Nebraska Synod ELCA

“You shall eat old grain long stored, and you shall have to clear out the old to make way for the new.”

— Leviticus 26.10 —

Beloved in Christ,

Every year around this time, I experience a moment of joy that always catches me by surprise. I’ll be at our local supermarket when my eye will be captured by a rack of college football preview magazines, shiny and bold, with the promise that a new season is almost upon us. It’s been over 30 years since I strapped on my last set of shoulder pads, but I still get excited when I walk outside on an August morning and smell the sharp tang of late summer grass in the air. There’s a moment like that for all of us, even those who aren’t necessarily sports fans: the release of a new book by a cherished author; the first episode of a new season of a beloved TV series; the first seed catalogs arriving in a gardener’s mailbox; or, for my daughters in particular, the release of a new album by Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo, or another favorite artist. The arrival of the new is often a moment of hope and joy for what might be.

There is, however, something cyclical about these experiences, and wisdom to be gained by recognizing that “new” is not an eternal state of being. The verse I’ve quoted above comes from a chapter in Leviticus where God promises a life of abundance and security to God’s chosen people if they live according to the covenant God has made with them after their release from slavery in Egypt. That said, it brought to mind a memory from my childhood: sweeping the last remnants of the previous year’s corn out of our grain bins to make room for the harvest about to be brought in. It’s not an exact 1:1 ratio, of course, but there is always something which has been that will need to accommodate the coming of the new in some way, shape, or form. Jesus reminded us it’s not a good idea to put new wine in old wineskins. Guitarists know that strings lose their luster and clarity over time and need to be replaced. Last year my wife and I replaced her aging car with a new one, and I experienced the bizarre combination of luxuriating in the smell of a “new-ish” car while simultaneously tearing up a bit as we left behind a car with a lot of miles but also a lot of memories.

There is much that is good and needed in the coming of the new. There is, however, the hard work of letting go of what has been. One of the difficulties we face at the church is that many of us hold living memories of times of overwhelming abundance in our worshiping communities. It is incredibly hard to turn our eyes toward today and tomorrow when yesterday was such a different time. Today is a new day. Let us pray for the abiding presence of the Holy Spirit, to dwell deeply within us and to show us the way of cultivating love through new creation.

With joy and gratitude,
Bishop Scott Johnson