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Co-chairing a meeting with Sen. Barack Obama as equals – Guest Blogger Rev. Terrance A. Jacob

In honor of International Day for People of African Descent, which is observed internationally on August 31 each year, ELCA Racial Justice Ministries invited Rev. Terrance Jacob to share some thoughts about being a person of African descent. For more…


Co-chairing a meeting with Sen. Barack Obama as equals

A case of faith-based community organizing laying the ground for a North-South relationship of mutual respect and the power it wields

By Terrance A. Jacob

In July 2006, I received an unexpected call from Sen. Barack Obama’s office in Washington, D.C. He was visiting South Africa for the first time and wanted to meet with me. At the time, I was serving as the Africa director of the Gamaliel Foundation, a faith-based organizing network focused on justice, equity and grassroots empowerment.

Sen. Obama had also worked with Gamaliel, in the 1990s on the South Side of Chicago — though we didn’t overlap, he was intrigued that a former activist, imprisoned under apartheid, was doing church organizing across the continents.

At first, his staff requested a meeting in Pretoria. I declined because I was too busy organizing local communities, building participative democracy in the new South Africa. A colleague in Chicago warned me, “You just turned down the future president of the United States!” I laughed and said, “I’ve got democracy to build. What can a U.S. senator add to that?” (I was half joking.)

Eventually I agreed to meet the senator in Cape Town, where he was also visiting Archbishop Desmond Tutu. I made one request: I wanted to bring along some housewives and local clergy — real people from the communities I did organizing with.

We met at a hotel boardroom on the Cape Town Waterfront. Before Obama arrived, his staff approached me and said, “Reverend, the senator would like you to co-chair the meeting with him.” When he entered the room, Obama greeted us with warm hugs. At the long boardroom table, he and I sat at the head, my delegation on one side, and his — including the U.S. ambassador to South Africa, the U.S. consul general, and their spouses — on the other.

My delegation laid out our concerns: crime, drugs, unemployment and especially the devastating impact of HIV and AIDS in our communities. We shared how we had visited the U.S. embassy in Pretoria in 2005 with a delegation that included U.S. and South African Lutheran bishops, clergy and lay leaders — 20 people in total — seeking funding from the U.S. President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR) for churches working with AIDS orphans and patients.

We were turned away. Our U.S. partners were charged with returning home to get leaders to write letters to the U.S. ambassador in South Africa. In South Africa, we continued to organize, which involved calling even cabinet members and Health Ministry staff to meetings with congregations across the country.

As we shared this, Obama leaned over and whispered, “Reverend, I turned out the targets. You do the pin.” (That’s organizing-speak for: “I got the right people in the room — now make the demand.”)

So we did. When the ambassador didn’t immediately respond, Obama asked, “Mr. Ambassador, if you received letters from U.S. church leaders requesting this funding, what would you do?” The ambassador replied, “Then I would have to act.”

I said, “Then we’ll organize hundreds of letters.” He agreed.

After the meeting, Obama and I embraced again to acknowledge our “win.” Within weeks, he launched his presidential campaign. One year later, in July 2007, I moved to the United States to serve the ELCA, where I was called to bridge the divide between the church’s activist and devotional streams — linking deep spirituality with public action.

But there was a twist.

Despite over 500 letters, we heard nothing from the ambassador. So my U.S. partners contacted Candidate Obama. He wrote directly to the ambassador: “Last year, when Rev. Jacob and I met with you in Cape Town, you promised to act if U.S. church leaders wrote to you …”

Soon after, the ambassador released a paltry grant of $10,000 for Diakonia AIDS Ministry in Soweto — a project of the Lutheran Diocese of Johannesburg. Then the South African Ministry of Health — through organized pressure — contributed $40,000, quadrupling the U.S grant.

That ministry continues to do powerful work to this day. I visited them in 2024, and the fruits of grassroots organizing and North-South relationships of mutual respect are still visible.

This wasn’t just a meeting with a senator. It was a moment that revealed what’s possible when faith meets justice with mutual respect.

 

The Rev. Terrance A. Jacob is an ELCA pastor who emigrated from South Africa, his country of birth, when he accepted an invitation by the ELCA bishops in Minneapolis-St. Paul, with whom he had done global community organizing as CEO of Church Based Community Organizing, South Africa. He served on the central staff of the Gamaliel Foundation (Network) out of Chicago and has taught and done organizing in Kenya, Tanzania and Zimbabwe.  He now serves St. Andrew Lutheran Church in Franklin, Tenn., as senior pastor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Honoring Asian American, Native Hawaiian, and Pacific Islander Heritage Month

In honor of Asian Pacific American Heritage Month, ELCA Racial Justice Ministries invited Pastor Jill Rode to reflect on this topic. For more information on AAPI Heritage Month, visit Asian & Pacific American Heritage Month.


Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month brings me pride but also a complex mix of emotions. As a Korean American adoptee raised by a white Midwestern family, I have always felt my sense of culture, identity and belonging to be layered and, at times, uncertain. Though I celebrate this month, I also wrestle with where I fit within the broader Asian American narrative.

I was raised in a distinctly Midwestern way—rooted in traditions such as hot dish, a strong work ethic and the Lutheran Church. My parents were open about my adoption but didn’t actively explore or celebrate my Korean heritage. Not until I was in my 40s did I visit South Korea for the first time. That experience awakened something profound within me: grief, longing, connection and a growing sense of wholeness. Traveling alongside other Korean adoptees, I felt truly seen for the first time. Returning home brought a sense of reverse culture shock and marked the beginning of a deeper journey into my identity.

As an adopted Korean American, I often feel caught between worlds. In my family, church and community in Minnesota, I am perceived as Asian but feel culturally American. In Korean or Asian spaces, I share an ethnic identity but lack the language, cultural fluency and lived experience. This “in-between” identity can feel isolating.

That sense of being an outsider resurfaced during recent immigration enforcement activity in Minneapolis-St. Paul, where I live. Despite having been a U.S. citizen for nearly my entire life, I found myself double-checking my adoption paperwork and carrying my passport—reminders of how fragile belonging can feel.

In such moments, I turn to my faith. The Bible and church history are filled with stories of people shaped by adoption, migration and the search for home—people who lived in-between identities. These stories remind me that there is space for everyone, including me.

My path as a Korean adoptee may not be traditional, but it is meaningful. My in-betweenness is not a deficit—it is a bridge between cultures, a testament to resilience and an invitation to keep learning and growing.

During this Heritage Month, I choose to engage more intentionally with my roots. I plan to attend cultural events, connect with other Korean adoptees and seek out stories that reflect my journey. I celebrate the richness and diversity of Asian and Pacific Islander communities, recognizing that my story is one unique thread in a larger tapestry.

Ultimately this month reminds me that identity is not fixed—it evolves. I can honor both my Korean origins and my American upbringing while embracing the path adoption has shaped for me. I am grateful for the chance to reflect, connect and grow, and for the hope that all adoptees can find belonging and pride in their stories. In faith, I believe there is a place for all of us at God’s table.

 

 

Jill Rode (she/her) is a lifelong Lutheran with more questions than answers. She currently serves as co-pastor of St. Anthony Park Lutheran Church in St. Paul, Minn. As a Korean adoptee who has only recently started to untangle her adoption story, and as a queer female, she is interested in the intersections of the various identities we each hold and what those intersections can teach us about God’s character.

 

 

For more information on ELCA API Ministries, visit:  Asian & Pacific Islander Ministries in the ELCA and About | Association of Asian and Pacific Islanders of Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, AAPI-ELCA

From Rev. Teresita “Tita” C. Valeriano, Program Director, Asian and Pacific Islander Ministries

API Ministries Second Quarter 2026

Lutherans Engaging in the Electoral Process

Racial Justice Ministries shares the following article from ELCA Advocacy. The original post can be found here:  Lutherans Engaging in the Electoral Process – ELCA Advocacy » ELCA Advocacy – Evangelical Lutheran Church in America


Lutherans Engaging in the Electoral Process

Black and white illustration with text: "ELCA Election Engagement Blog Post Series," featuring hands placing "VOTE" cards into a ballot box.What is at stake in the electoral process? For Lutherans, our response is not exclusively individualistic.

FOUNDATIONS OF OUR CONSIDERATION

The electoral process is one way in the United States that we steward our life together as a nation, care for our neighbor and promote the common good. The topic may get additional attention during an election cycle, but the foundations of its consideration are shaped by a Lutheran understanding of God’s intent to work through human activity to order and provide earthly justice and enough for all. These foundations are expressed in Bible studies and sermon reflections and lived experiences.

“This church teaches that civic engagement is a vital aspect of discipleship for baptized Christians. We have a responsibility not only to fulfill our private roles and functions in life, and to pray for those in authority (1 Timothy 2:1-2), but also to be civically engaged. We do so to act against destructive consequences but also for fair and compassionate governance.” – From the ELCA social message “Government and Civic Engagement in the United States: Discipleship in a Democracy” (p. 13)

Government is conveyed as God’s gift in the social message because “it is intended to do what churches, families, individuals, and businesses cannot do on their own: protect and coordinate the well-being of individuals, communities, and creation” (p. 2). Elections are a moment when faithful civic engagement becomes especially visible as the nation grapples with decisions that will have generational impact for years to come. Elections provide a structured way for people to help shape policies, elect candidates of choice, enact accountability for the well-being of all and ensure that every voice, especially voices from the margins, are heard.

 

BARRIERS TO ACCESS AND EQUITY

Quote about the faith community's role in democracy against a purple background with voting imagery.Voter suppression is real. Voting in our nation was first enshrined only for educated white men who owned property. It took more than a century for access to the ballot to meaningfully expand to people of color, women, people with disabilities, people who are low-income, and American Indians and Alaska Natives. From a history of voter suppression in the Jim Crow era to the current climate of restrictive voter laws, many people, particularly people of color, face barriers to their right to vote. “The political health of our nation still suffers from the stain of antidemocratic exclusion. Efforts to restrict access to voting should be condemned and resisted,” notes the social message (p. 9). The need to advocate for just access to the vote continues.

The ELCA social policy resolution “Voting Rights to All Citizens” affirms that “members, congregations, and synods of this church be encouraged to ‘promote public life worthy of the name’ by speaking out as an advocate and engaging in local efforts such as voter registration and supporting legislation to guarantee the right to vote to all citizens.” Many congregations and leaders answer this nonpartisan call through holding registration drives and Get Out The Vote campaigns, among other ways.

 

DEVELOPMENTS AND TRENDS

Section 2 of the Voting Rights Act, for example, has had historical value and current relevance in preventing discrimination, improving outcomes for disadvantaged groups, recognizing and addressing historical injustices as they relate to advancing voting rights and fair representation in the United States. The U.S. Supreme Court ruled in Louisiana v. Callais on Apr. 29, 2026, that the creation of a second majority-Black district in the state of Louisiana was an unconstitutional racial gerrymander. The historic decision ultimately weakens key provisions of the Voting Rights Act that have historically protected minority demographics by the banning of discriminatory voting practices on the basis of race and the providing of accountability on the outcomes of congressional maps.

Purple-toned graphic with text from prayer about civic engagement and a "Vote" slip being dropped into a box from hands.“Wider implications of the decision include weakened effectiveness of equal protection challenges and the use of disparate impact analysis as legal tools for accountability on issues related to access in employment, housing and education policy. ELCA individual members, and the ministries and organizations serving those impacted, will begin to see impacts this year, in states racing against primary filing deadlines and widespread longer-term changes to federal policy and election administration in anticipation of the 2028 presidential election,” said Antoine Cummins, ELCA Program Director for Civil Rights. “The faith community has played a pivotal role in the multi-generational struggle to realize the vision of a more equitable multi-racial democracy -and will continue to do so.”

NONPARTISAN WITNESS

A prayer that God’s creative power may be present in our witness concludes the ELCA social statement Faith and Civic Life: Seeking the Well-being of All (p. 71). This prayer includes the petition:

“May we, as your people, join all others of goodwill in the work of government as gift, aspiration, and responsibility to serve the common good of ‘we the people.’”

We are thankful for public servants, election officials, the judiciary and all who strive towards this common goal.

In and out of an election cycle, the ELCA will continue to advance a nonpartisan public witness which encourages participation in the electoral process and advocates for just and equitable access to voting, shaped by our faith convictions. The ELCA does not endorse any particular candidate, party or form of government or strive for a Christian one. Yet in love there is much we can do.

Sign up for updates from the ELCA Advocacy team at elca.org/advocacy/signup, and monitor @socials and this blog for the latest ELCA resources to equip faithful civic engagement.

Upcoming Events

Racial Justice Ministries invites you to join us for the following events:

Equipping the Church to Dismantle White Supremacy: A 5-part Webinar Series

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6th Angelversary of George Floyd

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Truth, Honor and Remembrance: National Day of Awareness for Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women (MMIW) in the ELCA

In honor of National Day of Awareness for Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, Girls, and Relatives (MMIWGR), which is observed on May 5 each year, ELCA Racial Justice Ministries invited Isabell Retamoza to write on this topic.


Truth, Honor and Remembrance: MMIW Awareness Day in the ELCA

By Isabell Retamoza

On May 5, communities across the United States will gather in remembrance and solidarity to honor missing and murdered Indigenous women (MMIW), girls and Two-Spirit people[1].

The alarming rates of abduction, disappearance and murder of Indigenous women, girls and Two-Spirit people represent one of the most devastating and ongoing injustices facing tribal nations and Indigenous communities. On some reservations, Native women experience murder rates more than 10 times the national average.[2] Two-Spirit individuals face exceptionally high levels of violence, with studies indicating that between 78% and 85% have experienced gender-based violence, sexual assault or physical violence.[3] These disappearances and deaths are frequently connected to domestic and dating violence, sexual assault, stalking, sex trafficking and other longstanding harms impacting Indigenous communities. Nearly 96% per of the time the perpetrators of this violence are non-Native men.[4] 

To honor and remember those lost, many people wear red or paint red handprints across their faces as symbols of visibility for those who have been made invisible. But MMIW Awareness Day is not only about remembrance; it is also a call to truth-telling and advocacy.

MMIW Day of Awareness calls us to:

  • Honor the lives of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls and Two-Spirit people.
  • Raise awareness of the disproportionate levels of violence experienced by Indigenous families and communities.
  • Support community efforts of grassroots advocacy and organizing to change laws, policies, protocols and resource allocation at the tribal, federal and state levels.
  • Share and discuss the history of state-sanctioned violence perpetrated by the U.S. government against Indigenous people and communities to better understand the roots of this crisis and drive meaningful legal reform.

This crisis is neither isolated nor random. It is the result of centuries of state-sanctioned and structural violence. Rooted in colonization and genocide, U.S. policies forcibly removed Indigenous peoples from their ancestral lands, fractured families and kinship systems, and devalued Indigenous culture. These harms continue today through jurisdictional failures, underfunded services, extractive industries built near tribal lands, and systems that repeatedly fail to protect Indigenous women, girls and Two-Spirit people or that hold perpetrators accountable.

For the church, MMIW Awareness Day is also a moment of moral reflection. Christian institutions were often complicit in the systems that enabled this violence, including forced assimilation and boarding schools. Honoring this day meaningfully requires more than acknowledgment; it calls us to recognize the truth expressed through action, solidarity and sustained commitment to justice.

Honoring MMIW Awareness Day in Your Congregation

ELCA congregations can mark May 5 in meaningful and respectful ways, including:

  • Wearing red (T-shirts available from the ELCA) and taking pictures.
  • Using social media to raise awareness. Use the hashtags #MMIW, #NoMoreStolenSisters, #TruthandHealing and #ELCA 2.
  • Organizing a prayer vigil (with this resource).
  • Including MMIW in your congregation’s prayers for the day.
  • Saying the names of MMIW (especially meaningful if you research and identify MMIW specific to your region or locality) and lighting candles for them during worship.
  • Inviting (and compensating) a local Indigenous expert to share on this topic as part of your educational time.
  • Inviting (and compensating) local Indigenous musicians to play or sing during worship.

As members of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, we are called to bear public witness to truth, even when that truth challenges us. On May 5, may we commit ourselves not only to remembrance but to action that honors Indigenous lives.

For more information on how your congregation can get involved and honor MMIW Day of Awareness on May 5, please visit the ELCA website and download the MMIW Toolkit.

Isabell Retamoza is a citizen of the Cherokee Nation, a law student at the University of Illinois Chicago School of Law and is a member of St. Andrew Lutheran Church in San Diego.

 

 

 


[1]Two-Spirit is a term used by some Indigenous people to describe roles, responsibilities, and identities that exist outside colonial understandings of gender and sexuality. For many, Two-Spirit is interrelated to expression, language, tradition, and/or ceremony, often carrying inherent responsibilities to the well-being of the land and community.” Understanding The Term ‘Two-Spirit’ — Wabanaki Two-Spirit Alliance, https://w2sa.ca/two-spirit-library/understanding-the-term-two-spirit.

[2] National Indigenous Women’s Resource Center, www.niwrc.org/mmir-awareness.

[3] Balsam, Kimberly F., et al., “Culture, Trauma, and Wellness: A Comparison of Heterosexual and Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Two-Spirit Native Americans, Cultural Diversity & Ethnic Minority Psychology, 2026, vol. 32, issue 2 (April), doi.org/10.1037/1099-9809.10.3.287.

[4]   The National Congress of American Indians Policy Research Center, Key Statistics | NCAI, https://www.ncai.org/section/vawa/overview/key-statistics.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Voices of Faith: Black Joy

In celebration of Black History Month which is celebrated in the United States in February, we share the following article which is cross-posted from Living Lutheran. The original post can be found here.


BLACK JOY

My mother had the most sumptuous deep dark chocolate skin, full lips, large African nose and big beautiful eyes. She had a unique sense of style and a calming way of being. She chose the best fragrances that finished the whole experience—touching all the senses. I remember watching people come to her as a child. Some wanted to drink from her wisdom. Some were struck by her confidence and beauty. Others just wanted to laugh at her clever, inviting jokes. She made them feel both seen and safe. She had a fair share of friends, family and fans.

I witnessed her taking the last of what she had and using it to care for multiple people. Even as she figured out how to be a daughter and caregiver to her mom while raising two girls, she helped other people—giving them a place to stay and healing them with her Black joy. She seemed unstoppable. She made a way out of no way.

I remember a time when she took in my two cousins who are around my age. It felt like fun to us. We were too young to appreciate the financial, physical or mental weight it brought with it. It was just fun-having two extra siblings. Watching the world continue to lean toward her, we felt invincible and blessed. She worked at Goodwill that year as a supervisor and, when Christmas rolled around, we got the best gifts. I still wonder how she did it. We still nostalgically think back to the “Goodwill Christmas” with fondness—not just for the gifts but for the time together.

Looking back, I think it had to be Black joy. It eclipsed the weight and heartache of the reality of a woman coming out of the pain of divorce and welcoming added responsibility. She emulated the example that her mother showed her as a young widow when her husband died leaving her alone with two small children. She embraced the possibility and crushed the seemingly insurmountable odds.

Black joy is God-breathed. It’s the mystical resilience of African ancestry. It’s the personification of hope. It seeps up from the ground beneath our feet. It pours down from the sky. It blows every way the wind goes and glides through the stillness of when the wind stops. It leaps in the darkness of night and in the brightness of day. It’s edified by all things because it extracts the good from all it encounters. It is unmistakable. It has nourished millions and has not been depleted by even a drop. Black joy is so immense and so powerful that it cannot be destroyed. It walks in the surreal balance of arrogance and humility from the power and promise of God.

It’s easy to be distracted by other things and forget the access we have to Black joy. Then we get glimpses to remind us. Like Venus Williams who was the oldest player in the Australian Open women’s singles. Or like the passing away of Claudette Colvin, who at the tender age of 15 defiantly refused to give up her seat on the bus nine months before Rosa Parks did. Or like the election of Yehiel Curry as presiding bishop, an African descent person serving in the whitest denomination in the United States.

Black joy is an undercurrent that makes the good times better and the hard times bearable. It’s infectious and cannot be imitated no matter how hard one tries. It is the laughter, joy, love and excitement of God showing up as amazing energy in people of African descent who tend to let it flow to anyone in reach. It’s the Vibranium (from Black Panther) of real life and explains the unmitigated gall of Black people to excel irrespective of circumstance. It’s the rhythm of the earth in step with the rhythm of God’s heartbeat. Can you feel it? Black joy.