Pastoral Letter from the Bishop
A Year Later
Dear South Dakota Synod,
Grace and peace to you in the name of Jesus Christ.
About a year ago, I wrote a letter that I knew would cause a stir. I wrote it anyway, not because I wanted attention, but because Scripture compelled me to bear witness to a living faith. The apostle Paul reminds us, "If one part of the body suffers, all suffer together." When one neighbor is afraid, when one family is torn apart, the whole body of Christ is affected.
These days, I find my heart aching, with sighs too deep for words. I find myself asking with Scripture, "What are we to make of this?" as I look at the deep divisions running through our nation, our congregations, and even our families. I sit with people who are simply exhausted from living, because sometimes not even home feels safe anymore. We are people worn thin, whose cups seem to run dry, who thirst for water like the deer in the psalms.
In these parched times, I find comfort and strength for each new day in the words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, written in the final months of his life:
Surrounded by gracious powers, so wonderfully sheltered,
we await with confidence whatever may come.
God is with us in the evening and in the morning,
and surely with us every new day.
These are by no means sentimental words. Bonhoeffer wrote them knowing fully well that his execution was inevitable. Their power lies precisely there: they were not spoken from safety, but from costly faithfulness. Because of that, they still quiet my restless heart, steady my spirit, and give me courage, these days and every day.
Recently, I checked in with dear friends in the Twin Cities. They told me that life feels surreal, one moment ordinary, the next utterly unfamiliar. Scripture knows this feeling well. God has always walked with people who questioned, wrestled, doubted, and wondered whether God had abandoned them.
This is not a partisan matter, but a matter of faith. I am deeply committed to the biblical promise that all creation reflects God's handiwork and that every human being is made in God's image, no exceptions. I trust that God created the world as good. I also know that sin is real, that every one of us is capable of harm, omission, and silence when we should speak. All of us, all the time, live in this tension: simultaneously sinner and saint.
Nevertheless (doch), our Christian confession and witness is not that the world is perfect, nor that darkness does not exist, but that God's light is stronger than the darkness. Our baptismal promise, that neither death nor life can separate us from God's love, is true. And still we pray, "Thy kingdom come," even when it feels fragile, delayed, or painfully distant. With the psalmist, we cry, "Where is my God?" Nevertheless (doch), we trust the promise: the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it.
Bonhoeffer's witness matters because it cost him something. Scripture reminds us in John 3:16–17 that our salvation cost God something too, nothing less than God's only Son. We are called to steward not merely the structures we inherited from our forebears, but, more importantly, the living witness they passed down to us: to bear Christ's light in real and costly ways for generations to come.
I am tired. Many of us are. But we are not abandoned. Held by God's gracious powers, we are called to remain faithful and bear witness to Christ with courage, humility, and hope. Christ's love always welcomes, feeds, and heals all; we are called to go and do likewise.
God is with us in the evening and in the morning,
and surely with us every new day.
Journeying together in Christ with you,
The Rev. C. Hagmaier
Bishop of the South Dakota Synod, ELCA