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Recently, thanks to the generous support from the ministry partners of Trinity Lutheran Church in Great Bend, KS I had the opportunity to travel to a place I had only read about in history books – Russia.
The opportunity to traverse Russia’s vast expanse extending from St. Petersburg to Vladivostok via plane, train, and autobus exceeded all of my expectations. I especially enjoyed the opportunity to engage in conversation with fellow Lutherans, many of whom shared stories of persecution, great hardship, and the struggle to rebuild their congregations in the aftermath of the break-up of the Soviet Union.
Ironically, however, one of my most memorable encounters took place in the crowded cabin of a plane flying from Moscow to Omsk (a region located on the western fringe of Siberia).
It was late, I was struggling to adjust to the time change, and exhausted from the nearly non-stop visits that had unfolded since our arrival in St. Petersburg a few days earlier. When I located my assigned seat, it was a middle seat in an aisle in front of the wall separating business class from economy. Legroom was minimal at best. As I looked past my seat, I spotted a grandmother holding a baby boy dressed in warm winter clothing to ward of the Siberian cold. “Great,” I thought to myself, “not only am I stuck in the middle seat with minimal legroom. I also get to sit next to a crying baby the whole night!”
Then the flight attendants began to crawl all over me, stepping on toes, knocking knees, as they shuffled down the constricted space to attach a cradle to the wall in front of me; a cradle designed to hold the baby in place during the long night-time flight. After making sure it was securely fastened to the wall, the flight attendants placed the baby in his resting spot for the night.
And then something remarkable happened: As I sat quietly stewing in my own self-pity pot, the blue-eyed Russian baby looked up at me and smiled, as if to say: “Hey, it will be okay.” And, then, his little hand reached out from the cradle and held mine. A comforting touch and reassuring gesture that reminded me of how the Christ child continually reaches out to a broken and lost humanity. And then it hit me. The comforting touch of a Russian baby reminded me how interconnected we all are. Despite all outward appearances, we are, at our core, intimately united; united by a shared humanity. The incident also reminded me of the way God shows up in the least likely of places among the most unexpected of people.
I pray that during the season of Epiphany the light of Christ rising in glory may dispel the darkness of our hearts and minds. May the light of Christ enlarge our vision, enlighten our paths, and expand our horizons so that we may glimpse God’s presence and power at work in the mundane and the ordinary.
Epiphany Prayer
God of light and life, help us to glimpse your presence in the overlooked, the unexpected, and the experiences of everyday life. Bless all peoples abundantly, drawing all the nations to yourself. Dispel the darkness that shrouds our path, freeing us to experience anew your all-encompassing love, especially in the “other” – the foreigner, the immigrant, the fellow citizen with whom we disagree, and the neighbor whose religious practice differs from our own. Help us to see all people as your beloved children.
– By the Rev. Jon Brudvig, Co-Pastor at Trinity Lutheran Church, Great Bend, KS
Walking to Golgotha 