65th Anniversary – Section II: Places

In these day I am recalling my 65 years since I was first commissioned as a teaching minister in the church. The focus of this reflection is the places we have lived. I have actually lived in 14 different apartments or houses during these years. The casual reader would conclude, “Mel was unable to hold a job!.” It is really a bit more complicated. One reason for the different places is because I often lived in “church supplied housing”. So my quarters were determined by church budgets and sometimes even by a committee, which chose an apartment without ever having listened to any of our considerations.

The locations of those houses included California, Texas, Illinois, Michigan, Missouri, New York and Hong Kong. Each had much to love and enjoy. Tracy California in the 1950’s had a population of some 10,000. So I got to know many of the residents and when one walked down Main Street one was likely to be called by name. Hong Kong is my favorite place in all the world. I love the Chinese people. The energy of the place carries one along. The food options are unlimited. The streets are safe. If one has air conditioning (which we did not have) and good solid windows (which we mostly had) then one can ignore the heat, the 96 inches or rain per year or the terrible typhoons. New York comes close to Hong Kong as a favorite and if I had lots of money (and a different wife) I could enjoy living in Hong Kong or New York as my place of choice even for today in retirement. Chicago was great. It has excellent public transportation, great art and entertainment and every imaginable type of food. Ann Arbor, Michigan (even in the tumultuous 60”s) is a place of intellectual stimulation, roads cleared of the worst snow imaginable, and not too far from Frankenmuth chicken dinners. And we now live in San Diego county California by choice. The weather, the multi-ethnic communities, the golf courses, the range of political opinions, the beaches and nearby mountains… It is great!

Of course there are “places” other than just our residences or the cities that contain them. My life has been spent in classrooms. I love teaching. 65 years ago that meant 45 kids in one classroom of 4^th –8^th graders. Later on those classrooms were found in colleges and seminaries in Hong Kong and several USA campuses. I have given the keynote address or lead a workshop in each of the Districts of the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod and all the Regions of the ELCA.

Work with Effectiveness Training gave me the opportunities to teach or do business or just stop in on places like, Germany, Switzerland, France, Norway, Sweden and best of all Finland. There were plenty challenges (and good people) awaiting me in Australia, New Zealand, Tahiti, Pakistan.

In retirement I was blessed to lead some tours with incredibly wonderful cadres of friends. These tours took us to China, Tibet, Germany, The Czech Republic, Austria, Slovakia, Hungary, Brazil, Argentina, Israel and Palestine.

 Places I visited (usually with Jane) just for fun and to be with family and friends hold special niches in my heart. Before we were frightened off by drug wars we had wonderful times in Mexico. Visiting son John and his family in Barcelona, Madrid, Taiwan and England were special. Lena and Ruth Galster were wonderful hosts in Bangkok. And since we were careful not to break the law by chewing gum in public we had a great time in Singapore

Just naming these places stirs up masses of differing feelings. There is admiration for those poor kids who attended our rooftop schools in Hong Kong. All they got was rudimentary stuff of the basic three “rs”, but they took that and became wonderful citizens of the world. I think of the children sitting in out-door schools without textbooks in Pakistan and how they are now being challenged by the Taliban et sim. I admire the great work we witnessed at Christmas Lutheran Church and school in Bethlehem and the God-blessed incredible work of Pr. Raheb. I pray that the improvement in wealth distribution is bringing hope to the many, many poor people I saw in those long lines awaiting treatment in small Wheat Ridge supported clinics in south India and I hope that all of them will some day get the opportunity to just visit and admire the Taj Mahal in the heart of their own country.

None of the above places would be so favorably remembered were it not for Jane, family and friends. Jane has made each of our homes places of refuge from stress, centers of beauty, locales of peace and the abode of love. No matter where else I may have been in the world the thing that kept drawing me forward was the anticipation of being safely home. Even today when she is there and also if by chance some or all of the kids come join us I have no desire to be any place else. For as my family always reminds me “Home is where the heart is.”

65th Anniversary - Section ! : People

September 10,2015 marked the 65 anniversary of my commissioning as a "Teaching Minister" in The Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod. So these have been days of reflection and remembering. I realize that recording some of these will be of absolutely no interest to many who may on occasion look at my blogs. I write them because it feels good to me to do so and there may be a few others of you who may even find them of a bit interesting.

I recall first of all some of the people through whom I was blessed during these 65 years. I begin with Lydia Zielske. She was the woman who opened her house for me as I spent the first year as a single male in Tracy California. She cleaned my room, prepared my meals and did my laundry. In a quiet unassuming way she was always there to support and assist. Two other families which offered special support to this single guy: the Paulsons who farmed sections of tomatoes and other crops and made their house always open for a good meal and secondly, James and Mary Elhard who taught me how to drink black coffee.

Hong Kong, then and now, means masses of people and unbridled energy. Even on the day we arrived the place was being overrun by the tens of thousands fleeing Mao Tze Tung and his take-over of China. They came on boats, on foot, by rail, bus, walking, swimming, in the bottoms of sampams, below deck of steamers. They were everywhere, sleeping on the streets, on the hillsides, the roofs, the stairways. I will never forget one of the persons whom I saw in my first week. I had immediately started teaching an education course for Lutheran teachers and was on my way home at ten at night. I saw a young man lying in the arms of his father. He was starving to death. It was the first time I realized that stomachs might bloat under extreme malnutrition. I gave him some money and to this day recall the look of gratitude from his father.

The Chinese people were incredibly wonderful to me. They were patient with my arrogance, forgiving of my mistakes, open to learning, eager to move forward. Students and staff alike were motivated and deeply appreciative of any opportunity to move ahead. They changed my life forever. Mr. Hung Chiu Sing taught me Cantonese and even more importantly taught me Chinese customs and traditions, warned me of social faux pas, gave me the right words to say, the proper place to sit at meals, the appropriate way to address an elder, the place to put my chop sticks, the way to present a diploma.

A most unexpected Godsend in Hong Kong was a Mr. David Kowalke. He was head of Kodak Far East, a massive enterprise in those days. He and his family traveled over an hour each Sunday, taking a car ferry to attend English/Cantonese worship services held in a storefront. I am tempted to say that even more important was that he had some very close connections to top decision makers at the Royal Hong Kong Golf Club. He got me moved up that long waiting list, helped me pass my inspection by the membership committee and for about $250 I became a member. Weekly golf for ten years kept me sane and gave me some British contacts which helped shape the entire building programs of Lutheran church and schools in Hong Kong.

Back in the States I was blessed to have the best possible Team Ministry trio possible with Don Kell and Roland Boehnke in Michigan and a very diverse and competent staff in St. Louis. The principals of the Lutheran Schools in New York were an incredible group of people who simply did what needed to be done, who accepted and affirmed me and held my feet to the fire. In between I moved in an entirely different world of Parent Effectiveness Training where I met and worked with people from all over the world. They were both my students and my teachers and helped continually to blow open my mind to new adventures, insights, problems and opportunities.

People. They have shaped me, angered me, empowered me, given me joy, despair and hope. And in each of them I saw a glimmer of what was impressed upon me as my lifelong duty when 65 years ago the pastor speaking at my commissioning said simply that my job was to respond to One who called "Feed my sheep. Feed my lambs."

25th ANNIVERSARY

June 4,1989 is 25 years ago but the events are seared in to my memory as though it were yesterday. I am standing with my son under the entrance archway to Beijing University. Above us in emblazoned red characters is the phrase: ”Tienenmen bathed in blood. The whole world weeps” It is early morning and the students are streaming in from the Square and from the area morgues. They are carrying the nametags of their colleagues whose dead bodies they had identified. They were victims of the bullets of their military countrymen or of being run-over by tanks and other heavy artillery.

Only 24 hours earlier we had joined these students under the statue of the goddess of democracy and shared our dreams of a more democratic China-of renewed partnership between our two countries. We had spoken with a gentleman who wheeled his mother in any old wheelbarrow to the Square. “I wanted her to be a part of China’s history “, the gentleman explained. “The first bloodless revolution in the history of our country”

Across the ocean my wife (who I was unable to reach for more than 72 hours ) worried. While she saw it all on television the local Chinese media reported that only that few soldiers had been injured by unruly students but that peace prevailed. Eventually we made it home safely and my son who was in doctoral studies at the University was able to retrieve his research. It was a dark day. But slowly and inevitably some light has broken through. Some economic freedoms have emerged. Living standards have been raised. China is about to equal the USA in gross domestic product. But all of that lay deeply hidden that day under the bloody bodies of students who had a dream-and paid for it with their lives.

Holy Land Tour Part 6

(For the next several months this blog will contain memories, reports, journals of international tours I have led or workshops I have conducted. They will include The Holy Land, China, Finland et al. Each blog will contain a portion of the original reports.)

Memory Flashes 

High Lights

There were the moments when the stimuli of particular places produced an immediate reaction. Sometimes the reaction was fleeting. It came. It was there. It went. Yet, as I sit here now they once again invade my consciousness. Some Samples:

a. Walking down those layers of civilization at Meggido, each one thriving, fighting, dieing, and now silent as an archeological dig.

b. Masada, vacation and security of Herod, then place of resistance and death each and everyday of Jewish defenders. What if I had been among them? What if I had been the leader? Would I have made the same decision? Is there any circumstance under which I could kill my family to save it from greater torture?

c. The gardens of the Bahai shrine. How beautiful nature can be, all tended and nurtured and laid out with only one goal: to be beautiful. It stirred my memory of a book written 3 decades ago by a famous Biblical scholar, Jaroslav Pelikan in which he challenged me to answer the question: What is finally the true, the good and the beautiful?

d. The Mt. of the Beatitudes with Edie’s moving reading of those beatitudes. Blessed are the meek, the peacemakers… … and the quiet prayer, Lord let me claim those blessings.

e. Quaram, the Dead Sea Scrolls, the Museum of the Books. Centuries of written fragments miraculously confirm and then testify to the amazing accuracy of the Biblical texts over all these years. Can this all just be chance? What an amazing example of the providence of God.

f. Sitting near the Garden Tomb, listening to our evangelical guide, and then seeing The Place of the Skull. Maybe this is Golgotha.

g. I had never heard the theory of Jesus being kept in a “dungeon” after his Maundy Thursday arrest, his trial before Caiaphas - and awaiting the morning trial before Pontius Pilate. The site makes a pretty compelling case. Could it be? Yes, yet I doubt.

h. Just wondering. The security at Tel Avis as we left was tight. The questions I was asked were “no nonsense”. e.g. Did anyone join this group who had not been a member of your church as long as the rest? Why is she not with you now? Do you know where she is at this moment? Aha, so someone gave you a gift (a small oil lamp given to me by the shop owner in Bethlehem). And after all of this, and a thorough bag inspection, yet we were not asked to remove our shoes.

i. Just wondering: Did the Golden Tulip Hotel in Tiberius change its alcohol policy after we left - namely free beer, wine and Israel produced liquor (all included in the price of the room)?

Low Lights

I’ve listed some highlights, some highly inspirational moments. Naturally there were a few matters that did not make it to the top ten list:

1. The Blue Bay Hotel in Netanya and our first night check-in. We did not get off to a good start with accommodations. It was close to 7:00 p.m. when we arrived. We were told our rooms would be ready. They weren’t. We were told to go have dinner and then our rooms would be ready. We did. The rooms still weren’t ready. Finally, everyone had their keys, but no bellmen to take luggage to the assigned rooms. I hadn’t even gotten to our room before my roommate Ken came with the news, “Mel, did you know that we are sharing the same bed?” When I protested to the manager she was surprised at my displeasure. She said, “Sir, I gave you a nice room with a nice view!” When my protests continued she said, “Well, okay. I’ll send up a roll-away cot for you.” My protests continued. Eventually she assigned Ken and me a room way beyond the swimming pool which I had great difficulty finding in the dark - and to which a bellman did not want to accompany me.

Of course, by this time I learned that virtually every two-some of unrelated persons all had rooms with one double bed - and we never did get satisfaction.

The answer was the same, “You folks arrived on the Sabbath. Jewish people can’t drive until after sunset. They don’t check out until after sunset. You are unreasonable to expect rooms to be ready and all bed arrangements right. You should know better than to arrive on the Sabbath.”

I didn’t sleep all night, even called at 1:30 a.m. to complain about a malfunctioning air conditioning system. The same person who thought she had given us good rooms answered the phone. She was consistent. “Well, we certainly can’t do anything about that at 1:30 in the morning. You must have messed with the controls!”

The breakfast was wonderful. The next hotel had rooms ready for us but we didn’t really care because free beer, wine and Israel produced gin was just waiting for us, as was the $7.00 a bottle tonic. But we didn’t complain.

The wine and beer even flowed from the spigot into water glass-sized glasses. The Calvary group (including me) could handle that!

2. The food. I eat what is set before me. When I travel to a foreign country I don’t expect American menus. The meals by and large worked great for me. Yes, I had to turn my eyes away from most of the breakfast items at the Bethlehem Hotel. I regret that Bob and Judie got some salmonella and were really sick for a few days after their return. I learned that Ken has an amazing appetite and capacity for herring. In Jerusalem Olga Nawas brought me a dish filled with sweets. I said to her, “Wow!. Thanks! I’ll have a hard time finishing all this before we leave Israel.” She responded, “I brought it for your wife!”

3. Floating in the Dead Sea. Being afraid of water from my earliest years I am a very poor swimmer and an even worse floater. I imagined it would be great to calmly lie on my back and float serenely on the Dead Sea. Wrong! It was a slimey, dirty, slippery mess. I did’t have the courage and the patience of Suzanne to get beyond the waves near the shore. She had a great float. Ken and I hung on just to make it and were happy to get showered and back on the bus. So I never floated - in the Dead Sea - or anywhere else.

4. Biggest disappointment - and yet. I was not surprised and yet was somewhat saddened by the commercialization of all the sacred sites, from the Annunciation to the Ascension. The hubbub around the Holy Sepulcher was especially disturbing, making it almost impossible to be reverently respectful.

And yet, suppose no one ever came to the sites. Suppose nobody ever visited Nazareth, Bethlehem, the Mt. of Olives! Suppose the story of the life of Christ was a forgotten one. Suppose no one cared. That would be the bigger tragedy.

Holy Land Tour Part 5

(For the next several months this blog will contain memories, reports, journals of international tours I have led or workshops I have conducted. They will include The Holy Land, China, Finland et al. Each blog will contain a portion of the original reports.)

The Stole

In Jerusalem we moved slowly out of the place where Jesus faced his trial before Caiaphas, the high priest. Then we walked down into the dungeon where Jesus may have been held before being taken for his trial before Pontius Pilate.

I wandered into the nice adjoining gift shop run under the auspices of a group of catholic nuns.

Nancy Rinehart had a question, “Mel, we are thinking of buying a stole for Pr. Lubs. It could come from the group - about $3.00 from each of us. I immediately focused on the red festival stole with the beautiful Jerusalem cross embroidered in it. Nancy stood holding that and I went on my way.

During the following days I wondered when Nancy was going to ask each tour member for his or her 3 bucks. I thought about bringing it up, decided that maybe Nancy decided not to buy the stole after all. Besides, I’ve learned long ago that if Nancy has a need she’ll take care of it without any assistance from me.

Then came the meal at the Bethlehem Hotel when Al, on behalf of the group, presented me with that beautiful red stole with a gorgeous embroidered Jerusalem Cross.

I was/am deeply moved. This group had been great. The trip had been amazing. In the midst of it, my mind occasionally thought about my future. I have resigned from Wheat Ridge Ministries. I have terminated my service with the Center for Urban Education Ministries. My role at Calvary has steadily diminished. I’m ready to move to a Retirement Community. What does all this say abut my ministry?

I saw the stole as an affirmation of the past - and as a symbol of continued opportunity and call to be a minister to whomever God calls me.

Slight ecclesiastical hitch. My official ministry category in the ELCA has been a challenge for some. Without going into all the details - it has to do with what’s the appropriate ministerial status for me. Since I was originally commissioned in The Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod as a minister of the Gospel for the educational ministries of the church - and the ELCA does not have this category, what is the appropriate stole for me? Most would say it’s the red diaconal stole, worn over one shoulder, connected by a gold chain at the waist. But that was not the stole presented to me.

And so Step II happened. The bus driver, guide and group all readily agreed to return to the shop in Old Jerusalem. Gary went with me to the shop. The manager could not have been more helpful. She traded stoles and I now have the appropriate stole, from a very special place, given to me by a very special group of people. I cherish it deeply.

Holy Land Tour Part 4

(For the next several months this blog will contain memories,  reports, journals of international tours I have led or workshops I have conducted. They will include The Holy Land,  China, Finland et al. Each blog will contain a portion of the original reports.)

Holy Land Tour Part 4 

The Sea of Galilee

Now this was a surprise. We are all together in the boat. The Sea of Galilee is calm. We are about to leave the seashore at Tiberius. The boat crew hoists a flag: Old Glory. The recorded music blares out “The Star Spangled banner”. What can you say? I stood at attention, full of pride - and hopeful of peace

But the highlight came when we stopped in the middle of the Sea of Galilee. Ruth (as always - decked out in just the right attire) opened the Bible and with deep reverence and just the right intonation read the account of Jesus walking on the water and of Peter’s not completely successful effort to do the same.

My mind was flooded with reflections. Suppose it was I whom Jesus invited to take that walk. I decided Peter was a better man than I.

Outside Bethlehem

Angels We Have Heard On High

It was hard, very hard to really feel the presence of Christ or to recreate his walk along the Via de la Rosa - midst the shops, the noise and the solemn cross-bearing pilgrims. It got really tough to feel reverent at the Tomb of the Holy Sepulcher as warring denominations argue over who controls what portion of the floor, or door, or even tomb - while ornate brass lanterns give the whole scene and almost bazaar atmosphere.

But when we walked out of that cave on the hills of Bethlehem, when we sang, “Gloria in Excelsis”, I got it. I could see that angel and then the heavenly host. I could feel the rustle of angel wings. I could hear the announcement, I could get the impulse and say the words, “Come, let us go to Bethlehem to see this thing which the Lord has made known to us.” I was ready to go with haste - to the manger.

The Wailing Wall, The Holocaust, The Holocaust Children’s Museum

I combine these three for they all speak to me of a profound spiritual mystery: The Silence of God.

The Wailing Wall is a magnet. It draws to it Jewish people of all subgroups from the ultra-orthodox to the secular. It speaks of past glory, of great mourning for the temple which was destroyed, deep anger because of the Islamic Dome of the Rock now sitting above, of great hope for the restoration of hope for the ancient chosen people of God.

Access to the Wailing Wall, especially also for non-Jews, is not guaranteed. Some recent travelers had told me they had not been allowed to approach it. Issues regarding where non-Jews or inappropriately dressed people, or women kept surfacing.

So I was grateful when I knew we were going, men and women, just as long as men’s heads were covered and we stepped away from the wall before turning our backs to it.

 For obvious reasons security and access were carefully controlled. I fully understood why we went through the metal detectors, etc. The men and the women went to different sections, although we were in sight of each other.

I had expected more people, even though the entire area was crowded by an eclectic mass of people: Hassidic Jews, pilgrims from all over the world, Sri Lanka, Poland, Rwanda, Canada, Thailand, Russia and USA. About 20 feet from the wall scholars sat with their texts. Nearer the wall many bar mitzvahs were being celebrated by ecstatic young men with their fathers and male friends while mother and females “cheered them on” from beyond the barrier which separated men from women.

I wrote my simple prayer, approached the wall, placed my hands and head in reverent attention and placed my prayer between the cracks. I added a few more petitions, just reflected a few moments and then stepped back.

On one level it was only a ritual. On another level it was much more. (See below.)

I am glad we had time on our last day (and paid the extra $15.00 fee) to go to the Holocaust Museum. Nothing really new there. We all know the tragic history so well. But the presentation was so exquisitely well done, just the right tone, the architecture moving us along from the early stirrings of German patriotism to extreme nationalism, super-race belief, blind followers of clever politicians. Then came the prejudices, the faultfinding, the exclusion of “the other” and on to  (as we all know - and so movingly narrated by survivors) the pogroms, the Star of David, the trip to the concentration camps, to the ovens.

Who can possibly have this experience without deep moments of reflection, repentance, and resolution! And the realization that instead of “Never Again” we humans repeat the tragedy again and again: Mao Tze Tung, Cambodia, Rwanda, Darfur, Myanmar.

The Holocaust Children’s Museum overwhelms with its stark simplicity. Almost total darkness. Just illuminated with candles, one for each child victim. And a reading of the names and ages of the killed children, solemnly and slowly read - one, by one, by one...

In it all I experience the Silence of God. Where is God when the temple is destroyed and mad men throw children into ovens? My heart screams, “My God, my God, why has Thou forsaken us?” It is in these often deep periods of reflection that I find God; and God is not absent, but just beside me, and then I notice that God too is weeping. God’s tears mingle with mine and the many. God made the decision way before time began to give to human beings freedom of the will. They were not to be automats programmed to do only good. God gave us choice. So often we have chosen very, very poorly - and God weeps.

And sends a Redeemer to forgive, to point to better possibilities, to kindle more pious plans, to relight the candle of hope in the darkness - and finally, the darkness does not overcome it.

Holy LandTour, Part 3: Christmas Lutheran Church

     

(For the next several months this blog will contain memories,  reports, journals of international tours I have led or workshops I have conducted. They will include The Holy Land,  China, Finland et al. Each blog will contain a portion of the original reports.)

It had been very difficult to convince our tour company, NAWAS to include Bethlehem on our tour. There were issues: security, no four star hotel in Bethlehem, the Nawas family is Lebanese and

Lebanon/Israel relations are strained. Yet, I insisted we go to Bethlehem or we don’t do this tour.

Bethlehem was included.

My work with Wheat Ridge Ministries called upon me to assist in supporting Lutheran work in

Bethlehem. Wheat Ridge funded the Wellness center there. Wheat Ridge friends helped build the

school. Wheat Ridge helped establish a Parish Nurse program and sponsored short mission trips

for doctors, audiologists, nurses who donate their time for brief periods of time there.

So we visited. We listened to Pastor Mitre who tries to keep hope alive in a place where hope

is a rare commodity. And we worshipped on Sunday at Christmas Lutheran Church.

We had agreed (or more accurately, I had decided) to have our group sing a special

number during the service. I decided it should be Stan’s version of The Lord’s Prayer. We

rehearsed it (especially on the bus). I loved it and so did others. However, others with better

musical ears than mine came to me and said, “Mel, this is not working. Listening to our botched

up harmony does not make it easy to feel like a prayer. We must go to Plan B.” Plan B was to

sing “Alleluia”. Great song. I didn’t think it fit. I felt it kind of went on without an ending. I

made an executive decision. We will sing that old Lutheran favorite “Beautiful Savior.”

Problem: We didn’t have the music for that with us. Through Barbara I e-mailed Jane to fax it to

both our hotels in Jerusalem and in Bethlehem. She tried. Both hotels had their faxes turned off.

But we got just the right arrangement when we visited Bethlehem ministries on Saturday, 33

copies clearly copied.

Sunday morning found us at church 30 minutes ahead of time (a minor miracle for folks

from Calvary) but in time with that specific request from Pr. Mitre. As we entered the beautiful

chapel with its exquisite stained glass windows we were met by a large group of white people,

certainly not the Arab members of the congregation. It turned out to be a big brass band from

Germany. They had come to support the Lutheran ministry in Bethlehem, had a benefit concert,

taught children in the Lutheran school there how to play some band instruments and donated instruments. They were led by a gentle, tall Lutheran pastor. Now we needed to negotiate how their playing and our singing would work together to enrich the worship. Surprisingly, my German was better than the director’s English. Beautiful Savior is well known in Germany by its German name, “Schoenster Herr Jesu”. The band director thought we wanted her to accompany our group. Not a good idea. When I mentioned our hymn choice to Pr. Mitre he said, “Wonderful. This is a favorite hymn of

my congregation. Why don’t you folks sing the first 3 verses and the congregation and the organ

will join in on verse 4.” We did that. It was stirring: “Beautiful Savior, Lord of the Nations.”

I was also glad that we had dropped singing “The Lord’s Prayer “ when Pr. Mitre said,

“We do the same thing every Sunday. When we pray “The Lord’s Prayer” during the service I

ask each person to pray it in the language of their choice. It was powerful, Arabic, German,

Swedish, Norwegian, English. (I chose Cantonese.) God sorted it all out.

Another decision had to be made. Pr. Mitre had asked for someone from our group to

read the Epistle lesson for the day. Of course, many wanted to do that. Several volunteered. I

chose to offend them all and made the decision that I would read the lesson. And what a lesson it

was to hear God’s call for justice, peace and consideration for the poor. Once again, the right

word of God for exactly that time and place.

Two disappointments: The sermon was, of course, in Arabic. Pr. Mitre chose to not give

a brief summary in English. I learned later that Pr. Mitre struggles on Sunday in finding a

balance between being the pastor for the members of his flock, and also paying adequate

attention to the needs of guests.

The second disappointment: The church was built by German Lutherans more than 100

years ago. The stained glass windows all depict the life and ministry of Jesus in and near

Bethlehem. Stunningly beautiful! My disappointment: The Bible verse accompanying each

window was there in German. I wish it had been in an Arab language. To compensate, upon the

100th anniversary of the church, the congregation had the words of the Gloria in Excelsis done in

beautiful Arabic script around the dome.

The conversations after the service were an important part of the experience. Once again

the tour members were wonderful as all of us met the Arab members, some ELCA youth

volunteers from America and guests from Norway and Germany. My conversation with one of

the members was sobering. He explained the great difficulty he has getting around the “security

walls” to land which has been in his family for generations. He said to me, “I must get there. I

must continue to plant olive trees there. If I fail to go, if I fail to plant, my family’s ancestral

lands will immediately be ‘appropriated’. So I go. I plant with my bare hands. I have planted 400

olive trees.”

“Mitre, how do you feel about the future?” “Not hopeful”, he said. “I see almost no signs

of us moving toward a peaceful solution.” “Yet”, he said, “we must keep hope alive.” As Martin

Luther said, “Even if I knew I would die tomorrow, today I must still plant an olive tree.”

(Luther, of course, had said, “plant my apple tree” but in Bethlehem the apple tree became an

olive tree.) I heard that and tried to keep my teardrops from becoming too obvious.

Holy Land Tour Part 2

(For the next several months this blog will contain memories,  reports, journals of international tours I have led or workshops I have conducted. They will include The Holy Land,  China, Finland et al. Each blog will contain a portion of the original reports.)

Holy Land Tour– Sea of Galilee (2008)

We had come down from the mountain where Jesus preached, “The Sermon”. We had visited the home of Peter’s mother-in-law and the synagogue next to it. Now we were on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. It was the place where Jesus appeared to the disciples after his resurrection. It was the place where Jesus restored his apostolic call to a Peter who had thrice denied him. I liked the metal sculpture depicting Jesus restoring Peter. It felt right to look at the large stone formation running from the church to the shore of Galilee.

I made a decision. I would walk to the seashore. I would take off my shoes and socks and stand in the shallows. Then I would hear the voice of Jesus,

“Melvin, do you love me?”

“Yes, Lord, you know I love you.”

“Then feed my sheep.

Melvin, do you love me?”

“Yes, Lord, you know I love you.”

“Then feed my lambs.”

“Melvin, do you love me?”

“Yes, Lord, I love you.”

“Then feed my sheep.”

My mind went back 58 years and 10 days. That was the date the bishop’s representative ad St. Paul’s Lutheran Church, Tracy, California, commissioned me to serve as an officially rostered teaching minister in the Lutheran church. The text was the one above, the call to Peter.

And what a ministry it has been! (But that’s a topic for a different set of reflections.)

Holy Land Tour –Cana (2008)

It was startling! As we got off the bus to walk to the place remembered as the site of the first miracle of Jesus, I nearly walked into a huge banner hanging next to the street. I don’t remember the exact words, but the impact was there. It was something like, “Remember there is only one God, Allah, and his prophet is Mohammed.”

I refocused as we all entered a room reportedly the site of Jesus’ first miracle. We saw an excellent sample of a clay water pot capable, according to the King James version of the Bible, of holding 30 firkins of water. The first miracle!

Then we went to the chapel which Anes, our Guide, had reserved for our Sunday worship service. (A major accomplishment, as couples reserve this chapel for their wedding at all hours of the day with reservations required months in advance.) We had just come from Nazareth so we began our service with Julie doing her usual amazing and stirring introduction to the Annunciation as sung in Holden evening Vespers. “An angel sent by God, to a town called Nazareth, to a woman whose name was Mary…” And we responded with Mary’s Magnificat.

I very intentionally asked 92 year old Gerry Hendrickson to read the lesson for the day, the account of the first miracle. I wanted Gerry to read this because he was the first president of Calvary Lutheran Church. Just like Jesus began his ministry of miracles, Gerry has led and been faithful at Calvary, a congregation alive and active because of God’s continuing miracles.

We prayed very purposely at this wedding site where Jesus was present. First, I asked each of us to recall one marriage for which we especially thanked God (our own, our parents, some friends…) Each in their own way thanked God. I thanked God for Jane and our marriage of more than 57 years.

Then I asked each of us to pray for a marriage that is facing special challenges and threats. I had promised one particular Calvary couple that I would do this and I was pleased to keep this promise.

Our third prayer was for God to find a partner for someone currently unmarried but having a desire for marriage. I imagine some prayed for themselves or for a friend. I prayed for the one member of my family who is not married but would like to be. I continue to ask God to hear that prayer.

I closed with the thought, “God still changes water into wine.” There are times in our life when we run out of wine. All we have left is simple H²O. We turn that over to God and the first miracle is repeated: God once again changes the water into wine!

Lutheran International and Urban Schools Symposium : Reflecting, Rejoicing and Regretting

I have just returned from a symposium to which I looked forward with much anticipation. My colleague Marlene Lund from the Center for Urban Education Ministries had helped pulled together a symposium of some 60 Lutheran educators from around the world. Her hope was that by combining leaders from international schools with those of urban Lutheran schools in the USA new learnings might emerge and new relationships might be formed. A part of that goal was well achieved, some of it not very well. Here is a sample of a few of my Reflections, Rejoicings and Regrets

I rejoiced to look at the cities/countries from which these Lutheran school leaders came: Hong Kong, Hanoi, New York, Australia, China, Ghana, Frankenmuth, Papau New Guinea. It continues to thrill me to image kids from each of these places having the opportunity to learn and grow and to have faith born and sustained in every one of those places. I regretted to see no-one from any South American or European country there.

I appreciated looking at titles of the participants: Executive Director of International Education, Science Teacher, Head of School, Evangelist. Board Member, Treasurer, Elementary Teacher. Of course, many of them could also have identified themselves as “parents”. It takes all kinds of expertise to make schools places of growth. I regretted seeing no title or position related to a denomination head or regional offices such as at a church-wide, synod or district. It again pointed to the quickening demise of denominational leadership in the USA.

I thought about the contrast between the small, very financially poor Lutheran school struggling in, for example, Ghana, and the relative wealth of international schools in places like Hong Kong and Shanghai. Yet as I spoke with heads of those schools of whatever country or size they all spoke of the on-going challenge of responding to parent’s concern or lack thereof.

It was wonderful to see the representation from Lutheran colleges and universities and their departments of international studies. (I reflected upon the fact that way back in 1968 I was asked to start up the first one of such in the LCMS but decided my educational career was headed in another direction.) I wondered what insights we would have learned had there been one there from the largest Lutheran University in the world – in Brazil. It has 32,000 students on campus out of a total of some 140,000 in their extended network.

I enjoyed looking at names like Gyamfi Kwadwo, Betty Lingenfelter, Philip Ohene-Abrefa, Moyo Tawango. And Tarirai Doreen. I regretted seeing no names of obvious Hispanic heritage. The highlight for me was the keynote address by Martin Schmidt. His theme was “Grace and Vocation”. He challenged all Lutheran schools to be places where students and staff experience grace, a God who cares about and loves all creation and vocation and the calling for each one of us to be of service and ministry in and to the world. He gave marvelous examples of how teachers at all levels can lead their students into this wonderful direction. I left this symposium just as more than 3000 teachers in Lutheran schools from all over were gathering for a three day convocation. I bowed my head in respect for them and in prayer that each of their students might indeed discover and live out Grace and Vocation.

Peshawar, Islamabad, Rawalpindi, Abbottabad, Pakistan

Prior to visiting these cities of Pakistan in the mid 1988’s I doubt if I had even heard of them. Now each of them is firmly etched in my memory. In 1983 (and then again in 1984) I spent time in Pakistan teaching Parent and Teacher Effectiveness Training. It was a great and extremely rewarding experience. My classes included Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, Zoroastrians and persons of no faith. At least one was one of multiple wives. One who attended all of my workshops later publicly immolated himself in protest of the government. To a person they treated me with respect and extended hospitality beyond my wildest imagination. On my second trip I was invited to the area near the Khyber Pass and bordering Afghanistan.

But first I stopped in Islamabad and even then was amazed at the build-up of troops all around that city extending into the area right next to Abbottabad of later Bin Laden fame. My host was one of the greatest living saints I ever met, Sister Sheila from Ireland. It was she who startled me when I knocked on her hotel room in Rawalpindi and stepped in . “STOP!” she shouted. I recoiled. Then she was immediately in my arms with words of apologies. “You see, Mel”, she said, “ If I as a woman was noticed inviting a single man into my hotel room I could be killed for it.” After my apology she recanted, “What the h.., Mel. Come in. It’s worth the risk.”

She took me to the Bishops’ residence. He kindly lent us his driver and beat-up old Ford to take us over the camel-crowded passes to Peshawar. There I was to present certificates to a class of teachers to whom she had taught the Model I first taught her. But then a problem arose. This was a big event and the Head of the Education Department was to distribute the certificates, but was unable to attend. He asked if his wife could make the presentation for him and deliver a short address. The problem was that she, as a woman, was not permitted to speak to an audience that was not all women. I agreed to step out of the room until she was finished. But Sister Shelia did some negotiating and I was permitted to attend.

After the presentation I was taken to a bazaar where some beautiful embroidery was bought for me. Then I bought a type of turban/hat from a street vendor. I had gone about a block when a gentleman ran up to me from behind. I finally figured out that he wanted to know how much I paid. When he found out the price he explained (as I finally got it through an interpreter) that he just wanted to make sure that as a foreigner I had not been taken advantage of for that would be anti-Islam; but since I had been charged a fair price I was sent on my way.

My way took me to the Pakistan-Afghanistan border. Once again I viewed the tragedy of hundreds of thousands of refugees fleeing from the Afghanistan-Russian fighting. They, like millions of others through the ages. Now again, especially on the Syria-Jordan border, people are fleeing for their lives. They live in hot, dirty, dusty, little tents, scrounging for food and water, trying to keep hope alive.

,On this pleasant California evening I sit and reflect on my brothers and sisters in places with names like Peshawar, Islamabad. Rawalpindi and Abbottabad and I feel like my life is so different and so blessed. At the same time  regardless of the name of the place in which we live we  all yearn for the same things: someone who loves us, people who respect us regardless of our gender, religion or nationality and a place where we can lie down and sleep in peace.

MACAU

Macau in the 50’s and early 60’s. That little note specifying the 50’s is critical. The current Macau bears virtually no resemblance to the old. Today’s Macau is the biggest gambling Mecca in the world. Its volume way exceeds Las Vegas. It has enough neon to shine half way up to Canton. That is nothing like the Macau that I visited probably 100 times 50 years ago, but have not set foot in now for some 20 years.

Macau was a Portuguese Colony. It was only30 miles from Hong Kong where I lived. But it was tricky to get there. We were not allowed to go through China. Borderlines in the South China Sea were carefully monitored and if the ferry I rode to get to Macau would stray it could become an international incident.

There was much to love about Macau. The view from the balcony of the Bella Vista Hotel was fabulous. The African chicken served at the Macau Posada was unrivaled. The hotel room in which I stayed did not have a bathroom or toilet, but the beer at the bar was always cold.

The ancient façade of the St. Paul Cathedral had survived a fire and a typhoon. The battered cross on top of it still stood and became the focus of a wonderful hymn written by the then governor of Hong Kong. The hymn: “In The Cross of Christ I Glory, Towering O’er the Wrecks of Time.”

I went to Macau because there were people there with lots of needs: spiritual, physical, psychological and educational, people in need of hope. The Lutheran Church did (and does) a good job there.

The first Sunday I was there I was told that children had to bring last Sunday’s leaflet with them to be admitted to class this Sunday. There was no space for new students. I am not so naïve as to not know that one of the factors causing this very large attendance was that a limited amount of relief food and clothing was made available at the church.

We wanted property to build a Lutheran Center and eventually received a title from the Government for a wonderful plot of land. However, when we finally got a decent translation of the deed which we had signed, we learned that in fact, the holder of the deed was listed as ‘Chinese merchant Titus Lee”, the same person who was our evangelist there. It was explained that no government official (fearing censure from the Catholic Bishop) would ever sign a deed, which showed a Lutheran Church as a property owner so the “merchant” phrase was used. We were assured that later the property could be transferred property to the church. That never happened. (See addendum below.)

Many refugees from Mao were desperate and wanted to get to Hong Kong. I recall one gentleman who lived with his family in a most primitive hut with no water, light, or furniture. He pleaded with me to help him get a visa. The he told me, “I am desperate.” With that he pulled out a packet, which I immediately recognized as street heroin. “If I don’t get my family to Hong Kong soon we will all be existing on this”, he told me. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that I noticed that on some of my subsequent trips I as always followed. As soon as I boarded my rented pedicab at the ferry station I noticed that I was being followed. This happened throughout two subsequent visits. Then it stopped. I don’t know that there was a connection but I do know that all of this coincided with the murder of a gentleman on our church steps as he was leaving Christian instruction one night.

Some of the immigrants, through sheer force of Chinese determination and effort managed to survive in Macau and find jobs besides making fireworks in their homes. But most wanted to get to Hong Kong. One of the families that I was able to assist in getting there were a great blessing to many. One of he sons became head of Lutheran Social Services of Hong Kong, a massive center of assistance to thousands. His sister is now a famous Hong Kong surgeon.

Macau is now, of course, famous for its gambling and extravagant hotels. But I am grateful for the people whom I was able to meet, who found their chances for a much better life than at the crap tables.

[Addendum]: Years after I left Hong I received a call from a Lutheran Church official in America. He informed me that the Macau church building, school and the land on which they had been situated had been sold. It appeared that the person who had been named as owner of the building as indicated above, had sold the property, taken the money and disappeared in America. Fortunately, church officials did eventually go to Macau, deal with he new buyer and were able to secure for the church a repayment to the church in what I believe was a total of US$1 million.)