Category Archives: Speaking

Memorial to Victims of Violence [Tree of Life Congregation in Pittsburgh]

**sermon art is Star of David by Ram Coenca, arcrylic on canvas, coenca-art.com

Caitlin Trussell with the residents of Kavod Senior Life in Denver and other faith leaders by invitation of Rabbi Stephen Booth-Nadav, on October 30, 2018

[Rabbi Steve invited our remarks and prayers to reflect unity in diversity as well as to offer comfort to residents of each faith leader’s tradition. He notes that the deaths in Pittsburgh hit Kavod’s residents in “some unique ways, including: Most of the victims in Pittsburg were over 60 as are our residents; a little under half of our residents are Jewish; our non-Jewish residents feel a special closeness, and vulnerability, with our Jewish community.”]

[Remarks begin]

I am Pastor Caitlin Trussell and I bring you greetings from my colleague Pastor Ann Hultquist, who is traveling, and the good people of Augustana Lutheran Church, your neighbors one mile to the east.

Over lunch on Tuesday a week ago, a rabbi friend of mine talked about his fear about being a Jew in America [2]. Then Saturday came and, with it, the murder of Jews in Pittsburgh. Twenty-four years ago my brother married a lovely Jewish woman. They raised their children at Congregation Or Ami in California.  My brother converted to Judaism more recently.  When I heard about the shootings, weighing heavily on my heart and mind were those who died, their friends and family, my Jewish friends and colleagues, as well as my brother, his family, and their Jewish congregation.

In Christian scripture, the Gospel of John, the 14th chapter, Jesus says to his disciples:

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”

I suppose that’s easy for Jesus to say.  Not so easy for us.  We can get lost in the details of Jesus’ words because, in the aftermath of Saturday’s killings of our Jewish cousins in faith, we see all too clearly how the world gives, which troubles our hearts and makes us afraid. Christians sometimes refer to our life here on earth as living on “this side of the cross” – meaning that we live in a world in which we so clearly see and experience suffering.

It’s a truth we understand deep in our gut. The truth that being human involves real suffering and pain. However, Christians see along with that truth that the cross means that God would rather die than raise a hand in violence against the world that God loves unconditionally.  Not only that, the cross also reveals the mystery of God suffering with us when we suffer, revealing life in the midst of that suffering through the love we share with each other; and through the love and solidarity we share with people of no faith and people of all faiths in our collective determination and actions to prevent future suffering.

It is in the spirit of love and solidarity that I offer this prayer from my faith tradition…

God of our weary years, God of our silent tears, you have brought us this far along the way.

In times of bitterness you did not abandon us, but guided us into the path of love and light.

In every age you sent prophets to make known your loving will for all humanity.

The cry of the suffering has become your own cry; our hunger and thirst for justice for all people is your own desire.

You entered our sorrows in Jesus our brother. He was born among the poor, he lived under oppression, he wept over the city. With infinite love, he meets us in our suffering.

O God most merciful, our comfort and our hope, graciously tend those who mourn, that, casting all their sorrow on you, they may know the consolation of your love.

O God most majestic, you are breath and fire, our strength and our song, you show us a vision of a tree of life with fruits for all and leaves that heal the nations.

Grant us such a life as you make us instruments of your peace.[1]

Amen.

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[1] The prayer above is modified from Prayers for Worship VIII and X as well as the Funeral Prayer of the Day in Evangelical Lutheran Worship (Hymnal).  (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2009), 67, 69, and 281.

[2] This same rabbi friend encourages the use of the word Jew acknowledging that non-Jews are squeamish about it given the pejorative use in history up through today.

Why I’m Grateful For Iliff [OR Multiple Theological Fluencies Rock]

Alumni Reflection for Iliff School of Theology Board of Trustees, Former and Current, on August 18, 2016

[full disclosure: this is an blend of my prepared remarks with the spontaneous ones that come in the moment of being with people]

I bring you greetings from the good people of Augustana Lutheran Church on East Alameda in Denver.

I’m going to begin at the beginning but, hang with me, it won’t take that long.  Born in Boston, raised in Pasadena, married a Nebraskan, and now in Denver for the past 23 years, I’ve covered a lot of ground…literally, personally, professionally, and theologically. A…lot…of…ground…

I worked as a Registered Nurse for 16 years in pediatric oncology and home hospice. During that time, I received a Master’s in Nursing from UCLA in pediatric oncology and pain management.  I loved nursing. Still do.  I carry a current R.N. license in my wallet because I promised my mother I would.  I knew I wanted to be a nurse when I was 13 years old and didn’t look back for almost 25 years. But something else was happening along the way, too.

Baptized through the Roman Catholic Church while living with my first father, then baptized again through the fundamentalist Christian tradition of my step-father, I spent about ten years as an adult religious refugee of sorts. I moved to Colorado and married Rob in 1995. When our two children were born, Rob’s unscathed Lutheran memories, and my fond memories of older church ladies, drew us into an ELCA Lutheran church…along with Rob’s mom asking us when we were going to baptize those babies.

I’d never heard anything like what I heard there – that there was nothing I could do to make God love me any more or any less. Turns out it’s much easier to love Jesus once I heard that Jesus actually does love me. About 5 years into it, 2002, my pastor invited me to preach.  After that, the people at church started pestering me with the idea of seminary.  Of course, I thought they were crazy.  My children only came up as high as my knees, so small.

Eventually, I got online and looked at what it meant to be pastor. A few months went by…truly, a few months…before I mustered up the courage to tell Rob that I thought I was supposed to be a pastor. It sounded absurd even to my own ears. When I did, he said without pause, “Of course you are.”

So, while starting the process with the ELCA, I also started seminary at Iliff adding required Lutheran classes taken in Minnesota at Luther Seminary for three summers and a Fall semester.  The Master’s of Divinity part of becoming a pastor took me four and a half years.  I graduated with that M. Div. from Iliff in 2011.

It was interesting attending two seminaries with such different assumptions. Yes, they both have them – some examined and some not.  Any institution can do a better job challenging their own assumptions, including Iliff.  But here’s why I’m grateful that Iliff was part of my seminary training.

It’s because I carry multiple theological fluencies in a way that I otherwise wouldn’t. This means I can hear the words people use and hear how they understand truth – gifts, inconsistencies, all of it. In large part this is because I was challenged to examine my own. The infamous process of deconstruction. That is a gift from Iliff. Is it a perfect gift? No, but that’s a conversation for a different day.

Here are a few paraphrased lessons from Iliff professors that stick with me:

Ted Vial: Every theological system plays a mystery card, it’s just a matter of where.

Jacob Kinnard:  Religions around the world blend together in ways that are very complex resulting in multiple forms within any single tradition. Think Christianities, plural.

Pam Eisenbaum: The Biblical writings of the Apostle Paul may not mean what you think they mean.

Edward Antonio: Colonization is oppressive, no question. But if we stop at blaming the colonizer then we further oppress people by robbing them of their own agency.

Cathie Kelsey: Most people have a tendency to compare the best of their own traditions with the worst of other people’s traditions.

Mark George: People put their religious views into a Bible story that simply aren’t in the text.

Katherine Turpin: Try experiencing an event without simultaneously critiquing it…hard to do, but so worth it.

And, lastly, Vincent Harding: [turning to colleague in a panel, naming him by first name and saying,] “Dr. _____, I am going to disagree with you in love.”

The list could go on and on and on. Whether or not I agree with a professor is beside the point. Learning their particular fluency became the point. Those lessons and fluencies stick.  And they make a difference when I’m part of a one-on-one conversation in a coffee shop or Sunday morning worship or community organizing.  Those are not theoretical examples.

On any given Sunday, the people in the pews are thinking as many different things as there are people. I don’t see it as my task to convince them otherwise. My task is preaching and living with integrity at multiple levels – from my commitment to a confessional denomination to my own individual confession of faith.

Being educated at Iliff has been a key to that integrity. Just as it’s been a key to pastoral care as well as justice work in the community. I’m grateful for it. Looking back, I might wish to alter some logistics of attending two seminaries. I would not change receiving my degree from Iliff.