Sue Brogger didn’t set out to lead, she was invited in. Today, she serves as Director of Hunger Ministries at Como Park Lutheran Church, helping lead much of the church’s outreach into the community. From food distribution programs to partnerships with local schools and organizations, much of what happens beyond Sunday mornings connects back to the work she helps guide. As she is quick to point out, that work didn’t begin with her. “There have always been people here doing this work,” Sue says. “I just stepped into it.”

 

Sue grew up at Como Park Lutheran as part of a multi-generational family rooted in the church. It was a place where community wasn’t something you joined later, but something you were raised in. “I felt at home growing up here,” she says. “My whole family was ingrained in the community.” That connection deepened as she returned as an adult, raised her own children in the church, and became part of the same kind of steady presence she had grown up around.

People like Roy Muscatello shaped that experience. A longtime member from her parents’ generation, Roy had a way of showing up when something needed to be done and bringing others along with him. “Roy was always there if something needed to happen,” Sue says. “And he was always inviting other people in to participate.” After the sudden loss of her father, that presence became deeply personal. Roy stayed close in small, steady ways, continuing to include her and making sure she had a place within the life of the church. “When you are invited in, you learn something new,” she says. “And you become part of another community.”

She carried that forward, not just the work itself, but how it happened, through invitation, relationships, and people showing up for one another without needing recognition. She recognizes that same spirit in people like Dick Young, another longtime member she describes, with a smile, as her “partner in crime.” If there’s an idea to try or something new to build, he’s the one who leans in without hesitation. “If I go to Dick with something,” Sue says, “he just says, ‘I’m in.’” It’s that kind of response that keeps things moving.

The work itself takes many forms, but it is always rooted in that same approach. The church partners with organizations like Keystone Community Services and Every Meal to address food insecurity, while also working directly with local schools to support families through food distribution. Volunteers pack meals each week, organize grocery deliveries, and respond to needs as they arise. When immediate needs surface, the response is just as direct. During Operation Metro Surge, when families in the community were sheltering in place, the church quickly organized a food drive to get groceries into homes. Other efforts like the Giving Garden and the Como Grow a Row initiative invite members and neighbors to grow food to share. “You don’t have to have a big garden,” Sue says. “You can plant one pot, one row, and decide it’s going to be shared.” It is a simple idea, but one that has grown into something collective, where small contributions build into something much larger.

In 2025, more than 2,500 pounds of fresh, locally grown produce were collected and distributed through these efforts, reaching organizations, families, and individuals across the community. For Sue, the number is not what stays with her. “It’s what happens when everyone does a little bit,” she says. “That’s what makes the difference.”

That belief reflects how Como Park Lutheran has long understood its role, not as something separate from the community, but as part of it. When asked why the church still matters, her answer is simple. “We are their neighbors,” she says.

It is a straightforward statement, but one that carries a clear responsibility: to pay attention, to listen, and to respond with whatever resources are available. “Como Park has a well of resources,” Sue says. “People who want to help. It’s about connecting that to where it’s needed.” That work continues because people step into it, often in small ways that build over time. The same kind of invitation that once shaped Sue’s experience is now something she extends to others, creating opportunities for people to take part, contribute, and find their place. “I think when you invite people in, they find their place,” she says.

For Sue, that invitation is not new, it is something she has lived her entire life. As part of a family that spans generations at Como Park Lutheran, and now with her own children connected as a fourth generation, she represents both continuity and growth, a legacy not only of belonging, but of participation. As Como Park Lutheran Church marks 100 years, that legacy continues to take shape through people like Sue, and through work that carries forward because people are still willing to show up, step in, and take part in something larger than themselves.

 

In the Lutheran tradition, the long-standing title for a Director of Music Ministries is cantor, literally a leader of congregational song, and that idea sits at the center of how Tom understands his role. “My goal always is to facilitate the voice of the congregation in worship,” he says. Music is not something performed for a congregation, it is something the whole community offers together. “Choirs are not singing for the congregation,” Tom explains. “We are singing for God on behalf of the congregation.” Worship music, in Tom’s view, is not entertainment, it is part of the congregation’s shared prayer. “Music can be prayer, it can be praise, it can be adoration,” he says. “It can also be teaching. It speaks in ways that words cannot.”

That philosophy shapes not only what music is sung, it shapes who feels invited to sing it. Tom emphasizes that while preparation and care matter, worship is not about perfection. “The thing I’ve always told anyone who participates in music here is that we are called to give our best to God,” he says. “That doesn’t mean you’re expected to be Liberace or Celine Dion.” What someone’s “best” looks like can change from week to week. Illness, sleepless nights with children, difficult weeks at work, life inevitably finds its way into Sunday morning. Worship makes room for that reality. “All we’re called to do is give our best at that moment,” Tom says, “not to compare it to some other person or some other time.”

In many ways, that approach reflects something deeper about the spirit of Como Park Lutheran Church itself, a community marked not just by musical excellence, but by humor, humility, and a shared willingness to show up as we are. That spirit of participation is something many members notice right away. In last month’s centennial story, member Lori Purdham described feeling invited into worship through music, not because of skill, but because everyone’s voice mattered.

Tom first arrived at Como Park in 1998, drawn by two things he noticed right away, the congregation’s long history of valuing music and its strong commitment to mission and generosity beyond its own walls. It did not take long for the community itself to make an impression.

At the time, Tom’s son Ethan was just six months old, curious and energetic. During a service not long after the family arrived, Ethan managed to crawl away from the pews and make his way all the way to the front of the sanctuary. The pastor, standing on the floor during announcements, simply scooped him up, set him on his hip, and continued without missing a beat.

Tom still laughs when he remembers it. “It was like, yeah,” he recalls. “This is home.”

Moments like that confirmed what Tom had begun to sense, Como Park was a place where both music and community mattered deeply. Over the years, the congregation’s love of music has taken many forms. From Bach and large choral works to contemporary praise music, mission concerts, and an annual Messiah sing-along that once filled the sanctuary with more than 200 voices, Como Park has embraced a wide range of musical expression. “It’s been a good place to speak in many musical languages,” Tom says.

Music may be the most visible part of Tom’s ministry, yet what has kept him at Como Park for more than two decades reaches beyond music itself. “The community,” Tom says simply. Within the congregation, friendships grow naturally, and a quiet culture of care surrounds those relationships. When someone faces illness or hardship, support often appears without much fanfare. “Somebody might have cancer, and unless you’re aware of what’s going on you might completely miss the fact that people just step up,” he explains. Meals are delivered, rides are arranged, and help appears where it is needed. “It isn’t always the same people,” Tom says. “It just happens.”

Looking ahead, Tom hopes that spirit continues long into the future. “I hope that when someone walks through these doors, they feel welcome,” he says. “I hope worship is a place where people can both be accepted and have a voice, a way to speak to God in prayer and in praise and supplication and adoration. All of those things are part of worship.”

After more than two decades of music at Como Park Lutheran Church, that vision remains the same, a community where every voice matters and worship, offered together, continues to shape the next hundred years of Como Park Lutheran Church.

When Lori Purdham talks about Como Park Lutheran Church, she starts with the people.

She and her husband first came here in 1991 so they could be married in the sanctuary. What they didn’t know then was how naturally the church would become part of their lives. Over the years it became a place of music, shared meals, friendships, and everyday moments that connected their family to the community around them.

As Como Park Lutheran prepares to celebrate its 100th anniversary this April, Lori’s story reflects how those connections build quietly over time.

Soon after their wedding, work took Lori and her husband to Chicago for a few years. When they returned to Minnesota, they began visiting churches again, hoping to find something closer to home. Still, they kept finding themselves back at Como Park Lutheran.

Lori remembers immediately noticing the smallness of the congregation and the sense of community. “It just felt right,” she says. They visited some larger churches, but none of them felt the same. There was something about this place that felt comfortable right away.

That feeling came largely from the way people welcomed one another. It wasn’t just a quick hello at the door. People stopped to talk. They remembered names. They asked about your family.

“There’s just a genuine welcome here,” Lori says. “You walk into some places and someone says hello at the door, but nobody else talks to you. Here people really want to connect. You feel like you belong pretty quickly.”

From there, getting involved didn’t feel like a big decision. It simply happened.

Music was one of the first places Lori felt drawn to get involved. She began by accompanying the children’s choirs on piano, which soon led to accompanying the adult choir and eventually directing the children’s choir. Music had always been an important part of her family life, and it quickly became a meaningful way for them to connect with others in the congregation.

“We love music as a family, so music has always been really important to us here,” she says. “Choir, bell choir, the kids’ choirs, all of it brought people together. It never felt like a performance. It felt like something we were doing together as part of worship.”

At the time, the church building was busy throughout the week. Wednesday evenings especially brought people together. Meals were served downstairs, youth groups met, children rehearsed for choir, and families often stayed afterward just talking with one another.

“It was a pretty rocking place,” Lori says with a laugh. “You had kids running around, people eating together downstairs, youth group meeting, choir rehearsals going on. There were always people here. You really got to know each other.”

Those connections slowly turned into friendships that became part of everyday life. Many of the people Lori spends time with now are people she first met through church, relationships that grew through rehearsals, shared meals, volunteer projects, and simple conversations in the hallway.

“Those relationships just grew over time and became a big part of our lives.”

That same sense of belonging extended to Lori’s children. She remembers her son gravitating toward longtime member Mark Gagné when he was still young, eager to help wherever something needed to be done. Whether it was setting up chairs for outdoor worship at the Como Pavilion during the State Fair or helping with church dinners, Aaron simply wanted to be part of whatever was happening.

“He always wanted to help,” Lori says. “Mark would be setting up chairs and Aaron would be right there with him, even when he was really little.”

Moments like that helped Lori see something important about the community that had formed around her family. As the years went on, the encouragement her children received from other members became just as meaningful as the activities themselves.

“I always say the church raised our kids,” she says.

After choir performances, people would make a point of finding the kids to tell them how well they had done. Lori especially remembers people like Rosemary Johnson making sure every child felt noticed.

“Rosemary would run around making sure every child heard how wonderful they did,” Lori recalls. “The kids would just light up.”

Over time that sense of belonging spread beyond Lori’s immediate family. Her parents, after years of attending events with their grandchildren, eventually joined the congregation themselves.

Looking back now, it isn’t one big event or program that stands out most. It’s the steady accumulation of ordinary moments, music rehearsals, meals downstairs, conversations in the hallway, and children growing up surrounded by encouragement.

Those everyday experiences built the community that’s kept Lori connected to Como Park Lutheran for more than thirty years. In many ways, they’re the same kinds of moments that have shaped the life of the congregation for generations.

And when Lori reflects on what the church has meant to her family, she comes back to the same simple truth.

“So I really feel like if they’re happy or if they’re hurting… this community is the one that will lift them.”

Purdham Family, CPLC 1999 Directory