“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

Faith takes the doer and makes him into a tree, and his deeds become fruit.

First there must be a tree, then the fruit.

For apples do not make a tree, but a tree makes apples.

So faith first makes the person, who afterwards performs works.

– Martin Luther, commentary on Galatians 3:10

Beloved of God,

If you’ve ever ventured to the town of Lahaina, Hawaii, on the west side of Maui, it’s impossible to miss: outside the old courthouse is a banyan tree that stands 50 feet tall, is nearly a quarter of a mile around and has over than 10 trunks that anchor it into the ground.  Brought from India as an 8 foot sapling in 1873, it was planted there by William Owen Smith, the sheriff of Old Lahaina Town to commemorate the 50th anniversary of Lahaina’s first Christian Mission.  When our family visited Maui in 2008, we all took turns climbing on those mighty branches, while an art show unfolded beneath its prodigious shade.  The banyan’s properties are unique, for the tree grows by the roots which hang from its branches. These roots, which begin above ground, are like soil-seeking drills, and when enough of them reach the soil, they thicken and provide another trunk to support the tree’s mass.[1]

The world’s greatest banyan tree, located in a botanical garden near Kolkata, India, is over 250 years old and looks more like a forest than an individual tree: the foliage encompasses nearly 5 acres of land!  It has 3772 aerial roots reaching down to the ground as a prop root.[2]

When Luther used a tree as an illustration in his commentary on Galatians, he was thinking of an apple tree, not a banyan tree.  Had he been familiar with the properties of the banyan tree, I wonder what use he would make of it? The communal and interdependent nature of our vocation comes to mind.

Theologian Anne Burghardt points out that “When Luther spoke out in the 16th century on God’s redeeming love, he was not thinking about the environment. Ecological challenges were not in the forefront at that time. However, today many parts of the world face critical environmental challenges.”  Were Luther alive today, would he address our collective failure to adequately care for God’s good creation?  There’s no doubt in my mind.  Again, Burghardt:

“Luther’s intervention at the time of the Reformation reminds us that there are aspects of life on this planet which, for the sake of both earthly and eternal life, should not be commodities and should never be for sale. That includes the good creation God has given us to watch over.”[3]

This month we will once again observe a three-week Season of Creation.  Our goal is to  lift up God’s good creation in ways that help us see it in all its beauty, intricacy, and connectedness; as well as to affirm that this creation is not a commodity for sale but a unique web of relationships upon which all life—including ours—depends.  Like the Great Banyan Tree, God’s good creation maintains its strength and resilience through deeply rooted principles which both anchor and hold up its branches. When we acquire the attributes of a tree, as Luther suggested, we become well equipped to bear fruit.  The kind of fruit, or good works, which the world needs from us at this time in history is fruit that opens our eyes to the devastating effects human choices are having on Earth, our planet home, and fuels a deeper love and devotion to understanding and nurturing community which is sustainable over the long haul.

The decision of President Trump to withdraw from the Paris Climate Accords is a decision which may well bear fruit—but that fruit will be of the diseased and rotten kind. Addressing climate breakdown—and the myriad substantive environmental issues which flow from it and are already making deep impacts around the world—requires a cooperative and international approach. Gaining the ears of our leaders requires a long and sustained effort.  But alongside that effort we begin with our own lives, taking inventory, making personal and communal choices each day which will bear the kind of fruit which allows life to grow and flourish, as God our Creator intended. Our first vocation, according to Genesis, is Earthkeeper.  Never has that vocation been more important and needful than now.

Pastor Erik

[1] For more about this tree, follow this link: http://www.lahaina.com/content/banyan_tree.html

[2] For more about this tree, follow this link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Great_Banyan  You can also read about it in Cynthia Barnett’s book: Rain—A Natural and Cultural History.  (New York: Broadway Books, 2015)

[3] From materials published for the Lutheran World Federation’s 2017 Assembly in Windhoek, Namibia, under the theme: Creation is not for Sale.