I'm back

You probably didn't even notice I'd gone again. 

For more than 30 years, 

my congregation has had a relationship with the Lakota People

on the Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota. 

 

We've worked with HFH in home building;

we've collected supplies and money for 

White Buffalo Calf Woman's Society,

the first domestic violence shelter for indigenous women in the country;

we've had coat drives for their elementary schools;

we've donated bears, knit items and money 

for first responders to give to trauma victims;

we've provided funding for heating

 during harsh LONG winters

in substandard housing;

we've provided new roofs, stoves and storm windows;

we built a softball field 20 years ago that's still being used 

by the community today ...

 

but, the best thing we've done

has been to keep returning;

to be known as "the church that comes back'.

 

to develop relationships with people

and to be known by them;

not as representatives of a 'better' culture or way of being

but as perfectly imperfect and human as 'they' are.

We're in this together.

 

In 2023,

one of their historic congregation,

Holy Innocents, established in 1890,

was destroyed by arson.

A painting of the original church 

and interior.

You can't and don't replace history.

But you can rebuild.

Destruction doesn't get the last word.

 

We were invited back for the consecration of their new church -

a metal 'pole barn' that is connected to a metal Guild Hall

which will serve them differently in this changing world

but just as faithfully.

(the church is on the right, 

the red/white color way reflecting the original paint

and the Guild Hall, in blue

on the left)

What a wonderful celebration -

and a feast afterward -

with old and new friends;

in Lakota and English;

with ordained clergy and indigenous Spiritual leaders in attendance;

exactly what beloved community looks like.

 

Here's the reflection I wrote immediately after getting back:

 

At first, I thought it was a metaphor so perfect for the reservation -

the building was incomplete, 
work continuing up until 20 minutes before the service started.
No insulation on the walls or ceiling, 
a close look revealing walls not meeting the foundation,
no permanent electrical source, 
extension cords running to a source in another building;
white sheets stapled over bare walls,
twinkle lights strung overhead, 

providing enough magic to distract from the reality 

of all that remained unfinished

An overall sense of what needed to be accomplished
but no concise, clear plan of how to get it done -
everyone doing their small part of 
both the celebration and the feast that followed.

That’s when I realized the metaphor was perfect for all of us -
for the church -
we are ALL unfinished -
all works in progress -
with our own versions of ‘twinkle lights’ 

to distract from all the ways in which we’re incomplete.

Thanks be to God, we don’t have to wait for ‘completion’ before we gather 
to celebrate relationship with the Holy 
and feast with beloved friends as community.

 

 

It also reminded me of a writing by Bishop Oscar Romero 

which always helps me keep things in perspective. 

 

 It helps, now and then, to step back and take the long view.
The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of
the magnificent enterprise that is Gods work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is another way of saying
that the kingdom always lies beyond us.

No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the church's mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

This is what we're about: We plant seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces effects beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything
and there is a sense of liberation in that.
This enables us to do something, and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete, but it's a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for God's grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results,
but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders, ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.
Amen

Oscar Romero.
~~~~~~~

 

A quick trip to a place and people you love is always worth the effort;

especially in times like these

when those in power would prefer we be separated and estranged.

 

Even Mother Nature out there isn't buying that version of reality.