faith & values

I was fortunate to be born into the family of William and Dolores Nord, deeply committed  Christians with the DNA of generations of Lutheran pastors on both sides. My parents lived out their faith every day as lay leaders, generous donors, and outspoken advocates for justice and full inclusion. They modeled a form of activism that taught me how to live my life as a person of faith. No fear; just love, generosity, and service.

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I first experienced a call to ministry when I was seven years old, during  a worship service. While singing the opening hymn with my usual gusto, a voice in my head said "you will be a pastor."  I started laughing out loud at the idea; we belonged to a conservative Lutheran denomination at the time that still doesn't ordain women. When we left it, I remember one of my uncle-pastors yelling at my mom that she was going to hell and taking her children with her. Her unforgiveable sin? Joining the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA).

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As a child, I loved everything about church until 7th grade Confirmation, when Pastor Neilson told me my Jewish friend Rebecca would go to hell unless I could convert her to Christianity. That was incomprehensible to me; Rebecca was one of the kindest people I knew. I figured that either the pastor was wrong and God was right, or the pastor was right and God was wrong. Whichever, there was obviously no reason to go to Confirmation. Instead, I spent the time hanging out at McDonalds -- where everyone is  welcome.

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After I got caught for skipping class, my Grandfather, also a pastor, asked me about it. When I explained, he quoted Exodus 33:18, where God tells Moses, "I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will show mercy on whom I will show mercy." Gramps explained that only God is God and God is love. Nothing I have learned since has moved me from that position. By college, I was describing myself as a Christian universalist.

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In my twenties and early thirties, I was adamant that I would never, ever, be a pastor. This was especially true after I became the executive director of the Minnesota Religious Coalition for Reproductive Choice and was asked to leave our congregation. But a funny thing happened on my way out of the church: I worked with smart, compassionate, progressive clergy from numerous denominations and they kept asking why I wasn't a pastor. These sisters and brothers in faith recognized my call before I did.

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Twenty-seven years after my ordination in the ELCA, I'm still a universalist. But the rise of Christian Nationalism and the hate with which it is infecting our churches has made it difficult to describe myself as "Christian" or "Lutheran" any more. In my most recent call as an Interim Senior Pastor, a blatantly racist congregational leader refused to even enter my office after I hung up a BLM banner -- and it was no big deal. His views were well known and no one was troubled enough to challenge them.

 

I left that call after six months and went back to political advocacy. This past May, after prayerful consideration, I retired from ministry with the ELCA.

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I have long had a special place in my heart for the Unitarian Universalist Association (UUA). In the early '90s, I worked out of the UUA offices in Minneapolis and was deeply impressed by the denomination's openness, freedom, and commitment to activism. In both theology and praxis, the UUA has always been a better fit for me than even the most leftward Lutheranism. The Shared Values of the UUA describe my own: equity, justice, pluralism, interdependence, generosity, and transformation -- with love in the center of it all. So as we prepare to move to the Milwaukee area, I'm feeling called to serve a UUA organization or congregation, where everyone is welcome.

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May we find peace  and courage in this turbulent time,​

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Rev. Nancy Nord Bence​​​