Alumni & Friends
A Magazine of Bethel University
By Kirk Livingston
Photos by Tim Davis

August 1 was a typical Wednesday. At 6:30 p.m., Nils Friberg had prayed to open the weekly prayer meeting at Salem Baptist Church in New Brighton, Minn., a suburb north of Minneapolis. Twenty minutes into the service, a call came that changed the evening to anything but ordinary. About an hour later Friberg—veteran police chaplain and a graduate of both Bethel College ('57) and Bethel Seminary ('61)—crossed police lines with ID in hand to comfort families gathering for news about loved ones who may have been in the tragic collapse of the 35W bridge over the Mississippi River.
The unreality of the scene overwhelmed him. "It was completely disconcerting," says Friberg. "What was solid and dependable was wiped out. Cars helter skelter. A truck burning. It was upsetting and unbelievable." He was one of four chaplains initially at the Metrodome Holiday Inn, where he launched into the ministry of presence. People who came needed to talk—and they needed someone to listen.


Friberg recently retired from 26 years of teaching pastoral care at Bethel Seminary and is currently pastor of care with Salem Baptist Church. In his spare time, he answers police chaplain calls (at all hours) for Ramsey County. After having taught pastoral care for so many years, he is uniquely equipped to offer emotional and psychological first aid.
In his official position as police chaplain, Friberg can neither promote nor hinder faith. But if families express a faith interest, he can extend hope in the face of a desperate situation. In such cases, he asks questions about how faith fits in to their larger picture of this tragedy. He'll inquire about their faith community and whether they've reached out for prayer. Generally the answer is an emphatic "Yes!" At times, Friberg offers to make contact with the pastor of their church, just to make sure of the connection.
"The hardest thing to live with is when you don't know," says Friberg about the struggle as people searched for news about their missing. At the bridge site, the Red Cross quickly established a procedure to help families locate loved ones: after first checking in with a police officer, families went to a desk to provide information including name and gender of the missing person, address, date of birth, clothing worn, appearance, and other facts. Simultaneously, the Red Cross received information from local hospitals and compared facts to bring victims together with waiting loved ones.
Immediately after the tragedy and in the weeks that followed, Friberg found himself counseling people from all backgrounds: Somalis, Greek Orthodox, Muslims, and some with no faith background. All were willing to talk through their experience and many were eager for prayer—one of Friberg's favorite tools. "People usually jump at the chance to be prayed for or to pray together," he says. "Usually I invite them to hold hands because touch is such a powerful bonding experience." There were always 35-40 people milling around the Metrodome Holiday Inn, and many families were prayed for again and again by different chaplains. "One of the really positive things to come from the time was when families of victims shared and encouraged each other," he adds.
This searching question pops up constantly. Friberg defers answering: "In crisis, people are not able to process theological points anyway. They often ask the question out of despair and pain. It's a visceral reaction." Though this pastor is well-equipped from a quarter century of teaching about the big questions, when put on the spot, he answers simply, "It would be wonderful to know that answer." He finds that sometimes it is better just to be present and let people know he cares. And to talk: "It's the way we process our emotions," says Friberg. "Tears and touch help, too."
Such sensitivity blended with professional skill is what makes this first responder so effective in representing God's presence to hurting families.
Days before the bridge collapse, Dave Berggren '04, had accepted a job as a morning reporter at KMSP-TV, Channel 9, in the Twin Cities. When the tragedy occured, he called in volunteering to begin earlier than planned, and was immediately put to work filing reports from the station's helicopter. "From the sky, you get an idea of the scope of the tragedy—its size and complexity, and the importance of that bridge," says Berggren, who had been a TV sports anchor in Austin and Rochester, Minn. for two years before moving up just in time to cover the historic catastrophe. He added, "It's a scene I'll never forget."