I'm thankful!

Important information compiled by our daughter in her own Roseville Reader publication! https://www.rosevillereader.com/how-the-looming-loss-of-snap-funding-impacts-roseville/

I've never had to rely on government food assistance... but my family has benefited from other government programs, notably going back to the land that was given to my Norwegian immigrant ancestors. My parents were beneficiaries of government programs such as the GI bill, which provided funds for my dad to attend college and to buy a suburban home (after Dad secured fairly paid work as a chemical engineer, often funded by government contracts). I am thankful that my parents and their ancestors could benefit in that way but I'm aware that many people have not.

Dad was able to benefit from the GI Bill, but that didn't help my mother or her sisters, all of whom, I think, were able to "work their way through college." Their parents, my maternal grandparents, were small business owners (tiny independent grocery stores, for example) were not able to contribute anything other than room and board at their home. Google AI says one reason Mom could go to the UofMN was "Low university tuition fees: When your mother would have attended, most likely in the late 1940s or early 1950s, tuition at a state institution like the University of Minnesota was extremely low. The university archives show that during the 1940s, tuition was just $10 per semester. Even after adjusting for inflation, this was a small fraction of the cost today." My mom went there. One of her sisters became a nurse, the other graduated from Augsburg College, which was strongly supported, at the time, by the Lutheran church.

Government Help

Posted on facebook on Tuesday, 28Oct2025, 11:44pm

Often, as in this particular post by Benjamin Cramer, there are too many points to carefully address. In the first section he cites scripture, but each Biblical citation, and the related theological reasoning, needs to be dealt with separately. Some of this seems to be on target, while other sections aren't as helpful. It's not easy to connect Old and New Testament scripture and theology to what's going on with today's governmental bodies and their relationship with those in need.

Benjamin Cremer

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My response to: “It’s Not the Government’s Job to Help the Poor, It’s the Church’s Job!”

I’ve heard this phrase all my life, inside churches, outside churches, online, and in political debates.

I’ve been hearing it more and more lately from fellow Christians, especially in reaction to critiques of USAID being cut, the so-called “Big Beautiful Bill” and the estimated harm it will cause to millions of Americans in the coming years, and most recently in response to those of us calling out the harm that will be caused by the ending of SNAP funding due to the government shutdown.

The sentiment is always the same: helping people isn’t the government’s job, it’s the church’s job.

On the surface, this argument may sound virtuous. It champions personal responsibility, spiritual authenticity, and the role of the church. But the more I hear it, the more I find myself asking a deeper theological question: Do those who say this actually apply it to the Bible?

What About God’s Commands to Nations?

Do they believe God was wrong to give the entire nation of Israel laws specifically designed to protect the poor, the widow, the orphan, and the immigrant (Deut. 24:17–22; Lev. 19:9–10; Ex. 22:21–27)? Those were national, collective, governmental commands, not just moral suggestions for individuals or religious communities.

Do they believe the prophets were out of line when they rebuked kings and rulers, those in governmental power, for failing to uphold justice and protect the poor?

“Woe to those who make unjust laws, to those who issue oppressive decrees, to deprive the poor of their rights and withhold justice from the oppressed of my people, making widows their prey and robbing the orphan.” (Isaiah 10:1–2)

“Do what is just and right. Rescue the oppressed from the hand of the oppressor. Do no wrong or violence to the foreigner, the fatherless or the widow.” (Jeremiah 22:3)

The prophets didn’t just speak to religious communities. They spoke to whole societies, and especially to those with political power.

Were Jesus and Paul wrong to tell people to pay their taxes?

Jesus himself affirmed paying taxes to both Rome and the Temple (Luke 20:22–25; Matthew 17:24–27), even though both funded public goods and religious services. The Roman Empire, while far from just, did provide roads, aqueducts, grain distribution, and forms of what we would now call “social services.” Jesus never said, “Don’t support that, it’s the Temple’s job.” He said, “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to God what is God’s.” This was in response to the question on taxes.

Likewise, Paul urged Christians to pay taxes “because the authorities are God’s servants, who give their full time to governing” (Romans 13:6). This wasn’t unquestioned allegiance to empire over the church, it was a recognition that governing institutions also have a role to play in restraining evil and promoting the common good.

What About The Early Church?

The early church supported the poor and rebuked corrupt leaders. They also called the powerful to account. Read the Book of Acts, and you’ll see public confrontations with governing authorities, alongside radical generosity within the community.

And historically, Christians in America have been deeply involved in shaping public policies to help the poor and oppressed:

• The abolition of slavery

• Child labor laws

• Civil rights movements

• Women’s suffrage

• Advocacy for fair wages and working conditions

Were those believers wrong to push for change at the governmental level for the sake of the poor and oppressed? Were they abandoning the church’s role, or living it out?

The church is the church when it seeks to empower the most vulnerable. The church ceases to be the church when it seeks power exclusively for itself.

Can the Church Really Do It Alone?

Having worked in full-time ministry for most of my life, it has been made clear to me that the church cannot meet every need on its own. Not because it lacks compassion, but because poverty is complex and human need is vast. Not only that, when you rely on free will donations, as many churches do, that is not consistent funding, therefore needs can only be met when the funding is there. Moreover, some churches also will not help people unless they are members of their church, which adds yet another barrier in front of people’s needs being met.

Are churches prepared to fully replace public education? Public health systems? Infrastructure, food inspections, emergency services, environmental protections, disability support, elder care, and disaster relief? Are they willing to shoulder the full burden of long-term mental health care, chronic illness, refugee resettlement, or rural hospital closures?

Will those who claim “it’s the church’s job” actually step up and meet the vacuum left behind when public services are gutted?

Most churches are already stretched thin. Many pastors are bi-vocational. Most benevolence funds run out quickly. It’s not a lack of will; it’s a lack of capacity. This isn’t failure, it’s simply reality.

God Works Through More Than the Church.

Here’s the theological flaw in this whole argument: it assumes God only works through the church. It assumes that charity is only individual and not communal.

The reality is, God works through all people, all institutions, and all structures to bring about justice, mercy, and flourishing. Individually and collectively. Even those outside the faith. Even governments.

“The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it” (Psalm 24:1).

A nation’s laws, when just and righteous, can be a tool of divine mercy. The very idea of the “year of jubilee” (Leviticus 25), a mandated economic reset to protect the vulnerable and release all debts, is precisely the kind of structural, institutional justice modern Christians claim should be off-limits to governments. Yet Jesus himself invoked it in his first sermon:

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me… to proclaim good news to the poor… to set the oppressed free… to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor (jubilee).” (Luke 4:18–19)

This wasn’t just personal charity. It was a vision for society-wide transformation where the needs of the poor and oppressed were prioritized.

This rigid “either/or” thinking, either the church helps or the government helps, reveals a serious lack of imagination, and worse, a failure of compassion.

Why not both?

Why not encourage every human institution to act justly? Why not call the government, business, media, education, and the church to pursue the common good for all people together? Why make helping the poor and powerless the job of only the church?

Jesus never said for his followers to prevent governments from helping the poor. He simply called them to love their neighbor as themselves.

A Historical Reminder.

History reminds us just how far we’ve drifted from our roots. In the early centuries of the church, radical care for everyone, not just fellow believers, defined Christian identity.

In ancient Rome, most religious groups only cared for their own. Christians, by contrast, shocked the empire by caring for all in need, regardless of status or belief. This drew people to the faith in droves.

Even Emperor Julian, no fan of Christians, lamented this in a letter:

“The impious Galileans [Christians] support not only their own poor but ours as well. Everyone can see that our people lack aid from us.” (Letter to Arsacius, c. 362 AD)

Christian compassion was not factional. It was radical, indiscriminate, and sacrificial. That’s what made it revolutionary.

So, What Are We Known For Now?

Today, many Christians are known not for insisting that someone help the poor, but for resisting any institution outside of what they define as “church” that dares to try.

Why would we want to be remembered for that?

If a law helps the hungry eat, helps the sick receive care, helps the prisoner find dignity, helps the elderly live in peace, or helps the planet heal, shouldn’t the church be known for celebrating that rather than being heard declaring, “hey, that’s our job”?

Isn’t people being helped what love looks like?

Scripture, history, and common sense all point to the same truth: Helping the most vulnerable among us is everyone’s job.

The church should lead the way but never stand in the way of that work.

Retirement

It's been over a month since I last drove a bus for Metro Transit. 

Living in Brazil -- part 5 -- Brasília and Ceilândia

DRAFT 

-- written at the cabin without looking at old letters and journal entries that will, at some point, jog my memory. I did look at a map and a few photos that were handy on my computer or posted to facebook.

After saying goodbye to Toni on or about March 13, 1984, I took a taxi back to I had left my baggage*, or perhaps straight to the bus station where I bought a ticket for a bus to Brasília.

By this time I was used to riding buses, often for long distances. The trip from Rio to Brasília took between 15 and 20 hours. I probably dozed a bit, but I don't remember actually sleeping on long bus trips. At the time, when I was 27 years old, I didn't use earplugs or an eyeshade. 

It was a rare thing for me to take a taxi. When I first arrived in Brasil I took a taxi from the Campinas bus station to the "Lar" (see part 1 of this story). I think it was more than a year later before my second taxi ride, this time with Toni, when we went from the beach to the "Internato" (see part 2). The third, and perhaps the last, was at this point in my story. None of the taxi cab rides were pleasant experiences.

I'm sure I had arranged with soon-to-be internship supervisor, Pastor Walter Dörr, to pick me up at the bus station when I got to Brasília. He and his wife Lydia were empty-nesters with a large apartment on the third or fourth floor of a high rise residence. They gave me a room to use with a bed, a dresser, and a desk. Lydia provided the food.

Walter and Lydia were pious, prayerful, hard-working people who were probably 55-60 years old. Toni's brother and sister had gotten to know them in 1981, when they were on the Lutheran Youth Encounter team that Toni serving on too. Toni didn't get to know them because she was ill with hepatitis and was staying with Fawcetts in São Paulo at the time.

Pastor Dörr served the IECLB congregation in Brasília, and some other small gatherings of Lutherans (preaching points) in outlying areas of the Distrito Federal (DF) and the states of Goiás and Minas Gerais. In the DF we served a congregation in one of the "rural nucleuses, I think a place known as Tabatinga. In Goiás we traveled to Cristalina, in Minas Gerais, Paracatu. There was another congregation in the state capital of Goiás, Goiânia. All of these were preaching points at the time. Later some of them became congregations in their own right, and a church district formed around the area. 

I don't remember practicing my pastoral skills at the main church building in Brasília. I remember staying at the Dörrs' home, studying and having meals there--but mostly I remember serving at the Day Care Center in Ceilandia where an employee of the Day Care Center rented a room to me, and, working with Pastor Nils and Brito. I remember serving the smaller Lutheran worship gatherings in outlying communities, usually with Pastor Dörr but, at least once, on my own. 

During the four months that I lived in Brasilia and Ceilandia, I took two longer trips. Once going to Alvorada do Norte to try making contact with farmers who had moved there from the south, and once taking an extended trip north to Belem, and, from there, east to Juazeiro do Norte and Recife. When in Recife I stayed at a Catholic retreat center.

When serving at the Day Care Center I got to know the Lutheran "diaconisas" who lived in a building on the grounds, a building that was off limits to the rest of us. Every morning that I was staying at Dona Vilma and Seu Jose's house, I would have breakfast with them and then walk three or four blocks down a wide divided street (all dirt or gravel at the time) to the Day Care Center, arriving in time to join in a time of scripture reading and prayer led by the diaconisas. I helped in several ways with the children. I remember leading games. I honestly don't remember all the ways I was involved in their routine life.

At the time when I in Ceilandia Pastor Nils Sørbo was working on founding a Lutheran congregation. I participated in one or more Bible Studies led by Pastor Nils and the congregation's president known as Brito** who played guitar. I got to know Brito quite well, and, after leaving Brazil to return to the United States, we exchanged some letters. I haven't been in contact with him for a long time.

The new Ceilandia congregation's worship services were held at the Day Care Center. I only remembered that because I have a picture of another Norwegian Missionary, Berit Espeset, leading Sunday School songs with a large group of children. During that time Nils and Brito were working on getting a lot on which to build a the congegation to have their own place worship and Sunday School. The diaconisas were wanting the congregation to stop using the Day Care Centers on Sundays so they could enjoy quiet time on the weekend.

I remember going on a picnic with Pastor Dörr, and some of Lutheran church workers. The picture I have includes some youth, so I'd guess Berit was there. I have a recording of us singing together. I have a vague memory of another time when we went to a church retreat, perhaps linked to the Encontrão, in the DF for a day.

During the time I was in Brasília I had to renew my visa. That was not easy to do, as I recall. Brazilian bureaucracy was difficult to navigate. I remember hiring a "despachante" in Campinas to get whatever "papers" were necessary at the time to allow me to stay in Brasil beyond my first few weeks. I had to deal with the bureaucracy again when I was living in the south. In Campinas, as I recall, I got either a six month or year long permission to stay in the country. In any case it had to be renewed in Brasília. I think the bureaucracy was stickier in the DF than it had been in other places.

The 1983-1984 time period when I was living in Brazil was politically tumultous. I was aware thar Brazil had been ruled by a military dictatorship 1964, a dictatorship that had been loosening its grip, partly due to inflation running at 5-10% per month. Some Brazilian states began electing their governors in 1982, and soon after, a "Diretas Já" (Direct Elections Now) campaign began, which led, during to huge popular demonstrations in large cities, including at the congressional buildings in Brasília. As the time came near for the congress to vote on a constitutional amendment, the government, through its military, limited access to the DF and the area near the buildings where the congress was voting. I remember that buses bringing people to Brasília to participate in the Diretas Já campaign were stopped. I remember taking a crowded city bus to the congress' buildings on the day that the amendment was being voted on. The bus didn't stop, but I was able to take photos of the military surrounding the congress' buildings. I don't remember any political conversations with Walter or Lydia Dörr. As I recall, they had friends connected with the government.

I had planned to stay in Brazil until sometime in July. I chose to return earlier, partly because I was just in a hurry to get "home," to see Toni and my parents, and partly because my dad's mother's 90th birthday was being celebrated on June 28. I remember working on my own with a travel agent to get my one way return airplane ticket.

The United States felt unreal to me when I returned. Maybe I'll write more about that, and other things, later.

--------------------------------------------

*All of this is from a vague memory. I think my baggage, probably two large suitcases, was left at the home of an ALC missionary in Rio where Toni and I may have stayed while we were in Rio de Janeiro that second time. I think we found a place to stay with an ALC missionary. I have a vague memory of a missionary who wore thick eyeglasses. I don't remember his name, but I remember being in his house. I don't remember specifically that we stayed overnight there, though it makes sense to me that's what we would have done. My memory tells me that this particular ALC missionary was doing work among the poor, probably among favelados, individuals and families living in shanty towns known as favelas, in shacks, on land that was not occupied by anyone when the first people began to live there.

**José Carlos Ferreria Brito. I exchanged letters with Brito after leaving Ceilandia. 

Living in Brazil -- part 4 -- with minha querida Toni!

DRAFT

I'm writing this from Toni's family cabin. Being part of Toni's family, and, of course, being married to Tonia Lynn Dahlin, has been the biggest blessing in my life. This part of my Brazil story begins when I traveled, by bus, from Rio Pardinho to meet Toni in Rio de Janeiro. (From here on, unless I specify otherwise "Rio" will mean Rio de Janeiro.) 

I won't be able to say anything much about that trip from the south to Rio. Now, in 2025 Google Maps says it'd take 21 hours to drive the over 1,000 miles. I'm as sure as I can be that I would have first gone to São Leopoldo, perhaps staying for a night with the Wangens, before heading north.

I probably would have taken a long overnight bus with a seats that recline and are quite comfortable. My hazy memory tells me that Doris Nienow, with another young woman, happened to be going to Rio de Janeiro too, and I think the three of us ended up taking the same bus, and somehow Doris was at the gate with me when Toni arrived, and took a photo of our embrace. 

I had arranged for Toni and I to stay in inexpensive rooms (yes, separate rooms) at the "Internato Feminino" in Rio de Janeiro. The "Internato" was a hospital for women that was connected with the IECLB (the Brazilian Lutheran denomination I was serving with), and had some rooms that IECLB people could stay in.

Toni and I have been talking a bit tonight (July 5, 2025) about our time in Brazil together and neither of us can remember details of just what we did when in Rio that first time. I know we went to the beach, I know we took showers at some other spot connected with church people, and then took a taxi back to the Internato. The taxi driver was crazy. I had to tell him we weren't in a hurry!

On Toni's third day with me, we took a long bus ride to Brasília, where we stayed with Pastor Walter and Lydia Dorr, and visited the Day Care center that I would eventually work at. After a couple days in the Brasília area we flew to Campinas. We stayed one night at the Wanderleys and visited the language school where I had studied for 7 weeks the previous January and February. We then went to São Paulo and visited the Fawcett family.

I don't remember whether we stopped with the Abels in Curitiba or not. We then took a pinga-pinga bus to a beach area, perhaps Tramandai, where we stayed with the Korndorfers -- but on that bus ride I wanted to talk about whether we should get married. Toni said I needed to ask her first, so I did, and, after a few seconds to put me on edge, she said yes. When we got to the Korndorfer's beach house, they were aghast that I'd asked Toni to marry me on a bus, so they put on a "noivada" party for us.

We then traveled together to São Leopoldo, probably stopping in Canoas to visit two young women that Toni had gotten to know, and who, with their parents, had befriended me. When we got to the São Leopoldo seminary, I think we stayed overnight with the American professor and family I had visited several times when I was living in Rio Pardinho. I showed Toni around the campus (the "Morro do Espelho"). I seem to remember that most of people I'd known when living in São Leopoldo weren't there. The seminary was on summer break. Many students, including apartment mates Jairo and Jorge were busy with their internships elsewhere in Brazil, and my roommate Sergio Sauer was in the United States.

I think we may have visited a large evangelical Lutheran gathering (the Encontão) but I'm not sure,

We then took a bus to Santa Cruz do Sul, where Orlando Panke met us and brought us to Rio Pardinho. I hope I can find some notes about our time in RP. I'm sure we stayed with Pankes and visited around the area. My memories of the time Toni and I spent in the RP area are mixed up with two other trips we made to RP together -- once when Naomi was a baby and then later when our kids were teenagers.

I'm not sure what happened after that. Somehow we ended up back in Rio de Janeiro where we we did some touristy things and bought silver engagement rings at an outdoor market near Ipanema. Then Toni flew back to the states and I went to Brasília to begin the a second part of my internship.

Because I'm at the cabin this week, I'd have a bit of time to write. However, I'm not being successful remembering details, and Toni doesn't remember any more than I do. I'll need to wait till I'm at home to look at old letters, personal journals, photos, etc. to jog my memory so I can write this story. But when I'm home I'll be busy... not sure when I'll get this done

Pain in the Butt

 Overall, I'm super happy with the health and strength the Lord has given me to manage with proper diet and exercise. I'm 69 years old and I praise God for all the ways I am "able." I'm thankful for the guidance of health care professionals and the physical therapy programs I'm privileged to participate in. I've been diligent and have followed the professionals' advice,

Still, I suffer. I have pain that extends, often, from the top of my butt through nerves down to my lower legs. Though the top of my butt and my legs are usually uncomfortable, the pain isn't constant. It's my opinion that the pain comes from a nerve (or nerves) being squeezed, being squeezed by the weight of my upper body pressing down on them through my spine.

That's my opinion -- but the "interventional pain management" specialist says "There is no clear etiology of what is causing the nerve pain." He doesn't think there's a way to know what's causing the pain in my upper butt and legs. He prescribed a medication, and then increased the dosage. I told the specialist that the increased dosage seemed to have helped soon after I started taking it.. That was about 5 weeks ago. Soon, the pain increased again--at times, Now I wonder if the medication is doing much. Or, at least, not consistently. Recently he suggested I try acupuncture.

I think the amount of pain I'm suffering depends what I've done, recently, that may have jostled the lowest part of my spine, putting pressure on the nerves or nerve roots that pass through tiny openings between the vertebrae. On spinehealth.com I found this explanation: The L5 spinal nerve roots exit the spinal cord through small bony openings (intervertebral foramina) on the left and right sides of the spinal canal. 

I sent a note to my paimary care physician today to see how we can check this out.

Living in Brazil -- part 3 -- internship in Rio Pardinho

From July 1983 until February 1984 I served as a pastoral intern in southern Brazil, in a rural area north of what I thought of at the time was a medium sized city, Santo Cruz do Sul. To get to Rio Pardinho (RP) I could take a bus, as I usually did, or get a ride. My memory tells me that it took about a half hour to get there on well maintained roads. I thought of them as "dirt roads" but they were probably made of compacted gravel. The dirt, and the roads, were reddish brown and heavy, full of clay.

Rio Pardinho had been farmed by German immigrants since the mid 1850s. In part 2 of this story I wrote that I don't remember much about the trip that I made to Rio Pardinho when I was living at the seminary in São Leopoldo "except the experience riding in that little VW bus." After writing that I read through my "Letter from Brazil - number 5" dated "June 21, 1993" and found this reflection based on that trip: "...I visited [Rio Pardinho] this past weekend. It is [a] beautiful [area]. The people are *very* German, traditional, hard working farmers." All that is true.

Rio Pardinho is named after the "rio," meaning "river," which runs through the community, from north to south. The community lies in the valley of the Pardinho River, and is especially beautiful because of the large hills that lie on both sides. The community that calls itself "Rio Pardinho" was what one might call "a wide place on the road." I don't know how many houses were located on the road, but I think they could have been numbered in the dozens. Besides the houses and farmsteads on either side of the road, others were on smaller roads that I'd call "trails" that led from the road to the west (up into the hills) or to the east (down to the riverside). There was one road bridge over the river, on the south end of the community. Cars and trucks could cross at a ford further north. There was a wooden footbridge too, a bridge that swayed on steel cables as people crossed.

There were four sub-communities in RP. The southernmost, closest to Santa Cruz do Sul, was called "Ponte Rio Pardinho." "Ponte" means "bridge." The road ran on the east side of the river until it crossed over to the west side on the bridge, and that's where the Ponte RP community was. What I remember about Ponte RP was the church building and a "salão," a larger building used for gatherings, and a few people's homes that were close to the road. Further north was "Centro RP," which had a school, a soccer field, a combination salão, bar, bowling alley and gas station that was owned by Margit Panke's parents, two church buildings (old and new), and a dozen or more homes near the road. The area blacksmith had a shop in that area too. A side road to the west led to "Travessão Dona Josefa," which had a church building, school and salão. Then, going back to the main RP road, traveling further north was "Alto RP" ("alto" means high), which had a school and salão. All the church buildings were Lutheran.

The Lutheran church originated in Germany. The people who were members of the Rio Pardinho Lutheran churches were all descendants of German immigrants, but though the families connected with the Lutheran church in RP (and in other rural churches nearby) had been in Brazil for a hundred and twenty years, many were still speaking German when I arrived in late 1983. Other traditions connected with the church, and a lot of the food, had a German flavor. I enjoyed much of that, but I was surprised and somewhat disappointed too. I'll say more about that below.

As I said above, I was a "pastoral intern" during my 7 months in Rio Pardinho. My seven months in RP was the first part of my "internship." I was working on my "Masters of Divinity" degree at the time, which, along with the internship, was required to be ordained a pastor in the American Lutheran Church. Most candidates for ordination in the ALC spent their internship year somewhere in the United States, and most would serve their internship in one location. As a part of the internship exchange program between the ALC and the IECLB, my internship would different. It was divided between two local churches. The rural experience would be in RP. The other part would be urban.

The people of the Lutheran churches were called "evangélicos." In English that would mean "evangelicals" but the people there were not evangelical in the sense of wanting to share the good news of Jesus with those who were not part of their ethnic church community. There were non-Germans in the area. They were assumed to be "católicos," Catholics. The non-Germans I met in RP were the employees of the small business owned by the family that I lived with.

I lived with one of the families in RP who had the last name "Panke." Their home was about a quarter mile, maybe a bit more, north of the "RP centro" church building. Orlando Panke, who was probably in his 40s when I lived with them, managed the family business, the "firm," a business that produced both parkay flooring and bricks. His wife Margit taught school in Santa Cruz, the medium sized city I already mentioned. Orlando's parents, Teófilo and Irmgard Panke, lived there too, as did Orlando and Margit's two children, Carina, about 7 years old, and Luiz Artur, who was 3. Luiz spoke only German when I arrived. Teófilo worked in the brick making part of the factory. Irmgard, worked in the home.

Two of the Pankes employees lived with them, a brother and sister, Jair and Diane. (Diane was pronounced with three syllables!) Jair worked in the part of the Panke firm that made Parkay flooring. Di-an-e worked in the home with Irmgard. Panke's household employee Suli and her family lived in a part of the house behind the Panke's garage. Suli was not of German descent. I don't think I ever got to know her or her family.

Here's a bit of what I wrote in February, 1984, after having lived in Rio Pardinho for 7 months:

"Visitei Rio Pardinho antes do início do estágio. Naquele fim de semana conheci um pouco da paróquia que séria meu lar. Fiquei decepcionado. Nunca tinha imaginado uma comunidade evangélica que toma tanta cerveja como vi na Quermesse em Travessão Dona Josefa. Nunca tinha imaginado uma pensado em trabalhar numa colônia onde se fala tanto alemão. Mesmo assim, resolvi me entregar aos cuidados da comunidade, do pastor, e (como sempre) de Deus."

I'll translate: 

"I visited Rio Pardinho before the internship began. That weekend I got to know a little about the parish that is my home. I was surprised. I had never imagined an evangelical community that drinks so much beer as I saw at the Quermesse [a fundraising event] in Travessão Dona Josefa. I had never imagined working in a colony where so much German is spoken. Even so, I decided to entrust myself to the care of the community, the pastor, and (as always) to God."

Here's more of what I wrote in 1984, translated now: 

"I got to know my residence during that visit. I had prepared myself to be living in a simple farm house. I had imagined the simple life of my hosts. I even bought some extra eye glasses to use in case there wouldn't be electricity in the house. (I needed electricity for my contact lens sterilizer.) I discovered, however, that the Panke family (with whom I'd be living) had a life style not very different than that of my parents. They [were] owners of a small saw mill and brick making factory and enjoy[ed] a middle-class life, and even in difficult times there life is secure.

"When I moved to Rio Pardinho on July 5th, I moved into the Panke house and began a learning process. During the first month I accompanied [my supervising pastor] Pastor Rui (pronounced with a rolled "R") in everything, and observed life in Rio Pardinho and the way the the parish, its pastor and the members functioned. Rui and I visited church members homes.  I attended all the worship services and church meetings. I began to understand how the society and the congregations functioned. I studied the history and traditions. And I tried to develop a plan of action for the more active part of the internship."

What I quoted above was from the first draft of a report written in Portuguese, a report I was preparing for the internship director, Lothar Hoch, at the São Leopoldo seminary. In the last sentence quoted I said I had "tried to develop a plan of action..." That was challenging because the church was mostly an ethnic semi-religious organization, an organization that providing services to the members, worship services, services of baptism, confirmation, communion, marriage, burial, and I wanted to "work alongside the members" and "get involved in the life of the Body of Christ in RP." There was little or nothing in common between my idea of an active Christian community and the ideas and practices of the people I was preparing to serve.

So, I did what I could to come alongside the people as they were, and to first observe, and then do, the things that Pastor Rui was doing, leading worship and preaching at the four church buildings, visiting the people in their homes, taking part in musical groups, teaching confirmation. "Doing what pastors do" --that's what an internship is for. But, like most interns, I added my own personal and spiritual emphases. I added, for example, "grupos após confirmação," that is, I gathered kids who had been recently confirmed and led them in cooperative type games, Bible studies, and singing.  

The people were friendly and supportive of this "gringo," even though they didn't think of me as "working" at all." As I'd walk on the dirt roads to and from the Panke home to what I might call the center of town, or to or from Travessão Dona Josefa, or going to visit someone, I remember them saying to me "Passeando, Pastor?" "Passeando" is something that working people would want to do if they ever had free time, going visiting or enjoying the scenery. They couldn't conceive of my going to their homes and fields to visit them "work." And my life was easy. Irmgard washed my clothes. Food was prepared for me.

I did work at the desk I had in my room on the second floor of the Panke home. I don't remember if I had a typewriter there or not. There was no computer. No one had personal computers. I got my first computer when I was in Ladysmith, more than a decade later. I had some books -- mostly in Portuguese. I wrote letters and prepared lesson plans and sermons. The Panke family was one of the few who had a telephone. Their phone number was "6." The telephone operator worked at a switchboard in an office in the front room of her home down the road in the center of town.

Most of the people were farmers who worked during daylight hours, with a break at midday for dinner and a nap. A member of each church community was the "sineiro," the bell ringer, who rang church bells several times a day, in early morning, to start the workday, at noon, then after to end the noon break, and to let workers know it was time to go home for the evening. I wore a watch. Many or most others did not. The Panke family gathered for breakfast, noon dinner (the main meal), and a light supper. There was coffee in the morning. The Pankes always started noon dinner with soup. Beans and rice were always a part of dinner too, as were meat and vegetables, fresh from local farms and Irmgard's garden. 

I tried voluneering to wash dishes but this was not apprecaited by Di-an-e, who didn't want me to take over her work!

I got to know and love many people in the area, young people, middle-aged folk, elders who were retired. I enjoyed seasonal festivals and parties, played some games, enjoyed talking with folks in their homes and in their farm fields. A couple times a farm family let me help them. I helped plant tobacco, which was the area's main cash crop, then, months later, I helped with the harvest.

As a pastoral intern I led church events, sometimes with and sometimes without my supervising pastor Rui. I visited the sick, and, quite memorably, presided at funerals and graveside services. Funerals were always held at people's homes, then we would walk, or drive, to the cemetery with the people. An internship is intended to be a way for a future pastor to get some experience doing what pastors do on a regular basis, including going to meetings, meetings of the elected leadership, meetings focused on basic planning and financial matters... nothing especially "spiritual" went on in those meetings.

The pastor had a Volkswagon "Beetle," as did the Pankes. Many people didn't have any motorized vehicle, relying on carts pulled by cows or oxen. I don't remember anyone having horses. Either the pastor or the Pankes let me use a bicycle, and, occasionally, rarely, let me use their car. I often rode the public bus, which, as I recall, would stop to pick a person up who was waiting "wherever" beside the road. I often took the bus to Santa Cruz, and occasionally, further north to a smaller city, Sinimbu, which had a hospital.

I'd like to share a few specific things I remember from those seven months. These are memories that come to mind without looking at things I wrote at the time, more than 40 years ago. I remember... 

• feeling happy that I was able to lead worship and preach in Portuguese, and to lead worship one time using the basics of the German language I had learned in elementary and junior high school.
• leading the youth, with a couple other adults, as we traveled by bus to a large youth gathering put on my the regional Lutheran church, staying in a tent made only from a huge canvas tarp, swimming there in a little river, going with the youth to a rodeo, and, when it came to the large group assemblies, I was asked to be a translator, using a mic connected to multiple headsets, for non-Brazilians who were at the gathering.
• feeling sad and lonely as the months went on, and being supported spiritually by Irmgard, the "grandmother" of the Panke household who knew how to pray, and by Sister Hildegard Hertel, who Toni had met during her time in Brazil, and who was a pray-er too. Sister Hildegard helped me feel useful by encouragng me to visit and minister to men in an home for elders.
• getting to know Pastor Rui and his wife Suzanne, their daughter Karina and their young son whose name I'm not sure of. I got to know Pastor Rui's uncle who was a local farmer and member of the church. 
• that Pastor Rui knew I needed support, so he organized a group of church members, including his uncle, who I gathered with a few times to share a meal with and talk. I'm sure we had a spiritual devotion and prayer at those get togethers too. I took a picture of the four couples that were a part of the group.
• going weekly, beginning after a few months had passed, to the home of a retired school teacher, who helped me with my German, while I taught him some basic Portuguese.
• celebrating Christmas Eve at the Panke home and New Year's Eve at one of their friends homes
• going at least once a month into the Porto Alegre area, visiting seminary friends, and a family who ran a sort of bar and cafe in Canoas that I got to know through Toni. 
• on one of those visits to the seminary I sold a few hundred dollars in USA currency to Sérgio Sauer, who would be going to the USA as an intern, and then, with the Brazilian currency, opening a bank account in Santa Cruz do Sul, and then making withdrawls over the next few months. I got a high interest rate on that deposit, but I don't think it kept pace with inflation which was running at 100-200% per year
• singing with the (quite horrible) choir at the RP centro church and playing a trumpet with a brass group. I taught the choir "Go Tell It On the Mountain" in English for Christmas
• hosting and translating for 2 bishops and 1 other representative from the ALC who were visiting several parishes. I went to São Leopoldo to meet them and then traveled with them by bus to Santa Cruz do Sul on the way to RP.
• leading worship and preaching while wearing a black robe with a sort of white decoration at the neckline, but not like what pastors or priests wore in the United States.
• taking over all pastoral duties in RP for a couple weeks when Pastor Rui and his family went on vacation. I think this was toward the end of January or the beginning of February, toward the end of my time in RP. 

One dramatic incident that deserves a bit more than a bullet point: On time, when I came back to the Panke house after visiting someone at the Sinimbu hospital, I came into the Panke house, and found, as I remember, Irmgard, Margit, Carina and Luiz, and a neighbor, with her children, hiding from the neighbor's husband, who had threatened his wife with a gun. I wanted to call the police, but, again as I remember, Margit said  "não adianta", that is, it would be a waste of time, that it wouldn't do any good. I called anyway. First I tried the nearest police, in Siniubu. No one answered. Then I tried the police in Santa Cruz. They answered but said no one could come, since one police officer was out on another call, and the officer answering the phone couldn't leave since he needed to stay and be available to answer the phone. So Margit was right: "não adianta nada." Eventually the man with the gun calmed down, but, as I recall, he didn't come back to live with his wife after that.

I mentioned above that I felt sad and lonely for some time when I was in RP. This was particularly true after the first few months. Toni was going to come to Brazil in February, and as I was waiting for that time to come I felt more and more lonely even as I was with people who I was truly coming to know and love at Pankes. There were, however, great differences between me and all of the RP people, since none of them had the same international experiences and really couldn't comprehend how it would be hard for me to be lonely among them. I was super thankful for Irmgard, who, though she couldn't understand my particular situation, did know how to come alongside me and pray.

As I came to the end of my time in RP, I packed up my stuff and received many fond farewells. I returned, however, with Toni, who was then my fiancée... I'll say more about that in the next part of this long "Living In Brazil" story.

I'm guessing I'll add more to this part later, though I know it'll need to be cut back for Storyworth.

Aunt Betty

I'd like to share more about our aunt Betty's "healthcare journey" but I don't like the way CaringBridge is set up now. It changed a lot since I set up a site for Mom & Dad a few years ago. So I'll start sharing some things here.

On Tuesday, April 29, Karen, Lisa, Peter, Leah, Toni, and I helped her move from her Realife condominium to an assisted living apartment at EagleCrest. EagleCrest is four blocks from where Toni and I live.

She was doing quite well at EagleCrest until she fell a little more than a week later. Nursing staff found that she had fallen when they came to her apartment with her morning medications on Thursday, May 8.

She was brought by ambulance to Unity Hospital in Fridley, and then transferred by ambulance to Mercy Hospital in Coon Rapids. She was found to have a broken left leg (femur), which was surgically repaired, and a broken left arm (humerus) which is slowly healing on its own.

Since the evening of May 13, almost 3 weeks ago now, she has been slowly recovering from her fall at Benedictine Living Community in New Brighton, having daily physical and occupational therapy. I'm hoping to get her back to EagleCrest soon.

Living in Brazil -- part 2 -- seminary at São Leopoldo

Here's what I sent to our kids in an email on Sunday, March 23

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Part 1 covered 2 months. This part will cover 4.

I packed my bags at the end of February and traveled by bus for another Brazilian state, Rio Grande do Sul, where I would live for the next year, first as a seminary student in São Leopoldo, and then as a pastoral intern in Rio Pardinho. 

I knew where I would be housed at the seminary. The Lord had arranged for me, through human means, to have a room at the seminary with Sérgio Sauer, in an apartment with two other fast-talking, faith-filled, prayerful young men, Jairo C*** and Jorge S***. I took the bunk in Sérgio's room that would have been João B****'s, another young Brazilian man who was now in the states on his pastoral internship.

I had gotten to know João in late 1981 during my first semester at Wartburg Seminary. Getting to know João had been the second way that the Lord had pushed me into applying for this internship exchange program, an exchange between Wartburg and the "Faculdade de Teologia," the seminary of the IECLB. All four of them, João, Sérgio, Jairo, Jorge, had been impacted by an evangelical Lutheran movement called "Encontrão." They all remembered Toni's "Brisas de Paz" (Winds of Peace) team that toured Rio Grande do Sul in early 1981. 

(Lock this into your memory. I'll be using these abbreviations going forward: The "IECLB" is the Brazilian Lutheran denomination that my North American Lutheran denomination was connected with. "The Faculdade" or "FacTheol," now known as the "Escola Superior de Teologia," was the seminary of the IECLB.)

The apartment I shared with Sérgio, Jairo, and Jorge, on the second or third floor of an unheated apartment building, was located at the bottom of the large hill ("Morro do Espelho") which was the home of the Faculdade and other institutions of the IECLB. The headquarters of the IECLB are in Porto Alegre, the capital city of the state, about a half hour drive, or an hour plus bus ride, from São Leopoldo. 

I would walk up and down the hill at least twice a day. Up from the apartment to the seminary in the morning, down for the large meal of the day (which the other guys and I would take turns preparing), then back up for the afternoon, and down later on. I did that for four months, from March through June, except for during weekends when I was away. We always had prayer time together at that main meal.

On three different weekends I was invited to the other guys homes: to Sérgio's ecologically sensitive and efficient family farm near Ijuí, to Jorge's family's house in Santo Ângelo, which wasn't far from the fascinating ruins a 1700s Jesuit mission to the native Guaraní and to Jairo's home in a Novo Hamburgo apartment building (not far from São Leopoldo). I visited João's family in Novo Hamburgo too.

I was blessed by my time with those three young men and their friends. When I moved from the seminary to my rural internship site, I would often return to the São Leopoldo area, because that's where I felt most at home. I was welcomed with open arms by them and by Richard Wangen, an American missionary seminary professor, and his family.

All three of my apartment mates were connected with the "evangelical faction" of FacTheol students. When I use the word "faction" I don't mean that these guys were completely separate from other students who were more "traditional" or more focused on "social-political" issues. But these guys were all more personally expressive in their Christian faith than some others at the seminary and in the IECLB. I'd guess that those three factions were about equally represented at the seminary.

Both Jorge and Jairo became more-or-less traditional pastors in the IECLB. (Sérgio, and João, did other things after seminary.) And all of these young men had their eyes wide open (they were "woke"!) to the poverty and oppression that the Brazilian social and economic order reinforced. The question that divided the factions was what action should be taken to address personal and social "issues." More about this later.

I signed up for two classes and one seminar at FacTheol: 

One, a class in pastoral care, was led by Richard Wangen. We learned strategies for ministry to individuals, visiting hospitals, a combination orphanage and old folks home (Asilo Pella Bethânia) and the Porto Alegre morgue. At the hospitals I had two shockingly different experiences. As I wrote in a "Newsletter" that I wrote to my home congregation in Crystal, one was poorly funded, with "cracking plaster and rooms averaging eight beds each. There "I stood looking into the eyes of a seven-month-old child who had almost starved to death and was yet in danger after six months of intensive care." The other hospital we visited was newer, cleaner, and, being privately funded, expensive. At that private hospital we observed surgeries, including "a face-lift — the sight of which I will never forget."

The second seminary class I signed up for (but didn't finish) was one where we were studying the book of Psalms in Hebrew and Portuguese! That class was super challenging. The professor was from Germany. He spoke Portuguese better than I did at the time but that wasn't saying much. I did appreciate the detailed look we took at different types (genres) of Psalms, from laments to praises, both of personal and communal types.

The seminar was a preparation for internship led by Lothar Hoch, who was concerned that I wasn't yet fluent enough in Portuguese to begin my internship. About midway through the semester, he connected me with someone who could tutor me, one on one. That "someone" was the teenage daughter of the president of another Lutheran denomination, which had its headquarters in São Leopoldo. I walked to their home for lessons at least twice a week (as I remember now). I remember walking down a main road. Walking like hundreds of others, going to or from work.

By March or April, the guys in the apartment weren't laughing at my lame Portuguese as much as when I arrived. I hadn't realized how much slang I still didn't know, and wasn't aware of the regional differences in the Portuguese language. The southern "Gauchos" used different words, including some that had been adopted from the native Guarani people. Little did I know that when I went out on internship in July, I'd be going to an agricultural area where the people spoke more German than Portuguese. More about that adjustment later.

I did meet and befriend students at the seminary beyond the "evangelicals." I especially got to know other students in the choir and in Dr. Wangen's pastoral care class. Alas, I haven't kept in touch with any of them, though I do remember a few names. I got to know João's former girlfriend, Doris N****, who was almost as outgoing as João. She and the guys in the apartment organized a birthday party for me in May. About 20 young men and women jammed into out little apartment for the festivities. Doris even wrote a humorous song for me, including a reference to Toni not knowing everything I did there. (There was no scandal. I promise.) 

At seminary, I remember going to, and enjoying, one day seminary retreat near a small river where we could swim. I remember getting to know the daughter of an American missionary at the seminary, and her two German friends. I don't remember going to chapel services at the seminary, though I must have done that. I did make it to worship at the Lutheran church in town a couple times.

Through facebook I've connected with Jorge and Jairo, and now and then Sérgio. When we were last in Brazil as a family, I visited both of them. After our semester together as roommates, Sérgio went to the United States as the second Brazilian exchange student/intern. I don't remember where he served his internship but he was close enough, in the fall of 1984, to be one of my groomsmen when Toni and I were married. Both Sérgio and João spent time in my parents' home in south Minneapolis.

Going back to what was going on with me "officially," Lothar Hoch had a hard time finding a rural internship site for me. He stuck out twice, and then connected with Rui Bernhard, a pastor from the "traditional" faction of the IECLB. Once that internship site arrangement had been made, I went to Rio Pardinho for a visit with a group of seminarians, none of whom I knew well at all. I think those seminarians were a sort of musical "team," but they were not of the evangelical or "pietist" wing of FacTheol. The non-evangelicals called my friends "pietists," which was not, for them, a positive thing. I remember how crude that group of seminarians were as we traveled to and from Rio Pardinho. While there, I must have met Pastor Rui and the congregation there, but I don't remember anything about it except the experience riding in that little VW bus.

While still at the seminary, I visited a suburb of Porto Alegre which was similar, I wrote, "to a refugee camp," where seminary professors and students volunteer their time. I also wrote: "Two of the guys in my apartment work at organizing and evangelism in another area which is flooded several times every year by the nearby river."

In April I traveled to Brasília. It was a 40-hour trip, by bus and train. In my newsletter I wrote that this trip was "a marvelous opportunity to see the full extent of the southern part of this country. It is a large and varied land. There are mountains and plains, dry lands and wet. Most any grain, vegetable or fruit can be grown somewhere in Brazil." During the trip I met families bringing all their worldly possessions, heading for an urban area to seek steady work. In Brasília I attended a meeting of the Secretariat for Justice and Non-Violence, a group dominated by social-politically oriented Christians who were going beyond "teaching the hungry to fish" to "recognizing that the banks of the river are monopolized by the rich and powerful."  On the last day of that conference, I decided to worship with the Lutheran church in Brasília and was treated to "a solid sermon" by a pastor whose work combined social and community work with preaching and sacraments.

In late May and June, winter closed in. My apartment mates and I were bundled in coats and hats, scarves and long-johns, trying to study when it was barely above 40°. All of us came down with bad colds. The value of the Brazilian currency was falling too. Inflation was running at 20% a month. I was a privileged "Norte Americano," however, and I had dollars. At the end of my time at seminary I made another trip, this time to the southernmost tip of Rio Grande do Sul, the southernmost state, just north of Uruguay. I saw the ocean for the first time, but it was far too cold to swim. While in that area I visited a family of North American missionaries that I had met in Campinas.

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That's part 2. Part 3 will focus on the 7 months I spent in Rio Pardinho. I'll need to cut this down for Storyworth!