In This Issue

As the anniversary of the ELCA's churchwide assembly approaches,

after the North American Lutherans Concerned assembly,

after the Lutheran Church - Missouri Synod's response to the actions of the assembly,

At this time, the Persistent Voice staff invites you to pause and reflect on where we are and where we are going as the body of Christ.  We are aware of the wide range of perspectives present in the church.  We feel the weight of the pain and division many congregations and communities are experiencing.  We pray that God continues to gather us into diverse community, empowers us by the Word to be a people of welcome and healing, and sends us out for mission in our local communities and throughout the world.  We seek opportunity for dialogue, prayer, and mutual learning.  We look for opportunities to be transformed by relationship. 

In this issue, hear the story of one encounter that happened at the ELCA's churchwide assembly last fall, as told by the three individuals transformed by it. This dialogue continues.  May their voices speak to you. 

In this issue, in the Global Scene, we hear from the Rev. Mary Jo Maass who is a pastor who volunteers in Usangi, Tanzania and witness two Signs of the Times. 

We invite your responses, stories and participation in the on-going conversation.  Please share your voice with us:ncookeverist@wartburgseminary.edu

 

Chapter 1

Rev. Vicki Pedersen, ELCA pastor, WTS STM student 

Worship had been that which had steadfastly gathered us together each day of the Churchwide Assembly.  There were no red or green cards to separate us out according to our position here, only that which binds us together as a Lutheran family - hearing the gospel preached and receiving communion together.  But would it hold us together on Friday, the day on which the Assembly was debating and would decide whether it would change its ministry policy to allow its partnered gay and lesbian seminarians, pastors and lay professionals to be ordained and called to ministry in the ELCA?

Martha, my partner and spouse, and I shuffled our way to the assembly hall where worship was held.  I could tell she was upset and didn’t want much to go to worship this day.  While we had every reason to be buoyed by the favorable vote from Wednesday that had approved the Social Statement on Human Sexuality: Gift and Trust, and by the approval of two of the four recommendations Friday morning that could lead us to policy change, a favorable vote to change policy was no certainty, and even if it were, it wouldn’t cover up the pain and loss over countless years of those who had been excluded or forced into removal by the policy under consideration, and the difficult struggle of hundreds of us to remain in the church’s ministry.  Martha was in pain, for all that had been, and still might be. 

Any other assembly (this was my third in a row), I would have struggled going to worship too, knowing how it was always there that my feelings of hurt, rejection, exclusion, and fear ambushed me.  In the six years that Martha and I have been partners, the Lutheran church had become a place of threat, not safety, and I was made into some kind of illegal alien rather than a welcomed daughter.  But this Assembly was different for me.  We were all being called upon to live out of a love for neighbor, even for our perceived “enemy” who was on the other side of the debate, and to respect the “bound conscience” of all.  Like it or not, those who aligned themselves with CORE and Word Alone have always been and would always be my brothers and sisters in Christ.  Like it or not, we who align ourselves with Goodsoil, or in other ways were hoping for change in the ministry policy, have always been and would always be brothers and sisters in Christ with those who think differently on this issue.  Love for neighbor is rooted in the Gospel, and not in my personal feelings or knee-jerk responses.  This kind of love for neighbor doesn’t wait for the other to treat me favorably, or even change his or her vote.  Instead it propels me to love and respect the other, to bear the burden of the other’s bound conscience that is different from my own.  But such love and respect is no burden when the face of the other is none other than the face of Christ for me.  The Gospel makes this so.

So as we entered the assembly hall for worship that Friday morning, I honored Martha’s desire to sit in the back.  As we went to sit down in one of the back sections of the worship space, I made a beeline for a small group of men who were sitting together.  She saw what I didn’t see from afar, the big white CORE buttons on their lapels!  Her pain was now anger – how could I do this?!   Much to Martha’s dismay, I ignored the “red flag” and sat next to the men.  It didn’t need to be a fence between me and my new neighbor.  We could be together in worship.  THIS is where Christ makes us one.  I turned to greet the man next to me.  Somehow, I didn’t sweat nor fidget, nor did he, at least not noticeably, not even after Martha introduced herself as my spouse.  Instead, we sat, side by side, brother and sister in Christ, members of the One body of Christ. 

I didn’t go into fear, anger, or hurt beside this man, Paul, during our time at worship.  I didn’t even feel uncomfortable beside him as I surely would have at another time.  Somehow we each made space for the other in our lives.  “I love coming to worship here,” I said as we waited for worship to begin.  “As a nursing home chaplain, we don’t get to do worship like this” I added admiringly while waving at the banners, large choir, special instruments, and video screens.  Paul nodded.  Then he asked, “How does this sexuality debate impact a nursing home anyway?”  Rather than the answer he might have expected, “not much,” I shared a bit of my story. “I happen to be someone whom this impacts directly.  The nursing home, where I work, wants to call me as their chaplain, but they haven’t been able to do that because I am partnered.  My orientation doesn’t matter to them but our synod’s bishop has told them that they have to wait and see what happens here.”  Paul listened, and then he told me his story.  “I’ve been going to CORE here, but I’m not sure what I’ll do.  My wife and I have been going to a non-denominational Bible study.  We’ll probably have to keep doing that.”  I listened, and told Paul I understood that he had to do what he needed to do to take care of himself, but I hoped he would not leave the church if there was change.

Worship began.  The Gospel was proclaimed.  It carried me and I prayed it was carrying Paul.  When it was time to share the peace before communion, I was surprised, but welcomed, that Paul didn’t just give me a cordial handshake but a great big hug!  What was this?  As we waited to go up for communion, I pointed to some words in a hymn that moved me.  He nodded.  Then Paul pointed out other words to me in the bulletin, a notice about the availability of healing stations where persons could go for anointing and prayers.  I nodded as I began to ponder to myself whether I wanted to do it.  Then Paul turned to me and asked, “Will you go with me to the healing station?”  What was this?  It wasn’t exactly disbelief, but more like wonderment, that began to fill me.  I told Paul, that if he wanted me to go with him for anointing, I would love to do that.  A moment later, Paul again tapped me on the shoulder to ask if my partner would come with us.  When I asked Martha Paul’s question, she looked at me surprised and stunned.  While her head was wanting to say, “NO WAY,” something else led her to say, “Yes, of course.”

We filed up to communion, each receiving the bread and body of Christ pressed into our hands, and drank from the common cup.  As we made our way back in a continuing line of communicants, we spied the healing station and headed toward it.  As we stood in line waiting, Paul leaned toward me and asked in Martha’s hearing if we could go up for anointing together, the three of us at one time.  I saw the tears well in Martha’s eyes and then streak across her cheeks as she moved to one side of Paul, as I was on the other.  With our arms wrapped around each other and locked together, we moved forward as one to present our-self for anointing and prayers for healing.

For Martha tears flooded her eyes in memory of all of the years of hearing of herself and her reality spoken of as “sin,” “sinner,” and “abomination,” her very faith and understanding of self questioned by those whose views were common to those who stand within CORE, yet here our new neighbor, Paul, stood alongside us, together.  For me, I could not doubt the Spirit’s movement between us and within us.  Something Holy was afoot and I was caught in awe and wonderment.  For Paul, as he would tell me later, I had put a face on the debate for him, and the Holy Spirit’s leading was so palpable for him, he trusted that our meeting was “for” something.

The pastor looked at the three of us standing there as one – and yet three – bowing our heads for prayer and anointing: myself wearing a prayer shawl made by a volunteer in support of policy change, our new-found brother-in-Christ, Paul, in the middle with his CORE button, and Martha on the other side with tears streaming down her face.  The pastor sucked in his breath, centered himself, and began to pray from the printed sheet before him as tears began to well in his eyes.  The pastor anointed each of us individually, but in truth there was but one anointing that day – each of our hearts bound into one, brought together through the love of God.

The three of us walked back a ways toward our seats with our arms still around one another.

What had happened was mysterious, painful, healing, freeing – a myriad of things experienced in one holy moment.  None of the three of us was left untouched, nor the same, as we were before the service.  Truly the Holy Spirit helped to strip each of us in different ways from hurt, fear, and understandings that had previously bound us.

In the time since Assembly met, Paul and I have talked weekly by phone.  Martha and I hold Paul and his church in prayer, and he us.  Neither of us is trying to win an argument or change a view – only remain in conversation out of concern for the ELCA, caring for the other, and being open to where the Holy Spirit may lead us.  Paul always has been, and will always be, Martha’s and my brother in Christ.  Martha and I always have been, and will always be, Paul’s sisters in Christ.  May all of us, more and more, stay together and discover each other anew as the brothers and sisters we already are, and always will be, in the Christ who meets us in our worship.

 

Chapter 2

Martha Lang, Episcopal Deacon, WTS MDiv student

I will admit that I did not wish to go to worship – did not have much stomach for it actually.   I had listened to the debates all morning.  Those of us hoping for change in the rostering policies of the ELCA were heartened by the outcome of the voting of the first two questions before the delegates.  However, when the first request for the ending of debate on the third item, that most relevant in the life of our family was voted down, my heart descended toward my stomach.  The assembly debated right up to the time of worship.  As we wandered down the hallway of the assembly suddenly my soul was awash in the sadness, frustration, pain that had gathered there over the last six years.  The voices of those who had participated in my partner’s research, The Missing Project, echoed in my heart and soul.  “Thank you for asking to hear my story”; “Thank you for what you are doing – I had felt like I had disappeared to the ELCA”; “Thank you for finding me and caring” – on and on the voices floated in and through me.  All of a sudden anger welled up in me as I thought – but this vote will do nothing for those already led to the door, or silently slipped off of the rosters – or dismissed through curt letter, or slipped out the door of the rostered quietly, rather than admit the truth of their being.  “This won’t take all of the years of severing, rejection, self-isolation, self-silencing and self-spiritual mutilation and make everything suddenly be ok” I thought.  “I don’t want to go and worship – I just feel like I want to grieve in some corner somewhere – and hold those before God who have been so hurt.”  But, I also realized that my partner/spouse Vicki really wanted to go to the worship. And, as I was here to accompany her in this journey, that I needed to be with her in service. 

Vicki, in her own inimitable way can be somewhat spacey – often missing subtle, but important clues in the environment around her.   She is one fine chaplain – picking up on the slightest nuances in conversations – things deftly left unsaid.  But, in the physical arena of that which is happening within a six-foot radius of her being, she can often look past what I see as huge and obvious. Our differing perceptual abilities bring interesting dynamics to our relationship.  So, as only Vicki might,   she proceeded toward some folks who were seated for service, missing their good-sized white buttons announcing their affiliation with CORE (Coalition for Reform).  I groaned inwardly and followed her into the pew and went further into myself.  She began a conversation with the gentleman seated next to her by saying that being present in the worship services had been a blessing and gift because as a chaplain in a care center, a fuller service is often not possible.  There are time constraints due to needing to physically move much of the population into the chapel, and then back to their rooms in time to be able to take care of bodily functions (with needed assistance), before it is time to help them move to into the dining hall.  So, V shared that she was relishing the richness and depth of the worship experience.  Her neighbor asked her how her residents would receive any possible changes within the ELCA, if the pending item to voted upon would be passed.  Vicki shared with him that the care center was hoping for change, for it meant that the Board of Directors could offer her a call.  She explained to him that they had voted unanimously early last fall to call her as chaplain, but due to the current policy could only call her as an interim, as her rostering status was “on-leave-from-call; not-available-for-call” due to our relationship.  She told him that she had gone to her Bishop three years ago when we made the decision to join our lives together through a covenant ceremony in the Episcopal Church which I served as deacon, and was placed in that status.  She shared that she had been serving the same nursing home at the time, and had stepped down from the position so as not to cause any waves there, and to pursue a research interest for a year.  So, when the same position had come available last winter, she applied for it and was hired on a temporary basis.  Her CORE neighbor received this quietly, nodding as she spoke.  Worship started and no more was said until it came time for communion.  As we were preparing to go forward to receive communion, her neighbor  held his worship book before her and pointed to something in it – it was the notice that stated that healing stations were available throughout the worship space, and that pastors were there who would pray and anoint for healing if any had desire for such.  He quietly asked Vicki if she would go with him for that.  She quickly said yes.  He leaned over and said “would your partner go too?”  Vicki turned to me and repeated his question.  I was stunned, and at many levels wanted to say “NO WAY” – but found myself saying “Yes, of course.”  We each went forward to receive communion and I led the way back toward one of the healing stations.  V and her neighbor followed.  I started to go forward when he quietly said “Can we all three go together to receive?”  Tears came to my mind.  All of the years of hearing of myself and my reality spoken about in terms of “sin” and “sinner”, “abomination”,  and my faith, understanding of self, and very salvation called into question repeatedly by those who were of the same understanding of those who were a part of CORE and every other group similar to them in my own denomination and others, arose from my heart to be presented for healing.  Tears flooded my eyes as the three of us – Vicki and I on the outside and her/our neighbor in the middle, locked with arms around one-another went forward to receive the prayer and anointing. 

The pastor looked at the three of us standing there as one – and yet three – all bending our heads for the prayer; V with her prayer shawl which denoted one praying for change, our new-found brother-in-Christ with his CORE button on, and me – tears running down my face.   The pastor sucked in his breath, centered himself and began to say the prayer printed on the sheet before him.  He anointed each of us individually, but I know there was but one anointing that day – each of our hearts bound into one brought together through the love of God and collectively kneeling at the foot of the cross of Christ through the guiding of the Holy Spirit. 

I was the last to be anointed – and as I looked up at the pastor I thought I saw tears in his eyes.   Maybe it was just those of my own that I saw – but I would swear they were there.  The three of us walked back a ways toward our seats with our arms around one another.  What had happened was mysterious, painful, healing, freeing… a myriad of things were experienced in that one holy moment.  None of the three of us was left untouched, nor the same as we were before that service.  Truly the Holy Spirit helped to strip each of us in different ways from hurt, and fear, and understandings that had previously been held within each. 

Vicki and our new-found brother have talked twice since that service.  We hold him in prayer – and he us.  That which happened that day was powerful – and it is an experience that each of us wish to share with others; indeed we believe that the Holy Spirit has asked us to share our experience as a testament to the power of love of God as a healing, reconciling and binding agent, which binds us together in spite of our differences.   We truly were at the foot of the cross, kneeling, and being knit together in a new way; a way in which only our Lord, through Jesus Christ in the power of the Holy Spirit can knit.  Thanks be to God.

 

Chapter 3

Paul Hamlin, ELCA layman and voting member at the 2009 churchwide assembly 

As I look back on my week in Minneapolis this last August, the first thing that comes to mind is emotional. I can remember as the time went on feeling myself bouncing back and forth between the highs and lows of my innermost beliefs. After Monday I found myself considering just going home Tuesday morning, for there was a very strong feeling that things were not going to turn out the way that Paul Hamlin thought they should. I can remember telling different members of our group how disappointed and discouraged I was with how the voting was going. On Wednesday they had us grouped together during breakfast with people from different areas of the country, had us brainstorm and had different questions for each group to work on. I still remember asking the group that I was involved with about the social statement on sexuality and the bound conscience or are we just selfish and stubborn now I had everyone’s attention. After this Wednesday morning breakfast and meeting with a group of people I have never met, I started to feel like I did have a place at this assembly.

Since the churchwide assembly I have been approached many times by people who want to know what it was like. What went wrong? And even a few have asked me how I voted! I’ve found myself trying to discern if these people have a bound conscience or are just stubborn and selfish.

During the week I attended several Coalition for Reform (CORE) meetings and visited their meeting room when time allowed, so I did acquire the CORE button that I clipped onto my name badge and pass.

On Friday in the convention hall there was a lot of debate about the rostering recommending requirements, so I was very relieved when we stopped for morning worship. I normally would try to get as close to the front as I could because my hearing is not that good, but this day I stayed with a couple of men from our Synod delegation that were having the same feelings of disenchantment of what was happening with the debates and voting that I was having. We sat at the rear of the second center section. I can remember feeling alone and not doing much visiting while waiting for worship to begin, normally this was an exciting time for me, getting ready for worship no matter where we are, but this day I just felt sullen.

After awhile I sensed someone sitting on my left side. I did not know who or when they had arrived. Before too long this person was making small talk with me about the worship, so now I knew my neighbor was a woman. I remember thinking how odd looking at all the empty chairs around us and she sits down right next to us. I then asked my new neighbor how the action of the churchwide assembly would affect her and to my surprise she explained to me quite directly and personally, then we introduced ourselves, she extended her hand to me and I had to turn and face her. All of a sudden it hit me, Vicki put a ‘face’ on the current issue for me.

I don’t remember much about worship that day because of my brief exchanges back and forth with Vicki, but I could sense my spirit starting to be lifted and moved. Past experience has taught me to allow the Holy Spirit to work and not to hinder what it is going to teach me today. It came time to greet our neighbors and pass on the peace that Jesus gives us, and I thought about all the people that I have offended and hurt about these homosexual issues. I needed to be forgiven, and I received it right then and there when Vicki reached out to shake hands. I gave her a big hug to thank her for helping to open my calloused heart, I knew it surprised her but she did not realize what she had done for me, I remember looking at Vicki’s friend, Martha, and you could really tell that this person was hurting.

Before we went up to the Lord’s table, I noticed at the bottom of the worship book that today they were going to have anointing and praying stations set up around the worship center and I needed to be there. Would my new friends go with me? Something was happening here that words cannot express, but I felt that I could not hold back my spirit or contain it, so before we received the bread and wine at the Lord’s table I asked if Vicki would join me to the healing station, a moment later I knew that Martha needed to be there with us, when asked she didn’t seem too sure but said yes. We took communion single file one after the other, then we started looking for a praying station and we proceeded forward, I felt the only way that there could be any healing done, we had to be together – all 3 of us – not individually like everyone else was going up. When I asked Vicki and Martha about going up together we all just fell into place, myself in the middle, Vicki on my left, Martha on my right. At the time when we were in front of the Pastor, I don’t know what was said or what prayer was used, I felt being anointed, looked up and noticed atear welling up in the Pastor’s eyes. I knew deep inside with all my being that something special was taking place here, a peace, a presence of someone greater than any man. As we moved back to our seats I remember the feeling of not really wanting to leave the healing station, sometime later I shared with Vicki about maybe how Peter felt on the Mount of Transfiguration, we just want to stay there in all the wonderment and amazed. But I know now that we need to come down off the mountain and go forth.

Since the churchwide assembly we have stayed in touch with weekly phone calls and e-mails. Vicki and Martha have been encouraging me to write my version of the story so this is it! I don’t know if it makes any sense or gives any justice to the issue at hand with the gay and lesbian community or the ELCA. But I know something special happened during worship on Friday, August 21^st, 2009.

I write this chapter of my life for my sisters in Christ, Rev. Vicki Pedersen and Rev. Martha Lang.

1 Samuel 16:7

 

The Global Scene

The Rev. Mary Jo Maass, WTS 1994, spent a year in Usangi, Tanzania during her seminary education years and then served as pastor in Mediapolis, Iowa for many years.  She returned to Tanzania in the Spring of 2009 to serve as a teacher there.   These are excerpts from her letters.

After 30 plus hours of travel, I arrived at the home of Roda Ramstedt in the village of Kilaweni high in the Northern Pare Mountains. Roda, a widow and elder in the Kivindu Parish, was a delightful hostess, who along with her great niece, Sarah, fed me, entertained me, and took me on short walks through the village before I moved into my new home in Usangi. It was quite a procession that traveled by pickup to the three-year old stucco house sitting on a ledge carved from the mountain.

On Monday the students began to arrive and were set to work (along with the teachers) cleaning the classrooms and school grounds. By the end of the week most of the students had arrived, the college was officially opened and classes began. I would teach the English.

The music teacher, Mziray, was in charge of me and took it upon himself to teach me Kiswahili. Besides teaching music he was in charge of the school gardens and corn field and organized the students’ work.

I asked the local pastor if I could join the congregation. He agreed, gave me an envelope and soon informed me that since I was a member of the congregation and a pastor he was putting me on the schedule. So I started preaching an average of twice per month with Mziray translating. I also worked with the 40+ confirmation students.

A typical week day for me was to get up at 6:00 and start boiling water—first for my coffee then for my bath. The milk arrived fresh from the school’s cow about 7:00 and needed to be boiled. Breakfast was a banana and roasted peanuts. Classes started at 7:30. Sala (morning prayer) was at 9:45 followed by chai (tea). I preached at Sala twice and sang the liturgy in Swahili once. I preached in English and encouraged my more advanced students to give it a try—a few of them did and others tried their hand at translating.

I ate a lot of beans and corn and rice along with plenty of fresh vegetables and fruit. I usually had one class in the afternoon. From four until six I hung out around campus. Students were either on break or working in the garden. This gave me an opportunity to speak with them in English or Swahili--usually a combination of both which we called “Swanglish.” This helped me to get to know them better. At 6:00 p.m. the students went to Sala (evening prayer) and Mziray would walk me home and then continue up the mountain behind my house for about an hour to his home in Kimbali.

It got dark around 7:00 and I didn’t often go out after dark. Students would sometimes come to visit me in the evening to ask questions about class or just talk. I met each week with the four women students and the other woman teacher, Rev. Nhana. We began singing songs in English which soon made the other students want to sing too. Pretty soon everyone was singing songs in English (“We are Marching” was the all time favorite, but we also sang “Come all you People”, “Gracious Spirit”, “Listen, God is calling” and others). Mziray started teaching African American songs in his music classes in four parts. We sang “Soon and Very Soon” in church along with dance steps and got a standing ovation.

I soon learned that the college dictionary was just for teachers. There was no library, no dictionaries, or any other books for students. I decided something had to be done about that. As my shamba drops down the mountain to my corn field there appeared to be four overgrown terraces. With the help of Mziray and a few students we decided to turn those terraces into a garden and sell the produce with the proceeds earmarked for books for the library. We have a place to put the library but, of course, no shelving, but we’ll worry about that after we get some books.

One day when I was having tea with the pastor he offered me one of the church’s plots. At first I thought, “What am I going to do with another corn field?” Then I thought, “Oh yes, I will sell the corn for more books!”   Now I have a challenge for you. As you plant your garden this spring think about the value of the produce or flowers you are planting. Could you give a portion of that value towards a library at Usangi Leadership and Training College?

As Mziray and I became friends I shared my vision for increased agricultural production including digging a fish pond, planting Amaranth (a high protein grain), and training students in dairy and beekeeping. This would supplement the student’s diet, give us produce to sell and train the Students in agriculture and they could use the money to supplement their evangelist work. Mziray immediately went to work organizing the students. By term’s end we had harvested and planted a new crop of corn, the terraced garden was four times its original size, a nursery was full of new plants ready to be transplanted as soon as the April rains came, and a 15 X 30 meter fish pond had been dug. The big water tank which had been broken for many years was fixed and two additional water spigots and pipes had been installed in the garden making a total of three that can be used for irrigation. All we were waiting for was rain

Finally, on the day I left, the sky clouded up, the thunder rolled and the rain began. I can only hope it is the beginning of an abundant rainy season and that the nursery plants will find their way into the garden and the tank and the fish pond will be filled. As we drove down the mountain to Kilimanjaro Airport all eight of us were in a festive mood, singing songs of praise and thanksgiving to God for the rain--the wonderful, wonderful rain.

Mary Jo returned in September, 2009, staying for two terms (just enough time to plant and harvest her garden and corn field)

She wrote in January, 2010:

Christmas Day found me up the mountain with Mziray, his wife and eight children.   As it was still the rainy season, the roads were very muddy and the car slid all the way down the mountain in the dark.  Thankfully, I had a good driver so I just shut my eyes.  New Year’s Day I preached at Mchali with Pastor Rose and her husband, Gracious.        

Now we have harvested the beans and the rainy season is over.  (Thank goodness, no more mud.)  The corn is looking wonderful and the rafters are almost all up on Kivindu Church.  Soon they will be putting on the roof.  The students should arrive in late January and the college will open.  I am looking forward to seeing them again.

Wishing you all God’s blessings   Karibu Usangi. 

Summer, 2010

Mary Jo has been back in Iowa with her family this summer.   She will be returning to Tanzania early this fall. Although she might have had opportunity to serve in the Tanzanian cities of Arusha or Dar es Salaam, she will go back to Usangi. She says, “It’s home. We will have a new principal (our former one became bishop) and teacher, but I know them. I love the students and all the people.”

If you would like more information, feel free to contact: maryjomaass@gmail.com

Rev. Mary Jo Maas, Usangi Leadership and Training College, P.O. Box 149, Usangi, Tanzania

Editor’s Note: Mary Jo, volunteers her service in Tanzania. Should you wish to make a contribution to help with travel funds, they may be sent to the Southeastern Iowa Synod, ELCA, 2635 Northgate Dr., Iowa City, Iowa, 52245.