AMONG MY OWN PEOPLE IN AMERICA
Less than a kilometre above Riga, the plane sank into the fog; accompanied by rattling sounds, the landing gear opened, and a moment later, striking the runway, the wheels of the plane met the asphalt surface. I am in Latvia. Even though Chicago bade me farewell warm and sunny, while Riga greeted me grey and cold, the feeling that I was back in my homeland was as bright as a sunny autumn day. There are still just a few of the inconveniences of sensation to overcome that arose from flying across time zones and losing one sleepless night along the way. A couple of days have to pass until the biological clock starts ticking again in Riga’s rhythm, and then it will be possible to launch into the everyday rush. But the journey to the American Midwest, to the Latvian Evangelical Lutheran congregations outside Latvia, which began on 14 October and lasted until 30 October, will remain in my memory for a long time. Because of the events experienced on the distant American continent, which can surprise in all sorts of ways, but above all because of the people I met, who were the most precious gain of this journey.
Fellowship is a gift from God
“I will hold the newspaper ‘Laiks’ above my head,” – so wrote Baiba Liepiņa from the Zion congregation in Chicago in an email, so that I would spot her at Chicago airport. I already knew the newspaper “Laiks” beforehand, but I got to know Baiba during this journey. Businesslike, industrious, ready to sacrifice for another the most precious thing of all – relationships, time, and care. In her, two archetypal biblical figures seemed to be combined – the seller of purple, named Lydia, who says, “Come into my house and stay,” and the disciple Tabitha (gazelle – in Aramaic), who did good works all her life. With the lightness of a gazelle she did everything, both welcoming guests into her home and serving for many years as the head of the Zion congregation. Even though Baiba had given up the office of congregation head quite some time ago, her telephone rang from time to time, because someone always needed Baiba’s advice. Baiba had put in a great deal of work to arrange the route of my journey, which began in Chicago and then led on to Minneapolis, Grand Rapids, Kalamazoo, Cleveland, and Milwaukee. The main purpose of the journey was to take part with a presentation in the LELBA 14th Synod, which took place from 24 to 26 October in Milwaukee. But before that, while visiting the Midwest congregations, I told them about ministry in prison, about the work of the Association of Latvian Lutheran Women Theologians, led Bible studies, and read poetry, my own of course. Conversations about Latvia were also not lacking.
Although Latvia is small on the world map, in the hearts of Latvians in America it acquires a special size, a special beauty, and a special value. For, when they as children left Latvia in the course of fleeing as refugees, their parents left them such an image of Latvia as an inheritance. Perhaps it is improper to compare, but it seems that what distinguishes the political refugees, who were forced to leave Latvia at the end of the Second World War, from today’s economic refugees is the sense of homeland. Those who left Latvia, to put it symbolically, in the closing strains of Lūcija Garūta’s cantata “God, Your Earth Is Burning”, carried the homeland in their hearts as an ideal. Various works of art, books, and other valuable things were taken along, so as not to lose their culture, their language in a foreign land, hoping to return soon. But fate had decreed otherwise. A new life had to be built in a foreign land. A nest had to be woven in the space of a foreign culture, in which to bring descendants into the world while preserving their identity, preserving Latvian values. Homes to live in had not yet been bought when donations were already being collected for the purchase or construction of churches. The spiritual leaders gathered Latvians together in prayer, in worship services, and for fellowship, where, alongside it, everything Latvian was held in honour.
First the church, then one’s own house, not the other way around – this was the guarantee of a strong Latvian community in the multicultural and multireligious American environment.
Fellowship is still a special value among Latvians in America. Hours-long drives are undertaken in order to meet, to talk, to celebrate worship services together. Even though in many churches the worshippers are growing old and there are ever fewer of them, still everyone who is able to move sets out on the road to meet their own people. And these times of meeting, at the centre of which is the worship service, are like a breath of air for the next act of life.
This gift from God – fellowship – I too had the opportunity to enjoy generously. In Minneapolis, Doug and Edija Demandt greeted me at the airport with flowers. Edija was carrying beneath her heart one of God’s little creatures, who is destined to come into the world and get to know it living in America. And the environment in which their descendant will grow and develop will be very important for this family. Doug and Edija told me that the congregation currently has four expectant mothers. This delights the pastor, because there will be baptisms and, after a few years, growth for the Sunday school. In the couple of years that Doug has been pastor at St. Paul’s congregation in Minneapolis, together with Edija they have founded a praise group and also started other activities that have attracted young people. It was pleasant to hear that Doug learned congregational leadership during a year of practice at the Jesus congregation of the ELCL under pastor Erberts Bikše. We had also met in Latvia, when Doug came, assigned by the pastor, to lead a worship service in the women’s prison where I served as chaplain. Now I had the opportunity to get to know this young pastor more closely and to see for myself his ardour in faith and his calling to ministry. At a Bible study I managed to meet pastor emeritus Maija Cepure, who had previously served at St. Paul’s congregation. And in the evenings and mornings I was looked after in Minneapolis by the hospitable Gunda Lūse and congregation head Gerolds Lūsis. Simply, lovingly, and warmly – that is how I can describe my visit with the people of Minneapolis.
Of course, the most precious value and the greatest gain on this journey were the people I met. That is why I cannot fail to mention Vilma Bolšteina, who welcomed me into her home in Kalamazoo for just one night, but from this meeting there remained the feeling that I had long known the cheerful, lovely lady. We spent a long time in evening conversation. She told me about her life and about her husband Arvīds Bolšteins, who has now been called to eternity. Arvīds was a talented teacher and journalist, as well as a well-known Latvian public figure in exile, for a few years even chairman of the Cultural Fund of the World Federation of Free Latvians (PBLA) and of the American Latvian Association (ALA). For fifteen years Arvīds Bolšteins worked as director of the Latvian centre “Garezers”.
I heard the name Garezers mentioned in all the congregations and also at the LELBA synod. It seemed that Garezers, which is located in the centre of the Midwest, founded in 1965, and which uses in its spelling the soft “ŗ” of Mīlenbahs and Endzelīns, is like a Latvian paradise in America. And how could it not be – the mission of Garezers states: “Garezers exists to gather the Latvian community, to nurture and teach Latvian youth, to strengthen the Latvian language, culture, and spiritual values, to promote Latvian identity and ties with Latvia.” Garezers reportedly owns more than a hundred buildings, all with Latvian names, and many of the buildings were built by Latvians’ own hands. There is also an open-air church there, a lakeshore, a song valley, and other places for various activities. The immediate surroundings of Garezers are also inhabited by Latvians. Next to Garezers are the settlements “Little Latvia” and “Latvia Village”. At the LELBA synod, however, more was said about the concerns that the upkeep of this large property causes. But from the synod participants I also heard stories of how a bride was spotted at Garezers, how beautiful summers full of adventure were spent there in youth, but now it is a place where young people, living in summer camps, learn the Latvian language and Latvian culture.
I experienced genuine joy of fellowship also in Cleveland, when pastor Sarma Eglīte introduced me to Zelma and her mother Vilma from the United Congregation of Cleveland. It is a pity that I forgot to ask the surname of the two kind-hearted ladies, who had arranged such an interesting adventure, which I will tell about further on.
After a Bible study and poetry reading at the Cleveland congregation, we set off to visit the Amish in Amish country. It is one of the most interesting religious communities in America. At present about 249 thousand Amish live in America, and the community we visited in Holmes County, Ohio, not far from Cleveland, is the largest in the world. About 36 thousand members of this religious community reportedly live there. We saw only a small corner of Amish country, but it was truly impressive. The drive there and back, through the hills and valleys, was autumnally splendid, and it seemed that autumn had worked harder painting Amish country than Latvia. The interior of the car smelled of home-baked pies, with which Vilma treated us from time to time, while Zelma confidently drove the car along the hilly twists and turns. Both women, like the Amish, live in the countryside and engage in farming. But, unlike the Amish, their way of life was characterized by Latvian identity, which showed itself in the two women’s restrained remarks about life in rural America. Vilma’s sun-tanned face testified to the fact that a large part of the day is spent outside the house doing farm work. Of course, outside a house different from the kind we saw in Amish country. The Amish have dwelling houses without garages, without electricity poles and wires, because they use neither electricity, nor television, nor the internet, nor cars either. The Amish believe that these things hinder service to God. They travel by horse-drawn carriages as people did several centuries ago. On the highways one can encounter black horses harnessed to black carriages, which are called buggies. The Amish dress in simple old-fashioned garments, in which they use special little hooks as fastenings instead of buttons and zippers. The men wear black hats, while the women wear white bonnets, which symbolize God’s protection. The Amish engage in subsistence farming, producing their own food and clothing, building houses, constructing bridges, and at the same time they are also good traders. There tourists could buy fresh vegetables and fruit grown by the Amish, as well as furniture they had made themselves, at reasonable prices. But the souvenirs with their own logos the Amish, like others elsewhere in America, have entrusted the Chinese to produce. From the whole range of souvenirs, I chose the one that seemed to me most fitting for the mood of that day. I bought a genuine leather keychain on which there was an inscription in English: “Fellowship is a gift from God”. At the end of our journey, together with Zelma, Vilma, and Sarma, we had a meal at one of the local restaurants, where among the servers I also saw a couple of young women dressed in white bonnets.
In America it was in relationships with fellow countrymen that I enjoyed fellowship most. And it seemed that in this multinational society, in which communities of various peoples and various religions have found their refuge, including Latvians, living side by side and respect for one another is possible precisely because they know how to use this so important gift given by God.
Women pastors in exile
Today Latvians who live outside Latvia are no longer usually called exiles. The exile has ended ever since Latvia became free again. Those who wished to, who had such opportunities, have returned to the fatherland; others have remained in their country of residence. But one can confidently regard as exiles, and call by that name, those women who set off away from Latvia in order to respond to God’s call to serve as shepherds of congregations, as pastors, because such an opportunity in the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Latvia is currently denied to them. Opponents of ordination will surely claim with one voice that it is their own fancy to be pastors, because God supposedly calls only men. Let this, in my view, absurd claim be; each one will one day answer before God for having attributed their own words to God. But history bears witness to something else about women’s service in the office of clergy. God’s call in the Latvian Lutheran church has sounded for women, and the first women pastors were already ordained as of 1975, until the current archbishop forbade it. But the call still sounds. This call is in its own way a continuation of the Reformation. The prohibition against fulfilling God’s call I would like to compare metaphorically with the appearance of a small stream in soil that needs more moisture in order to grow green, but a stone is placed over the stream, and at present no one has the strength to lift it off, because it is sternly guarded by the opponents of ordination. But in nature, a stream whose path is blocked by a stone finds another direction for its flow. Like the streams, the women once called in Latvia have also found another path to serve in the spiritual office, and this path has led to ministry outside Latvia.
On the journey in America I had the opportunity to meet with many of them. With Gundega Puidza, who serves in the Zion congregation in Chicago, with Ieva Pušmucāne-Kineiko, who serves as pastor in the New Brunswick and Lakewood congregation, with Dace Zušmane, who has currently suspended her ministry for a time due to family circumstances, with pastor Gija Galiņa, who serves in the Tacoma congregation, with pastor Ilze Larsena, who serves in the Grand Rapids congregation, and with pastor Aija Grēma, recently chosen by the Kalamazoo congregation. All the clergywomen named, whose homeland is Latvia, were each in their time forced to become exiles in order to fulfil God’s call. I can say truly and from the heart that the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Latvia has, in the persons of these women, lost wise and talented servants of God, whose ministry in Latvia’s congregations would be femininely life-giving. Just as in a family the authority to raise children cannot belong only to the father, while leaving the mother in the status of a servant, so too in the shepherding of congregations both sexes must be equal. This healthy environment, where women and men serve together in equality, I enjoyed in abundance at the opening and closing worship services of the LELBA synod, when they were led by both clergywomen and clergymen, and archbishop Elmārs Rozītis, together with archbishop-elect Lauma Zušēvica, consecrated Rota Stone and Linda Sniedze Taggart as deaconesses. The singing of the combined choir during the liturgy was especially powerful, when some verses were sung only by women, some only by men, but when the two voices intertwined into one sound – that was truly magnificent.
A free atmosphere and warm fellowship pervaded all the working days of the synod. Such can exist only in a community in which hierarchical, tormented relationships do not reign, but rather true fellowship in spirit. Brother Roger of Taizé reportedly once said that Christ did not come to earth to establish a new religion, but new relationships. These new relationships could then be enjoyed throughout the synod.
The heavenly congregation
The first pastor I met in America was Gundega Puidza. She invited me to take part in a candle-lighting evening at the Chicago cemetery, where the graves of the Zion congregation are located. Since it was still daytime, it could not really be called a candle-lighting evening, but rather a worship service at which those called to eternity are remembered. It was similar to a worship service that in Latvian conditions would introduce the period when the winter season sets in at the cemeteries. When the last flowers wither and the grave mounds sink into rest until spring. Yes, that is how it would be in Latvia, but in American cemeteries there are neither grave mounds, nor flowers to wither, because around the gravestones there is only a well-kept lawn. I walked the graves of the Zion congregation back and forth and found very many gravestones on which were written Latvian first names, surnames, and years of birth and death. I also managed to be at the place where the urn of dean Vilis Vārsbergs is placed.
The name of Vilis Vārsbergs is also connected with the University of Latvia. From 1994 to 1999 V. Vārsbergs was dean of the Faculty of Theology of the University of Latvia; for three years he was elected a member of the university senate, and the UL awarded him the title of honorary doctor. In 2002 V. Vārsbergs returned to Chicago. That same year he was awarded the Order of the Three Stars. Vilis Vārsbergs was called to eternity in 2012 in Chicago.
The older people, who are in the majority in the congregations outside Latvia, depart one after another to eternity. Pastor Doug Demandt reportedly conducted seventeen funeral services last year around Christmas. The heavenly congregation grows in number, but the earthly congregation – dwindles. Pastors have to devote much care to the older members of the congregation, who are no longer able to come to worship services themselves. The long drives on visitations to congregation members are the everyday life of these pastors.
While visiting pastor Ilze Larsena in Grand Rapids, it happened that I took part in the farewell worship service of a congregation member, which she led. Ilze told me that lately the most frequent common events of the congregation have been funerals. Funeral worship services usually take place in two languages – Latvian and English, because in the family the younger generation often no longer speaks Latvian, especially if one of the parents speaks only English. After the worship service in the church, the urn of the deceased congregation member was taken to the cemetery and immured in a special wall. In this part of the funeral, only close relatives took part, so I had free time and the opportunity to walk around the cemetery. It was empty and lonely, only greyish squirrels boldly leaped along the branches of the trees, the gravestones, and the lawn. Now and then a car drove by along the path. But what seemed most surprising to me was that young people, possibly students of the final grades, were running an autumn cross-country race through the cemetery. One little group, in order to reach the finish faster, chose the most direct route and, as if in a hurdle race, went over the memorial plaques on the graves, which are altogether low and, like obstacles, were easily surmountable, because the majority are in a lying position. From what I saw I could gather that in Latvia, compared to America, different traditions of burial, graves, and cemeteries prevail.
At the synod I got to know dean Oļģerts Sniedze, who is called the pastor of the heavenly congregation. Oļģerts is a cheerful and merry gentleman, already quite advanced in years. He is the pastor at the Brethren Cemetery in Catskill, which is the only Latvian cemetery and was established in the 1960s. The Catskill cemetery is located not far from New York. In this cemetery the deceased are buried both in cremated form in urns and in caskets.
Yes, in America the Latvian Lutheran congregations are growing old, and therefore their pastors are worried about the survival of the congregations in the long term. But is that not the future we long for – to return to heaven, to God, from whom our soul and spirit have come? As Paul said: “I desire to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better.” (Phil 1:23) And is this not our true ministry – to take care that no one falls away from God and that at the end of life all become members of the heavenly congregation? The dilemma between the desire to live eternally and the desire to live in this world will always exist as a challenge among Christians.
So that this section of the article does not acquire a fatal mood of sorts, at its end I wish to mention that in many LELBA congregations the Latvian schools function as a hope and guarantee of survival, some of which have even a hundred pupils. Children from Latvian families gather for lessons every Saturday. Those children whose parents have moved to live in America recently are also increasingly joining in. I had the opportunity to take part in the Harvest Festival celebrations of such a school in Chicago. The events hall buzzed and buzzed with children’s voices, and at the festival market, where everything was bought and sold for home-made “lats”, the conversations took place in clear Latvian.
The first Latvian woman archbishop
My visit with the Latvians of America took place at a truly historically significant time. While at St. Paul’s congregation in Milwaukee, I learned from pastor Doug that LELBA dean Lauma Zušēvica had been elected, by a substantial majority of votes, as the next LELBāL archbishop. The current LELBāL archbishop Elmārs Ernsts Rozītis will, in February 2015 in Milwaukee, hand over the shepherd’s staff of the Church to his successor. In every Latvian community I visited during the journey, this news was like the central event, and I saw the congregation members’ love for their future shepherd of the church. I also became convinced of this love at the LELBA synod, where the dean was thanked for her ministry so far and warmly congratulated on what lies ahead.
Yes, it truly is a historic event. The election of Lauma Zušēvica to the office of archbishop affirms once again that God’s call to ministry for Latvian women still exists. Women’s ordination has, ever since the restoration of Latvia’s independence, been an obstacle in the question of the unification of the two Latvian Lutheran churches. This unification would be needed for many reasons, and it would undeniably bear visible spiritual fruit. It would be very much needed for those elderly people who, for some reason, are unable to return to their fatherland. It would allow them to feel needed and to belong to Latvia. The unification of the two churches would also be very much needed for young people – for the very same reason – so that they do not get lost in the expanses of American culture. It would also be necessary for us, those living in Latvia. First of all, so that we return to the simplicity of the Lutheran tradition, so that we become more open to fellowship among ourselves and beyond, so that we are a larger and broader church, and so that, together with the Latvian Lutherans living around the world, we feel like one people of God, who have one common foundation – the love of Christ. A people of God who, alongside other festivals of the Church, could together celebrate Reformation Day as a festival of the renewal of faith. But the current situation shows that principles are more important than love for the human being. I do not even wish to speak here about theology. It is such a debatable question which side is theologically right that this discussion will never end, if only for the sake of discussion. And to those who are against women’s ordination, it will always seem that the love for the human being I have mentioned still needs strict laws about what may and may not be done in love.
At the LELBA synod, its leader Lauma Zušēvica said in one address: “I love this church!” Those were hushed but true words. To love does not mean only to feel, but it means also to do.
During the three days of the LELBA 14th Synod, at which the achievements of the previous three years were reviewed, guidelines for the coming years were set out, the new LELBA administration was elected, and the new head of the administration, dean Gunārs Lazdiņš, was elected, I had the opportunity to observe how Lauma copes with leadership, with the resolution of various complex questions, how she knows how to delegate, how she knows how to listen to a different opinion, and, amid all her busyness, she also found time to talk with the synod participants. And all of this took place in warm simplicity. Matters can be handled this way only in love for the church of Christ.
At the end of my journey, the esteemed and beloved archbishop-elect, instead of resting after a job well done, found time over almost two days for fellowship with me as well. I truly felt honoured and grateful from the heart for such an opportunity.
On the second-to-last day before setting off for Latvia, I was invited to visit the Milwaukee congregation, where Lauma Zušēvica has served as pastor for many years. I met with congregation members. And here I cannot fail to mention yet another interesting personality whom I got to know during the visit in Milwaukee. She is the congregation head Sandra Kalve (Balode), who was and will always remain one of the golden girls of the TTT basketball team. In the 1990s, a great love prompted Sandra to give up her career as an athlete in Latvia and go to America, where she lives, works, and, together with her husband, raises a daughter. Sandra too rejoices from the heart at the responsible office of ministry that lies ahead for Lauma, and I am sure that in the future too her athletic toughness and faith will be a strong support for the congregation’s pastor.
Many challenges lie ahead for Lauma Zušēvica in the office of archbishop. Both in solving problems in her own church, and in building relationships with the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Latvia in the person of archbishop Jānis Vanags. I would like to wish the new archbishop many reserves of love, great endurance, and God-given wisdom in all things, for “.. in all these things we are more than conquerors through Christ, who has loved us”. (Rom 8:37)
Conclusion
Nothing in this world happens outside of God’s providence. Including my journey to America. Everything seemed to be fulfilled at the right time – my visit to the LELBA 14th Synod, the visit to six congregations in the American Midwest, the meetings with pastors and other interesting people, and getting to know the American cultural environment in the picturesque golden autumn. What I saw and experienced was, of course, more than can be included in this short description of the journey. The impressions gained will surely echo in my memory for a long time yet and will give strengthening and inspiration. But summing up everything I experienced in one sentence, I can confidently say – I was among my own people. Chairwoman of the Association of Latvian Lutheran Women Theologians, ELCL evangelist, chaplain Rudīte Losāne