A Beautiful Story of Fragile Hope in Hope in Hard Times

(shared from Ingrid C.A. Rasmussen of Holy Trinity Lutheran Minneapolis)

As I was finishing a conversation with a NY Times reporter yesterday, a man approached me carrying a lantern. He introduced himself as Brian Dragonfly, an employee from MIGIZI, an organization that is (was) located
across the alley from the church. MIGIZI was founded in the 70s with a goal of countering misrepresentations and inaccuracies about Native people in the media. In addition its communications work, it also focuses
on Native youth empowerment.

MIGIZI's building survived the first night of unrest in the neighborhood. The second night, members of AIM-The American Indian Movement-were on site, monitoring activity around the building, but no amount of goodwill could stop the fire that spread from a neighboring building. Their building, completed late last year, and many of its contents were destroyed.

Brian Dragonfly said that when he arrived to assess the situation, he found that the building was still burning. "I decided to capture the fire," he said, holding up his lantern. He wondered if Holy Trinity would tend the fire with MIGIZI until they could rebuild. He thought that the flame-the fire-might bring some comfort to his community.

In we went to the sanctuary. Brian set the lantern on the altar. I ran to find a candle. We shared the fire-and along with it the trauma of the preceding days, the conviction that not all that was destroyed is to be mourned, and the hope that this ashy moment in our neighborhood's life will be an opportunity for new life. MIGIZI shared on Facebook: 

"Despite the flames, we as a community burn brighter...We look forward to showing
our resilience once again."

After the reporter and I walked Brian down to what was left of MIGIZI's building, I returned to the flame in the sanctuary and decided that I needed to bring it home for the night. (I'm more than a little fire conscious right now.) I tended the flame last night; congregants will take over this sacred responsibility today. 

When I got up before sunrise to check the flame, this poem from Joy Harjo, the country's poet laureate and member of the
Mvskoke Nation, came to mind:

Remember

Remember the sky that you were born under,

know each of the star's stories.

Remember the moon, know who she is.

Remember the sun's birth at dawn, 

that is the  strongest point of time. 

Remember sundown  and the giving away to night.

Remember your birth, 

how your mother struggled  to give you form and breath. 

You are evidence of  her life, 

and her mother's, and hers.

Remember your father. He is your life, also.

Remember the earth whose skin you are:

red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth

brown earth, we are earth.

Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their  tribes, their families, their histories, too. 

Talk to them,  listen to them. They are alive poems.

Remember the wind. Remember her voice. 

She knows the  origin of this universe.

Remember you are all people and all people

are you.

Remember you are this universe and this

universe is you.

Remember all is in motion, is growing, is you.

Remember language comes from this.

Remember the dance language is, that life is.

Remember.

With tenderness,

Pastor Ingrid