Lament: A Lenten Sermon and Practice

By Megan Eide

Luke 19:41-44

As Jesus came near and saw the city of Jerusalem, he wept over it, saying, “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. Indeed, the days will come upon you when your enemies will set up ramparts around you and surround you and hem you in on every side. They will crush you to the ground, you and your children, and they will not leave within you one stone upon another, because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.”

Throughout this season of Lent, we as Christians explore different spiritual practices- things we can do that both mirror the life of Jesus and help us to feel closer to him. Last week, we read the story about Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness by the devil, and so we talked about what it means to give up temptations, those things that separate us from God. That takes a lot of strength! To over and over again say ‘no’ to something or someone when it would be so much easier to say yes. Well, this week’s spiritual practice looks very different. It’s about giving in instead of giving up, and it’s about letting in instead of blocking out.

I’m referring to the practice of lament- mourning the loss of something that was or something that could have been. Lament is a kind of grieving between you and God where you get to come right out and tell God about a wish you had that didn’t come true and how much that devastates you. That’s exactly what we see Jesus doing here in this passage, and many other times throughout his life actually. Here in Luke chapter 19, Jesus has just reached the city of Jerusalem where he knows he will soon face betrayal and crucifixion. Meaning, everything that he’s done up to this point to convince people that he really is God’s son–all of his teaching and healing and services–wouldn’t be enough, at this point anyway, to stir up God’s peace and love among the people. Instead, Jesus sees suffering on the horizon for himself and for the ones he loves.

So, Jesus wept. He grieved. He saw the great wave of pain and sadness closing in around him and around all of these families, innocent children too, and Jesus cried, mourning that loss that was yet to come.

I imagine that all of us have been in a similar position before, perhaps several times before. This spot between a rock and a hard place where you look out and see danger on the horizon. You know that you or a loved one is heading straight for something very painful or sad, something that might even turn your lives upside down, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. For me, the most helpless I ever felt was the day my grandma entered hospice care. I’ll never forget that conversation I had with the doctor and my aunt, when we got the news that they’d done everything they could for her, but grandma’s heart was in failure. And it would soon be time to say goodbye. That moment sucked. There’s no other word for it. When it comes to the people we love nearest and dearest in the entire world, we would do absolutely anything to protect and care for them. And yet sometimes, there’s nothing more we can do.

It’s in these impossible, hopeless moments that we might turn to God for that hope and strength that passes all human understanding. We try convincing ourselves of things like “she’s going to a better place” or “I just need to be grateful for the good times we had together.” It’s almost as if we’re trying a fake-it-until-you-make-it kind of faith, as if faithful people are grateful and positive 24/7. But, that’s not the authentic life of faith Christ showed us. Jesus didn’t put on a fake smile when he was sad or angry. He didn’t shove down or shove aside his grief with platitudes like “everything happens for a reason.” It’s not that he gave up on God or God’s promises. He knew that all suffering, even death, was temporary. But he was honest with himself and with God when the wave of grief hit him. Jesus knew everything would be ok in the end, but that didn’t stop him from acknowledging that he was not ok at that moment.

Jesus wept so that we might see it’s ok to weep too. It’s ok to not be ok. It doesn’t make you a bad Christian to feel scared or depressed sometimes. You’re not hurting God by telling God how much you are hurting. Lament is not a sign of weak faith. Just the opposite: when we lament to God, laying out for God what we’re really thinking and feeling, we’re actually showing just how deeply we trust in God. We’re demonstrating our belief that God empathizes with us and cares for us no matter what, especially when we’re faced with troubles bigger than ourselves. Even if our laments come out as complaints or doubts, we can have the kind of faithful relationship with God that says, “Whatever I’m going through is valid, and God will share it with me.”

I know the practice of lament, by its very nature, is not the most fun spiritual practice. If you go home and tell your friends, “Guess what? I’m going to lament for the next 4 weeks!” they’re probably not going to jump at the chance to join you! But again: the season of Lent is all about you and God–reconnecting with God, trusting that God meets you where you are, exactly as you are. Amen.

A Smoking Hot Protest -- JUDGE NOT 

 By JoyMarie Ibsen

In the fall of 1961, during my senior year at Shimer College, a new rule came down from the college administration. Several of us were upset because we realized our rights were clearly going to be violated. We had to do something about it!

I could not believe the college administration 

would make such a radical and unnecessary change without consulting the student body. Didn’t they realize what they were doing and how it would affect us?  

According to the new rule, effective immediately, Shimer students would no longer be allowed to smoke in class.  Really? What were they thinking? Didn’t they have any respect for our needs?

They claimed it was a fire hazard. Fire hazard! That was ridiculous!

In our classrooms we sat around large tables with giant glass ashtrays while we discussed important subjects. There were no curtains on the classroom windows. Fire hazard?  We were not stupid!

Shimer College was over 100 years old. Why all of a sudden? It didn’t make sense. This was clearly against our rights! We had always been able to smoke in class. How could they make such a ridiculous new ruling! Surely, they did not expect us to abide by it! At least half the student body smoked during class. What was the harm? We weren’t hurting anyone. During important discussions how could anyone be expected to respond thoughtfully without a cigarette? We had to do something! We needed to smoke in order to have worthwhile conversations or our classes would be ruined! A community of scholars could not allow this to happen. Something had to be done! That was obvious. 

Quickly, a group of us decided to  go  directly to the administration. We would prepare signs, insist on our rights. We would have a protest! We would have a . . . a smoke in!  Yes, a smoke-in! A protest in the administration building, right outside of the president's office. Quickly, we organized, prepared our signage, and the next morning fifteen or so of us sat down, lined up on both sides of the hallway leading to the president's and other administrative offices.

Along with my friends, I sat on the hallway floor with my books, papers and two packs of Kent cigarettes.  

We all lit up!  We SMOKED!

We smoked and smoked . . .  and smoked . . . and smoked. 

Faculty and visitors carefully made their way to  offices through the heavy, hazy atmosphere we created. Some were coughing. Thick clouded air almost masked their identities. A few passers-by made smart remarks or even asked for a cigarette. 

And what happened? 

Not very much. The administration simply ignored us. After two days—we gave up and went back to class.   

Such was my contribution to protests.  When I look back I realize I learned something important. It took a while, but I learned that I can be wrong  In fact, I was wrong.  

You or I, or whoever, can be dead wrong about something, especially when we don’t know the whole story -- or for some other reason. We can be completely wrong about something very  important.

No one had mentioned that smoking was a health hazard.

“Give unto Caesar what is Caesar's” 

By Ingrid Ank, Editor of  Grundtvigsk Tidende (Grundtvigian Tidings). [This piece was translated by Brad Busbee and Avery Means.]

The relationship between religion and politics is a perennial topic of discussion: Can a bishop stand in the cathedral in Washington and challenge the president? I believe that those who think it is simple and straightforward to distinguish between politics and religion are mistaken. Politics should not be conducted with reference to exclusive claims of divine truths, but neither should faith and religion be confined to separate spaces disconnected from our everyday and (political) reality.

“Have mercy, Mr. President”

Did Bishop Mariann Budde make a mistake when she addressed her sermon to Donald Trump and not to God at the official service in Washington National Cathedral during the US presidential inauguration: ‘I ask you to have mercy, Mr. President’? Was she confusing the authority of God and the presidency? 

Mariann Budde spoke up for minorities: migrant workers and LGBTQ+ minorities. Where others cannot get through to the President's ears or the divided American population in their TV rooms at home, she had a moment where she had the floor and could not be interrupted. And she seized it. 

In Denmark, this immediately led to a discussion about whether a priest should use the pulpit to interfere in politics. A journalist on “P1 Morgen” [a morning news program] carefully asked parish priest and social commentator, Katrine Winkel Holm, whether there isn't an obligation to be merciful in Christianity that corresponds very well with the American bishop's appeal. But a better question, one the journalist did not ask, would be how one actually can manage to keep things separate: Where are the lines between politics and religion? Is politics involved  in everything - love, football, the weather? And what areas of life is religion allowed to touch? Where should religion be allowed?

This question can also be addressed to the ‘Commission for the Forgotten Women's Struggle [a governmental organizaition in Denmark  appointed to ensure that women with a minority backgrounds can enjoy the same rights and freedoms as other Danish women].* The Comission has just published a proposal to ban public educational institutions from making spaces available for the practice of religion. They’re proposing this action, not as something for individual schools and principals to assess and decide for themselves, but as a general ban: no prayer in the library, no Bible reading in the high school basement. The reasoning is that these spaces might become a means  for students to exercise unfair control over each other. Students might judge each other and wonder things like, "Why is Amina missing prayer today?"

It may well be true that this kind of discrimination is happening. And it would surely be a lie to say that religion and power are never linked.

Because, yes, faith can be powerful. Rulers and states can use faith and religion to control entire populations. On the other hand, faith can set people free, give voice to the mute, speak out against power and challenge the system. Faith can be the voice of the audacious individual pleading from the pulpit, "I ask you to have mercy," where all others remain silent. That's why dictatorships always abolish religious freedom first. That's why restricting it is not the same as freedom.

Did Mariann Budde confuse the authority of God and with that of the president of the United States? You'd think it would be easy to tell the difference. But it's not.

*For more information about the Commission for the Forgotten Women's Struggle, see https://denglemtekvindekamp.dk/om-kommissionen/

Meet Reagan Gage

I am an English major at Samford University, where I enjoy learning about the way Christianity and political issues are portrayed through literature. Some of my current favorite authors include Flannery O’Connor and Jonathan Swift, about whom I wrote my senior thesis last fall. I also works for Samford University Marketing and Communications.

I am from the mountains of North Carolina, but I am currently learning the intricacies of city life in Birmingham, Alabama. Before coming to Birmingham, I spent a year in England, which sparked a greater interest in international travel and exploring different cultures.

I am looking forward to working with Church and Life and in particular to learning more about what American-Danish culture and community look like, and the joys and challenges that come with preserving Danish culture whilst living in America. I'm interested in learning how to better appreciate everyday life and build community wherever I live.

In my spare time, I enjoy cooking and creative writing. My post-graduation plan is to pursue graduate school and one day become an English professor.

Postscript - by Brad Busbee

Readers are probably wondering who Brad Busbee is and how Reagan Gage and Avery Means became involved in Church and Life. It's likely, too, that some of you are wondering: How are these people qualified to edit such a storied publication? I'll try to answer that question first.

In 2018, I receved a grant to host a conference in London on the International influence of N.F.S. Grundtvig. My close friend and scholarly collaborator, Anders Holm of Copenhagen University, helped me identify scholars, educators, and community leaders from places as far flung as Bangladesh, Nigeria, and Japan. He managed to get supplemental funding from Copenhagen University, and along with the substantial grant from Samford University, where I work as an English professor, we were able to gather, in all, particiants from 18 countries in meeting rooms at the University of London. The editor of Church and Life, Joy Ibsen, and a friend and regular contributor to the publication Edward Broadbridge were there, as were a number of American folk school leaders and scholars like Dawn Murphy and Vicky Eiben. They, along with about 30 others, took part in a  packed agenda with breakout sessions. We  heard from Swedes, Danes, Hungarians, Indians, Koreans, and Americans about how Grundtvig's ideas had benefitted their communities.

Up to that point, I knew about Grundtvig from a scholarly perspective. Years ago, I wrote a dissertation about Grundtvig's interpretation of Beowulf, while on a Fulbright living in Copenhagen for a year, and I had been serving as a co-editor of Grundtvig Studies for some years prior. I was therefore surprised to hear people from all over the world focus on Grundtvig's ideas of education and community. Before that, I had never heard  about Happy Danes and Holy Danes in America, and I had never realized that in Grundtvig's ideologies happiness and community and faith might be brought together so harmoniously. Unsurprisingly, these ideas aren't readily apparent in Grundtvig's interpretations of medieval poetry.

Just last December, I received a phone call from Andrés Albertsen, the president of the Danish Interest Conference, asking if I would be interested in being the editor of Church and Life.

I wondered: Am I qualified for this role? I don't have an immediate connection with Danish-American culture (beyond the facts I have spent a great deal of time in Denmark, I can read Danish and speak it a little bit, or that my daughter Kamilla was born in Copenhagen in 2004). Does being an Episcopalian or an Alabamian disqualified me? I have never even been to the places where so much Danish-American culture thrives.

Then I met with the DIC board and reread Walter Capps's characterization of the Grundtvigian tradition as affirming life, staying close to nature, embracing the goodness and beauty of ordinary life, and emphasizing lifelong learning. What a solid distillation of Grundtvig's ideas! So consistent with what I heard in London in 2018! And so close to my own values!

So I recruited two talented young scholars, Reagan Gage and Avery Means. (Please read their bios in this issue.) We talked at length about how we could join this enterprise and contribute to a rich tradition. We plan to offer an issue every other month for a total of six for the year. Reagan and Avery will take part in the next two issues.

What you have before you are the first fruits of our efforts. We would very much like your feedback.  We are learning quickly about Danish America, and want to know more about the readership of Church and Life. We have received many calls and emails offering information. Keep those coming. Please send us stories, updates, photos, anecdotes, and news of whatever kind that you would like to share. 

Our next issue will feature a story about Nella Larsen, the renowned African-American-Danish author, by Avery Means. We'll also feature an account of when Peter Burhmann--the former head of a  Danish folkehøjskole and the current director of German folks schools--visited John C. Campbell in Brasstown, North Carolina; and a story about Andrés Albertsen, the President of the Danish Interest Conference, by Reagan Gage. 

And finally: please donate! The journal is now free  and depends entirely on the generosity of its readership.