Reflections on upcoming May 18, 2025 - Fifth Sunday of Easter - God Makes No Distinctions

Once again this Sunday's narrative lectionary Gospel is a timely read for Creator and for our times

Today’s scripture from Acts 15 introduces us to a tense confrontation the early Church faced. It witnesses to a family argument that shaped Christianity. At its heart is a simple but world-shaking question: "Who gets to belong?" 

After worship Creator will hold our semi-annual congregation meeting. The main purpose is to elect new council members. 

This kind of call discernment looks different now in our Spirit-led community. There used to be greater competition for council positions. Today it centers around who feels individually called or if someone is recognized by another of having the gifts of leadership and accepting it. Open hearts, open minds, and open ears are still essential for this choice to be holy. However, I wonder sometimes if that is recognized by everyone in the congregation

Peter speaks of how the Spirit fell on the Gentiles “just as it did on us.” He reminds them: “God made no distinction.” Paul and Barnabas tell of signs and wonders. And then James, who is rooted deeply in tradition, quotes the prophets, that even Amos saw a day when “all other peoples may seek the Lord.” Amos 9:11–12..

This reading reminds us we are a church learning to interpret the present through the lens of God’s love, not just the past through the letter of the law.

We see in Acts 15 the church in transition. Jewish followers of Jesus were grappling with the inclusion of Gentiles and those who did not grow up within the law or the tradition. Old markers of identity for these followers, such as circumcision, kosher laws, and ritual purity, were being reexamined.

Nationally, we are struggling with American identity in new and unfamiliaqr ways.. This is uncomfortable. For many, this feels like a betrayal of heritage, of scripture, and even of God’s covenant. As these markers of identity are challenged, change may feel like loss. When the foundations shift, we yearn to cling to what we know. 

Bringing it back to our congregation on Sunday, we will need to separate Creator members from non-members when voting. However, Acts 15 teaches us an important heart lesson about this separation:

God’s grace is not tied to our graceless gatekeeping.

Hopefully, we continue to aspire to transition from law to love and from exclusion to embrace.

The early Church made a bold decision: Gentiles were welcome as they were. There was no circumcision required in the end. Only a few things were asked for the sake of unity and mutual respect.

This watershed moment affirmed the Church was not be defined by boundaries, but rather by belonging. And this will always matter because we live in a world that still wants to draw lines. Lines will continue to be drawn around our different identities. Lines based on race, gender, sexuality, nationality, immigration status, our politics, theology, and traditions. 

Speaking of community, I want to welcome all the new readers of this blog. I invite everyone, old and new, to comment and share on this or any post.

In closing, Acts 15 gently reminds us this morning that God is always crossing any lines we draw. Why should we believe God does this? With it we acknowledge grief for the state of the world while recognizing the Bible as a testament to our love and care. There is a hope we can constantly see with new eyes,  and use to understand life's interwoven connections. Finally, this expresses trust that we will eventually take action that will contribute to new healings and transformations in our everyday world.

May 16, 2025 - A Touching Story about Pope Leo XIV's First, Silent Sermon

From social media comes a heartwarming story about a friendship forged between the newly elected Pope Leo XIV and St. Francis' wise, weathered dog named Tiberius.

Tiberius is no ordinary dog. A regal Labrador with graying fur and soulful eyes belonged to Pope Francis, who had passed him on to his successor with a simple note:

"He listens more than most cardinals and never forgets who needs love. Treat him as a brother."  Francis.

Pope Leo XIV, a scholar known for his quiet demeanor and fondness for ancient texts, was initially uncertain what to do with such a gift. He had no experience with dogs. His life had been a pilgrimage through dusty libraries and quiet contemplation. Yet from the moment Tiberius padded into his private quarters, something shifted. The dog sat beside him, placing a paw gently on Leo's knee, and looked into his eyes with the calm of a desert monk.

That night, Pope Leo XIV dreamed he was alone and walking through a crumbling basilica until Tiberius appeared and led him to a hidden door. Behind it was a library filled with manuscripts thought lost to time.

He awoke before dawn and found Tiberius staring out the window at the eastern horizon, tail gently thumping. Pope Leo knelt down and embraced the dog. With this one small gesture, what people are now calling Leo's first, silent sermon, this Pope's character was revealed far more than any church policy or papal decree he could have made.

This is a touching story, but in fact, it is untrue.

The stories about Pope Leo XIV and Pope Francis having dogs are mostly a mix of urban legends, misunderstandings, and bits of truth twisted by the internet.

Pope Francis was known for his love of animals, simple lifestyle, and closeness to nature, which has inspired people to imagine he must have a dog. However, Pope Francis never owned a dog, according to all verified Vatican sources. So why are so many variations of this story circulating so quickly?

The myth may stem from his Franciscan-style affinity with animals (named after St. Francis of Assisi, patron saint of animals). Also, having a pope or theologian reflecting on the spiritual role of animals is not far-fetched. Pope Francis, for example, spoke often about animals and creation. In his encyclical Laudato Si’, officially released on May 24, 2015, he called for the care of the Earth and all creatures.

The world longs for stories like this for many reasons right now. 

This anecdote affirms that Pope Leo XIV is likely to continue the path that Pope Francis forged. It demonstrates that love is prioritized by the church under his leadership over policy. Popes are shown to be very human in this story. There is also a valuable lesson that dogs, by their very nature, have something to teach everyone about creation. 

Even the dog being named Tiberius recalls the most famous bearer of the name, Emperor Tiberius, the second Roman emperor after Augustus, and may be a subtle suggestion of the perceived hierarchy of political and religious power to the people who are telling the stories.

May 15, 2025 - Keeping the Ink Wet - Recalling a Recent, Memorable Worship Moment

There is in the soul a something in which God dwells, and there is in the soul a something in which the soul dwells in God.” 

 — Meister Eckhart

Tonight was an Oregon Synod training session on Creative and Meaningful Worship. Our homework was to remember a memorable worship experience we had during Advent, Christmas, or during the Epiphany season, and what made it memorable. 

A worthwhile endeavor.

I'm also thinking about the presenter, Kevin Yell's, book “Keeping the Ink Wet” while reading Elaine Pagels' Miracles and Wonder.  

All this is offering a rich, complementary vision of Christian meaning that emphasizes mystery, embodiment, and encorages ongoing participation through worship.

Elaine Pagels reminds us that worship is not primarily about explanation or doctrinal precision, but about entering into the mystery of God, particularly through the lenses of grief, beauty, and awe. Worship at its best, should make space for the unexplainable: silence, lament, wonder, and paradox. Music, art, and ritual can combine to become vehicles of mystery. Rather than explain God worship can gesture toward the depths we cannot fully name. 

Congregations may find courage to tolerate ambiguity and, conceivably, can find God in the absence we sometimes feel, as much as in presence. 

Keeping the Ink Wet focuses on worship as performance. Services can move from static and formulaic to dynamic enactments of faith. Like theater, they aim for a fresh re-telling of the gospel, with congregants becoming participants in a divine drama shaped over time through ritual, word, and song.

Together, these views call us to a kind of worship that is both reverent and creative, rooted and open, structured yet spacious. Ultimately, both authors strive for a thin or cerebral worship aiming beyond simple, mental agreement or passive consumption. Instead, they invite us to worship as re-enchantment where God is not pinned down but encountered, and where the church rehearses the gospel story in a way that keeps the ink wet and the mystery alive.

Theme	Miracles and Wonder	Keeping the Ink Wet
Narrative	Examines how miraculous stories shaped Christian identity	Emphasis on personal engagement with storytelling or creative continuity
Faith & Doubt	Seeks understanding rather than certainty; respects mystery	Explores faith through metaphor, writing, or personal journey
Content	Explores why Gospel stories persisted across millennia	Suggests methods to preserve expression, identity, or memory
Form	Academic nonfiction	Poetic and reflective worship resource
Voice	Scholar-historian with personal elements	Personal, expressive, artistic

 For my recent memorable moment homework, I chose the Gathering Song as performed at Creator on January 5, Lord, Listen to Your Children Praying. Lasana Kenneh's vocal improvisations over the congregation's prayer-like performance of the music added a depth and richness to this familiar hymn.  

That day, the worship music definitely kept the ink wet.

01/05/2025 Service: https://www.youtube.com/live/q6JYniSQbro (go to song at 11:00 minutes) Blog

May 11, 2025 - Fourth Sunday of Easter - Some Unlikely Ministry On A Dusty, Desert Road

Then the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted.Then Jesus came to them and said, 

“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”

Matthew 28-16-20

The Great Commission tore my sense of what is right for years. Yes, sharing the Gospel is compelling, however, there can be something rather arrogant regarding its underlying spiritual assumptions. The "all authority" may ring with a conquering, "manifest destiny" bravado to many ears 

Here, being on a desert road with the Spirit, we are told a powerful story about a chance encounter that was, perhaps, not a chance at all.

Philip meets an Ethiopian eunuch, a person on the margins of religion and society. Through this encounter, we are shown what the inclusive, boundary-breaking love of God looks like. Today's Gospel is an invitation to walk a road together with two people who, apparently, have little in common at first.

 In verse 26, an angel tells Philip to go south to a desert road. He is not directed to a temple or a synagogue, but rather a dusty path between Jerusalem and Gaza. This is not a highway. This is not a logical place to do ministry. It’s remote and unplanned. But the Spirit often disrupts expectations.because God is not confined to buildings or rituals. God meets people where they are; in the wilderness of life, in the uncertainty of transition.

Philip encounters the Ethiopian eunuch, who is a person of deep contradictions: a high official of the queen, yet a eunuch, likely castrated, and so excluded from full participation in Jewish worship (see Deuteronomy 23:1). The Ethiopian is wealthy, educated, spiritually curious and clearly an outsider.

The eunuch does not fit into any of the binary categories of gender, race, or religion. Yet here he is, reading Isaiah, longing to understand, seeking truth. But the Ethiopian eunuch is not outside the bounds of grace. Instead he is center stage in God’s unfolding story.

He is reading Isaiah; "Like a sheep he was led to the slaughter, and like a lamb silent before its shearer, so he does not open his mouth. In his humiliation justice was denied him." and Philip asks him, “Do you understand what you are reading?” Philip doesn’t begin by preaching. He begins with a question. A question that honors the eunuch’s intellect and experience. A question that invites conversation.

This defeats evangelism expressed through conquest; that tells without listening. Philip models: humility, companionship, and curiosity. He encourages dialogue rather than dominance. He is willing to walk beside someone in their questions while not pretending to he has answers.

The Ethiopian's question, “What is to prevent me from being baptized?" takes us to the heart of the story After hearing the good news of Jesus this is what the eunuch asks

And the joyous answer is: nothing. No theology, no purity code, no gatekeeping. The waters are open. God’s welcome is wide. In a world; and too often, a church, that still puts up barriers, this story is a radical declaration: With belief there is nothing to prevent anyone from belonging.

Not gender identity.
Not sexuality.
Not race.
Not doctrine.
Not past wounds.
Nothing.

And then, suddenly, Philip is taken away, and the eunuch goes on his way rejoicing.

This is a story of complete transformation. It’s a story of release. The eunuch is not told to join a church or memorize a creed. The Ethiopian is simply embraced, baptized, and sent out already whole.

That is the identity of the community that Jesus calls for. We can trust the Spirit, offer blessings, and let people go in peace, bearing the image of God into the world.

During the service there was a Litany for Mothers and the Children's Time recognized Mother's Day.

Pastor Emillie preached in her sermon that there are now approximately 12 million Lutherans, primarily affiliated with the Ethiopian Evangelical Church; which accounts for the largest Lutheran population in a given country. She also reminded us that, despite being powerful, the work of the Spirit can feel slow when a congregation like Creator is yearning for immediate actions to make or take on a future identity.

Today's Gospel is a history lesson. On that dusty road, did the church forever change again? Was a gate was opened? Was a new path carved? 

Where do we as a congregation, and as a world, go from here?

May 8, 2025 - Pope Leo XIV - First American Pope Elected New Leader

Pope Leo XIV, formerly Cardinal Robert Francis Prevost, was elected as the new leader of the Catholic Church on May 8, 2025. His political views reflect a blend of continuity with his predecessor, Pope Francis, and a commitment to addressing contemporary global challenges.

Pope Leo XIV has emphasized themes of peace, compassion, and dialogue in his inaugural address, calling for unity and charity. He is known for taking progressive stances on immigration and social justice, potentially setting him apart from some American political agendas. 

Pope Leo XIV has pledged to continue Pope Francis’ legacy, including synodality which a model of inclusive church governance and advocacy for the marginalized. His stance on climate change is expected to align with Francis’ pivotal work, particularly the landmark “Laudato Si’” encyclical.

While progressive on some issues like climate change, Pope Leo XIV also holds firm traditional views on abortion and gender ideology. He aims to restore intellectual rigor and spiritual focus, offering a blend of tradition and reform.

Pope Leo XIV inherits significant challenges: resolving doctrinal debates on issues like LGBTQ+ inclusion, female ordination, and birth control; addressing clerical sexual abuse scandals and financial instability; and responding to geopolitical tensions and environmental crises.

In summary, Pope Leo XIV's political views are characterized by a commitment to social justice, continuity with Pope Francis' progressive reforms, and a balanced approach to tradition and modernity.

Reaction from The Standing Bear Network:

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They say his name is Pope Leo XIV, and that he is the first to come from the United States. But to us, the First Peoples of these lands — the ones whose stories stretch back to the rivers, stars, and stones — we do not judge leaders by their titles, but by their relationship to the truth.

 

And so, we look closely.

 

Before the white smoke rose in Rome, Robert Francis Prevost spent years in Peru, walking among Indigenous peoples in the Andes. He was a missionary there — a man of the Church bringing his teachings into communities that already had their own ways of praying, healing, and knowing the land. Some say he offered education and support. Others know the weight that always follows when priests arrive with crosses in one hand and promises in the other.

 

He is no stranger to our communities — not by name, but by role. A missionary.To many of our ancestors, that meant more than faith. It meant the dismantling of language, the replacing of ceremony, the burning of sacred objects. But this Pope, like the one before him, speaks of bridges. He says he wants to walk with the poor. To reach those forgotten. He says he respects the work of Pope Francis, who came to our lands, apologized for the Church’s role in the genocide of residential schools, and asked for forgiveness — even if the Doctrine of Discovery still hangs like a ghost in Vatican vaults. Pope Leo XIV brings with him the promise of continuity — to build on what was started.

 

But we do not need continuation. We need transformation. We need a Pope who will not just visit our territories, but return what was taken. We need more than apologies — we need the Vatican to rescind the very doctrines that declared our lands empty and our lives disposable. We need our languages supported, our spiritual leaders respected, our sovereignty recognized — not just in words, but in deeds.

 

If Pope Leo is truly listening, then let him hear this: We are still here. We have our own ways.

We are not seeking salvation — we are seeking respect, justice, and the restoration of what was stolen in the name of Christ.

 

If he is to walk beside us, he must come not as a teacher, but as a guest. Not as a savior, but as a learner.

Let the bridge he builds be made of truths finally spoken — and foundations set not in Rome,

but in the lands where our ancestors still whisper to us through the trees.

 

Tapwe,

Kanipawit Maskwa

John Gonzalez

Standing Bear Network

 

May 4, 2025 - Third Sunday of Easter - How Stephen Might be Remembered

Before this read of this passage I thought the church doesn't need more martyrs. Afterwards I knew it needed more Stephens particularly at present. People who will speak up and act when justice is overlooked. People who stay grounded in love even when they are attacked. People who trust the Spirit enough to stand; speak; and, perhaps most importantly, forgive.

Then I found out that the Greek word for martyr was μάρτυς (mártys): who is a person who gives testimony or bears witness, especially in a legal or public context.

In the New Testament, mártys is used to describe someone who testifies about Christ and the gospel. Over time, especially as Christians were persecuted, the term came to be associated with those who bore witness through their suffering and death. Hence, it evolved into its modern meaning: a person who dies for their faith.

Our faith sometimes calls us to justice work. The Spirit calls us not only to worship but to yearn for equitable systems, to provide compassionate care, and confront internal bias and fear, especially when bias and fear affect the marginalized.

Stephen is prophetic figure and models a faith we can have that doesn’t play it safe. His Christianity honors the call to question tradition, critique injustice, and hold systems accountable beyond anger, but rather in Spirit-led conviction. Stephen dies forgiving the very people killing him. In a culture often steeped in retribution and retaliation, this is radical. Forgiveness, empathy, and vision of divine love in the face of hate is our ultimate witness.

Stephen's story reminds us:that the truth might cost us yet the Spirit can never leave us. Christ stands with those who stand for revolutionary love, justice, and compassion. Which makes me wonder if I consider Jesus a martyr. 

He was a witness and Jesus' death is an ultimate testament to God's love and truth. He refused to escape execution, compromise or soften his teachings. Early Christians viewed Jesus as their model for martyrdom and Stephen, mirrors Jesus’ forgiveness and faith in the face of death.

Simultaneously Jesus was more than a martyr. Most martyrs accept death, but Jesus chooses it with a cosmic purpose.Jesus predicted and embraced his death as part of God's plan, Stephen did not. Calling Jesus a martyr might understate our belief that his death defeated sin and death.  Martyrs follow Jesus which suggests that he is the unique foundation of martyrdom rather than one of many. 

Again I wonder about martyrdom in our times and what I feel about those who are, or feel they are called to it. Pastor Emillie asked us about times where we have spoken out and how we felt about those Stephen moments in our life.

I definitely felt more conflicted than courageous regarding my recent Stephen moment. Sometimes it makes me tremble, however when I have seen others rise in their moments all I see is their courage.. 

Mary gave an announcement about the burning of the mortgage which will be celebrated at Pentecost and drew the congregation's attention to the preparation that is planned for the Farmland Produce and Creator's garden. There is a word cloud and string display of what the congregation envisions for Creator's future. 

Living courageous visions can be hard.  

April 27, 2025 - Second Sunday of Easter - Emmaus Moments

Recently someone asked if I would have seen Jesus as God, as Messiah or crazy if I had seen him human in real life? 

That question, together with this week's Gospel, last week's Easter service, a paining by Velázquez and a poem by Denise Levertov have all occupied my mind this week. Reading: Luke 24:13–35  Painting and Poem: “The Servant Girl at Emmaus (A Painting by Velázquez)” by Denise Levertov

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Prayer: 

Lord of the quiet hearth and the burning heart,
Open our eyes in the breaking of bread. Let us recognize you, not only in our sanctuaries, but also in our kitchens, our ordinary hours, our unremarkable tasks.  Amen

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The poet Denise Levertov wrote about a painting by Velázquez This painting is a seemingly simple image of a servant girl in a kitchen. In the background, behind her shoulder, almost framed as a paining within the painting, two men sit at a table with a third man whose gestures echo the familiar scene from Luke’s Gospel, namely the breaking of bread at Emmaus.

Something sacred is happening when Levertov's poem takes on Velázquez's subject. Not the holy table. Not the broken bread. Not even the resurrected Christ. Instead her poem details the young servant girl and her internal conclusions about Jesus. She is busy, perhaps tired, and certainly unnoticed. The poet writes:

“She listens, listens, holding
her breath. Surely that voice
is his—the one
who had looked at her, once,
across the crowd, as no one
ever had looked?”

How often is the Emmaus story told from the perspective of the disciples: walking, despairing, transformed? Yet the good news of resurrection isn’t just in hearts that burn, it can be recognized by the hands that wash dishes.

This is the radical theology of Levertov’s vision. It is the good news that Christ is not only with the wise and learned, but also with the ones who clean up after communion. Christ is recognized not just at the altar, but by the one standing in the kitchen, overhearing a miracle.

The servant girl doesn’t interrupt. She doesn’t announce a revelation. She listens and becomes attuned. She is alert and in awe as she moves into a faithful posture.

There is a quiet sacredness of every life, every role, many humble acts. The Divine is not confined to a sanctuary. God can be found in the folding of laundry, in the caregiver’s exhaustion,or in an unnoticed woman who stops, breathes, and hears something holy.

The resurrection did not come with trumpets. It came over meals, in the breaking of bread and in the gaze of a man who had once noticed a servant girl.

And so, the question today is not only “Would I have recognized Jesus on the road?” but “Would I have believe someone if she said she heard him?" 

At times we all walk our own roads to Emmaus. At times we choose to walk away from our holy city and the heart of our faith. There are times where we are confused, at times grieving. Certainly there can be times, however, to choose to be like the servant girl; listening, even in our busyness. Let us expect to hear Christ in the next room, the next person, or the next voice that says your name with a sacred weight.

We also don’t need to be at the center of the story to encounter God. Sometimes, the holiest moment is hearing the sound of resurrection while drying your hands on a towel.

 The Servant Girl at Emmaus

She listens, listens, holding her breath.
Surely that voice
is his — the one
who had looked at her, once,
across the crowd, as no one ever had looked?
Had seen her?
Had spoken as if to her?
Surely those hands were his,
taking the platter of bread from hers just now?
Hands he’d laid on the dying and made them well?
Surely that face — ?
The man they’d crucified for sedition and blasphemy.
The man whose body disappeared from its tomb.
The man it was rumored now some women had seen this morning,
alive?
Those who had brought this stranger home to their table
don’t recognize yet with whom they sit.
But she in the kitchen,
absently touching the wine jug she’s to take in,
a young Black servant intently listening,
swings round and sees
the light around him
and is sure.       — Denise Levertov

Today's service had a welcome of new members. This was a large group, many of whom have become a presence within the larger congregation quickly. Coffee hour had many conversations of people getting to know those who had been strangers.