CommonLotA J O U R N A L F O R WO M E N I N T H E U N I T E D C H U R C H O F C H R I S T

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I was in prison, and you visited me. . .

Telling Their Truth: Stories from Prison

Black and Pink: Reaching Out in Writing

(Matthew 25:36)

“Release of the Captives” A Congregation Inside

the Walls of a Prison

Women Organize inGuatemala

Do You Know the Way to Lydia’s House?

Immigration Reform: The Burden on Women

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Titles include:

• Salty Language • Should I Stay or Should I Go? • When You Feel Like Quittingand more.

Get off on the right foot—every meeting, every time. This Is How We Begin, an original collection of 40 devotionals and prayers from the Stillspeaking Writers’ Group, helps you setthe right tone for your meetings, keeping God in mind.

God attends every

church meeting.

So bring your A-Game.

$7.50 for single copy with FREE shipping $22.50 for 5-pack plus shipping800-537-3394

ucc.org/begin

Martha Spong, an ordained UCC minister and Director of RevGalBlogPals, an ecumenical supportministry for clergywomen, shares a lovely and loving memory of the Baptist church in which she grewup—despite knowing that her own church would never have ordained her. “I am an ordained woman,and I am a minister’s wife, and she is my wife, too,” she writes, and then asks: “Would I be welcomethere now? Could I come back, a child formed in that church, and offer them a good word?”

In 2009, Elaine Blanchard—writer, story-teller, actor, and ordained minister—went to the ShelbyCounty jail for women, in Memphis, with an unusual request. She asked prison administrators forpermission to go inside the jail and listen to the prisoners. She just wanted to listen, to hear their stories—whatever they wanted to tell her. “I think most people go to jails to save souls. I just wanted to listen, and that was different.”

The Middle School years are not the easiest for anyone, but young teenage girls are especiallyprone to crises of confidence when they reach puberty. That’s why Café 361 is such a godsend forthe 6th-8th grade girls who take part in this program that began in a Boys and Girls Club butcontinues at First Congregational UCC in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. The girls gain confidence alongwith cooking skills as they plan, prepare, and serve community meals at the church.

Where do you go when you have no family that can take you in, no money of your own, small children—and a husband or partner whose violent outbursts have you living in fear in your own home? If you live in St. Louis, you can go to Lydia’s House, where up to two years of transitionalhousing are available for abused women and children. Writer Michelle Torigianreflects on her time working at Lydia’s House during her first year of seminary.

Pat Rumer went to Guatemala last summer with her daughter, a graduate student in Latin AmericanStudies. They were part of the Guatemalan Human Rights Commission/USA delegation to Guatemala,Women in Resistance: Seeking Justice for Genocide and Defending Our Land. Here she recounts, invivid recollection and through the words of the women involved, three stories of Guatemalan womencourageously standing up for their land against powerful corporate interests and relentlessly seeking justice inthe trial of former Guatemala dictator Rios Montt, convicted of genocide in May, 2013.

Sandra Sorenson, who works in the UCC’s Justice and Witness Ministries Washington,

D.C. office, left her desk last fall and got arrested on Capitol Hill, where she joined 20

undocumented women as part of a Women for Common Sense Immigration Reform

protest. The purpose was to bring attention to what Sandy calls our country’s “horrendously

unjust immigration system.” “Women bear the burden of a failed immigration system,” she

says, “but the struggle of immigrant women often goes unseen.”

Spring2014 C O N T E N T S

Release of the Captives Diane Snowa

Black and Pink

Immigration Reform Sandra Sorenson

Susan Brooks Thistlethwaite

Where is the Justice? Patricia Rumer

Lydia’s House Michelle Torigian

Café 361 Laurie Bartels

“I am honored to serve a dying church . . .” Maren Tirabassi

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Telling Their Truth

A C O N G R E G A T I O N I N S I D E T H E W A L L S O F A P R I S O N

R E A C H I N G O U T I N W R I T I N G

T H E B U R D E N O N W O M E N

Elizabeth Mork

T H R E E S T O R I E S O F C O U R A G E O U S W O M E N I N G U A T E M A L A

A B I D I N G W I T H G O D I N T H E E V E R Y D A Y

S E R V I N G U P H E A P I N G P L A T E S O F C O N F I D E N C E

D R E A M S O F C O U R T S T R E E T

StoriesfromPrison

Elaine Blanchard

Chicago Theological School professor Susan Thistlethwaite weighs in on the morality of the legalization of marijuana—focusing on the social cost to our nation of the huge numbers ofAmericans in jail for non-violent drug offenses. Calling the so-called “war on drugs” begun inthe Nixon years a colossal failure, she asks if the legalization of marijuana can “have a place in aChristian theology that values, instead of denigrates, the [social] body.”

Poet and pastor Maren Tirabassi does not currently serve a dying church, but, she says, “a very small one—only five pewsdeep and forty-five members and it keeps us always aware of the fragility of our churching, and that it is really OK.” In thispoem, Maren honors “so many churches who have died with grace and love.”

Growing up, writer Diana Snowa endured a strict upbringing and a harsh-tempered father. But church every Sundaywas a balm, and years later she still recalls her trusted pastor preaching from Isaiah on “freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners.” As an adult, Diane has been involved in a variety of prison ministries. Here she tells the story of the Luther Luckett Christian Church, inside a correctional facility in LaGrange, Kentucky.

Graduate student Elizabeth Mork was amazed by the number of prisoners’ names on themailing list of Black and Pink, an organization that describes itself as “an open family ofLGBTQ prisoners and ‘free world’ allies who support each other.” Black and Pink facilitatesletter-writing to prisoners, and as Elizabeth got involved, she was touched and surprised tofind herself being supported by the prisoners she wrote to.

Martha Spong

Marijuana: A Theology

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Would I Be Welcome There Now?

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PrisonStoriesfrom

Telling Their Truth: Stories from Prison

Black and Pink: Reaching Out in Writing

“Release of the Captives” A Congregation Inside the Walls of a Prison

I think you’ll agree with me: the stories in this issue of Common Lot are engaging and diverse, but most of all, they are inspiring.

From rural Guatemala to a women’s prison in Tennessee, from a domestic violence shelter in

St. Louis to a program for middle-school girls in Iowa, a theme running through this issue is

empowerment. It is incredibly inspiring to hear women who have been voiceless gain

confidence, and it’s our privilege to hear what they have to say.

“My testimony is not worth anything!” cries an angry Guatemalan woman who survived

genocidal attacks on indigenous Mayans in the 1980’s. “Nobody has ever believed a word I

have to say, so I no longer choose to waste time on telling the truth,” says a woman in a

Tennessee prison.

But their stories don’t end there.

Our writers take us behind the bars of prison, to tell us about three unique and non-

traditional ministries they have either started or been involved with. While they all do not

describe what they do as “ministry,” I think you will find their concern for the spiritual

lives—and more—of the prisoners they work and communicate with truly compelling.

In particular, Elaine Blanchard takes us with her inside a women’s prison, where she

conducts writing classes that give some women a chance to

speak their stories out loud for the very first time. The result?

“Even in jail, the women are set free.”

Also in this issue is a first-hand account from Pat Rumer of

rural women in Guatemala taking on both a dictator and a

huge corporation—seeking justice and the protection of their

land. Again, you will hear from the women in their own words.

While some of what they say will break your heart, ultimately

you will be amazed inspired by the strength and resilience of

the women you will meet in these pages.

From The Publisher

Ann E. PostonDirector, Publishing, Identity and Communication,United Church of Christ

Common Lot

Ann E. Poston PublisherChristina Villa EditorBarbara A. Powell Production Manager

Common Lot is published twice a year. Sign up for a free subscription at ucc.org/commonlot.

Comments, ideas and story suggestions can be sent to CLeditor@ucc.org.

A publication of the United Church of Christ, 700 Prospect Avenue, Cleveland, Ohio 44115.

4 Common Lot

I went to the jail because I have a theory. Mytheory is that if people are given a chance totell their stories and to be heard (reallylistened to with respect), those people willfind a way to be free. Free from whatever trapor limitation they have constructed inprevious stories, free to ask questions, free toimagine new relationships, free to dreamdreams, free to discover a new story, free tochoose an improved future.

Initially the stories told in the circle aresomething like this:

“I am not very smart; so school is not for me.”

“I’ve never felt loved, so I’ll give birth to achild who will have no choice but to cling tomy side.”

“My daddy beat my mama regularly and myboyfriend beats me now. My kids arescreaming in fear. Pain pills keep mestanding.”

“Nobody has ever believed a word I have tosay, so I no longer choose to waste time ontelling the truth.”

Early in my experience inside the jail I learnedto provide choices for the women in the story-sharing circle. Small things. Chocolatebrownies or oatmeal cookies? Two or four?Once a month or so, I bring paperback booksto the classroom with me, about 20 of them.I display them on a table top and invite thewomen to “shop” for a book before the classgets started. Small things, but choicesnonetheless.

People in jail are not allowed many choices.You get what you get when it’s given to you.That’s part of the punishment. That’s being injail.

Testing my theory has proven to me that weall have a story that longs to be set free. Whenwe discover our authentic voice, we find ourlife story can be improved. We are all capable

We are all capableof improving our life story when other people listen to us and care aboutthe stories we tell.Even in jail, the women are set free.Telling theirTruth ‘

In January of 2010, I began a story-sharing and performance program,

“Prison Stories,” in the Shelby County Jail for Women, in Memphis, Tennessee.

I sit in a circle with twelve women and we listen to each other. There are stories

told about kids, mothers, memories of childhood, experiences of abuse and neglect,

stories about crimes, addictions, hopes and dreams.

Elaine Blanchard

StoriesfromPrison‘

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ELAINE BLANCHARD is a storyteller, actor andwriter based in Memphis, Tennessee. Read moreabout her at elaineblanchard.com.

of improving our life story when other people listen to usand care about the stories we tell. Even in jail, the womenare set free.

The stories change as time goes by and relationships aredeepened. Women who thought they were not smart findthemselves bright enough to teach all of us somethingvitally important. Women who have never felt loved beginto realize that love is as real and available as the air webreathe in the story-sharing circle. Women who have leanedon narcotics and alcohol in order to find relief discoverrelief in being heard, their pain acknowledged andvalidated. Women who have grown afraid to tell the truthfind their stories affirmed, and they realize it wasaffirmation they needed all along in order to accept theirown truth. Trust is born. Class participants trust themselvesmore and that allows them to trust others. I watch it happenwith each class. Stories deepen and women in the circle find

themselves willing tocry; feeling safe enoughto let go of pain andsorrow that had settledinto their bones. Thereal reward comes asparticipants begin torecognize the absolutebeauty in the circle, thepower in each storyshared.

In talking about the work that I do in the jail, people oftenrefer to it as “ministry.” But I do not think of “PrisonStories” as a ministry. It is a class, an opportunity for all ofus in the circle to learn, to grow and to connect with eachother. The four-month process is set up like the courses Iteach at Memphis College of Art and Memphis TheologicalSeminary. Students receive a syllabus and their textbookson the first night of class. Class meets twice a week forninety-minute sessions. Homework is assigned: chapters tobe read and essays to be written. We come together andshare what we have written. If anything in the process issacred, it is the choice we make to listen to each other.Healing occurs while stories are shared and received byrespectful ears. We do that for each other. We choose tospeak our truth and we choose to be a healing circle.

A C O N G R E G A T I O N I N S I D E T H E W A L L S O F A P R I S O N

Captivesof the

‘Pictured here are my most recent Prison Stories

class members. Also included in this picture are

members of the Memphis Symphony Orchestra

who asked to be included in the 8th class of

Prison Stories. A string quartet attended class

every Monday night. They brought their

instruments (two violins, a viola and a cello)

and they brought themselves, vulnerable and

authentic.

The professional musicians shared their own

stories inside the circle. They received comfort

and encouragement from the women who live

inside the jail. The musicians played classical

pieces that warmed and softened the cold

impersonal prison environment. Walls came

crumbling down and sturdy connections were

established. Friendships were forged.

From the stories shared in our writing classes,

I write and stage performances using local

actors to tell the women’s stories. “Prison Stories”

performances are held both inside and outside

the prison for the benefit of the entire community.

The string quartet shown here played for one of

our performances. It was outstanding.

“Women who have never felt loved begin to realize that love is as real and available asthe air we breathe in thestory-sharing circle.” Diane Snowa

8 Common Lot

The brain-storming and resource-gathering eventuallybrought our Board to Prison Congregations of America,a network whose booth I had visited during two UnitedChurch of Christ General Synods.

Finally in 2006, the Luther Luckett Christian Church(LLCC) (DOC) was founded. Worship began on Fridayevenings. The congregation started small (25-30 men)and grew quickly to over 100. The sermon messages oflove and mercy, forgiveness and hope resonated withthese men, and the hymn-singing resounded as if 1,000voices were present.

I learned within the first year that most of these men wereeither un-churched or recipients of “hellfire and

brimstone” messages. As they grew into a God of love andmercy, the worshippers discovered new ways to pray, newways to hope, and new possibilities for the living of theirdays. Their bodies may have been restrained, but theirspirits found release!

Our Board meetings were held monthly, and we beganeach meeting with reflections on what we saw happeningin the lives of our worshippers. The “what next?” questionwas posed, and we identified two new missions: aneducation program and a re-entry program.

With my background in high school and college teaching,I assumed the task of organizing Life Skill classes to beginthe education program we envisioned. The classes wouldbe held each week in the hour and a half before worship.I wrote curriculum, recruited the teachers, trained theteachers, and in teams of four we taught the classes.

Each Life Skill program was a five-week class per quarter.Our topics have included money management, starting a new business, looking for and securing a job, decision-making, interpersonal relationships, parentingskills, forgiveness, resilience, managing stress, and emotional intelligence. Professionals from thecommunity and our DOC and UCC churches answeredour calls for expertise.

At the end of each 5-week program, students whoparticipated in four of the five classes are awarded aCertificate of Participation. The ceremony promptedwide smiles and thunderous applause as each man cameforward to claim his certificate. Classes now boast 70-80students with 30-45 earning awards. Transfers to otherfacilities, illness, and conflicting schedules affectattendance.

Teaching these men has been an immense joy. They arean attentive student group, more than willing to askquestions and enter dialogue. “I never thought I would

I remember one of the most penetrating and perplexing messages I heard in church was from thefourth chapter of Luke, in which Jesus reads from the book of Isaiah about the “release of thecaptives” and the “setting at liberty of those who are oppressed” (Luke 4:18-19).

Growing up, I also had the experience of living with a father who was a harsh and angry man. Hehad been a sheriff in his earlier days and he had a strict code of ethics: he was right and his childrenwere wrong. His often-recited mantra was, “Children should be seen and not heard.” My sister andI were often strapped with a belt. My mother was a quiet wife and mother. As children, we playedoutside as often as possible, sometimes tethered with a clothesline to a beautiful chestnut tree inthe yard of our rented flat. School and church were my refuge. I later became a high school teacher;and still later, an ordained pastor.

The memories of my aged pastor, my childhood experiences with an angry father, and those versesfrom Luke have prompted many questions and many endeavors over the years. One was duringthe 1970’s, when I joined church-mates who were writing to prisoners. I remember one inmate inparticular who shared with me multiple poems he wrote while incarcerated. Some time later, Ireceived a phone call. My pen pal had been released from prison, and Hallmark had offered him ajob writing quips for greeting cards. My heart sang; a prisoner had been offered liberty!

In 2003, my husband and I arrived in Louisville, Kentucky, and I was invited to join team from theDisciples of Christ (DOC) who were investigating the possibility of founding a congregation insidethe Luther Luckett Correctional Complex, a medium security prison located just beyond Louisville.

I feel as if I can be a new person when I leave these walls.

In my 1940’s childhood home, church-going was a must. Our family of five sat in the second pew from the chancel and in front of the pulpit. Our pastor was an elderly man—as a child, I thought of him as about 104 years old, and full of wisdom—with a voice that reached my soul.

As they grew into a God of love and mercy, the worshippers discovered new ways to pray, new ways to hope, and new possibilities for the living of their days. Their bodies may have beenrestrained, but their spirits found release!

StoriesfromPrison‘

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Editor’s Note:

As this issue of Common Lot was going to press, the Board of the

Luther Luckett Christian Church (DOC) decided to terminate its

relationship with Luther Luckett Correctional Complex and has

withdrawn the activities there. A representative notes: “Sadly and

with great disappointment, it was decided that it was no longer

feasible to maintain a congregation at that prison setting.

Continued interference by the administration and decisions made

by the prison administration to curtail activities which were vital

to the ministry rendered maintaining the integrity of this

successful ministry impossible. With regret we conducted our last

worship service on January 30th. However, God has opened a

new door at The Diersen House [a Halfway House in Louisville]

where our new congregation, New Life in Christ Christian Church

(Disciples of Christ) is thriving. We are welcomed there and can

invite outside churches to visit, lead Bible studies, teach life skills

classes and engage in mission projects along with growing our

re-entry mentoring program through Mission Behind Bars and

Beyond. Please continue to keep this ministry in your prayers.

We are grateful for your continued support.”

enjoy school” is a frequent response, or “I never thoughtI could learn so much so easily.” The response thatthrills me most is, “I feel as if I can be a new personwhen I leave these walls.”

Our second mission has been a re-entry program.Throughout Kentucky, DOC and UCC congregationalmembers are invited to attend Friday night worship.(Seven to eight visitors are allowed by the prison.)Within these congregations, Circles of Nurture,Support, and Accountability are formed. When a manis released from prison and chooses to locate in an areawhere a Circle has been trained, the released inmate iswelcomed to the church and community and has athree to five-member group to offer emotional support,resource information, and other deemed necessitiesexcept lodging and money.

At my local UCC church, I have been a member of twoCircles of Nurture, Support, and Accountability. Ourfirst “guest” was M. His sentence was for a sexualoffense. He had served three and a half years of a 10-year sentence. During the several months he was withus, he completed two GED courses and worked at twojobs. He was fired from his first when the bossdiscovered the nature of his offense; his second was aChristmas season limited position. Unfortunately, Mdid not heed the Circle’s warnings nor those of hisparole officer. Consequently, he has returned to prisonto serve out his sentence. The good news is that hissecond incarceration has punctuated his need to respectauthority and to sharpen his interpersonal skills.Consequently, he has been moved to the Honor Dorm,is completing his GED course work, and has a job at theprison. His letters tell me he has profited from therelationship he had with the Circle of Support, Nurtureand Accountability and is taking advantage of theopportunities within the prison. He attends worshipregularly at LLCC (DOC) and counts the months tillhe can return to his UCC church home in 2016.

The second guest to our Circle was a man with drugabuse/dealing charges. After six months of freedom anda minimum wage job, he yielded to the pressure fromfamily to return home. We know he is in good standingwith his parole officer there, and we can only pray thathis commitment to stay out of the drug business remains strong.

The prison system in America is in need of radical reform. As our Board meets and dialogues with the Department of Corrections personnel, it has seemed tome that one of the major contradictions of the systemis that those who design and manage the prison system

(government officials) are the same people whom weare asking to reform it. Without others, namely thechurch, putting ourselves and our efforts into the issueof prison reform, the punitive mentality will guide theconversation. Ideas like restorative justice are just ahaze, little more than a dream.

Today, I speak as often as I can about the LLCC (DOC)congregation, my participation in it, and the need forgrassroots reform. My experience tells me that drug addicts, sexual offenders, murderers, thieves, and violence perpetrators can be reformed, rehabilitated,and released into society as productive citizens. Duringthe six years of activity through the LLCC (DOC) congregation, the recidivism rate for our men is 11%,a figure significantly lower than the Kentucky or national rates.

The church, I would hope, can embrace the words fromScripture that promote the release of captives andliberty for the oppressed. The key is education, therapy,and training, enhanced by supporters on the outside. I have been educated, appreciated, and blessed by thosewith whom I have walked the prison halls.

and

REV. DIANE SNOWA has served UCC and DOC churchesin Missouri, Virginia, and Louiville. She is retired and attending St. Andrew UCC, Louisville, when not providing pulpit supply.

12 Common Lot

Elizabeth Mork

BlackWritingReachingOutin

Last January, my partner, Jeremy, and I became Black and Pink members. The organizationwas on my radar due to their sponsoring a conversation in Boston between Angela Davisand Noam Chomsky titled “Radical Futures and Prospects for Freedom” in 2012. Black andPink is an organization that provides a number of services and supports to Gay, Lesbian,Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer people in prison. During December, I had the chance toparticipate in a Holiday Card Writing party. Collectively, we wrote postcards to roughly2,800 people on the Black and Pink mailing list. I was surprised by the vast number ofnames on the list, and I was curious to learn how to get more involved. In January, Ishowed up for a day of mail processing to further learn of the work Black and Pink does.

Black and Pink’s services include connecting prisoners to legal and medical aid, fieldingadvocacy requests, providing literature, publishing a newsletter made up of submissionsfrom people in prison, and running an extensive Pen Pal Database where free worldindividuals can connect to potential pen pals in prison. I currently have two active pen palsand one other person that I've written with a few times back and forth. At first, I wasnervous to reach out and write to strangers—what would I say? Would we have anything in common? Does anyone really want to get a letter from me?

Black and Pink's mission statement says, "Black & Pink isan open family of LGBTQ prisoners and ‘free world’ allieswho support each other," and I believe that this isexemplified in the pen pal relationships. All three of thepeople I write to are actually from the part of the country Iused to call home, so a lot of our conversations includereminiscing about different places such as restaurants andnature. We also exchange recipes.

The support offered goes two ways. Last April in Bostonwas a strange place to be for me in a lot of ways. Alongwith the tragedy of the marathon bombings and stress ofthe subsequent man hunt, my partner and I were planningto move across the country in May and were activelyfinishing up graduate school. My pen pals provided a lot ofsupport and encouragement during that time, and I wishedthere was a way I could communicate with them faster

so we could all be up to date oneach other's lives.

In April, I also had the opportunity tohelp facilitate a fundraiser to raiseshipping costs for roughly 98 booksdonated through World Book Night tosend to Black and Pink prisoners insolitary confinement. (World BookNight is held each year in April;volunteers across the countrydonate a total of half a millionbooks within their communities tothose who don’t regularly read.)We partnered with a localbookstore and cafe, Bestseller'sCafe in Medford, Massachusetts,

to both acquire the donated books and to host our fundraiser. At the end of the day we had raised $187.50 to help cover thepostage of shipping the books.

My partner and I successfully moved to Boise, Idaho this May. We are in the process of starting a new chapter of Black and Pinkout here, and are actively seeking new members to help with mailprocessing, letter writing, and forging connections to Idaho organizations that can provide resources to LGBTQ prisoners.

"Black & Pink is an open family of LGBTQ prisoners and ‘free world’ allies who support each other."

ELIZABETH MORK is a new resident of Boise, Idaho,having relocated from Boston, where she attended First Church Somerville, UCC. Elizabeth is excited to continue the work of solidarity and building connections in her new home.

StoriesfromPrison‘

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14 Common Lot Common Lot 15

Ad TheBurdenonWomenSandra Sorenson

Religious leaders from across the

country have been calling on Congress

to pass just immigration reform, but few

have recognized immigration as a

women’s issue. Women bear the burden

of a failed immigration system, but the

struggle of immigrant women often goes

unseen. Every day they are the ones

taking care of business: looking after the

elderly and our children, working to

support our families and contributing to

our congregations and communities.

As a woman faith leader, I’m aware how

often women go unseen, but I’m proud

that the United Church of Christ has

always been a leader in women’s rights.

Now we are committing to work for

immigrant justice through engaging

our congregations to advocate and

build more inclusive and welcoming

communities.

Last fall, we continued our role as

leaders in prophetic action by

participating together with leaders from

the Unitarian Universalist Association,

the National Council for Jewish Women

and others in a non-violent civil

disobedience in solidarity with 20

undocumented women. We decided to

risk arrest to tell the House of

Representatives at this critical moment

to keep immigration at the top of their

agenda and pass immigration reform

that reunites separated families and

creates an inclusive pathway to

citizenship for our undocumented

community members.

Many of our United Church of Christ

pastors and lay leaders serve these

families that have been torn apart by

detention and deportation. Under the

Obama administration, we have seen

more than 1.4 million deportations.

Every day, mothers are being ripped

away from their citizen children. When

deported, some women courageously try

re-entering the country to reunite with

their family at the risk of abuse and rape

in the desert.

The broader faith community continues

to escalate our efforts to achieve

immigrants' rights. Last fall, the United

Church of Christ joined the Interfaith

Immigration Coalition in 40 days of

prayer and fasting for immigration

reform. I am committed—and I would

ask you to join me—to a different type

of fast, as described in Isaiah 58:6:

“Is not this the kind of fasting I have

chosen: to loose the chains of injustice

and untie the cords of the yoke, to set

the oppressed free and break every

yoke?”

SANDRA SORENSON is the Director ofthe Washington, D.C. office of the UnitedChurch of Christ’s Justice and WitnessMinistries.

When deported,some women courageously try re-entering thecountry to reunitewith their family at the risk of abuseand rape in the desert.

On September 12 last year, I got arrested on Capitol Hill in Washington,

D.C. I joined more than one hundred other women—including 20

undocumented women—as part of the We Belong Together Campaign

(Women for Common Sense Immigration Reform). Our purpose was to

bring attention to our nation's horrendously unjust immigration system.

18 Common Lot

Recreational marijuana became legal in the State of

Colorado on the first day of 2014 for those 21 and

older. Other states, like Washington, are preparing to

do the same.

Is this just a further sign of the “moral decay” of

American society, or can we say the legalization of

marijuana can have a place in a Christian theology

that values, instead of denigrates, the body?

We might think primarily of the individual body

and marijuana use, but first let us consider the social

body and what will happen to our social body by

legalizing marijuana.

Our social body is currently deformed, almost

beyond recognition as a developed democracy, by

the huge numbers of Americans in jail, many of

them there for non-violent drug offenses.

The so-called “war on drugs” begun in the Nixon

administration has been a trillion dollar failure.

All it has done is explode the prison population to

the point where in the United States the number of

Americans incarcerated dwarfs that of other nations.

Our national failure on drug policy is also racist.

“Black men were more than six times as likely as

white men to be incarcerated in federal and state

prisons, and local jails in 2010,” according to the

Pew Research Center.

The effects of this

on our social body

of families separated,

and non-violent

individuals exposed

to the horrific conditions of our overcrowded

prisons, cannot be exaggerated.

From a body theology perspective, one thing we can

say for certain is prison is very bad for your body.

The American Journal of Public Health has

published a study that shows a “two-year decline in

life expectancy for every year served inside prison.”

In fact, we could say our marijuana public policy in

almost all states and at the federal level is a public

health menace, and that makes it a theological

menace, if we value the social body . . . .

Our laws on marijuana need to reflect [the]

common good. We should legalize recreational

marijuana use at the federal level, keep it out of

the hands of children and teenagers as we do with

alcohol, and release those who have been

incarcerated for using marijuana from all our

overcrowded prisons.

That is only common sense, and common sense is

one of the best guides to morality.

Susan Brooks Thistlethwaite

A THEOLOGY

REV. SUSAN BROOKS THISTLETHWAITE, Professor of Theology and former President ofChicago Theological Seminary, is a prolific writerand blogger on social, moral, political, and theological issues.

In “Marijuana: A Theology” (Huffington Post, Jan. 23, 2014), Susan

Thistlethwaite addresses the legalization of marijuana and the issues

it raises, both for individuals and the “social body.” This excerpt

focuses on her thoughts related to the societal effects of legalization.

20 Common Lot Common Lot 21

Is this just a further sign of the “moraldecay” of American society, or can we say thelegalization of marijuana can have a place in a Christian theology that values, instead of denigrates, the body?

It is a warm and humid Sundayafternoon in Guatemala. We arebumping along a back road to LaPuya about an hour from thecapital to an outdoor mass. Westop in the middle of the roadsurrounded by cars, buses,bicycles and people. There arecolorful banners on the fencelining the road, children playingin the dirt and their parentssitting around on crates facing amakeshift altar.

The priest announces that the mass will begin. The Salvadoran music group opens the service with a songof liberation: we are the people that look to build our liberation.

The priest invites everyone to participate. “I am not going to give the homily; this is your mass so pleasecome forward and share what is on your heart.” Why a mass in the middle of the road? In March 2012, theresidents of two towns, San Jose del Golfo and San Pedoro Ayampuc, set up a camp blocking the entranceto a mining site. They have occupied the road 24/7 ever since to prevent the mining owners from sendingtrucks to the proposed new mine site.

It is a non-violent peaceful protest. A community leader reminds the congregation: we have to resist ourenemies in peace. Others call us to “see, judge and act,” but also to celebrate and give thanks no matterhow desperate the circumstances.

The mining site is owned by a U.S. engineering company, Kappes Cassiday and Associates, based inNevada. Yolanda Oqueli is the leader of the resistance community. In June 2012, there was an assassination

T H R E E S T O R I E S O F C O U R A G E O U S W O M E N I N G U A T E M A L A

Where is the Justice?Patricia Rumer

22 Common Lot

La mina extermina y contamina. / The mine pollutes and kills.

Donde está la justicia?

attempt on her life. She is a mother with two small children and a business owner. She joined the resistance tothe proposed mine when she learned about the damage mining does to the water and land. She tells us, “Iattended a workshop on Gandhian non-violent resistance and was convinced this is how my community shouldrespond. We established the camp site and we have been here ever since.”

One day when the women of the community were guarding the road, the police came to break up the rally. “Wewomen began to pray, to sing the national anthem and finally we threw ourselves on the ground,” Yolanda says.“The police did not know what to do with us so they left. We chanted as they left—La mina extermina y contamina[The mine pollutes and kills]—that is why we resist the mining company.”

Rosa Montero, a journalist, describes the important role of women’s leadership in this justice movement:

When it gets worse, when the situation is so desperate and so unbearable that you can’t ask the heroes to beheroes, when all resistance is suicide, then, just then, finally, on the edge of annihilation, it is mostly womenwho take a step forward.

No se vende madre tierra. / We will not sell mother earth. Women, both indigenous and non-indigenous—are the leaders in the human rights and environmental justicestruggles in Guatemala. Guatemala is a beautiful country with volcanoes, lakes and a ridge of mountains that

divides the country from the Caribbean and the Pacific. It is just south of Mexico. The majority of theindigenous people are Maya.

Guatemalans suffered through a violent civil war, from the early 1970s to mid-1990’s, which killed 200,000civilians and displaced one million people. The war ended officially in 1996 with the signing of the PeaceAccords between the Guatemalan government and the political and armed opposition.

A delegation of nine women from the United States spent a week last August listening to various human rightsorganizations working on issues of environmental justice and sexual violence. These issues are interconnected.Rape was used to silence women in the civil war and is still used to intimidate women and their families. A Canadian company, Hudbay Minerals, is being sued by Mayan Q’eqchi’ plaintiffs for gang rapes of women bytheir security guards that occurred near El Estor, Izabal in 2011. A recent decision in the Canadian courts hasfound the company liable for the actions of the Guatemalan subsidiary that used these tactics to remove thefamilies from the mining site.

“It feels as if our country is up for sale,” says Lolita Chavez, organizer and spokesperson for the K’iche People’sCouncil (CPK). Women environmental leaders are threatened and denounced for their organized opposition tohydroelectric dams and mining leases.

Lolita Chavez and other council members welcome us in the regional capital, Santa Cruz del Quiche. We beginwith a prayer service to the K’iche’ deity, Chac, who brings rain and protects water, air and corn/milpa.

The CPK is a grassroots movement to stop mining on their lands in the Quiche region. It has organized 87community forums to discuss the government-backed mining initiatives. Nearly 100% of the 27,000

Street scene in Nebaj.

Celebration of Mass in La Puya Women’s Resistance Banner Banner on display during La Puya Mass.

Common Lot 25

La mina exterminay contamina

“The police did not know what to do with us so they left. We chanted as theyleft—La mina extermina y contamina [The mine pollutes and kills]—

that is why we resist the mining company.”

Juana fled to the mountains with her in-laws and childrenafter this frightening encounter. “We took a little food butwere too scared to wait for their return. So we ran. Fromour hiding place in the mountains, we saw more fires assoldiers burned our houses. We moved higher up themountains. Days passed.”

Juana grew sadder as she told of watching her infant andtwo small children slowly dying because there was no food.“It was unbearable but I did not know what to do. We ateberries and tore up roots but we were always hungry. Isurvived but my children didn’t.”

She asks: “During this war what crimes did little childrencommit? How can the army kill people? Why did they leaveus without anything—land, food, house, animals? We wantto know why. The soldiers’ cruel and inhumane treatmentis what I feel in my body and my heart. We are still living

with that fear.” Angry and discouraged she stated, “Mytestimony is not worth anything!”

Cecilia, a younger Ixil woman, wept uncontrollably as shebegan to share her story:

They yelled at me—where is your husband? Is he withthe guerrillas? Then they began to beat and cut me—see, look at my head, where they stabbed me. Then oneafter another of the men raped me, I don’t rememberhow many but my body hurt from these attacks. Nextthey put needles under my fingernails—alwaysdemanding to know if I knew any guerrillas. Finally,they left me alone with my shame and broken body.

Then she describes how the soldiers covered her smalldaughter’s mouth, nose and eyes with a blanket to suffocateher. None of us in that room could hold back the tears.Heart-wrenching sobs came from me as I could feel herpain. “Dios mio,” she pleaded with the soldiers, “don’t hurtmy daughter.”

I cry because I remember. I want others to remember.I am not the only one who cries. I have recovered butnot my daughter. When I give testimony, I remembereverything in my heart and will never forget. Pleaseshare our testimony and stories with others. We knowthat God will not abandon us. We pray that theGuatemalan government will respect our rights assurvivors and that these military attacks will nothappen again. For God’s sake, tell your governmentnot to send military aid as it only leads to morekillings.

The next woman, Anna, was very short and small. Annaspoke in Ixil through a translator. Although I do notunderstand Ixil, her voice and physical gesturestranscended language. She shook her hand violently: “Dothis, tell me that, don’t lie to me.” It was as if the soldier wasliving inside of her. She re-enacted the scene. She waspregnant but the soldiers threw her repeatedly to the floor.She trembled as she spoke but her voice was strong as sherecreated this nightmare.

At the end of each of the testimonies the same question isasked: “Where is justice? Yes, ‘he’ [Rios Montt] was foundguilty of genocide and crimes against humanity, but he isnot in jail. He is in his home with family and food and stillhas power. Whereas we have no land as the military gave itto other families, our houses were burned and many of usare widows without any income.”

The women were frustrated, angry and in pain, reliving thehorrors of the war. Hearing the women’s testimony washard—for them and for us. Through their stories—theirtruth-telling—they were reliving the trauma of the civil warthirty years ago. They are still waiting for justice.

What do they ask? We want you to be our spokes-people.“Join us as truth tellers and share our stories and insist onjustice for us and for all of Guatemala.”

It is time to break the cycle of violence in Guatemala. Theirtears, their stories, their regal bearing, the tissues dabbed attheir eyes, the way they cover their mouths to hide theirfeelings—all of these tense, dark feelings were in this roomwith the five Ixil women telling their truths to nine womenfrom North America. We were there to listen and to feel thedolor/pain but also to witness to the strength and courageof these indigenous women who spoke out—breakingcommunity taboos when they spoke of rape and loss. Ohmy God, the losses they have suffered, I think.

A human rights worker, Sandra shared a word of hope:“The people’s strength in Guatemala is increasing. Theyhave the spirit and strength to defend their land; people acton sadness, but on joy too. We are not overcome. We arerising, especially young women.”

HERE ARE SOME ACTIONS THATEACH OF US CAN TAKE TO WALKWITH THE WOMEN OF GUATEMALAAND TO ENSURE THAT OUR EYES,EARS, HANDS AND MOUTHSPEAKING TRUTH TO POWER CANMAKE A DIFFERENCE IN THEIRLIVES AS WELL AS OUR OWN. I INVITE YOU TO JOIN WITH ME AND OTHERS IN OUR COUNTRY TO TAKE ACTION NOW.

Urge Congress to maintain militaryaid ban.

Monitor U.S. mining investments inand impact on Guatemala. Supportthe peaceful resistance at La Puyaby writing to the mining company,Kappes Cassiday and Associates, at kca@kcareno.com to tell them to stop their efforts to build a mine.Make it clear that any violenceagainst the protesters is a call toaction in the U.S. You can also buystock in the company so you canbring the issue up at a stockholdermeeting.

Press the U.S. Embassy to be more proactive in defendingGuatemala human rights activistsand rule of law. Check to see if yourCongress person or Senator is onAppropriations, Armed Services orWestern Hemisphere subcommitteeof Foreign Relations that hasoversight on funding for Guatemala.

Join a Guatemalan Network:Guatemala Human RightsCommission, www.ghrc-usa.com,NISGUA, Rights Action, or a national church network active on Guatemalan issues.

PATRICIA RUMER, a former Latin America,Caribbean Secretary for the UCC has been involvedwith the Guatemalan people since 1969. She is an active member of Ainsworth UCC in Portland, Ore.

participants are opposed to the mining and hydroelectric projects in theirterritories. In addition, over a million Guatemalans in a communityreferendum voted “No” to mining projects. Lolita says, “Our movement isbased on ancestral principles of equilibrium and reciprocity that promoterespect for Mother Nature and all living things.”

Despite international and national laws that prohibit development ofindigenous lands without full consultation, the Guatemalan governmentrefuses to recognize the legitimacy of the referenda and continues todevelopment of indigenous lands without full consultation, the Guatemalangovernment refuses to recognize the legitimacy of the referenda and continuesto deny indigenous peoples’ rights to consultation. The Guatemalangovernment is increasingly criminalizing land defenders and Lolita is undera “precautionary measure” from the Inter-American Commission on HumanRights, which means that the Guatemalan government is responsible for hersafety.

Lolita and the other CPK members are inspiring in their struggles. Organizingin Guatemala is dangerous but the K’iche’ people want to protect the earthand water. “Water has spirit,” they say, “so we must protect it.” Their finalwords are: “No se vende madre tierra—We will not sell mother earth.”

“My testimony is not worth anything!” We travel by bus to Nebaj in the Ixil Triangle where we meet with survivorswho testified at the Rios Montt trial. Rios Montt was a dictator in power for17 months in 1982-83. During that time, 1,771 indigenous Mayans were killedand some 29,000 displaced in a scorched-earth strategy designed to destroythe Ixil communities once and for all.

This was the most challenging and painful day as we listened to thetestimonies from five women survivors. Juana, a survivor of the Rios Monttmilitary attacks on her village describes the day that the soldiers arrived:

“Where is your husband? He’s a guerrilla, isn’t he?” I was confused andfrightened. I said he’s in the cornfield, I don’t know anything about guerrillas.They insisted over and over that I tell them about the guerrillas. We are hard-working farmers and don’t have time for anything else.

1

2

3

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TAKE ACTION

Ixil delegation working to combat violence against women.

26 Common Lot Common Lot 27

Through their stories—their truth-telling—they were reliving the trauma of the civil warthirty years ago. They are still waiting for justice.

It was with this question that Rev. Carolyn Held,chaplain at Lydia’s House, started our weeklyhour of theological reflection. I was a first-yearstudent at Eden Seminary, and Lydia’s House wasmy contextual education placement.

As we sat down for this time of reflection, mymind was terribly distracted by the assignmentsthat were due later in the week. But this questionand my time with Carolyn directed me back tothe essence of my calling, to the presence of Godhere and now, and to set aside anything else. Itreminded me of being fully present in ministry,no matter where I was serving or what actions Iwas called to do, whether I was completing an artproject with the younger residents at Lydia’sHouse or having a casual conversation with oneof the residents at dinner.

And that is how Carolyn and others at Lydia’sHouse spread the good news of Jesus the Christ.

Called by God, four women, including threeUCC pastors, began investigating needs forwomen and children who had experienceddomestic violence. As 60 to 90 days wasn’tenough time for a women to support herselfafter leaving a violent situation, the foundersrealized that longer periods of time were neededto heal, plan for a future, explore education andfind a job. Lydia’s House officially formed in1995 as a place for women and their children tostrengthen in body, mind and soul beforesupporting themselves. While housing is in

confidential locations, theorganization helps womenfrom all over the Greater St.Louis area.

The services thisorganization offers gowell beyond housing.Each Wednesdayevening, the womencome together to eatdinners prepared bychurches. They offerafter-school activitiesas well as summeractivities for theyouth. Staff leadsweekly support groupsfor the women andschool-age children.Carolyn facilitates aweekly spiritual group for the women and a bi-weekly teen group.

Lately, Carolyn and I have connected once again and have been talking about herexperiences as chaplain at Lydia’s House. Whileshe offers formal spiritual experiences for theresidents and opens her door for them to sit andconverse, her most common ministry effort ishelping women with day-to-day activities.

“Many of these women have no family orsupport system,” she told to me. Without suchsupport, they haven’t had the opportunity tolearn basic life skills, such as household and car

Lydia’s House: Abiding with God in the EverydayMichelle Torigian

“Where did you see God this week?”

Common Lot 29

maintenance. In helping a resident to set up hercomputer or teaching someone how to use a tiregauge, Carolyn could be the embodiment ofChrist. For Carolyn, her mission is bringingChrist’s hospitality to these residents inmoments that seem insignificant or in waystaken for granted by many of us.

Through the staff and volunteers responding tothis call and bringing forth unconditional love,the residents see the presence of God in theirmidst.

Before she came to Lydia’s House, Priscilla*prematurely gave birth to twins. During her stay,

Priscilla lost one ofthese children.Being from Nigeriaand having no

other family for support, “I didn’t think I’dsurvive,” she told to me.

In Priscilla’s time of grief, Carolyn and the staffat Lydia’s House were able to help her arrange forthe child’s burial as well as assist her withhousehold chores and meal preparation. “Theyacted like my mother,” she said. For Priscilla,their role was “like God’s,” as they were God’shands and feet for her in a devastating time. Atthe same time,their actions in her life helped herto feel that they saw the presence of God withinher as well.

Now, Priscilla, a former resident and nursing student, is inspired to “Live a life where peoplesee God in me, helping wherever I can.”

God’s call to serve the women and children ofLydia’s House spreads to churches around the St. Louis area. I spoke with Krescene Beck, amember of Immanuel UCC in Ferguson, Missouri. Not only does her church donate itemsthroughout the year that the families can use,members of the church also contribute meals tothe Wednesday night community dinners.Krescene says, “One of the ways that we sharelove is through food.”

I recall through my time ministering at Lydia’sHouse that God’s love is truly shared therethrough meals: in the preparation by churches,

in the serving by volunteers, and by staff andresidents who break bread together.

Jesus the Christ brought the presence of God tomany as he healed those who were sick, fed themultitudes, and provided hospitality at hisfriend’s wedding in Cana. Through practicalactions, those who followed him were able toexperience the presence of God in Jesus andthrough his new movement.

In Les Misérables,Victor Hugo writes, “To loveanother person is to see the face of God.” Jesuspresented that love to all who followed, and weare called to carry that love into the world. As Iexperienced in my time as student chaplain atLydia’s House, being present and sharing lovewith those around us meant seeing God’s face inand revealing God's face to others.

Additionally, I saw how ushering in the presenceof God was greater than formal worship or structured spiritual activities. As most of us celebrate God through worship each week, manyworship God in the small moments of theeveryday. Carolyn, the staff, volunteers andresidents taught me that ministry happens in thecrevices of life. Moments that seemed mundanenow appeared holy.

Sometimes, as a person involved in ministry, it’s tough to see the results. Whether we areordained, licensed, commissioned or layministers, much of our work can’t be measuredby numbers. Yet through the works of Jesus andthe ministry of Lydia’s House, we can see that the experiences of formal worship, hands-oneveryday activities, and laughter in fellowship areall ways we see God on our journey.

CAFÉ 361:SERVING UP HEAPING PLATES OF

Laurie Bartels

“To love another person is to see the face of God.”

30 Common Lot

MICHELLE TORIGIAN is the Pastor of St. Paul United Church of Christ in Cincinnati, Ohio.

*As this is a former resident of Lydia’s House, only the first name is used.

than a minute. The suggested donation for each guest is $3, whichdoes not quite cover the cost of the program. “But some people aregenerous and give more,” Woodin said, “and church members andfriends have given us start-up money.” A Neighbors In Need grantof $1,200 from the United Church of Christ has helped as well.

The café has been blessed with dedicated volunteers like CindyNicholson, a church member who has been there since thebeginning, and Tess Romanski, a FoodCorps Service Member atthe Linn County (Cedar Rapids) office of the Iowa State ExtensionService. “Time With Tess” is a staple during food preparation atthe cafe when Tess discusses topics such as knife safety, properhand-washing technique, and even gives geography lessons aboutfood traditions around the world.

As the group looks to the future of their ministry, one thing thathas already been planned for the chefs is an end-of-the-year

trip—a combination of a reward and amission trip—to Omaha. Woodin was veryimpressed with the non-profitopportunities and the diversity she saw inOmaha during a church mission trip therein 2013. She wants to take 10 or 12 girls—the ones who have been committed to Café361 and attended all the sessions—toOmaha to volunteer and to expand theirexperiences. Janelle Corporon, a 6th gradeparticipant, is looking forward to it. “We’ll bestaying at a Boys and Girls Club there and we’llmeet new people,” she said. “I’m lookingforward to cooking for a new community.”

Woodin is optimistic about the future ofCafé 361 and the growth she has seen inthe young girls who gather in thechurch kitchen twice a month. “Ithas been a blessing to watch God atwork in this program and to seewhere God may be leading us.”

The path to their culinary connection began in thesummer of 2013 when the girls took part in Boys andGirls Club meetings at First Congregational UCC inCedar Rapids. As the summer program came to an end,the 6th, 7th and 8th grade girls brainstormed withchurch members to find a way to stay connected. Theydecided to get together periodically for an afternoon ofcooking. From that humble beginning, Café 361—named for the church’s address—was born.

“We wanted to give the girls an opportunity to staytogether,” said Heather Woodin, First Congregational’sdirector of Ministries for Children, Youth and Families.“Middle school can be such a tough time.” Having anall-girls group was also part of the plan, Woodin said.“Boys in the mix changes everything.”

Currently, there are about 15 middle school girls whocome to the church on Wednesdays when Cedar Rapidsschools are dismissed early—generally two Wednesdaysper month. After the group gathers for a quick snack andto discuss the menu, they break into small groups withan adult team leader and start preparing a themed mealfor 50 guests—some of whom are invited by the girls,such as their teachers and family, and others who comefrom the church and surrounding community. All guestsare required to call ahead for reservations.

In addition to cooking, preparation includes setting thetables, decorating with theme-appropriate center piecesand deciding who will greet their guests, who willannounce the evening’s menu, who will serve and whowill say a prayer of blessing. Themes have included aHawaiian luau, a country French meal, and a soupsupper where guests helped themselves to a soup bar.

The café is a smorgasbord in every sense of the word—from the meals the girls cook, to the schools they attend,to the family situations and backgrounds of each youngchef. Most live in the Wellington Heights neighborhoodof Cedar Rapids, an area that serves free or reducedlunches to more than 90 percent of elementary schoolstudents. The neighborhood’s only grocery store ranks

second of about 300 stores in the grocery chain forfederal food aid spent in the store.

Heather Woodin wants Café 361 to help the studentchefs find ways to break the cycle of poverty and lack ofeducation that surrounds them; learn about worldhunger; explore what it means to be a disciple as theyserve others; and follow Jesus’ commandment to “Feedmy sheep.”

Along the way, the girls are becoming more confidentand have gained a sense of belonging.

“Before Café 361, I would get mad easily and not getalong with people. I learned to be kind and helpful. Youneed to be respectful,” said Diamond Roundtree, a 12-year old 6th grade participant. “After my first day here Ifelt like I knew them [other Café 361 chefs] my wholelife.”

Mariah Hopkins, a 7th grade Café chef, agrees. “I’mthankful for all my friends here. Nothing is morecherished than friends.”

While some of the girls knew each other before theirparticipation in Café 361, most did not. None of themare members of the church (which is not a requirementof the program) but all now share a bond that wascreated in the kitchen at First Congregational. The girlsare now such a cohesive group, “it’s almost impossible totell who knew each other before,” Woodin admits.

“Session to session, I’ve seen their confidence grow. Inthe beginning they used to negotiate about who wouldhave to talk to our guests. They’re not intimidatedanymore.” Each time, the chefs are lined up at the frontof the dining room and tell the guests their name, gradeand age. During dinner, they sit down at the tables andinteract with the guests, who are encouraged to askquestions about the food preparation and what part theyplay in the process. The girls know how to hold aconversation and keep it going, Woodin said. They’velearned, for example, not to ask yes or no questions ifthey want the conversation to be lively and last more

There is a lot of wisdom that gets passed around a kitchen table along with recipes for Mom’s homemade cobbler and Dad’s barbecue sauce. For a group of young women in CedarRapids, Iowa, those recipes include increasing confidence, making friends, and strengtheningrelationships—all while learning how to cook.

LAURIE BARTELS is a freelance writer living in Rocky River, Ohio. In additionto writing, she enjoys cooking upfeasts for her husband, Brian, andchildren, Olivia, Chelsea and Russell.

The café is a smorgasbord in every sense of the word — from the meals thegirls cook, to the schools they attend.

32 Common Lot Common Lot 33

a church crucified for its justice stance,

risky mission, weddings,

a church table up-turning dumb

in its disregard for a balanced budget,

a church that gives a quiet environment

to the three kids

who would be lost

in a stimulating faith formation,

delighted to treasure the memories of elders

patient with old hymns,

stubborn about adopting new technology,

but so kind and personal with those

who wander in

down on their luck,

a church that made a couple bad matches

in leadership,

built a new wing or didn’t,

just couldn’t de-fuse that tough personality

because they knew

she was abused, he has cancer …

I am honored to serve a dying church…

MAREN TIRABASSI is the Pastor of Union CongregationalChurch UCC in Madbury, New Hampshire. She is the authoror editor of 18 books, most recently From the Psalms to theCloud—Prayers for a Digital Age, co-authored by herdaughter Maria I.T. Mankin.

Author’s note: I don’t currently serve a dying church, but a very small one—

only five pews deep and forty-five members and it keeps us always aware of the

fragility of our churching, and that it is really “OK.” I honor so many churches

who have died with grace and love and am grateful for Paul Nixon’s series of

insightful books (I Refuse to Lead a Dying Church! and We Refused to Lead a

Dying Church: Churches that Came Back Against All Odds).

Martha Spong

D R E A M S O F C O U R T S T R E E T

a new-church-start only three years old,

that won’t “make it,”

but made all the difference in twenty lives.

I am honored to serve a dying church

one that learns “good-bye,”

saints some miracles with old endowments –

saves an immigrant church,

even if it’s not “our” denomination,

funds a clinic,

a scholarship, a street ministry,

cracks jokes that that food will be divine

when the sanctuary is a restaurant.

Condos?

always thought the pastor’s study

could use some … plumbing,

waits for one funeral,

two or three gathered … but not alone.

34 Common Lot

Would I BeWelcome There Now?

I learned the next lesson from Mrs. Kersey, the minister’s wife, inVacation Bible School. The story starred a man too ill to walk byhimself, and the friends who made up theirminds to get him to Jesus. Their faith feltas palpable as the paper model we built ofthe house where Jesus ate dinner and thepopsicle stick stretcher used to carry theirdear friend to him. The crowded housedid not stop them. They climbed to theroof and lowered him straight to Jesus. Ican feel the string in my fingers.

As a teenager, I watched and listened to anadmired older classmate, daughter of the

same minister, argue with our Sunday School teachersabout the ninety-nine sheep. Why should Jesus go after the one who ran away? What about good sheep; whatabout us? Didn’t we count for anything? I can feelher anger and the cooling balm of patience appliedby Mr. Benn and Mrs. Lane.

My subconscious won’t take me there, but in mywaking dreams, I walk up the stone steps in front ofCourt Street Baptist Church. I turn the brass knobon the heavy mahogany door and go inside. Thecongregation waits in the rose light. Wherever I go, Itell them, I share the good news I learned from you:Jesus loves us; faithful people can do amazing thingstogether; and no question is too dangerous to ask.We are more alike than different, each of us amongthe familiar ninety-nine, every one of us taking aturn as the lost. The curves of the well-rememberedarchitecture reveal the curves of God’s embrace,confident and expansive, with room enough for all.

The minister's son was just my age—we had the exact same birthday! I dreamed hewould grow up to be a minister, like his daddy, and I would be the minister's wife.

Decades passed before I learned a woman could be a minister herself. My new churchhome was in the United Church of Christ, and the young woman serving as AssociatePastor had grown up Southern Baptist, like me. While the rest of the mainlineProtestant world began to welcome women, the way to the pulpit became more fiercelybarred in the church of our childhood.

I still dream about climbing the dark-stained stairs to reach the balcony, encased in theRomanesque bell tower reaching to the sky and pointing to God's glory. I dream aboutchurches a lot, mostly the classic anxiety dreams of a preacher: the wrong church, thewrong time, or no sermon prepared. I never have that kind of dream about CourtStreet. Even in the deep, unconscious places, I know the barriers between us. I am anordained woman, and I am a minister’s wife, and she is my wife, too. Would I bewelcome there now? Could I come back, a child formed in that church, and offer them a good word?

I would say yes to the invitation, if it ever came. I would want them to know that mytheology rests on things I learned there. I would want them to know I’ve neverforgotten my first teacher, Mrs. Harrison, or the kindness of her smile. Every Sunday,dressed in the sheath dresses and high heels of the 1960s, she perched on tiny chairswith the tiny children. She told us the first things we would remember about Jesus. Herface shone when she sang with us, “Little ones to Him belong.”

They say the places of your childhood never leave your dreams. I dream of the long, tall

house on North Street in Portsmouth, Virginia. I look down and see the brick sidewalks

disturbed by tree roots. I cross the street and pass my daddy's law office. Ahead lies the

rose stone castle I love, Court Street Baptist Church. My mother's side of the family

could testify to more than a century of sitting in the curved pews, dappled by light

streaming through stained-glass windows. In my baby book is a certificate marking my

entry on the Cradle Roll. As a tiny girl, I aspired to climb the stairs to the balcony, a rite

of passage for children old enough to sing “O, Come All Ye Faithful” in the Christmas

pageant procession, winding through the sanctuary with our electric candles.

MARTHA SPONG is a UCC pastor and director of RevGalBlogPals, an ecumenical ministry providing support and resources to clergywomen. She blogs at Reflectionary.

36 Common Lot

My theology rests on things I learned there.I know the barriers between us. I am an ordained woman, and I am a minister’swife, and she is my wife, too.

N

“Some non-violentstruggles actually

- Patricia Rumer, on the news received Feb. 26 that the people of La Puya, Guatemala arecelebrating the removal of mining equipment from a proposed site in their community.

Contractors will pull out all of the trucks and heavy machinery that was left inside the

mine when families began their peaceful resistance nearly two years ago.

“We are all capable of

IMPROVING OUR LIFE STORY when other people listen to us

and care about the stories we tell.

-Elaine Blanchard, on the women in her writing classes held at theShelby County Jail for Women in Memphis, Tennessee.

“We are more ALIKE than DIFFERENT, each of

us among the familiar ninety-nine, every one

of us taking a turn as THE LOST.” Martha Spong

of women in prison or under correctionalsupervision are MOTHERS.

Department of Justice, quoted on CNN

“Corrections Corporation of America and other private prison companies motivated by higher profit

margins have  lobbied  for mandatory minimums,‘three-strike’ laws, and ‘truth-in-sentencing’ laws

that drive up the prison population.

Michael Shammus, Harvard Law School student, in “End the Prison-Industrial Complex,” Huffington Post, Jan. 10, 2014.

THE MAJORITY OF

WOMEN PRISONERS

ARE INCARCERATED

FOR NON-VIOLENTCRIMES SUCH

AS PROSTITUTION,

FRAUD, OR

DRUG OFFENSES.

ACLU, “Words from Prison:Did You Know?”

Maren Tirabassi, “i am honored to serve a dying church...”

Institute for Women’s Policy Research

WIN.EVEN IN JAIL, THE WOMEN ARE SET FREE.”

701.3

CHILDREN are affected.14

“ . . . a new-church-start only 3 years old, that won’t ‘make it,’ but made all the difference in 20lives.”fgggggg

fn

n n

of the in-home careworkerworkforce (home health aides,

elder care, care of the disabled) is made up of

IMMIGRANT WOMEN.It’s estimated that one in five

are UNDOCUMENTED.

%

”

Snapshot

MILLION

Common Lot

Thus, one person’s incarceration—their ruined life—

is another person’s livelihood. THIS IS OBSCENE.

CommonLotUnited Church of Christ700 Prospect Avenue E Cleveland, Ohio 44115-1100