2012 is an election year in America, and that means enduring the endless round of primaries across the country where immense sums of money are spent and nasty things are said that will later be used against the candidate who is eventually nominated. As the primaries roll on, the number of candidates dwindles. Michelle Bachman, Herman Cain, and Rick Perry had their moment in the sun, along with the character in New Hampshire known for wearing a snowshoe on his head, while promising a pony for every family in America if he would be elected president.

2012 also happens to be an election year in the Rocky Mountain Synod of the ELCA. We will elect a successor to Bishop Alan Bjornberg in April, 2012, when the Synod Assembly gathers in Colorado Springs. This election is not preceded by a series of primaries, but rather through what is known as an “Ecclesiastical Ballot.” Getting oneʼs name on this ballot is relatively easy to do, for any rostered ELCA clergy-person can be considered for this office, even if they are not currently serving a call within the Rocky Mountain Synod.

I experienced the Body of Christ in action many years ago in my first call to Holy Trinity Lutheran Church in Camden, New Jersey. In that small, struggling, inter-racial congregation I was given a glimpse of Christian love I will never forget.

Our second daughter had just been home from the hospital a few days when my wife suffered a Post-Partum Depression that required immediate hospitalization. Our nearest relatives were more than 2000 miles away as I made preparations to care for our new-born and her 19 month old sister along with preparing a sermon for the Sunday service that would take place in a matter of hours. Sunday came, and after making arrangements for someone to watch the girls, I went on to the morning service.

I apologized for being rather unprepared that morning and asked for their understanding in the coming days, when I would juggle taking care of the little ones, making visits to my wife, and doing whatever ministry I might be able to provide.

The service ended and one by one the members made their way to the back of the sanctuary. First to leave were our Caucasian members, who assured me that my family would be in their prayers, telling me to give them a call if there was anything I needed. I noticed that our African-American members were clustered toward the front of the church as this was going on, and then they, too, filed out one by one. But instead of telling me to call them if I had any needs, each of them simply told me what they planned to do for me and my family in the days ahead. One invited me to drop the children off at her home near the hospital when I went to see my wife. A second told me which day she would stop by our home to do the laundry and clean the parsonage. Others had worked out a schedule of meals they planned to bring by as well as times they could come to make sure that our little girls were cared for so I could get out of the house.

These beautiful people of God did not say, “Call me if you need anything.” They understood without my asking exactly what I needed even before I asked, and out of love and grace they provided it. Their example of love is one that my wife and I have tried to share in all the years that have followed those difficult days at Holy Trinity, offering what we can do or share to those we know who need some time off from care-giving; a hot meal; some help around the house; or simply a shoulder to lean on.

Rev. Dr. Carl Hansen, Interim Pastor

On Sunday, July 24, my wife and I attended the last worship service ever to be held at Good Shepherd Lutheran Church. Good Shepherd is closing its doors after years of significant ministry to the people of that part of Metro Denver, not too far from where Atonement is located.

It is not closing because of a lack of good Pastoral Leadership. During the years since I moved back to Denver from Nebraska, I have known and admired its last two pastors, both of whom provided outstanding, creative pastoral care in the past several years. The first was Rev. Karen Wiessenbuehler who led Good Shepherd until her retirement; the second, Pastor Jay McDivit who was the pastor until he accepted a new call outside the state of Colorado. Over the years a number of interns gained their pastoral experience at Good Shepherd and are themselves now serving as in ministry here in Colorado and elsewhere. Several of them were present at the service on July 24 to share fond memories of what they learned in the warm embrace of the members and pastors of Good Shepherd and how those experiences shaped the kind of pastors they are today. One was Dena Williams, the current Interim Pastor, who provided a very moving sermon, based on the texts for the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost that were read in our churches earlier that day.

My Least Favorite Hymn of All Time

We recently took suggestions of favorite hymns to be included in our services during August. I am pleased to report that no one asked for my absolutely least favorite hymn, “Onward Christian Soldiers.” I thought about this old hymn as I tried to get my head around the horrible picture of Anders Breivik leaving a fertilized-infused car bomb to explode in Oslo before he left to kill scores of innocent people on an off-shore Norwegian island. Coming, as it did, just a month from the tenth Anniversary of “9/11,” it is not surprising that the first reports of the incident had many thinking immediately that it was caused by a Muslim terrorist seeking to do harm to Christians. But this time that was not so. Breivik is one of us: a self-proclaimed Christian, but unlike many of us, with a deep and abiding fear and anger toward Islam and Muslims.

As is usually the case in events like this, people look for “labels” to provide a short-hand explanation for what may have prompted such a horrific mass murder. “Unbalanced” and “mentally ill” were two fairly obvious labels. Others applied the label, “Christian Terrorist,” arguing that a fundamentalist, Right Wing interpretation of the Bible fed his paranoia and anger.

Last summer, I provided pulpit supply at St. Peter Lutheran Church in Greenwood Village, CO, while their pastor was on vacation. The 8:00 service that morning was held out-or-doors, with people sitting in folding chairs in a grassy area between the church building and the church parking lot. During the service several vehicles drove into the lot, but instead of parking so the occupants might join the service as late-comers, they simply turned around and exited the way they had come.

When the service was over, I asked the music director if this was a common occurrence at their early service. He answered that that there must have been something happening at a nearby park located south of the church, and that the drivers probably thought that the driveway into the St. Peter parking lot might be a short-cut to where they planned to go. As he put it, they must have thought this was simply a stop on the way to somewhere else.

Over the span of many years of officiating at weddings, I have come to develop a definite preference for services conducted inside a sanctuary where temperature and humidity can be controlled and a good sound system is available. I can understand why couples might want to exchange their vows in a beautiful out-of-doors setting, but in my experience, more things can go wrong than anyone can imagine.

I remember one early spring wedding in Kansas on a ranch overlooking Kanopolis Lake. That service went without a hitch, but it was not until the reception dinner where we enjoyed a pig-roast at the house, that the groom and his father told me they had spent every night for the last two weeks dispatching dozens of rattlesnakes just then emerging from hibernation in the area where the service would be held. Colorado weddings have their own hazards. One September wedding came a day after an early season blizzard. The site for the wedding was accessible only by four wheeled drive vehicles up a series of narrow, winding muddy road. Once there, we gathered on the edge of a cliff, standing in ankle-deep snow to witness the couple exchange their vows. She wore a lovely gown, accented by knee-high boots; he wore a dark blue suit, accented by hiking shoes. The ring-bearer was their dog, who clearly loved the snow.