How archives and archivists share the good news

Paul Daniels ’82 M.A. is familiar with the stereotype of the dust-covered archivist. And while there is certainly some dust involved in any archival work, Daniels has strived to be an entirely different type of archivist.

“Good archival work keeps us connected to one another and to our faith communities because it is very much about stories,” he says. “Churches have compelling stories, and we should be creative about how we tell the stories of our congregations and our communal journeys of faith.”

Daniels is the archivist for both Luther Seminary and Region 3 of the ELCA. He completed undergraduate work at Augsburg University in history, religion, and Norwegian, and he earned a master’s in church history at Luther Seminary. In 1983, he began working part-time as associate archivist for the American Lutheran Church and part-time as archivist at Luther Seminary. He then became archivist for the ELCA’s Region 3 in 1988 after the national merger, remaining Luther Seminary’s archivist throughout. After 42 years of service, making him Luther’s longest-tenured staff member, Daniels plans to retire in June 2025.

Daniels is known to Lutherans across the country as a faithful Christian and able guide whose love of people and congregations, skills as an archivist and storyteller, and passion for church history—especially American church history—helps congregations give their stories new life.

A useful collection

Daniels was the seminary’s first professional archivist. Then-president Lloyd Svendsbye ’52, himself a church historian, shared with Daniels a burning question about the piles and piles of archival materials: What pedagogical purpose can all this paper have?

“I appreciated that President Svendsbye, the history faculty, and I all shared a vision of ensuring we had a useful collection from the beginning,” Daniels says. “Luther would aim not to possess simply a hoarded collection of papers but would maintain a well-curated collection of materials we would use and help others learn how to use—in classrooms and congregations. In addition to institutional records like financial and legal material, which any archive has to have, we would collect materials about historical narratives and make ourselves and the archive available to support instruction, research, and other pursuits.”

Daniels’ dream as an archivist was to provide excellent collecting and cataloging of materials and, just as importantly, be engaged with the people and communities producing those materials.
“I knew I had to be out and about to encounter the lived experiences of these churches. Doing so helped me better understand what these materials meant to the communities themselves, what stories they were telling, and which materials to bring into the archive,” Daniels shares.

Daniels’ portfolio changed over the years, from working only with permanently valuable archival records to including art materials and artifacts. Prior to his arrival, a fine arts committee of faculty, students, and staff managed the seminary’s modest collection. But as the collection grew to include more pieces of high value, expertise became vital to the process. Seeing the need for a designated point person for conservation and preservation questions, Daniels’ curation efforts became a cornerstone of the remarkable exhibits of religious art proudly displayed throughout campus.

Ambassadors carry the story

As a seminary student, Daniels took pastoral care classes to cover general education requirements and had a part-time job at Fairview Hospital in its mental health unit. But he never expected to use pastoral care skills in his role as an archivist. “I thought I’d talk with them about the logistics of scooping up and protecting their valuable materials so that their legacy would be maintained. I didn’t expect the tears and the laughter, essentially the intense emotions of dealing with a death.”

In a way, it was helpful, Daniels says, that the church he grew up in closed early in his own career. “It was the church in which my siblings and I were baptized, where my wife and I were married. That was difficult for me, and it allowed me to say with honesty to others experiencing a closure, ‘I’ve been through this. It is really tough, I understand, and you have my care and support.’”
When congregations have to close, Daniels is able to assure them that their archival records do get used.

“Scholars and students use them. In addition to the critically important pastoral care records—baptisms, confirmations, marriages, funerals—we also save annual reports, a sampling of bulletins and newsletters to understand the personality of the congregation, histories written for various occasions, sermons and other public statements, and any biographical files on prominent individuals.”
When grief is particularly acute, Daniels talks about how the congregation’s greatest assets—the greatest parts of their story—are the ambassadors they created by providing a faith home to many young people. “I remind them that they did important work in producing these ambassadors of the faith who, wherever they’ve ended up, are out there telling their faith story,” Daniels says.

Quiet saints

It isn’t always the dramatic that gets lifted up in the stories we tell. Under Daniels’ care, the seminary archives have preserved plenty of stories, often of lay people, whose faithfulness was about just showing up— the quiet perseverance of supporting a faith community over many years.

Academic historians used to consider oral history as supplemental, Daniels says, but many historians are now highly reliant on oral traditions. “This has been good for the storytellers and audiences alike,” he explains. “Dates and events as supported by documents provide a vital framework for truthful storytelling and for solid historical work. But the flesh of it is so much more interesting. And we get that from preserving oral histories.”

The result of a life spent immersed in church stories is, perhaps unsurprisingly, theological. “After all these years, I believe—and there is a pile of empirical evidence right here to support it—that God’s work gets done despite us,” says Daniels.

“It’s not just a bias of Lutheran theology. The human story of sin and God’s redeeming work among us—the good news—is all over these archival materials.”

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Paul Granlund, Crucifixion, 1967, bronze and cedar

“At the time this piece was created, it was considered a radical piece because—for one thing—Lutherans don’t typically have Christ on the cross but instead usually depict an empty cross. It also incorporates wood with the bronze, so Granlund had great technical difficulties creating the support. It was originally intended to be much taller, but because the Christ figure is so heavy, it kept buckling. The other radical element of this piece is its placement, installed directly in the congregation. We can try to make the cross less horrific, but with this, it doesn’t allow us to do that. Many people say this makes them uncomfortable, which of course is the artist’s point. The new placement in the Chapel of the Incarnation seeks to remain in the midst, in full view of most worshippers.”—Paul Daniels

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Norwegian Stave Church Model, ca. 1910, pine
The wooden model of a medieval stave church has been in the Luther Seminary collections since at least 1900. Its presence represents the original Norwegian immigrant founding in 1869 of Luther Seminary’s earliest predecessor—Augsburg Theological Seminary.

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Curtis Green, Holy Spirit, ca. 1970, wool tapestry
“This tapestry was created in memory of a congregant’s spouse. It was hand loomed in Belgium according to an artist’s specs. The piece became a gift from Lutheran Church of the Reformation in St. Louis Park when that congregation decided to close. The tapestry came to Luther Seminary because of our relationship with the larger church—through the ELCA Region 3 archive—because we work so often and closely with closing congregations. Seminary representatives attended the small closing service for the congregation and formally received the artwork. These transactions of physical objects are important—they acknowledge and deepen the relationships involved and honor the stories behind the artwork.”—Paul Daniels

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Red Wing Seminary Diploma, 1925
Daniels holds a 1925 diploma from Red Wing Seminary in Red Wing, Minnesota—one of the three seminaries that came together in 1917 as part of the creation of the Norwegian Lutheran Church in America, later the Evangelical Lutheran Church. Red Wing was the seminary of the Hauge Synod.

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Sado Watanabe and He Qi
Thanks to the generosity of several donors, the seminary has well over 30 works by Japanese printmaster Sadao Watanabe in its collection, along with multiple works by Chinese printmaker and painter He Qi. In “I Go to the Father” (below, third from left), one of the most famous Christian Asian artists in recent history depicts a wild scene with frightening pigs.

He Qi, whose work premiered for American audiences at Luther Seminary, studied for a brief time with Watanabe. His work typically uses Chinese idioms of gesture, structure, and other details that enrich the communication of the artist’s perspectives.

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These stone sculptures from Zimbabwe, known as Shona sculptures, are striking in their simplicity and beauty. In the middle of the 20th century, international audiences became enthralled with this genre and medium, including a group of Luther Seminary faculty members who were visiting partners at the University of Zimbabwe and purchased these and other sculptures for the seminary’s collection.

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In addition to collecting many works by Mexican-American artist John August Swanson, Luther Seminary has Swanson’s personal papers, which include a variety of materials about the artist’s deep engagement with the Catholic Worker Movement. This painting depicts a vibrant yet ominous scene of Jesus entering Jerusalem on a donkey with many Roman soldiers nearby.