Wendy knows that I love her. I first told her maybe 42 years ago. I could have said way back then, “So, hold that thought, and I’ll let you know if anything changes.” Even I know that this would not have gone well. The things we know best and believe most, in a relational sense, are the very things that we long to and need to hear, over and over again, forever.

Church is like that too. We could say, “Bible study? Easter? 12th Sunday in ordinary time? Been there, done that—way back in my childhood and teen years. I already know and believe that stuff. Why keep going week after week?” Again, it’s the things we hold most dear, know, and believe most, that we most need to hear and participate in. The Gospel promises, I mean. After all, I heard somewhere recently that we are captive to sin and cannot free ourselves.

You already know that the pandemic, political polarization, racial inequity and oppression, economic uncertainty, and more, are making now seem like the most anxious time of my nearly 65 years, not just for me but as a culture. Social media and 24-hour not-news channels full of speculation, commentary, and talking over each other don’t help.

I can tell you that anxious and polarized systems don’t do well. I can tell you that I think I’ve learned that no matter how deep-seated one’s convictions, nobody’s mind is ever changed by posts on social media. One reason is that we lack accountability there. We can just drop a bomb and watch the damage it creates. And, of course, choose sides. No complexity, no subtlety. You’re either with me or you’re against me. Don’t make me unfriend you!

Which all leads me to what I really want to share with you this month. We all know that the stakes are high and the lines are already rather clearly drawn in this election cycle. What, if anything, does faith—church—have to do with the political process? The ELCA’s proposed social statement (to be voted on in July 2025) on Civic Life and Faith addresses this very question. It’s nearing the end of its six-year careful development process. You can (and should) read it.  Even better, the comment and feedback period with the general public is still open through the end of September, so yes, your perspectives matter!

Secondly, how do we in faith communities—in our Lutheran congregations—engage one another amid the anxiety and division evoked by an election season? Ignore it? Make it off-limits in church? Back to my beginning, you, we, already know the rules of engagement through the lens of everyone we meet being a precious child of God. We know, but we forget. We emote. We dismiss. We label. We divide, blame, resent. And on and on.

Recently I’ve been part of several groups in which we all know that others are God’s precious child, but we also know that our passion, no matter how imagined or actually righteous, gets the best of us. These groups remind each other, and we all review together, a covenant for how we engage one another. No two of those covenants are the same, but I’ll share one here that could be an example not only of how congregations but also of how members of congregations out in the world engage one another in volatile times. This one comes from the ELCA Task Force on Gender Justice and Women’s Empowerment on which I am privileged to serve to represent the Conference of Bishops:

1. We work toward safe(r) and brave(r) space.
2. We listen actively.
3. We call in, not out.
4. We challenge the idea, not the person.
5. We speak our discomfort.
6. We commit to non-closure.
7. We recognize histories of oppression.
8. We practice group- and self-awareness.
9. We use “I” language.

This month we have posted resources on our synod website for how we might faithfully interact with one another during an election year. We encourage your congregation to consider using some of these resources to help remind us of what we already know is critically important; namely, being respectful and just plain nice to people. Or as Jesus might say, “love one another.” Not agree, love. You know it. Let’s do it.