by Bishop Bill Gohl
"Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you." – Philippians 4:9, NRSV
When I tell my call story, I often trace my faith journey through my mother. My mom patiently taught me the catechism when I feared flunking out of confirmation class, she was a Sunday School teacher and Vacation Bible School leader, she was the one who reminded us by her own example that being a part of the church was more than a Sunday morning commitment. I learned the faith, our faith, at the feet of my mother.
During Black History Month, I’ve been thinking about the African descent leaders at whose feet I have also learned the faith of the church.
During Black History Month, I’ve been thinking about the African descent leaders at whose feet I have also learned the faith of the church.
The Rev. Winston S. Bone, former bishop of Guyana and for many years an assistant to the bishop of the Metropolitan New York Synod, was the supervisor of my candidacy process from college through seminary and ordination. Pastor Bone was unfailing in his encouragement and uncompromising in his high expectations that we should, as public leaders of the church, be diligent in our study of the holy scriptures and our use of the means of grace, leading by faithful example and holy living. Having known Pastor Bone from LYO days well before candidacy, he was vigilant in pushing me to expand outside of my privileged comfort zone. He connected me with a life-long hero in Pastor John Heinemeier, then serving in the South Bronx; he chastened me to be attentive to the evaluative pieces from field ed supervisors who wanted me to "go deeper;" he affirmed me when I opened myself to a larger sense of serving the church, not just seeking an expedient way "home." Though ill and living in Washington state, very few days pass without me remembering and giving thanks for Pastor Bone's impatience with me! I learned the faith, our faith, at the feet of Pastor Winston S. Bone.
The Rev. Joseph A. Donnella II, former chaplain of Gettysburg College and now-pastor of St. Mark's (Baltimore), employed me as a student assistant during my last two years of seminary. Dr. Donnella had the unenviable experience of having "inherited" me from the previous chaplain, and the even-worse experience of my having served as the interim for 18 months before his arrival on campus. Still, with a patience that was wholly undeserved, Dr. Donnella received me and mentored me, despite my believing – and acting – like I already knew everything! I don't ever remember actively trying to undermine or thwart his ministry – and I do remember some really incredible moments of partnership where I was witness to his loving and expansive sense of cultivating spiritual life and community on campus. Having grown up in a low church tradition, it was from Dr. Donnella (whose PhD is in Liturgical Theology) that I was shaped as an evangelical catholic, entering into the richness of the daily office, reading the Church fathers and mothers with an eye for the Afrocentric heritage of the western church, experiencing the fullness of rich liturgy and ceremonial in the celebration of holy communion – and observing the painstaking work he did as a key editor for This Far By Faith, our ELCA African American worship book. Though I didn't realize it at the time, it was from Dr. Donnella that I learned a "pastor-craft" that would shape my entire parish ministry. I learned the faith, our faith, at the feet of Pastor Joseph Donnella.
Mrs. Amelia Tyler was the first person of color to join my first congregation. When I arrived at Peace (Glen Burnie), though the community was overwhelmingly Anglo, there was obvious change afoot. An increasingly visible African descent community was growing up around us and our congregation was 99% white (the 1% non-white was Kay, a native of Japan who married an American soldier during World War II). Using material from the Lutheran Human Relations Association, we studied race and racism as a congregation – culminating with a "Joshua Prayer Ministry," where, like Joshua preparing for the Battle of Jericho, we walked the boundaries of our property every day for seven days, and seven times on the last day stopping at the several entrance points to the property, reading scripture and offering prayer for the walls that were separating the church from the fullness of the community to tumble down. Still, no one was more surprised the next weekend when Mrs. Tyler came to the late worship service. A native of Liberia, Mrs. Tyler had settled in Glen Burnie and told the story of coming to the Christian faith through the witness of Lutheran missionaries. She, despite a skeptical and lukewarm welcome, came alongside me and helped me to talk with our neighbors, inculturate our worship to better reflect the community, and more credibly welcome other persons of color to our congregation. She was a prayer warrior – encouraging and chastening me with power from on high! Nine months after she arrived at Peace, a stroke dramatically altered her life and she was moved closer to family outside of the community. Still, when I would visit Mrs. Tyler at her health facility, she would proudly introduce me as "her pastor;" and she would beam when I would point to her and say, "This is my teacher." I learned the faith, our faith, at the feet of Mrs. Amelia Tyler.
In a different vein, I've also learned a different side of the faith from the Rev. Thomas Kenea and the Rev. Hambisa Belina, who both served their seminary internships with me and a creative partnership with Epiphany (Baltimore), Jerusalem (Baltimore) and Faith (Baltimore). They were both from Ethiopia and were, in the words of a seminary administrator, "hard to place" for internship. In both cases, I can say that I learned more from Pastor Kenea and Pastor Belina than I ever taught them. They were both deeply prayerful, powerfully connected to Christ through the Word, and passionate about disciple-making. They were everything you would want in seminary interns and the kind of pastors that could encourage a community to become the church, the body of Christ alive in the world. What made them "hard to place" was their accents. Admittedly, at the beginning of the internship the congregations and I had to learn to listen differently and more carefully; still, I dare say that Pastor Kenea and Pastor Belina both became beloved in their own right. Both Pastor Kenea and Pastor Belina have left the ministry to pursue other work. Despite having experienced them as excellent pastors, the communities they served continued to regard them as "hard to place." From them I have learned about the destructive nature of privilege, race and xenophobia; in them I have been complicit in the ways that the church sacrifices its own most marginalized members on a false altar called unity (which often really means uniformity), rather than confront a pernicious racism that infects us. I learned a different experience of faith and our church, at the feet of Pastor Thomas Kenea and Pastor Hambisa Belina.
During Black History Month, we are reminded of the contributions our African descent sisters and brothers have made to science, technology, politics, literature, the arts and religion; contributions that history has often overlooked. Similarly, in the Lutheran Christian tradition, where we trace so much of our history and theology from Germanic and Scandinavian roots, it is important for us to name and lift up the African descent voices that have, and continue to shape our Lutheran witness today. I learned the faith, our faith, at the feet of Winston, Joseph, Amelia, Thomas, Hambisa, and countless others, for which I say thank you and thanks be to God.
"Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. 9 Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you." – Philippians 4:8-9, NRSV
The Rev. Joseph A. Donnella II, former chaplain of Gettysburg College and now-pastor of St. Mark's (Baltimore), employed me as a student assistant during my last two years of seminary. Dr. Donnella had the unenviable experience of having "inherited" me from the previous chaplain, and the even-worse experience of my having served as the interim for 18 months before his arrival on campus. Still, with a patience that was wholly undeserved, Dr. Donnella received me and mentored me, despite my believing – and acting – like I already knew everything! I don't ever remember actively trying to undermine or thwart his ministry – and I do remember some really incredible moments of partnership where I was witness to his loving and expansive sense of cultivating spiritual life and community on campus. Having grown up in a low church tradition, it was from Dr. Donnella (whose PhD is in Liturgical Theology) that I was shaped as an evangelical catholic, entering into the richness of the daily office, reading the Church fathers and mothers with an eye for the Afrocentric heritage of the western church, experiencing the fullness of rich liturgy and ceremonial in the celebration of holy communion – and observing the painstaking work he did as a key editor for This Far By Faith, our ELCA African American worship book. Though I didn't realize it at the time, it was from Dr. Donnella that I learned a "pastor-craft" that would shape my entire parish ministry. I learned the faith, our faith, at the feet of Pastor Joseph Donnella.
Mrs. Amelia Tyler was the first person of color to join my first congregation. When I arrived at Peace (Glen Burnie), though the community was overwhelmingly Anglo, there was obvious change afoot. An increasingly visible African descent community was growing up around us and our congregation was 99% white (the 1% non-white was Kay, a native of Japan who married an American soldier during World War II). Using material from the Lutheran Human Relations Association, we studied race and racism as a congregation – culminating with a "Joshua Prayer Ministry," where, like Joshua preparing for the Battle of Jericho, we walked the boundaries of our property every day for seven days, and seven times on the last day stopping at the several entrance points to the property, reading scripture and offering prayer for the walls that were separating the church from the fullness of the community to tumble down. Still, no one was more surprised the next weekend when Mrs. Tyler came to the late worship service. A native of Liberia, Mrs. Tyler had settled in Glen Burnie and told the story of coming to the Christian faith through the witness of Lutheran missionaries. She, despite a skeptical and lukewarm welcome, came alongside me and helped me to talk with our neighbors, inculturate our worship to better reflect the community, and more credibly welcome other persons of color to our congregation. She was a prayer warrior – encouraging and chastening me with power from on high! Nine months after she arrived at Peace, a stroke dramatically altered her life and she was moved closer to family outside of the community. Still, when I would visit Mrs. Tyler at her health facility, she would proudly introduce me as "her pastor;" and she would beam when I would point to her and say, "This is my teacher." I learned the faith, our faith, at the feet of Mrs. Amelia Tyler.
In a different vein, I've also learned a different side of the faith from the Rev. Thomas Kenea and the Rev. Hambisa Belina, who both served their seminary internships with me and a creative partnership with Epiphany (Baltimore), Jerusalem (Baltimore) and Faith (Baltimore). They were both from Ethiopia and were, in the words of a seminary administrator, "hard to place" for internship. In both cases, I can say that I learned more from Pastor Kenea and Pastor Belina than I ever taught them. They were both deeply prayerful, powerfully connected to Christ through the Word, and passionate about disciple-making. They were everything you would want in seminary interns and the kind of pastors that could encourage a community to become the church, the body of Christ alive in the world. What made them "hard to place" was their accents. Admittedly, at the beginning of the internship the congregations and I had to learn to listen differently and more carefully; still, I dare say that Pastor Kenea and Pastor Belina both became beloved in their own right. Both Pastor Kenea and Pastor Belina have left the ministry to pursue other work. Despite having experienced them as excellent pastors, the communities they served continued to regard them as "hard to place." From them I have learned about the destructive nature of privilege, race and xenophobia; in them I have been complicit in the ways that the church sacrifices its own most marginalized members on a false altar called unity (which often really means uniformity), rather than confront a pernicious racism that infects us. I learned a different experience of faith and our church, at the feet of Pastor Thomas Kenea and Pastor Hambisa Belina.
During Black History Month, we are reminded of the contributions our African descent sisters and brothers have made to science, technology, politics, literature, the arts and religion; contributions that history has often overlooked. Similarly, in the Lutheran Christian tradition, where we trace so much of our history and theology from Germanic and Scandinavian roots, it is important for us to name and lift up the African descent voices that have, and continue to shape our Lutheran witness today. I learned the faith, our faith, at the feet of Winston, Joseph, Amelia, Thomas, Hambisa, and countless others, for which I say thank you and thanks be to God.
"Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. 9 Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you." – Philippians 4:8-9, NRSV