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

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

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

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.

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

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!

Living in Brazil -- Introduction and Part 1

Our children gave Toni and me a subscription to a service (Storyworth) that "prompts you to share personal stories." One prompt both Toni and I received was to tell about our experiences living in Brasil (that's the way Brazil is spelled in Brazil!)

Toni was in Brazil in 1981 with a "Lutheran Youth Encounter" team for about six months. I lived there for almost 17 months, from January 1983 till the end of May 1984. I had intended to stay until the end of June 1984. I came back early partly to be at my Grandma Thorson's 90th birthday party, which was on May 28. 

I started writing about my time in Brazil for Storyworth but ended up writing way too much. I wrote about what led me to Brazil in the first place, and then about my first two months. It's been interesting for me to do this. My time in Brazil continues to influence me today.

I was in Brazil as a seminary exchange student and pastoral intern from January 1983 until late May 1984. I got interested in Brazil because Toni had been there on a Lutheran Youth Encounter team. I think I still have the letters I received from her during that time. 

This is a shortened version that I sent to my kids on Saturday, March 22. The longer and more complicated version follows.

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

Toni and I were becoming interested in each other as more than friends by the time I left for Brazil. It was a step of faith for me to follow what I believed, and still believe, was God's call to fly south on January 3, 1983. I returned almost 17 months later, just in time for my Dad's mother's 90th birthday on May 28, 1984. After I had been in Brazil for more13 months, Toni came to visit me, arriving on Valentine's Day. By the time she left we were engaged to be married. Our wedding was on October 20, 1984.

Re-adjusting to being in the states was challenging, and NOT because Toni and I were getting married! Not at all because of that! Toni was made for me! What was challenging was re-adjusting to what we think of as a "normal" middle-class lifestyle, with comfortable dwellings, private vehicles, and a general sense of well-being and safety. Now, don't get me wrong! I didn't suffer when I was in Brazil, other than with missing Toni and feeling lonely 'cause I was in such a different "world." What was challenging was my discovery that what I think of as being "normal" here is not at all normal in most of the world. I learned that our "normal" is really "privilege." I've never forgotten that fact, and that makes living as "normal" here makes me feel uncomfortable. I suppose it'll always be that way.

During most of my first two months in Brazil I lived in the home of a wealthy dentist. He and his family were members of the Lutheran Church in Campinas, a city with a population about that of the Twin Cities. It was a nice house, complete with a second lot where E*** had just installed an in-ground swimming pool. However, if you looked out the back windows of his two-story home, you could see, less than a mile away, a shantytown, known in Brazil as a "favela." 

About half the population of Brazil were poor enough not to have a decent house. I think the poor were mostly ignored by those who were more comfortable, but they weren't invisible like they are sometimes here. I couldn't shake that reality out of my mind and heart when I came home. I got used to it. But I know the truth: Most of the world's people are poor, insecure, endangered on a regular basis. And my life is full of blessing, another word for which is privilege.

I lived with E*** W**** and his family (wife C***, daughters S*** and G***) while I was learning Portuguese. For seven weeks I had language classes Monday through Friday, mornings and afternoons, about 4½ hours a day, Monday through Friday. I had two main teachers, one who worked with me on conversation, and another taught me grammar. (I had already studied some Portuguese before I left Dubuque, Iowa, where I was a seminary student at Wartburg.)

During those first two months, when I wasn't at class I'd practice talking with the family, as I learned from books and worksheets, and was surrounded by Brazilian city life, riding buses, visiting shops, taking care of business. I attended the Lutheran church and two spiritual retreats, one with missionaries from the United States, and one sponsored by an evangelical organization called "Encontrão." I traveled to São Paulo too, meeting a seminary professor, spending time with a catholic lay brotherhood in a favela, and hanging out with a Baptist missionary family that Toni got to know more than year before.

I packed my bags at the end of February and got on a bus for another Brazilian state, Rio Grande do Sul. 

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

HERE'S THE LONGER VERSION I WROTE AND SENT TO OUR KIDS ON MARCH 15 -- complete with errors!

Tonight (on March 1, 2025), as I was doing some other writing, I went downstairs and dug out 12 "Letters from Brazil" that I started writing to my home church in January 1983 and continuing through May 1984. I'm sure I wrote 14 (not sure where the others are), plus so many other letters to Toni and my parents, and papers. Then there are cassette tape recordings and more than a hundred photos. So much material. If I tried to get organized before writing this, I'd never get started. So, let's leap in.

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

"My experience," as the Storyworth prompt was phrased WAS about "living in Brazil." It wasn't about the specific things I did, though there were hundreds of stories that could be told about particular circumstances. 

Here's one:  

I remember a conversation I had with Richard Wangen, a professor at the Lutheran "Faculty of Theology" (Faculdade do Teologia) in Brazil's southernmost state, a conversation in which I was lamenting that I wasn't truly "doing anything" to be of any help to anyone. This was when I was serving as an intern with a Lutheran church in a rural area. Dr. Wangen said, wisely I think, that my main contribution was just "being here," meaning, living in Brazil.

Yes, "living in Brazil," experiencing the cultures, getting to know some of the people, being shaped for the rest of my life, and learning who I was (and am) as a privileged person in a world that is, in many ways, and for most people, a painful place to exist. I also learned, and this is super important, that God, who we know best in Jesus, is the same no matter who we are or where we are. God, who we know best in Jesus, walks with people who are living in what we might think of as "good" conditions and really bad ones. But it does take a certain amount of surrendering to God and God's Word, centered in Jesus, to see that it's true.

Some of the memories are faded a bit now, but I'd like to share a couple anecdotes before relating some sort of "report" of my week to week and month to month journey. 

+ There was a man who lived in a barebones house in Ceilândia, which was, in 1984, what I called a "slum suburb" of Brasília, in the central "Federal District." Not only was this man poor, but he had some sort of mental disease, or a demon, often banging his head on a bare wooden stud as he lay in bed. It was awful. I remember visiting as a pastor and not being able to bring him any comfort. All I could do was to verbally assure him of Jesus' love and be present with him for a while. I don't know what happened to him later.

+ There was another man who lived in conditions that weren't much better, in another part of Brazil, who was being cared for, at least a bit, in what would not pass as a "nursing home" here (though that's what it was), but who had some serenity. I was able to do a few chores for him, maybe emptying his urinal, maybe giving him water to drink or wash, but who was able to receive the assurance of God's love that I could share.

I don't know much more about those men, but I do know that Jesus loves them, and me, just the same. I wanted them to know about Jesus' love. The first step was to "be there."

Those of us who know Jesus and have some comforts, and some sense of peace, have a responsibility to reach out to those who are suffering, not to just "walk by on the other side" like the pious often do. Sometimes, usually even, we won't know what the results will be, and often our efforts will be too little and too late, but we must do what we can. I learned that in Brazil.

Those are extreme examples. Most of my time in Brazil was spent with people who, like me, were not obviously suffering, but the poor, who usually had problems in every area of their lives, were always "there," in neighborhoods nearby, in shantytowns, often crowded together and noisy, prone to violence and alcoholism and addictions. Most of those I lived and worked with didn't spend a lot of time with the poor. Dr. Wangen did, when he would visit people to offer prayer and some practical help, though he lived in a middle-class house; and so did some others, such as an intentionally poor Catholic brother/sisterhood who actually lived in a São Paulo shantytown. 

Those "ministers" were, and are, examples for me, examples that I had a chance to follow now and then since I've been back in the states. Serving as a transit bus operator is the one way I live that ministry of presence now.

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

How did I come to live, for a time, in Brazil? Here's part of the story:

In the fall of 1981, I had enrolled at Wartburg Seminary in Dubuque, Iowa, while, at the same time, working as a psychiatric nursing assistant in the locked unit of a hospital nearby. During my first semester at Wartburg, I got to know João B****, who was in the USA on an "internship exchange program." He would be at the seminary for a semester and then go to serve as a pastoral intern somewhere in the eastern USA. At the same time, in 1981-82, Dennis Preston, a Wartburg student, was at the Faculdade in São Leopoldo, and then served his two-part internship, first in a rural Lutheran parish in southern Brazil, and then in that intentional Catholic community in the São Paulo shantytown. João and Dennis were the first pair of exchange students between Wartburg and the Faculdade. The two schools planned for a second exchange that would begin in 1983.

I got interested in that exchange program as I got to know João, who had an overflowing, ebullient personality. Just before coming to the states, he had met Toni and her Lutheran Youth Encounter team in his Brazilian hometown. Toni and I exchanged maybe a dozen letters during the six months she had been in Brazil, so, when João would mention the names of some of his friends, I would recognize some from Toni's letters! She and I were not yet "more than friends" but we were dear friends. 

Because of João, and because of Toni, and after learning about Dennis Preston's ongoing experience, and having a long-term interest in social justice, I got very interested in Brazil. I was interested also because I wanted to know, first hand, if the Jesus I had come to know would be "real" even in among various social groups (comfortable, poor, etc.) in a "foreign" culture. During my time in Brazil, I would learn that the answer was "yes."

During my first semester at Wartburg (in the fall of 1981), the faculty was looking for someone to be the "Wartburg half" of the next exchange with Brazil. As 1982 began, and after João had left for his internship, the faculty hadn't yet found anyone who was seriously interested in the 1983-84 exchange. I think the faculty was getting a bit desperate to find someone who would go. So, though I had only just enrolled as a full-time student, I decided to apply for that next exchange. I don't remember if I was surprised or not, but the Wartburg faculty did accept my application for the exchange, and, at the same time, voted to accept me as an official "matriculated" Masters of Divinity student. That was early in 1982.

I continued my studies at Wartburg through that year. During that year, in addition to my seminary studies and my work at the hospital, and, that fall, finding two Brazilian students at a local college who could start teaching me português, I worked with the director of the Global Mission department of the American Lutheran Church on details and corresponded with the Global Mission committee of my home church, which decided to help raise funds for my airfare. The ALC Global Mission department paid for a seven-week language course, and paid me a stipend of something like $200 a month that I would use for all of my needs while at the Faculdade and in whatever place or places I would serve as an intern. 

I was set to go. (After saying goodbye to Toni... we were by that time falling in love and beginning to think about "our" future... deciding that we would keep working on our relationship from a distance...)

-------------- Part 1 -- "Living in Campinas" ------------

After saying goodbye to Toni and to my family, who Toni was getting to know, I flew out of Minneapolis on January 3, 1983, landing the next day in São Paulo. I tried using my ever so basic Portuguese language skills right away as I found a bus to the city of Campinas, and then a taxi (communicating with the taxi driver was challenging) to the "Lar Luterano Belem" (a.k.a. "Bethlehem Lutheran Home") where I was to stay until a host family could be found in that city where I would take my 7-week language course.

When I arrived it was the middle of summer there. I remember the sun feeling "heavy". Campinas is on the Tropic of Capricorn! I don't remember it being horribly hot, just that the sun was straight overhead. I think it cooled off rather nicely at night. I don't think I ever lived in a home with air conditioning while I was there.

-------

I'm going to leap ahead here and share some things about the language course because that's why I was in Campinas. Now, in 2015, 42 years later, the language school (Interclass) is still there, and owned by the same person.

The language course was excellent! I had two main teachers, both young women (____ and ____--I don't remember their names, sadly. Perhaps I could find them in old letters). I had some lessons from the owner of the language school, Pierre Coudry, who I'm still in touch with on facebook.

I remember one of the young women well (I'll call her teacher #1)  because she befriended me, brought me around town one day to a shop that I think was owned by a friend of hers. I met her nephews too. One day she gave me a ride back to where I was staying on her motocicleta. 

I had two class sessions every weekday, one in the morning and one in the afternoon, about 15 hours a week. I had a couple books to study, and worksheets. I was trying to communicate also with my host family (more about them below). I had a few class sessions with Pierre, including one on palavrões, literally "Big Words," a.k.a. profanity, swearing, cursing, or cussing... Pierre didn't think it appropriate for me to learn those words from the young women!

+ I don't remember what religion teacher #1 a was, probably Catholic, but the other one was a Spiritist. Spiritism of various sorts was big in Brazil at the time, and maybe still is. Some were connected with the teachings of Allan Kardec. My memory is that the Kardecist form of Spiritism was popular mainly among the wealthy and middle-classes. Other forms of spiritism were mostly adhered to by the poor. I encountered one of those sects, "Umbanda," when I attended a "session" sometime later that year, when I was at the seminary (Faculdade de Teologia) in the south. Professor Richard Wangen invited some of us who were taking his pastoral care class to attend with him. It was weird.

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

Going back to living arrangements, I stayed at the Lutheran "Lar" for the first 10 days. The "Lar" was a dormitory where "ALC" (American Lutheran Church) missionaries' children had, in previous years, lived and were schooled in English while their parents lived in different places around Brazil. When I was there I don't think "boarding school" at the Lar was being used anymore in that way, though the building was used for retreats. The annual retreat of ALC missionaries (and their families) was going on during the time I stayed at the Lar. I roomed there with a (at the time) teenager, James Eidum, whose parents Toni and her team had stayed with during the previous year.

I enjoyed and learned a lot during seven day long the missionary retreat. We worshiped and made music together, ate together, had many conversations, formal and informal, and learned from guest speaker Richard Jensen, who was well known in the Lutheran Church. Richard Jensen, as a Lutheran seminary professor, had some up close and personal encounters with the Holy Spirit, and, as he wrote in his book Touched by the Spirit, worked to understand those experiences theologically. I had audited a course that he taught on the Holy Spirit during my first (part time) semester at Wartburg Seminary. The fact that Dr. Jensen was at Wartburg was a reason I chose to go there for seminary. One of the missionaries I met, and later befriended, was Jack Torgerson. Many years later Jack would be pastor of Stockholm Lutheran Church, rural Cokato.

The retreat went on from January 11 through the 18th. On Sunday the 10th, before the retreat began, I worshiped at the Brazilian Lutheran Church in Campinas, and, after I had been introduced to the congregation, E*** and C*** W**** volunteered to take me into their home, though I didn't move there until the 15th. (I reminded myself of the dates by looking at "Letter from Brazil — number 1" that I wrote "primarily for the members of St. James Lutheran Church" in Crystal. St. James was, as I mentioned earlier, my home church, and was, in part, financially supporting me.)

------Living at W***s------

E*** was KING of his house, a luxurious house with a swimming pool. He was proud of Cidinha because she kept house without empregadas — without any of the young women workers who often served upper class families. They had two children, S*** and G***. E*** was verbally cruel to Séfora, his older daughter, about 10 years old and doted on Gisela, about 6. E*** was a dentist who did well financially as he served "a large portion of the North American population in Campinas." I wrote this in my letter number 1: "Campinas is a temporary home for many citizens of the United States. Many U.S. corporations have office in Campinas, and some have factories nearby. It's also a city where many come to study Portuguese — corporate people and missionaries make up the largest portion of these."

I was grateful to have a place to stay. I paid, as I recall, $100 a week to stay at the W****s' home. Dr. W**** and I had one conversation in Ehglish while I was there — and that was so he could make clear to me that I would be paying $100 per week in US currency, not in Brazililan money, not in cruzeiros. Cidinha spoke no English, and neither did the girls. Gradually I learned to talk with Cidinha, but never got to know her well at all, but she had a great smile and a warm, welcoming manner. I think she was somewhat younger than her husband. From what I remember E*** bossed her around quite a bit, though he was affectionate at times.

I had a room to myself upstairs. E*** and C*** had their room upstairs too, as did the girls. I think each had their own. (Toni and I visited there in February of the next year.) I had the run of the house, and enjoyed the swimming pool a couple times. I felt weird in that luxury, though, because, from the upstairs windows, I could see the shacks of a shantytown (favela) not too far away. E*** has since died. I'm on facebook with Cidinha, Sefora,and Gisela, though we've never "talked" about my time with them. I remember one party that the W****s put on in their home, complete with hired musicians!

I stayed with the W****s (at Av. *******, XXXX) until late February. I was sometimes dropped off at the language school by E***, and sometimes took a bus, about a 20-minute trip. I don't remember taking a taxicab while I was living there, except when I first arrived in Campinas and took a cab to the Lar. I think I walked "home" to W****s a couple times — about an hour long walk. My routine was to get up, have coffee and breakfast, with the family, go to language school, come back for the main meal of the day with the family at about noon, have a short nap, then go back to school for the afternoon session and to wander around town a bit, sometimes trying my language skills. Then I'd get back to W****s for a little supper and to study my lessons and write letters home. 

-------Other things in Campinas and beyond--------

I wrote lots of letters during my time in Brazil. Besides my monthly formal letters to St. James, I'd write personal letters to Toni and to my parents, and sometimes to Grandpa Larson and Grandma Thorson and other relatives. I had a lot of corresponding to do with David Nelson of the ALC Global Mission department, and with Heitor Meurer, who, at the time, was the Brazilian seminary's internship program coordinator. And I had to arrange housing for myself at the Lutheran Seminary in the southern state of Rio Grande do Sul. That wasn't too complicated because João B**** said I could take his place in an apartment (they called it a república) with some of his friends.

While I was in Campinas, there were two other young women, not my teachers, who I got to know and who liked me for some reason. I don't remember their names. I remember going walking in parks with them and going to their homes before or after, one time each. I wasn't "attracted" to them and didn't want more than conversation and friendship, since Toni and I had decided to keep working on our relationship during the 18 months I would be "away" in Brazil. I think I remember having the vague idea that Toni would visit at some point.

Toni and I on our relationship by writing dozens of letters—most of which I've kept. We talked on the phone too, but only about once a month. My memory tells me that a phone call cost about 75¢ per minute. It was cheaper for Toni to call me in Brazil than it was for me to call her. By letter we'd set a time and a place for her to call. I remember walking to the place we'd set for her call, and then waiting for the phone to ring—whether that was at the W****s' home in Campinas, at the Wangens' home in São Leopoldo, or, when I was out on internship, at my pastoral supervisors' homes in Rio Pardinho or Brasília.

As I mentioned earlier, one of the people I communicated with, while I was in Campinas, was the Brazilian Lutheran seminary's coordinator of internships. The plan that the Brazilian seminary had arranged with the seminary in the states (Wartburg) for the exchange program was for seminarians to spend six months in a combination of language and seminary study, and then a year on internship divided between two sites—one rural, and one urban. The Brazilian seminary's internship coordinator would have assigned me to both the rural and urban sites, but I already had an idea about who I wanted to mentor me as a supervisor for my urban experience.

My memory tells me that my idea of who could be my "urban" pastoral supervisor was not precisely "in line" with what the Brazilian internship supervisor would have suggested. The internship coordinator, Heitor Meuer, had set up the previous intern's urban experience with that previously mentioned catholic lay brotherhood's house in the São Paulo shantytown I mentioned earlier. When I was living in Campinas I went into São Paulo and spent the night in that house. I wasn't opposed to having my urban experience in that sort of setting. But I did want to be mentored in that experience with a pastor who had a personal faith, not just a social-political project. More about that later.

The pastor that I'd come to believe would be a good one to work with was Walter Dörr. I had heard about him from Toni's LYE team. He, with his wife Lydia, were pious, prayerful and hard working. They'd had fruitful ministries over the years. Pastor Dörr was an evangelical and traditional pastor who had founded a training program for agricultural workers (he was socially aware!) in the 1960s, after having come from Germany when he was a young man. I am unsure whether he ever became a Brazilian citizen, and I'm also not sure when he and Lydia moved to Brasília, the country's capital city.

Because I'd heard good things about him, I think from Toni's team, I decided I should travel to Brasília to meet him before I moved to seminary, to see if both of us thought an internship with him would be a good option. Toni's team spent time with the Dörrs in a rural area in 1981, but since that time they had moved to the capital city. They were working in that middle class city and in what was then what I remember as a "slum suburb" of Brasilia, Ceilândia, where the Lutheran church sponsored a Day Care Center. 

I NEED TO MOVE THIS TO PART 2 of my "Living in Brazil" story. The social justice event I attended in Brasília did not happen at this time. It was in April, when I was at Seminary in São Leopoldo! I took a bus in April from São Leopoldo to Campinas, and then took the train trip from Campinas to Brasília for the social justice event. That's when I visited Dörrs.

My memory tells me that I went to Brasília, not mainly to meet the Dörrs, but  to attend a "Social Justice" event. I think this was on the weekend before Lent and Carnaval, in the third week of February. There was a train that ran from São Paulo to Brasília, with a stop in Campinas. E*** gave me a ride to the train station. I got a second class ticket which gave me a school bus type seat, not all that comfortable for the long ride. I went to the dining car for a meal and sat with three other men, one of whom was a German who got drunk and paid for our whole table's meals.

I'm sure I have notes from the social justice event downstairs in a box. That was held at some kind of Roman Catholic retreat center. I may have had a private room. I remember listening to lectures and having conversations. I was getting somewhat competent with my portuguese understanding by then, though I'm sure my speech was not all that good.

At some point during the retreat I broke away and visited the Dörrs in their apartment  — almost all the residents of Brasília lived in apartment buildings, mostly high rises. We talked together and prayed together. I may have stayed overnight with them, and then traveled back to Campinas — not by train — probably by bus.

I'M GOING TO NEED TO SORT THROUGH SOME PAPERS IN THE BASEMENT TO GET THIS RIGHT. One of my letters to my home congregation says I went to a different event during that weekend... 

I think it was when I returned from Brasília I went to the local Carnaval parade (desfile). That was at night. I took a few photos. I think, perhaps, that the W****were out of town. Not sure.

The W****s invited me to a few outings. I remember going with them to their private "club" with a swimming pool, a restaurant, and other amenities, to a relatives' home (apartment) for a meal and party, and they invited me to a weekend at beach house but I chose not to go with them to that. 

E*** brought me to a store downtown to pick out a suitcase to replace the one that had been smashed. I wanted to buy one made in Brazil. He thought it was a good one but said it was heavy, which it was -- all made of leather. 

Finally, E*** brought me to the bus station when I left Campinas on the way to São Leopoldo. I took a picture of the family standing in their doorway when I left. Some pictures are here https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10202827359178857 

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

I'm sure there are things I'll want to change about this later... plus write part 2 (about São Leopoldo), part 3 (Rio Pardinho), and part 4 (when Toni was visiting), and part 5 (Brasília)

A short story of my walk with God

Tomorrow evening we'll be hosting our church small group at our house here in Roseville. When I got back from work last night Toni had already picked up the toys and books and games that had been decorating the upstairs part of our abode. I've started some cleaning and I'll keep doing that, on and off, for the rest of the day.

Our small group members have been sharing their individual "stories of faith" at our monthly gatherings, and tomorrow it's Toni's and my turn to share. She thinks it'd be good idea for me to prepare ahead of time and, as usual, she's probably right. I'll do that here.

A short story of my walk with God

My father, who died at 98 years of age last year, had a dry sense of humor, and he often said that "choosing the right grandparents" was the reason for his long life. I'd say the same about my relationship with God. All four of my grandparents knew Jesus -- and they all knew that Jesus knew them.

My parents were the most influential factor in my relationship with God, or, as I like to put it, in my relationship with Jesus. Mom was the leader, though Dad fully participated in prayer, Bible story reading, worshipping at church, singing, and forming our family life around God's will and word.

My siblings and I all went to Sunday School and sang in children's choirs, learned from pastors preaching and confirmation classes As an older kid, I was a member of the high school youth group, the most influential event of which was going to the "All Lutheran Youth" gathering in Houston, Texas in the summer of 1973. (It was "all Lutheran" because it included youth from the "American Lutheran Church," the "Lutheran Church in America" and the "Missouri Synod" and maybe others.) I mention that because I responded with a big YES to the theme verse:

With eyes wide open to the mercies of God, I beg you, my brothers and sisters, as an act of intelligent worship, to give him your bodies, as a living sacrifice, consecrated to him and acceptable by him. Don’t let the world around you squeeze you into its own mould, but let God re-mould your minds from within, so that you may prove in practice that the plan of God for you is good, meets all his demands and moves towards the goal of true maturity. (Romans 12:1-2 Phillips translation)

I'm sure my upbringing and my growing relationship with the Lord led me to decide on a Political Science major when I first started college. My parents had been politically involved because of their faith, which taught them to "Love the Lord your God... and your neighbor as yourself." It took less than a semester to discover I didn't like political science. I switched to a double major in sociology and religion, and added a philosophy minor. My most influential professor was Bruce Reichenbach.

In my freshman year, a college friend, Greg Baldwin, who, sadly, died many years ago, helped me spiritually as I was dealing with a relationship break-up. I got involved with "Lutheran Youth Encounter" then because Greg was involved in it, and, in my sophomore year, I participated, with Greg, in a seven member LYE weekend team. In the summer of 1976 I served as a counselor and canoe guide at a church camp on the south shore of Lake Superior.

In my junior year, I joined an LYE team again, and that's when I met Toni. We were friends on team and partners in an interpersonal communication class. After my junior year, this would have been in 1977, I became the leader of an LYE summer team which traveled mainly in North Dakota. Sadly, and sinfully, at the same time, I was gradually falling into an unhealthy "relationship" with a young woman that I was only saved from in 1980. During the years I was enmeshed in that, life was incredibly hard. Those years required fortitude and led me to rely on God in a way that was new for me. 

When I hit bottom, God rescued me. Coming home to my family and to the church, I connected with God in with deeper and more vibrant faith. That's when I participated with Jesus People Church, which met at the State Theater in downtown Minneapolis, and attended the "Lutheran Conference on the Holy Spirit." At that conference I received a clear call to be a pastor in my home denomination, the American Lutheran Church. During that period, I connected again with Toni.

It took all those years, from 1973 to 1980, to learn what it meant to give my body, and my whole self, to God, as a living sacrifice (as in Romans 12:1). I did learn what it means, not that I always do it.

In about 1979 I took a job as a nursing assistant at Augustana Home in downtown Minneapolis, and then, from 1980-1981, I did the same sort of work at the University of Minnesota hospital. While at work there I saw a pastor ministering to a cancer patient, and, as I was growing spiritually at the same time, I said to myself "I could do that," but I did need to prepare and decide what I really believed and could conscientiously teach about Jesus. I had already been growing in my relationship with God in many ways, but on what basis could be I confident? I needed to study!

My home denomiation, the one I had been called by God to serve, required its pastors to have a bachelor's degree before enrolling in seminary. I went back to Augsburg College and finished my degree there while working and joyfully organizing small group Bible studies -- and leading an effort to found a Minnesota Public Interest Research Group chapter on campus. Though I had soured on politics, the "public good" was still, and still is now, a priority for me that flows from Jesus' command to love God and neighbor. After graduation, I chose to move to Dubuque, Iowa, where Wartburg Seminary is located--but before seminary classes began, I was hired as psychiatric nursing assistant at a local hospital--in the locked unit. I was an adult and needed to support myself.

I lived in the seminary dormitory while working full time at the hospital beginning in the fall of 1982. I was a part time student at first, taking two classes, one on the work of the Holy Spirit, and the other based on a historical-critical look at the gospels. In that class, and doing outside reading, I confronted what I thought was the best and the worst of the scholarship about the real historical Jesus. I came out being convinced that the basics of the faith I had learned from my parents were actually true--with a capital T. 

At some point during that fall semester, I befriended João Biehl, an exchange student from Brazil. I was fascinated with João and his country, partly because Toni had traveled in Brazil earlier that year with a Lutheran Youth Encounter team. Those factors, and my ongoing concern with social issues (a.k.a. the "public good"), led me to apply and be accepted as an exchange student to the seminary where João was enrolled in southern Brazil. So, after saying goodbye to Toni -- we were getting to be more than friends, though we lived in different cities -- After saying goodbye to Toni and my family, I took off for Brazil, landing in São Paulo in early January 1983. 

When I first got there I studied Portuguese. Then, in their fall and winter season, I studied at the Brazilian Lutheran seminary. After that I served as a student pastor at two Lutheran parishes, one in a rural area, and the other in and near the capital city. I won't say more about my time in Brazil here--it was challenging--and good!-- but I will say that Toni came to visit in February 1984 and we were engaged to be married. Our wedding was in October, 1984. We've been married now 40 years plus. My dad would say we've got a good start. He and Mom were married 65 years before she passed away in 2019.

The Lord has been leading Toni and I every day, every year. After a year and a half in Brazil, I transferred my seminary studies to St. Paul, where Toni and I lived in a little upstairs apartment near the corner of Cleveland and Como Avenues. He then led us to Ladysmith, Wisconsin, where I served as associate pastor for six years and Toni and I led the high school youth group. Our three children were born there. We then moved to Taylors Falls, Minnesota, where we served a church for 13 years, then to Cokato, Minnesota, for 10. Toni was a close ministry partner always, and a wonderful mother to our children!

In 2015 it became clear to us that we were called to leave small town ministry so we could be closer to our children in the Twin Cities. During the last 4-5 years of our time in Cokato God led me to serve as a school bus driver, and following further along that path led me to serve now almost 10 years as a bus operator for Metro Transit. We moved to Roseville because the Lord opened up a temporary housing opportunity not far from where we live now, and because our daughter Naomi and family live in the same suburb, albeit a few miles away. And because we live here we connected with Roseville Covenant Church, where Bruce Reichenbach is a member.

Praise God for all He has done!