The Good Shepherd's Children, Youth, and Family Coordinator, Dana Turner, served on a panel this past Friday
evening at the New York Synod Assembly. The forum was titled, “Spark: Igniting Faith Conversations in
Community” and was organized by Charlie Germain, the Chair of the Children, Youth, and Family Ministry of
the New York Synod. The panel was made up of Chris Mietlowski and Danielle Miller who are each Pastors
from different churches in New York City, as well as Deacon Carlos Lopez and Dana, the Children, Youth, and
Family Ministries Coordinator of the Good Shepherd.

The purpose of the discussion was to question the relevance of the church in our communities and examine and
share the focus of our respective congregations. It was an expansive discussion that covered everything from
being messengers of God's love for those without a religious affiliation, to re-defining what religion means. We
shared stories of the change we have seen in our congregations, and Pastor Miller made a distinction between the
idea of change and transformation. Change, she stated, is simply doing something different, which usually
involves recycling old ideas. Transformation, however, is about the kind of shift that can occur when guided by
the holy spirit. As leaders, we can encourage transformation by creating a space for people to meet Jesus, rather
than forcing doctrine upon them. This entails meeting people where they are, which often means going outside
of the church.

Upon being asked about how I saw God impact my own life and the lives of others, the only place I could go
was stories about the children and youth of the Good Shepherd. I spoke about my role as a guide who creates
space for questions to be asked, and entourages students to work with one another and myself to develop
answers, which often leads to asking deeper questions. I embrace a lot of questioning in my own faith, and I
described a couple of stories which have reminded me of the presence of the spirit in our congregation and
community at large. I shared this story at the forum:

One Sunday I was having difficulty coming up with a lesson for Sunday School that would communicate the full
expanse of the week's gospel. I eventually though of an idea that would work and instead of pushing and pulling
for something that came only from me, I decided to allow room for the spirit to come into play. When we came
into the classroom on Sunday morning, Chloe, one of our students who is five years old, had prepared a lesson
that she wanted to do with the kids. She brought in paper and scissors and markers and a head full of inspiration.
She led us all in making prayer booklets. It was one of those moments where I saw the spirit face to face. Not
only did she come up with an amazing activity without me even asking, but she created the space to develop
herself as a leader and was supported by the other classmates. It was a definite beginning to a cultural shift in our
ministry.

A couple of buzz words of the panel discussion included authenticity and hunger. We discussed the kind of
yearning that people have to be loved, and to be recognized as children of God. Often times this is not a desire
that is expressed in these exact words, but we all have the hunger to be understood, accepted, and loved just as
we are. Pastor Miller brought up something that she does in relation to this. Each time she looks in the mirror,
she says she is usually so focused on what she did wrong that day and what she could've done better. However,
in her image she reminds herself of her beauty in being a child of God. She tells herself, “I am beautiful, I
matter, and I am a child of God.” In God's image we are all created just the way we are supposed to be. We are
all not only important to this community, but each of us is needed in this community. I witness the joy we all feel
for each others presence at Sunday worship at the Good Shepherd in the sharing of the peace as we all crowd the
middle aisle, eager to shake each and every persons hand. The spirit you bring to church, and the spirit you bring
to your community is indispensable to the mission of Jesus.

Recently in GIFT, we have been discussing the mission of our collective. I asked them, what is our purpose for
coming together? Yesterday we went to visit a child who is experiencing pain in her legs that is keeping her bedridden.
We said a prayer for her, brought her flowers and made her a card. We also sang a song while visiting.
We recognize that this gesture may not heal her, but perhaps it could make her feel a little closer to God through
us showing love and care. We can't underestimate the power of kindness. After all, this is all that Jesus showed in
his miracles, a limitless kindness that was so deeply rooted in the love of God that it created healing. It is this
outreach that brings us closer to Jesus mission, and hence helps to define our own. We have a gift of spirit and
joy, and as I told the kids yesterday, in working through the word of Jesus we have a responsibility to share our
gift with our congregation and larger community.

This weekend's discussion was a great reminder of why we do what we do. I was honored to sit on a panel with
these three professionals, and share in the enthusiasm and honesty that are needed to live out the love that God
gifts us with. At the end of worship, we are sent, not done. All of us, having experienced the love and joy that
comes through being in a community of faith, have the tools and gifts to authentically share this peace with one
another, each and every day.

Dana Turner
Children, Youth, and Family Ministry Coordinator

“FAITH IN NEW YORK?”

Ah. You who make iniquitous decrees,

Who write oppressive statutes,

To turn aside the needy from justice

And rob the poor of my people

Of their right,

That widows may be your spoil,

And you may make the

Orphans your prey!

What will you do on the day of punishment,

In the calamity that will come from far away?

To whom will you flee for help,

And where will you leave your wealth,

So as not to crouch among the prisoners

Or fall among the slain?

For all this his anger has not turned away;

His hand is stretched out still.

Isaiah 10.1-4


The poem from the Prophet Isaiah 10.1-4, offers the voice of G*d’s wisdom delivered to a misguided leadership who legislate what they may perceive as good, but yet remains bad for the vast majority of their people. The prophet reveals to them that their policies have not diagnosed, nor altered the harm done to those “whose backs are against the wall.”[1]

Isaiah understands this violation of Torah to be a violation of the very soul of the people. The biblical reference to those harmed is “widows, orphans, and sojourners.” Yet, today, this nomenclature is expanded to include the unauthorized migrant, the dreamers, the imprisoned, the underfunded students, the working poor, and in NYC, the 47% who are either in the midst of economic catastrophe, or are unable to dream a sustainable future for themselves or their families.

The Prophet reminds us that when we voice our prayer G*d listens to the suffering. When that struggle joins with others who place their faith into public action the struggle becomes majestic. Hope cannot be extinguished.

Over the last several months many faith leaders have learned that, “fear is the emotional plague of our planet.”[2] Yet, as people of faith each of our traditions hoist the voice of G*d that says, “Do not fear.” Prayer and a public faith sustain our courage. As Mahatma Gandhi reminded us decades ago, our “soul force” seeks to take away the “brute force” of our surroundings.

Today we experience a brute force through mean legislation and political policy that is racialized or is marginalizing many from participating in democracy. The voices of our families are silenced by the overwhelming needs of their every-day lives, and for many Christians daily prayer is literally “give us this day our daily bread.” Our communities suffer from the aggravation of making it from day to day. We live in a debt-riddled society, yet the prophet Jesus taught, “Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.” He remains a voice toward the reconciling of an economy for the whole of the nation and not just for the few.

Prophet Isaiah reminds us that when wealth is hoarded and mindlessly separated from the common good G*d is angry; “G*d’s hand is stretched out still (v.4).”

People Improving Community through Organizing (PICO) activates faith into public action. The spiritual integrity and the ability to act through our spiritual traditions build healthy community.[3] This remains valued and true.

As we continue to be challenged by the prophetic voice deep in our traditions, we have learned from our neighbors that our power rests in the integrity of our local action. Our people trust one another through the art of one to one meetings. However, we have also come to realize how interconnected we have been and remain.

Neighborhoods are the tapestry of our city.

We have five interconnected interrelated boroughs. For decades, we have competed with each other for certain resources and policies of our Board of Estimate, City Council, and Mayor. Yet, we also know that our urbanized suburban villages and rural life all intertwine through the policies that affect our well-being either positively or painfully. The lingering affects of Hurricane Sandy continue to remind us of that political reality.

This relational, organized, spiritual power has nurtured over 70 clergy from within our five boroughs of NYC. There are over 70,000 faithful in our ministries who are prayerfully tied

together in “the single garment of destiny caught in an inescapable network of mutuality.”[4] That garment is called Faith in New York. National PICO has been assisting us in developing this soulful venture. Leaders from our former organizing efforts in Queens and Brooklyn (QCUA and BCU), together with new powerful relations in The Bronx, Manhattan, and Staten Island see a fearless future strengthened by our shared stories of faith.

Faith in New York is a citywide PICO affiliate that seeks three things: the building of relational power, coalitional power, and missional power. It is a trained power that understands how to be strong and faithful at the same time. That is the delicate walk of faith along the line of separation between what Americans have named, “Church and State.”

Our shared purpose is to weave the public tapestry that already manifests itself in neighborhoods in such a way that the wisdom of Prophets, such as Isaiah 10, is heard before catastrophe whirls through our city and nation. Clergy are eager to share this spiritual journey of public faith across the boroughs.

We see no other way than to build congregations dedicated to the “inescapable network of mutuality.”

I remain,

Rev. David H. Rommereim


[1]           This phrase comes from Dr. Howard Thurman in his masterpiece, Jesus and the Disinherited, Abington Press, 1949. The phrase crystallizes the ministry of Jesus focused toward those who are severely challenged in our, and any, racialized culture.

[2]           Philosopher Patrick Viveret quoted in an article from Frances Moore Lappe.

[3]           The phrase, “ability to act,” is common among organizing faith communities. It is understood as “power.” It is best understood in the Spanish word, poder. Poder refers to the nature of “to be able.” Faith Based Organizing leaders are not afraid to talk about power, poder/ability to act. Power is best understood in terms of one’s ability to act. One’s power is limited, and often destructive when acting alone, or over-against another person or group. One’s power is increased as individuals develop their commonness with the larger community. Power, then becomes a healing potential rather than a zero sum game of winners and losers.

[4]           Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. “Remaining Awake through a Great Revolution” quoted in John a. Powell, Racing to Justice, Indiana Press, 2012.

by David Rommereim 

Many of you remember the hard work of Brooklyn Congregations United (BCU). We were key leaders in that effort to join with congregations and synagogues from Bay Ridge to Flatbush to activate our faith into public conversation. I loved it because it helped us as a ministry walk that fine line of distinction between "church and state" in the art of democracy.

Due to a funding crisis, last August the Board of Directors of BCU decided to close its doors and go on hiatus. The purpose was to pray, think, and search for our calling as faith leaders in an age where serious social predicaments face our neighborhoods. From September through January, I have been practicing the art of the personal one-on-one conversation through interviewing clergy from across our city. Since I have ministered in The Bronx, Manhattan and now Brooklyn, I have strong relations throughout our city. Every clergy I spoke with said something similar. "I need a place to work in community that works from my faith." We spoke about public spirituality and social engagement.

During that hiatus, Hurricane Sandy moved in to stay for a long time. Lives were altered. Relations were challenged. Souls were strengthened to assist wherever necessary in both responding and rebuilding.

I am proud of Good Shepherd leadership for allowing this place to be utilized to assist wherever possible; from the powerful little acts of kindness to the organizing for remedial recovery and restoration.

Through the Sandy Recovery, we have directly involved our office in the love response efforts in Coney Island and Staten Island. Our Administrator, Donna Lubrano, developed "Hearts Connected." This effort continues to bring necessary gifts to needy families.

I have also been intimately involved with the organizing efforts in Queens and Far Rockaway through the sister organization called, Queens Congregations Untied for Action (QCUA). QCUA is built on the same faith-based organizing principles of our effort in BCU. We are also related to PICO (People Improving Community through Organizing). PICO connects faith efforts in public life in over 17 states. Over one million leaders share the same principles that is seeking to put faith in action through effort in rebuilding strong neighborhoods and a democracy that is fair and just.

Since January of 2013, over 60 clergy from around the city agreed to move into a citywide PICO called Faith in New York.We are working with our lay leaders and expect to have organizing efforts in each borough. We want be able to have a voice in placing the values of our faith traditions in the mainstream of city policy. That refers to a public voice that works with everyone in the city, those whose backs are against the wall and those who are redecorating their walls.

Our first public action took place this past Monday in a face-to-face meeting with one of the architects of the National Immigration Reform Bill - our very own Senator Charles Schumer. Together we spoke about the fact that many of our members and neighbors want a just, a humane, and a fair bill. We spoke of one congregation in Corona Queens which celebrate Mass every week with 8,000 almost entirely first and second-generation immigrants. They will celebrate a First Communion this week with 500 3rdgraders. One half of the 500 are legal American kids, but kids whose parents are not properly documented. Faith in New York Clergy were encouraged by the Senator's efforts to listen to our concerns, and to bring to the narrative that many of the undocumented have economic lives that are near catastrophe.

As Lutherans, and as a congregation which seeks to practice the concrete nature of resurrection, I invite each of you to place in your prayers the divine guidance of our elected officials as they fight to make a bill on Comprehensive Immigration Reform. Our own members' families and lives are at stake in whether this reform is humane or punitive.  

As a Christian, I believe God commands us to place our love where it really counts. "Love your neighbor as you love yourself." It cannot get any clearer than that.

by David Rommereim

I love words.

When used well words become moments for health and healing. When used poorly, Kurt Vonnegut said, "So it goes." Poor uses of words tend to produce badly. From a bad attitude to bullying, they perform poorly.

When used in verbal conflict the words position for power. When used to share ideas they build community. Perhaps that is why Jesus used that biblical formula and commanded that we "love the neighbor as you love yourself." How hard would it be to "love your self" so that you could accomplish the command and "love the neighbor?" That is the core of what we teach, good words lead exemplary action.

The early Christian desert monks in the first and second century (CE) rarely spoke about "sin." That three letter word became common liturgical nomenclature when the priest became the one to announce absolution. He said, "Your sins are forgiven." However, it was the desert monks, who worked hard at simply keeping from "bad words." The more they tended their gardens, worked, and prayed, the less they strayed from the good. It is, after all Christians who are challenged to "keep Jesus' Word" (John 14. 23-24). The focal point of that Word is a simultaneous exchange between (1) God, (2) yourself, and (3) the other (neighbor, friend, loved one, or any part of the earth). The exchange is called agape, or divine love. That love means doing good will.

From day to day, that form of love does not seem possible. You say: "There is a bottom line." Or, "We live with the zero sum game ~ winners and losers." On the other hand, "I have to be as tough as the next guy. In such a world Jesus' Word agape sounds naïve. However, once you spend time meditating on the Word of Jesus (doing good will) a whole, new world order opens.

From the minute details of the butterfly in your back yard making her way to that mountain in Mexico where all east coast butterflies nest, or the stranger that crosses your path with a frown on his brow, or even, the beloved who needs to hear you say, "I love you" lets souls touch. Boundaries, barricades, walls, protective machinery from guns, knives, drones, or surveillance cameras are no match when souls touch and Jesus' Word becomes the order of your world.

I was struck by such a new order when, last week, I met with 30 clergy from Queens and Far Rockaway. We deliberated on the lingering residue from Hurricane Sandy. Pastors reported that the remnant tended to produce bad thoughts caused by finger pointing, name calling, and hot anger left because the poor remain in harms way through a storm who's wind died, but affect persists. People remain in harms way, while our city talks about rebuilding that four-mile boardwalk by Memorial Day 2013.

The clergy spent time speaking about a post-sandy-experience while we also began planning our collective contribution toward recovery. One preacher from Far Rockaway spoke about his experience. He said, "Sandy is like salt. That is, salt has no real taste, no flavor. Its only purpose is to extenuate what's already there."

His courageous, agape words, sounded like they bounced off a mirror. Through his words I could see the poverty before Sandy lingering around my face. I could see my own inability to pay attention to the neighbor "whose backs are against the wall." As I looked in the mirror, I noticed the room way in the back where decisions are secretly being made. I noticed everyone, especially those who remain in harms way (in the Rockaways, Coney Island, Staten Island, and Red Hook) are not at that planning table.

Agape, the Jesus Word, and the world order based on "doing good will," now implicates the people of faith. With this Salt of Sandy, we are challenged to keep Jesus' Word. Keeping means I stare at the mirror and see around me what has been there from the beginning: God, Self, neighbor, and Gaia/Earth.

The means and ends of our decisions and actions as participants in communal well-being are vital to the good that we do as a people of agape. If we recover without listening and working with those whose backs have been against the wall for a long, long, time, then we have failed to do good.

 As the Clip Turns 

by David Rommereim

The clip

Sounds like a disease,

And, perhaps it is

Related to soul sickness

Where heart songs

Are muzzled

In the chamber of a magazine

Passing death

Faster than the heart beats,

When running for your life.

 

My shelf has a book

On violence and the end of war.

I liked the title,

End of War.

But, it wasn't about peace

Silencing guns,

Nor ending Noble's

Inspired market.

It was about the clip,

And the pointer finger

Flipping the trigger

To let death fly

Without touching terror,

Nor blood.

 

It is the end of war

Where fear keeps you

From lunging forward

Without any sense

That another life

May truly not

Be an enemy.

 

The end of war

Is a distant battle,

Fought with a drone

In a combat

From a North Dakota bunker

Where warriors could retire

To 3-2 beer and country rock.

 

Perhaps the clip

Is a disease

Since death has no meaning

And insanity

Has more to do with an

Outdated constitution,

Financed allegiance,

Than troubled brains caught

In a screening

Of night glare gone mad.

 

The clip has become

An American icon

And an enterprise of lobbyists

Who fear integrity and responsibility

Will never end the madness.

 

So let me return

To the memory

That self-defense

Refers to defending the other

From molesting the self.

   

April 2013

Written after a public conversation on gun control, drone warfare, and raising children in a violent world.

by Rev. David Rommereim

After the Tragedy at the Boston Marathon, A Bold Prayer for healing is needed.

Erin Niemela is a graduate student in the Conflict Resolution program at Portland State University. She is also a syndicated journalist. In her journalist role, she shared a wonderful thought on recovery after the horrible bombing at the Boston Marathon. She said, "We are better than this."

After such an event, our intinct is to become confused, then angry. Why does this happen!? Why such violence!? Then we surge forward to find the perpetrator(s) so that we may extend the full weight of justice. An angry justice refers to "getting even."

As a Biblically literate Christian, I am aware that the narrative of Jesus' ministry fully testifies to the good that is in us. I am fully aware that Jesus is cognizant of mean people. After all, he shares the parable of the "Rich man and Lazarus" (Luke 16.16-31). He speaks about the abusive political systems he is encountering in both Galilee and Jerusalem through stories like Mark 3.6. There he reminds us that there is the conspiracy of the religious leaders who went out to conspire with the Herodians against him. Jesus is also aware that you and I deceive one another and ourselves, especially when we are most challenged to maintain our own limited sense of power. Just meditate on Jesus' "Sermon on the Mount" Matthew 5 and 6. You will be overwhelmed with insight that we get ourselves clogged in the things that we think are important (what I am to eat, wear, or do). However, I am happy to report that you will seldom find the biblical Jesus trying to "get even." Justice in the Jesus' narrative refers to the value of a reconciled peace. The Jewish Jesus calls that form of peace, shalom.

Humanity is more creative than this eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth form of justice. Humanity has a creative energy that moves beyond the knee-jerk reactions. People of faith know God created. People of faith know that when She was pregnant with creating, God was not inventing (sticks, stones, earth, sea creatures, etc). She was making new out of old dark chaos; light in the middle of the dark, peace in the center of violence.

In the narrative of the first Creation Story (Genesis 1-2.4) we are told that, "after the seventh day God blessed the day and named it all holy/sacred (gadosh)." Have you ever felt or known yourself to be gadosh? Try it. It does not get any better than that.

After a massive tragedy like the Boston Marathon, or the same April 15, 2013 bombings in Bagdad and Afghanistan, we can angrily slip into the easy road to "go get 'em, lock 'em up, and throw away the key." Christians, however, are not asked to participate in this retributive form of justice. We are better than this. We are asked to change the cycle of violence. Jesus' blessings found in Matthew 5:1-12 share this imaginative form of living toward the best of us.

As a member of the faith community, the Church, and as a member of a community dedicated to following behind the prophetic wisdom of Jesus, we are challenged to make better, make good, make holy. To seek this sacred value does not mean we are naïve nor think everything will be ok in the sweet bye-and-bye. Rather, it means that we are challenged to act our way into a new way of being. We accomplish this through ending any participation with violence, the subtle bullying through simple nonchalant gossip, or the large-scale harm that could be done by retaliating and injuring other innocent people.

This week I invite you to watch yourself. If, after the news of this tragic horrible event in Boston your knee to jerks toward retribution and opinions that will satisfy the "full scale of justice," then remember, "we are better than this."

Our faith response is not simple. It is informed by the fact that Jesus did not ask God to hurt those who crucified him. He told the reactive disciple who cut off the servant's ear to put the knife away while he touched the ear and healed it (Luke 22.49-51).

The power of our story is that Jesus asked God to loosen the burden that the violence caused rather than be bound by that burden causing more violence. His prophetic job, the one shared in the Gospel narratives, was to change the cycle of violence by a new way of responding to tragedies like the ones we've witnessed Monday and over the last few months. Jesus knew the well-being of his followers was at stake if they reacted without any soulful power. Jesus taught his followers that, "we are better than this." Jesus is even quoted to pray, "Abba, Forgive them." And this form of forgiveness ~ from the middle of the horror of the cross ~ means that we no longer will allow this violence to control our living and make us as bad as bad is. It means we change the cycle of violence by practicing our way toward a world without violence. This is what we are made for.

I remain, Pastor

David H. Rommereim

by Rev. David Rommereim

Since Easter, I have taken a sojourn to visit my mother. I thank the stellar and sensitive leaders of Good Shepherd for their wonderful ministry. I have traveled 2,400 miles over the last week. During that time, I have rejoined my family after the second Easter season since my father's death.

Through the travel, I have listened to the rhetoric on the news about our country and the desire to discuss and decide what to do about guns and gun violence. I have also listened to the prophet Jesus, the resurrected Christ, teach through his intended verb for Christian ministry he calls, peace-making (Mathew 5.9).

While studying the issue, I have learned that three thousand three hundred forty six individuals have been killed by gun violence since the Sandy Hook community experienced the rapid fired magazine clips that kill so many innocent lives in a matter of seconds. I have a very difficult time fathoming the additional 3,346 lives, families, and friendships that have been broken. That is a stark number of souls snuffed out of breath. I had to say the number twice even in this letter.

When I return from my little sojourn I will ask our community to pray together for the end of this madness. I will ask our worship leaders to provide our prayers, so that we remember the grief that is born by these families around our country.

I do not know the details on all these deaths. I only ask our God one thing, is there a way out of this violence?

As a person of faith, I know violence is wrong, period. Jesus remains the prince of peace. Jesus teaches that good, solid, relations have to do with how each one treats the other. He uses the Levitical formula to teach that we are to "do unto others what ye would have them do unto thee."  In addition, since I want no violence done unto me, I then must treat the other likewise. Such a prophetic voice should guide the legislation about guns and ammunition. Some say this is naive. I say it is powerfully Christian. Stopping the cycle of violence begins with each one of us and expands prodigiously. The prince of peace you remember was assassinated because he refused to arm himself with nothing other than the power of God. This is none other than the power of love.

As a citizen, I am also guided by the desire for a "more perfect union." It makes good sense that the union of our pluralistic country means we must be, or become, accountable to one another in ways that do not infringe on our earned freedom. However, freedom is never individuated. Freedom is plural. It says, "we" the people. Thus, we remain accountable to the freedom each of us aspires. Such freedom demands justice and its kindred spirit, accountability. The fact that there seems to be a wonton disregard to the freedom of my neighbor, if in fact others say it is proper to own a gun without regard to responsibility and accountability, then gun freedom takes precedence and freedom is not free. On the other hand, freedom should refer to being accountable to one another, rather than free from the other. It is not unlike owning a driver's license. I had to earn my license so that I travel wisely knowing that my drive could harm another if I am irresponsible  or negligent.

As you think about how you wear your Christian values and your role as a partner in this country, I ask us to remember the responsibility that freedom demands. We are a people eager to make good.

Our Prophet Jesus knows violence is an end of our life together. After all, as the Prophet Jesus worshiped he often prayed Psalm 133: How good and pleasant it is when kindred live in peace. Shalom.

I remain, 
a Pastor practicing Resurrection.

By Rev. David Rommereim

On Easter Sunday at Good Shepherd, I shared the fact that the powerful resurrection story looks more like a "spiritual tsunami." I believe we are experiencing such a spiritual wind at Good Shepherd. I also shared that the women at the tomb are some of the most powerful women in the Bible. They refused to be intimidated by the Roman police, the temple elite, and the political hegemony which kept people buried in a sea of fear. They confronted the fears that could have kept them home safe and quiet. Jesus was lynched by the Roman police because he was a prophet, and they knew what was at stake in going out to attend to Jesus' dead body.

These women are my heroes to the Gospel resurrection narrative of Luke. Luke reports that they came to the tomb at early dawn to complete the burial of the crucified Jesus. Their trepedations about the future rendered them "scared to death," yet they ventured out to the tomb. The women - Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women received the power to push up against their darkened boundaries and the force of death. They were accompanied by the two who enlightened the tomb and rolled the stone away. In the same way this awesome God entered the deep (Genesis 1.1-2) and spoke light into darkness, so the Abba of the Prophet Jesus entered the darkness of the tomb and placed an unquenchable light in the midst of the dark.

This is the God who is at every center of our lives. This is the God who Jesus taught these women to pray "OUR ABBA." And they became courageous and powerful because there was no "I" in their work. It was all "Our."

At the Easter Sermon, I also spoke about the impact of the resurrection through the metaphor of what is called "The Butterfly Affect." This metaphor was developed by the father of Chaos Theory in physics. His name is Edward Lorenz, an MIT meteorologist from the mid 20th Century. He puts the theory of The Butterfly Affect in a simple verbal chrysalis. He says: "Tiny differences in input could quickly become overwhelming differences in output; hence the notion that a butterfly stirring in air today in (Bay Ridge) can cause an avalanche in the Himalayas next month."

The story I shared in the sermon was told by the climatologist, James Hansen of Columbia University. He was trying to explain to his grandchildren how everything is connected and why we need to stop using up so much of the earth's resources, thus endangering many species, like the butterfly. He was trying to explain to the kids a story which could help them understand how to deal with their fears about the future of climate change, even with the chaos of bad news when it comes to global conglomerates of the fuel industry paying for their politically hedged bets on keeping fossil fuels at our beckoning call. Dr. Hansen's grand kids want to face their fears, and care for the precious, delicate earth, and grandpa is trying to help them by using this wonderful metaphor of the butterfly.

You may think this is sounds like a childish trick, to talk about the Butterfly Affect at a Resurrection Sermon. But I am here to tell you these women, these delicate butterflies, took two steps back, filled up with the energy of the light, and then flew. Like a soul tsunami, they began to fly after facing their fear, peeking into the dark tomb, and letting God speckle it with his shining light.

Good Shepherd is alive today because these courageous women bushed up against the boundaries which kept them on the outside. God shined light on them to enable them to emerge as butterflies; simultaneously delicate and powerful. They may have felt like caterpillars - easily squished by the Roman police, or a temple tax. However, they were transformed in the chrysalis of faith and flew from there to the ends of the earth.

This spring, Bay Ridge butterflies will fill themselves with enough food (they especially like Milkweed) and make their way to a mountain in Mexico. Quite a journey! Then they begin the journey back through their offspring - generation to generation to generation. These women have offered us this same courage. Their "tiny differences in input quickly became overwhelming differences in output." The metaphor of butterfly affects my resurrection faith because it is delicate power. What better way to practice the radical prophesy of Jesus. Love is a delicate power. I rest on Jesus because it is none other than the faith of the prophetic movement. Jesus fulfilled that which broke through the darkened boundaries - the ones that have kept us impaired. God's ubiquitous light finds us home.

Practice Resurrection,

~ Pastor

(I am presently on a two week study leave. I have a meeting in Chicago on April 3 where I represent the ELCA on the Inter-Religious Organizing Initiative. It is a multi- denominational, multi-faith organizing effort to assist church leaders in building strong congregations through the art of faith-based community organizing. I will return with the full force of the butterfly as I delicately spread my wings.)
  
This is the web site for the story by James Hansen, Dear Sophie: the Butterfly Report:
http://www.columbia.edu/~jeh1/mailings/2011/20110928_Butterfly.pdf

by Rev. David Rommereim

Good, solid relationships last. They give you the chance of becoming self-aware. With quality friends, you speak for yourself rather than for others. One of my rabbis, Edwin Friedman, calls that, becoming self differentiated. The prophet Jesus names it, you "love G*d with all your heart, soul, strength, and your neighbor as yourself."

Friends make self-awareness happen, carefully and deliberately. They suspend judgment so that you may be yourself. When conflict arises you, have a community to guide you rather than fight with you. If, perchance distance comes between you, the relationship may change, but rarely snuffed out. Strong relations abide through the bond of love (agape).

With friendship in mind, I remember my 9th grade math teacher. He presently lives across this continent. Remarkably, we keep in touch nearly once a year. One day, after a conversation, he said, "David, you're radical." At first, I was bewildered. I did not know what he meant. Then, after thinking about it, I learned he meant it complimentary.

He called me radical after I shared a story about a time I was busy assisting a congregation and a neighborhood, in a public ministry that needed G*d's prophetic voice. The plea was not about me. Rather, I was eager to hear the soul force of the Prophetic voices of Jeremiah, Isaiah, Ezekiel, Moses, and Jesus in a cacophony of brute force.

I shared with my teacher, that violence was on the rise despite more cops hiding in dark tinted cars parked all around street corners. There was the plethora of guns and ammunition. I knew 30% of the community was armed (a normal NYC statistic at the time). There was also illicit chemistry infiltrating our neighborhood and distorting the lives of users. The church was nestled in a little corner of the block. Nevertheless, because of the prophet Jesus, and his prophetic community named The Way, we could not remain silent. We wanted things to change and peace to abide in our neighborhood.

The story was personal, but it was not about me. It was about G*d and the memory that G*d did not want to be mocked by the violence caused by silence, nor the empty voices, nor the violence of death defying ignorance paid by large financed political action campaigns (PAC).

When the math teacher called me, radical, it was not what you think. He did not refer to a radical that you may assume has to do with politics and social reform. He meant a radical that goes deeper. His notion is deeply rooted. It is a radical that is far-reaching, thorough, and fundamentally related to the nature of what it means to be a person of faith and a sojourner of the Prophetic ministry of G*d (Jew and Christian).

I remember that little encounter with my teacher, because this Lent Good Shepherd community returned to the roots of the Jesus story. We returned to the fundamental and thorough good of Jesus' prophetic mission.

We began the season remembering the meek and mild Jesus. We still love his image with a lamb carefully draped over his shoulders. We love the carefully groomed brown locks of that Warner Salzmann's portrait of Jesus that hangs in many basements of the remaining Lutheran churches along the 4th Avenue Local. Nevertheless, this Lent, many of us returned to the Jesus of the Prophetic Voice. Jesus enters our history with his mentors, Moses, Elijah, and others.

So, in the middle of this Great and Holy Week 2013, we return to Gethsemane, the place of prayer. We remember the trial in the praetorian of Roman occupation. We return to the temple and a religious hegemony that was as corrupt as the day is cold. We remember Jesus leading a peasant's revolt because the upper 1% horded all the resources and controlled a barbaric economy. (Sounds familiar?)

Daily bread was for the people of means, rather than for all people. Prophesy is why Jesus taught us to pray "give us this day our daily bread." It is why Jesus taught us to hallow G*d's Name, it is why we pray "Our Abba" rather than "My Abba," or why we ask, forgive the debts as we forgive the debtors. Jesus, the compassionate one, knew that a dysfunctional economy always hurts the ones whose back is against the wall.

The Prophet Jesus brings us back to the beginning, restores our lives, and teaches us without judgment. Ultimately, we ask him to lead us not into temptation, and to deliver us from the evil one.

We began Lent, remembering that James Baldwin challenged us to "do our first works over." He counseled us to "Go back to where you started, or as far back as you can, examine all of it, travel your road again, and tell the truth about it. Sing or shout or testify or keep it to yourself, but know from whence you came."

It is Passover and Easter, two faith cousins featuring G*d's soul force of justice-love. This week I thank G*d for the living memory of the Prophet Jesus. It is a good time to take a step back, re-member. Then leap forward.