The day after the 2024 presidential election, Bishop Eaton reflects on the many expressions of our church being woven together as strands of a large tapestry, even as individually people are experiencing joy or grief. She reminds us that regardless of who is elected president or to other leadership positions in our country, our call to be Christ in the world doesn't change. "As we're moving through these next years, no matter what happens and what befalls ... imagine all of us woven together and in Christ, and we will continue to serve the gospel and to serve the world."
We Have a Choice
A Time For a Reset
By Elizabeth A. Eaton
In the first seven chapters of Genesis, we move quickly from the glory of creation to disobedience, expulsion from the garden and fratricide to the wickedness of humankind. We read, “The Lord saw that the wickedness of humankind was great in the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of their hearts was only evil continually” (Genesis 6:5). God’s beautiful creation, in harmony with itself and its creator, had gone completely off the rails. God had given the creation as a gift—and the gift was rejected. Time for a reset.
“And the Lord was sorry that he had made humankind on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart. So the Lord said, ‘I will blot out from the earth the human beings I have created—people together with animals and creeping things and birds of the air, for I am sorry I have made them’” (Genesis 6:6-7). Then, in chapter 7, we get the flood.
This is a story of God’s deep and terrible pain. We were created by love for love. And now this terrible betrayal moves God to destroy God’s own precious creation. Another part of this tragedy is that human disobedience and arrogance resulted in the destruction of creation. It is too deep for me to understand the depth of God’s horror when beholding how twisted humankind had become and God’s agony in sending the flood.
Some days—or if I am honest, many days—I want to press the reset button. We are still stuck in this pandemic. The whole world is anxious and angry and grieving. And though the world is living through this together, not all people are affected equally. Some (I among them) have access to vaccines, medical care, a safe home in which to shelter and the privilege of working from home. And this is just one pandemic.
There is the continuing pandemic of racial inequity. When I say the Pledge of Allegiance, I want to believe that we are a people “with liberty and justice for all.” Whether we see the racial inequities laid bare, feel freedom threatened by mask and vaccine mandates, or see voting rights threatened—all positions voiced by members of this church—it is painfully clear that we aren’t living up to that pledge. There are societal forces that seek to tear us apart and set us against each other. And as I write this, Russia appears to be on the brink of invading Ukraine and plunging Europe into war.
Over and over again humankind has betrayed the hope God has for us. God declared the creation very good. We have fallen short. This must certainly be a time for a reset. I can think about how I would reset. Many others in our church who have been wounded by society, and even the ELCA, would have legitimate cases for what needs to be reset. And I wonder, if all of us simultaneously pressed the reset button, would that cancel all of us out?
And God said to Noah, “I establish my covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth (Genesis 9:11). The rainbow, interestingly, is the sign of this covenant with all of creation, a rainbow that only comes after a storm. This is God’s reset.
We are in a storm. In no way would I minimize nor silence the real pain experienced by our people. But I want to hold out the truth and the promise of God’s ultimate reset—the death and resurrection of Jesus. In this act of redemption, God has brought about the reconciliation of all people and of all creation. This reset, though not completely realized, gives us a way to speak and hear truth from one another.
Jesus said, “You will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” (John 8:32).
A monthly message from the presiding bishop of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. Her email address is bishop@elca.org. This column originally appeared in Living Lutheran’s March 2022 issue. Reprinted with permission. © ELCA
Message from Presiding Bishop Elizabeth A. Eaton
What Masks Do We All Wear?
Getting ready to leave the house—for work or errands—takes a couple extra steps during a pandemic. Do I know how crowded my destination will be? Did I remember to take a mask? Of all the annoying things about this pandemic, I find remembering to take and to wear a mask is one of the most irksome. Masks aren’t comfortable, they make it more difficult to understand conversations, and they are a daily reminder that we are not out of the woods yet.
Let me be clear—masks are an effective way to stop the spread of this terrible virus, and I will wear one for as long as it takes. I urge all of us to do the same. This isn’t about personal choice, but it is a physical manifestation that in baptism “we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members one of another” (Romans 12:5). Wearing a mask is as much for our protection as it is for protecting others. I will continue to mask up.
I always thought it was silly that bandits and robbers are depicted wearing only a mask from just below the eyes down. How could that possibly be a disguise? One’s eyes, hair and ears are all visible. You can hear the voice. You can figure out a person’s stature. What’s the point?
“I mask people even when they aren’t wearing an actual mask.”
Christmas Message from Presiding Bishop Elizabeth A. Eaton
This is our second pandemic Christmas. We thought this would be over so long ago. And still, we wear masks; we're physically distant; we can't be with friends and family as we used to do. And also, there's so much that's broken in this world, so much that tells us, "Why have hope? Just give up."
But we have a hope that's stronger than any of this, stronger even than death. The hope of God comes in the form of a tiny baby, a helpless child; nevertheless, who grew to a man and in his fragile strength was willing to die on the cross and was raised again.
I don't know what next Christmas will bring. I don't know what New Year's will bring. But I do know we have hope.
St. Paul put it this way:"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit."Merry Christmas, dear church.
The Rev. Elizabeth A. Eaton
Presiding Bishop, Evangelical Lutheran Church in America
God Has Given Us a Mission
Remember the Beatles? John, Paul, George, Ringo! I was into it. I had Beatle boots, love beads and granny glasses. My big brother gave me a model of Paul (the cute Beatle) for Christmas one year. It was one of those paint-it-yourself kits. I knew the lyrics to the Beatles’ hits better than I knew Martin Luther’s Small Catechism. The early hits were pop and upbeat: “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” “A Hard Day’s Night.” Even later “Yellow Submarine” was still whimsical.
But then the Beatles got older, and the world changed. Vietnam, the Kennedy and King assassinations, the urban riots, the 1968 Chicago Democratic convention. Innocence—for those of us who had that luxury—was gone. Skepticism, even cynicism, was the lens through which the world was seen. A lot was broken, including trust in institutions and the church.
In 1971, John Lennon’s hit “Imagine” came out. It was evocative and, I’m sure, was meant to point us to the possibility of a better future. I found it disturbing. A world without religion. No heaven. No hell. No countries. No possessions. As if excising these things would cure humanity and the world would be as one.