Perlman. (Dad always thought big!)  A St. Olaf College graduate, Gubrud had gone on to study voice at The Julliard School in New York City, where Perlman himself had been a student a decade before.[2]  The benefit concert was wildly successful, and provided the funds needed to produce the film: There’s More to Me than What You See, which featured Gubrud, along with Sharon Sayles Belton, later Mayor of Minneapolis, who had a profoundly disabled daughter, and Jeremiah McShane, an Olympic wrestling hopeful, who was made a quadriplegic in a sky-diving accident. Perlman’s play heightened the connection with my father’s work in a profound way.

For his final selection for us that night, Perlman played the tune for which he has become best known throughout the world: the theme from Schindler’s List.[3]  It took but a few bars for that soulful melody to draw my tears.  Perlman’s ability to embody a story with his violin—in this case the story of human frailty, cruelty, longing, suffering, beauty, and loss—is what, for me, sets him apart.  Yet, the evening didn’t end there.  For his encore Perlman turned to the stage a last time to perform a buoyant, dancing classic.  After taking us to the edge of man’s inhumanity, Perlman seemed intent on leaving us with hope.

God is in the hope business!  The sign that hope is possible was given irrevocably on the first Easter when God raised Jesus from the dead.  Throughout this Easter season we are called to LEAN INTO THAT HOPE even—perhaps especially—when our lives and the life of the world around us seem to be crumbling and the prospect for hope foreclosing.  There is more going on in this world than we can see!  The risen One is still afoot, calling us through the Spirit, to faith, hope, and love.  At Benaroya Hall April 20th, we who were fortunate enough to be present, experienced hope realized in the person and music of Itzhak Perlman.  This month, let’s keep our eyes and ears tuned for signs of hope!  And when we find them, share them.

With you, on the Way,

Pastor Erik

[1] I’m writing this column on the 1^st anniversary of my father’s death, April 28, 2021.

[2] A recording of Irene singing the Lord’s Prayer can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Emq15rFFmps&t=23s

[3] You can find a recording of Perlman and the Los Angeles Philharmonic here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cLgJQ8Zj3AA April 28^th is also Holocaust Remembrance Day in Israel.

Christ is the death of all that is, a bright, consuming fire,

whose flames requires our prior self as kindling for the pyre.

Christ is the death of dusty days of uncreative strife,

for out from fire we tread upon the threshold of new life.

– Susan Palo Cherwien

Beloved of God,

The journey of Lent culminates in our celebration of Christ’s resurrection on April 17th this year, and – Oh! – what a joy it will be to mark that day together, in person, after two years of absence!  We eagerly anticipate the return of the Palm Sunday procession, as well as special family activities both on Palm/Passion Sunday and Easter morning.  (Read more about these and other opportunities in the pages below.)

But, as events in the world constantly remind us, we come to that celebration of life by way of death.  As the crisis in Ukraine continues to evolve, Christian churches and other communities of faith around the world are mobilizing to respond.  Many are lending resources and materials assistance to help feed, house and accompany the millions of Ukrainian refugees who are fleeing homes that have become war zones.  Examples of spontaneous networks of helpers creatively engaging in efforts to address the refugees’ medical and physical needs is truly inspiring.  Here in Seattle, organizations such as Refugees Northwest and Lutheran Disaster Response provide us with opportunities to share our resources to make a positive impact.  And on this first Sunday in April we will be hearing from Eva Mader, contact person for our sister synod, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in European Russia (ELCER), about the new challenges and impacts the situation will have on the KIT ministry with youth and kids who have developmental and physical disabilities.  (KIT is our Pass the Hat recipient for April.)

Recently I had an exchange with Peace member Lisa Boeckh, who, along with husband Michael and daughter Juliana, moved to Berlin last year.  There in Berlin they are much closer to effects from the unfolding crisis.  I had shared with them an article about how the crisis in Ukraine had prompted ELCER Archbishop Dietrich Brauer to flee from Russia to Germany with his family.  Recently, a peace service including Archbishop Brauer was held at the Protestant Cathedral of Berlin—the Berliner Dom – a place where Lisa has begun attending services.  Lisa noted that the musical piece “Prayer for Ukraine” is now played routinely as part of worship there, and a choral setting is sung when the choir is present.  Lisa sent this LINK to a performance of “Prayer for Ukraine” from February 27 of this year.

Art, whether visual or musical, has the power to convey more than words alone can.  Expressions of solidarity, lament, hope, and the ultimate triumph of life over death are critically important for all of us to participate in and hear.   What experience can equal the power of singing JESUS CHRIST IS RISEN TODAY in the company of the Easter congregation? As we take the final steps of our walk together through Holy Week toward Easter, remembering Jesus’ final offering of himself and the burgeoning Ukrainian crisis, I hope you will choose to be part of it.

Living with Easter hope,

Pastor Erik

I looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb…Then the angel said to me, “These are they who have come out of the great ordeal…they are before the throne of God, and worship him day and night within his temple, and the one who is seated on the throne will shelter them. They will hunger no more, and thirst no more; the sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat; for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” – Revelation 7:9-17, portions

Beloved of God,

November begins with our All Saints remembrance and ends with Advent’s call to new beginning.  We’ll be lifting up with gratitude four from our congregation’s roster of saints on November 7:  Esther, Betty, Mary, and Ruth.  Remembering them is important—both for keeping their legacies alive in our memory and for reminding ourselves of the destiny that awaits us, too: to be counted among those “from all tribes, peoples, and languages” who will stand before the Lamb.

Last year, in preparing for All Saints Sunday, I found a painting by John August Swanson that spoke of the vast community of saints, past and present, who walk beside us on this pilgrimage of life.  Immediately, I wanted to use his painting for the cover of our All Saints bulletin. That painting, THE PROCESSION, is on the cover this year’s All Saints Sunday bulletin as well, in honor of Mr. Swanson, who joined the saints in glory on September 23rd of this year.

In an obituary of Mr. Swanson published in America, the Jesuit Review, Cecilia González-Andrieu shares some vignettes from Mr. Swanson’s life and his evolution as an artist. [1]   His mother, Magdalena Velasquez, migrated to the United States from Mexico in 1928, fleeing violence and revolution. His father,  Sven August Svensson, left his native Sweden in a similar timeframe in search of work and landed in America.  As the Great Depression hit, “Gus” (at the Ellis Island Emigration Center he was renamed “John August Swanson,” a name he would pass on to his son) moved around as a day laborer before settling in Los Angeles where he found work as a vegetable seller and met Magdalena.  Magdalena, a gifted seamstress, found work and community with the Jewish tailors who had arrived fleeing anti-Semitic violence in Russia. She attended night school, became a voracious reader and volunteered as a grassroots organizer for labor, housing and voting rights.  But life was difficult, and Gus took to drink, abandoning the family often and forcing his young son to scour the streets and jails looking for him.  Tragically, Gus never made it to old age. The last time his son found him he was dying.

His father absent, John lived with his grandmother, mother and sister. From them he learned his Catholic faith, Mexican traditions and the insight that social justice is required of a faithful Christian life. Through a series of experiments, failures, and forays down various vocational paths, Swanson gradually acquired the skills and discerned his calling to bring together faith, justice and art.  The artist and his art were formed by his immigrant family’s wounded history.  It is this difficult life that develops into themes of loss and redemption in Swanson’s work—and intricate complexity.

The “Procession” serigraph, which he considered his grand opus, is made up of a staggering 89 layers of unique colors. Today, the original painting is in the Vatican’s Collection of Modern Religious Art, and Swanson’s works are collected by The Smithsonian, The Tate, the Art Institute of Chicago, countless universities, seminaries, monasteries, and churches of all denominations.  While he eventually achieved tremendous success and recognition, Mr. Swanson remained humble.           Doctoral student Emilie Grosvenor said of Swanson: “To meet John August Swanson was to feel seen and loved and cared for, even if the interaction lasted only a few minutes. One would be hard pressed to leave his company without some sample of his work to lend hope, and to remind the person receiving the gift where the Spirit’s beauty, justice and hope are ever to be found: in community with the other.”  My own experience of Mr. Swanson echoes her comments!

Last fall when I called the phone number given on the artist’s website to inquire about permission to use his art in our publications, who should answer but Mr. Swanson himself.  What followed was a delightful conversation in which we spoke of his work, discovered personal connections, and talked about art’s role in providing new ways of seeing and experiencing the world.   We spoke of the need for Creation care, and before we said goodbye he asked me to choose five posters from his online gallery as gifts.  When the posters arrived I found he’d thrown in two more for good measure.  Now, a year later,  I treasure that conversation I was privileged to have with Mr. Swanson.  If anything, the testimony of the body of work he leaves behind takes on even more significance for me in the wake of his death.

When news of Swanson’s illness became known thousands of messages poured in. Remarkably, hundreds of people counted him as a personal friend, and this he truly was.   The luminous and hope filled religious sensibility embodied in his work made his work appeal to a broad audience.  This sensibility, wrote González-Andrieu, arose “out of lo cotidiano, the small details of life where the sacred reveals itself.”  When I call to mind Esther, Betty, Mary, and Ruth, it’s small details from the points where our lives intersected that stand out.  God is in the details, hidden among every day encounters, humble offerings. This All Saints Sunday, as we remember those dear to us, we lift up with gratitude the work of John August Swanson and others who, through the centuries, have given us a glimpse of the joyous hope and resplendent beauty which encompasses those whom God calls to his side.  For all the saints!

[1] I quote liberally from her obituary in what follows.  The full obit can be found here: https://www.americamagazine.org/arts-culture/2021/09/23/john-august-swanson-death-art-241485