Today’s blog post is from Richard Graham, Bishop of the Metropolitan Washington, D.C. Synod.

The year after I graduated from college I had a Fulbright Fellowship to study in France. I was a student that year at the Faculty of Protestant Theology of the University of Strasbourg. Far away from home, I spent the year in classes with people who knew they wanted to be Lutheran pastors. Over the course of that time I realized I wanted to be one as well.

I was blessed with great worship experiences that year away. The beautiful cathedral of Strasbourg was warm and welcoming when I visited. I worshiped nearly every Sunday at St. Thomas, a medieval parish church that became Lutheran early in the Reformation and where Albert Schweitzer had played his earliest Bach-revival organ concerts. Most of my friends in Strasbourg spoke Alsatian, a German dialect I never mastered. But the public worship was in French, which I understood well enough to know I was hearing the gospel powerfully preached and prayed and sung by people who treated me with great kindness.

I also worshiped that year with the English-language community that gathered once a month. Strasbourg was the home of the Council of Europe, a big deal in those days. There were diplomats in town from Britain and Ireland, along with people there to do business, students like me and the occasional tourist. We met in the chapel of a local Roman Catholic religious order. Laypeople preached or one of my theology professors, who had studied in New York. We prayed and sang, and then chatted and drank coffee, in the language that was closest to my heart. People were very kind to me there too.

There was something powerful that year about worshiping in ways that required me to pay close attention. My French was never good enough for me to let my mind wander. And it was powerful, too, to worship in the language that let me relax. I hope this experience has made me more sensitive to the refugees and immigrants who come to this city, where so many worship in English somewhere in the morning, then gather to praise God in the afternoon in the language they brought from home.

And I hope that the welcome I received wherever I worshiped that year in Strasbourg is a welcome that everyone can feel in any of the churches for which I’m responsible. I pray that this is so.

We may be in a time of numerical decline among denominations, yet the church has a grand opportunity for spiritual deepening.  Now is the time to reclaim the traditional path of discipleship—through a faith formation process known as the Catechumenate.  This ancient/future way of learning and creating disciples invites us to hear one another’s stories in the light of God’s story.  It is a baptismal journey with Jesus that is life-giving and transforming—not only for individuals but for entire faith communities.

You are invited to experience this simple yet profound way of making disciples at a Training Institute being held May 4-6, 2017 in Arden, North Carolina.  The event for pastors, seminarians, and lay leaders is co-sponsored by Journey to Baptismal Living (NAAC) and the North Carolina Synod (ELCA).   Bring a team and be immersed in the movements and worship rites of the Catechumenate.  Every participant receives a training manual and free copy of Go Make Disciples: An Invitation to Baptismal Living (Augsburg Fortress) that will help you introduce this discipling process to your congregation.

The Lutheran Church of the Nativity in Arden—located near the Asheville airport—is hosting the training institute.  Because of a synodical grant, registration (including meals, program, and materials) is being offered at the low cost of $175 per person (or $125 to the first 25 people who register).  Housing is available at the discounted conference rate of $89 per night at the nearby Mountain Inn and Suites Airport Hotel—but rates are only guaranteed through April 4, 2017 by calling 828-684-0040.

Ready to welcome you in May are (left to right) Pastors Mark Fitzsimmons, Rachel Hoffman, and Greg Hoffman.

Full scholarships (including housing) are available for students/seminarians.  For more information contact Pastor Mark Fitzsimmons at mfitzsimmons@nativityarden.org or call 828-684-0352.  One can register online or download a brochure with registration form at the NAAC website: www.catechumenate.org.

 
Today’s blog post is from Ashley Dellagiacoma, Restart Pastor at KINDRED in Houston, TX.

+KINDRED is a one year old Restart Congregation that gathers weekly for dinner church in Houston, TX.  We meet in a historic building among a vibrant urban neighborhood that boasts some of the best restaurants in the city. Our people know good food, but still hunger for something more.

Preparation for worship starts early in the afternoon as one of our own chefs fire up anything from chicken tikka masala to collard greens and ham hocks. Our “altar guild” consists of 4-year-olds who help fold napkins and people sleeping on the streets who fill the communion cups. The truth is that worship has already begun. From setting the table to loading the dishwasher and everything between, we are proclaiming God’s presence and praise in this assembly and beyond it.

As +KINDRED, we understand the sacramental table to be a very long one. It starts at the cross and goes all the way out the doors to the church building.  We ring the old church bell, light our candles, and then immediately bless and break the bread of Holy Communion. We hear the invitation “this is God’s table and all are welcome – children and skeptic, sinner and saint – we are ready to begin the meal.” The bread is whatever would normally accompany the meal – corn tortillas, croissants, or even red-velvet cake on Pentecost. It still holds a special place in the liturgy, but leads us into a sacramental way of being. As we fill our plates and share lively conversation across the table, we discover Christ meeting us in the ordinary.  We learn to see Jesus in ordinary bread that goes beyond the sanctuary walls.  So during the rest of the week when someone sits down for a taco with a friend, the tortillas on their table reminds and connects them to something bigger. After engaging scripture, prayer, and song we end our time together with the blessing of the cup just as Jesus and the first followers did. Everyone serves and everyone is served, as we share this simple wine around the table.

When people walk in for the first time, they are delightfully surprised that a space can retain its beautiful stained glass window and dark wood-worked ceilings while also accommodate rough-hewn tables and eclectic chairs.  The ancient and modern elements come together to reflect that this is something sacred and also accessible, familiar, and inviting.  They leave having been fed, body and soul.

Today’s blog post is from Kevin Strickland, Assistant to the Presiding Bishop and Executive for Worship for the ELCA, and is the longer form of the Worship E-news greeting for January 2017.

 “Master, now you are dismissing your servant^[e] in peace,
according to your word;
for my eyes have seen your salvation,
which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,
 a light for revelation to the Gentiles
and for glory to your people Israel.” (Luke 2:29-32)

In this season after Epiphany, how can Simeon’s song continue to carry us through the cadences of life’s darkness and bring hopeful light? Simeon’s “song”, has become one of our own. Many know these words well in the Latin, Nunc Dimittis, which means, “now send away,” the hymn that is sometimes sung after Communion or interestingly it is also what we sing as part of the service of Compline—the “going to bed” liturgy.

As we close our day, we sing, “Lord, now you let your servant go in peace; your word has been fulfilled. My own eyes have seen the salvation which you have prepared in the sight of every people: a light to reveal you to the nations and the glory of your people Israel.”

What have our eyes seen before going to bed? It’s usually the common ordinary stuff of life: dirty dishes, endless e-mails, which kid forgot to do their science experiment and waits until bedtime to tell you, paper work, bills, dirty clothes that seem to never end, aging parents that require more attention, etc, etc, etc.

What have our eyes seen before going to bed?

Is it the news that once again someone has been shot, or another terror attack, or another political slam made from one side of the aisle to the other.

What have our eyes seen before going to bed?

Is it the test results that reveal cancer, or the loved one who has to go into assistance because her memory is no more, or have our eyes looked into the eyes of another for the last time, as in peace and joy they now depart?

Is God’s salvation to be seen in such common, ordinary, even mundane things of life? As well, is God’s salvation to be seen in all of life’s good and bad, joy and sadness, celebration and mourning?

What have eyes seen when we gather as the assembly of God in worship? There are people who are vast and different. People who bring with them into this space a host of issues and yet in our brokenness as a body we are made whole by Christ own. Is God’s salvation to be seen in our gathering?

What have eyes seen in sacrament of Holy Communion? It is around simple things that we gather: bread and wine with one another. Is God’s salvation to be seen in this?

What have eyes seen in the sacrament of Holy Baptism? It is around simple things like water that we gather with one another? Is God’s salvation to be seen in this?

God is indeed present in an infant, in bread and wine, in water, in each other, in our gathering, in the ordinary and extra-ordinary events of every day life. Where God is present, there salvation is for those with the faith to see more than just the obvious or what is transparent.

Could it be that Simeon sings the starting notes of the canticle of all of our lives? Could it be that Simeon reminds us that we behold God’s salvation each and every time we behold the face of another that God created and each and every time we gather to watch over as another saint of God’s departs in peace?

Let us continue to sing with Simeon. Let us continue seeing the salvation of God that is before our very eyes each and every day with each and every person, until at our last we sing and we rejoice with Simeon and all the saints: “Lord, now you let your servant go in peace; your word has been fulfilled. My own eyes have seen the salvation which you have prepared in the sight of every people: a light to reveal you to the nations and the glory of your people Israel.”

May it be so! Amen.

Today’s blog post is from Laura Ferree, current seminarian and Leadership in Context student at Jacob’s Porch, Ohio State University, Columbus, Ohio. Laura shares her experience following the car and knife attack that took place on the OSU campus on Nov. 28, 2016.

On Monday November 28^th I was driving to the Columbus airport to pick up a friend when a NPR news broadcaster stated, “There is an active shooter being reported on Ohio State University’s campus”. My heart sank. My mind instantly raced to all the students I have come to know during my time as the Leadership in Context student at Jacob’s Porch, Ohio State’s Lutheran Campus Ministry. Through social media, we quickly determined that all of our students were safe but some were in buildings very close to the violent incident. As I went through my morning at Trinity Lutheran Seminary I knew that I needed to be at the Porch that night. My mind was racing about what kind of space we needed to create at the Porch when Grant Eckhart, the pastor at Jacob’s Porch, called. He told me that he was out of town but we agreed the Porch needed to be open. My heart sank once again.  I am only a seminary student. How did I have the qualifications to do this? With Grant’s trust and guidance, I felt prepared to enter ministry that day with students at the Porch knowing that the Holy Spirit would intercede when our sighs were too deep for words.

As soon as possible I went to the Porch and was greeted by students, but also by news crews and cameras. As the media buzzed around there was a deep sense of palpable anguish. Amid the distress and uncertainties, we created a sacred space of prayer and lament as we reflected on the events of that morning. The Porch is a place of vulnerability where people can simply be, and on this day of tragedy many people needed to just be.

On this day we turned to something we often do: light candles and place them in a sandbox cross remembering that Christ is the light of the world. We sit on cushions around this cross and turn to prayer remembering the promise that is in the cross, the promise of eternal life and forgiveness of our sins. Coming back to the cross in this way centers us on the promise of an everlasting light that extinguishes darkness which can be easily forgotten in times of tragedy.

The Porch is a place of refuge and rest, for our Christian family but also for the Muslim and Somali community. Due to the identity of the attacker our Muslim and Somali siblings were experiencing a threat to their safety. We are called to come together in love not hate and therefore we strive to make the Porch a safe space for all regardless of religion or nationality. On that chaotic afternoon, we found rest in each other and cried out to God to be our refuge and strength.