Christ Gives Life, Not Captivity

Christ Gives Life, Not Captivity

My father was a correctional officer and deputy sheriff in Maryland for several years before I was born. Growing up, he would say that prison is the closest thing to “hell on earth,” as he instructed me on navigating racist policing and legal systems I might encounter directly as a Black youth in America. This idea became ingrained in my consciousness. His way of describing prison communicated theological undertones I couldn’t dismiss or take lightly. I understood at a deep level that prison wasn’t an ideal place for me—or anyone else.

Through my experiences in prison ministry, the New York Court System as an intern, returning citizens outreach, my studies and advocacy, I have learned that my father wasn’t far off in his assessment of prison. Sadly, for many “hell” doesn’t start in prison, but in neighborhoods subject to decades of disinvestment and neglect.

Public safety cannot be divorced from accountability measures when harm is committed. Yet our current way of responding to harm and holding people accountable has far too long revealed racist tendencies. Surely, it is time to imagine new infrastructures that center care, equity and revitalization of structurally abandoned communities.

As a person of Christian faith, I ponder what Jesus Christ might say to the death-dealing conditions of prisons and structural violence haunting us today. In the Apostle’s Creed, it is mentioned that Jesus descended into hell between the period of his death and resurrection. While there are exhaustive debates regarding this descent (that I won’t delve into), it illustrates a moment where Jesus goes to those in bondage, relegated to “hell”, and frees them from damnation—offering them salvation from death in the process. I’d like to think that Jesus’ descent offers us a guide for how to engage with the violence of the incarceration system and inadequacies in public safety that send our dispossessed neighbors to “hell.”

If you are willing to follow Christ into hell to save others from damnation and premature death, you don’t have to look far. One issue among many regarding incarceration in Washington, D.C. and Maryland is solitary confinement.

The origins of solitary confinement in the U.S. have theological roots. In 1829, Quakers and Anglicans conceived of Eastern State Penitentiary (Pennsylvania) as a place where “solitude” would offer prisoners the space to commune with God, find forgiveness and penance, hence the term “penitentiary.” The penitentiary was intended as a humane alternative response to the existing brutal incarceration systems, but wound up merely serving as punishment by another name, dishing out cold isolation and deprivation. In the late 1800’s1, the U.S. Supreme Court assessed increasing clinical evidence showing that solitary confinement had severe psychological ramifications on incarcerated persons. Unfortunately, this “hell” of another name still exists across the country and in our local context.

Today, D.C. Jail officials express that they no longer place people in solitary confinement; however, this isn’t the case. According to a Bureau of Justice statistics report, D.C. places people in solitary confinement at three times the national average. According to the Maryland Department for Public Safety and Correctional Services, Maryland state prisons incarcerated 15,807 people and placed 11,953 people in solitary or other restrictive confinement. Given the psychological, physical and spiritual toll of solitary confinement on a person and its long-term adverse effects, Maryland has a health emergency on its hands. The Maryland Alliance for Justice Reform and Maryland Episcopal Public Policy Network have been working hard to address the cruelty of solitary confinement and its effects that are fundamentally counter to rehabilitation

As followers of Jesus, we can save people from the “hell” of prisons, and in this case–solitary confinement. We can do this in D.C. by supporting the Erase Solitary Confinement Act of 2023 (ERASE). In Unlock the Box’s campaign to end solitary confinement you will find a template and instructions for how to communicate your support of this bill to your D.C. Council member.

In Maryland, contact your state representative in the Maryland General Assembly and voice your support for ending solitary confinement. Here is a sample script you can use.

1History and Health Consequences of Solitary Confinement (Public Health Post) and Timeline: Solitary Confinement in U.S. Prisons (NPR)

Help Shape Diocesan Youth Ministry

Help Shape Diocesan Youth Ministry

The December 2023 article, A Vision for Diocesan Youth Ministry, outlined some of the challenges faced by youth, that is, young people 11-18 years old. Issues of mental health, isolation and loneliness are rife among our rising generations. As followers of Jesus, and heralds of his Good News, we, in the Episcopal Diocese of Washington, are well equipped to accompany those who long for community and connection.

Many individuals and parishes within our diocese are faithfully and fervently engaged in this kind of ministry with youth. At the diocesan level, youth ministry has had its challenges. However, we believe that God is calling us to loving ministry with rising generations. It is a priority within our diocesan strategic plan. Furthermore, it is a ministry that we are committed to and passionate about.

To this end, a Youth Ministry Visioning Committee is hard at work to create a mission and strategic plan for youth ministry in the Episcopal Diocese of Washington. This kind of diocesan youth ministry will enhance parish based ministries and meet the needs of today’s rising generations. Part of the committee’s work is to gather input about the needs and desires of folks in our diocesan bounds including local parish leaders, youth involved in church, youth not involved in church, young adults who grew up in EDOW, etc. We welcome your input.

Help shape diocesan youth ministry by completing this survey by Sunday, April 14, 2024.

The survey is brief and should take no more than 10-15 minutes to complete. The committee needs and wants your input to inform its work of developing ministry with young people.

We, as a diocese, have an opportunity to build a ministry with rising generations that is full of power and possibility—that meets youth where they are, supports them in their faith life, and invites them deeper into courageous discipleship. Join the conversation by sharing your wisdom here. To speak more in depth about diocesan youth ministry and/or the work of the committee, contact youth@edow.org.

For God So Loves the World

For God So Loves the World

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.
John 3:16

My spiritual director encourages me to begin times of prayer by imagining God’s loving gaze upon me. It’s not as comforting a posture as you might think, for whenever I do this, I can’t help but think of all the other people God is also gazing upon.

And I wonder how God holds the suffering and grief of this world.

At the heart of the Christian faith is the conviction that God is love. In Jesus, God’s response to human suffering is compassion and a love that overcomes death. In our darkest hour, Scripture assures us, God’s light still shines. We are never alone, and death does not have the final word.

I live my life by these truths. Yet there are times when the depth of human suffering leaves me silent before God. In those times God is also silent, and the silence itself seems to ask—as many of you ask me as your bishop—“What are you going to do?”

I have no illusion that any of us, myself included, can respond to all the sorrows of our world, or even, for that matter, to all grief, pain, and manifestations of injustice in our immediate communities. Yet we also know, in words attributed to St. Teresa of Avila, “Christ has no body now on earth but ours. Ours are the eyes with which he looks compassion on this world. Ours are the feet with which he walks to do good. Ours are the hands with which he blesses all the world.”1

A pastor I admire periodically asks the members of his congregation, “What breaks your heart?” By that he doesn’t mean what they feel badly about or wish were not true. He wants them to identify the particular form of human suffering that truly breaks their heart. This is the pain that won’t let them go and seems to require something of them. “Pay attention to what breaks your heart,” he says. “For in the pain there may be a call to action, something that God needs you to do.” Moreover, he points out that it’s likely for there to be entire organizations filled with passionate people dedicated to that same concern. “Don’t go it alone,” he counsels. “Join them.”2

Proximity to suffering is important, as renowned human rights attorney Bryan Stevenson reminds us. The closer we get to suffering, the greater chance it has to soften our hearts and inspire sustained commitment. Theologian Dorothee Soelle writes, “Gratuitous solidarity with the afflicted changes nothing. We can only help sufferers by stepping into their time frame.”3

There is, of course, no greater proximity than the suffering that touches us personally. So it is that ones grieving the death of a loved one will be the greatest comfort to others who will soon grieve; that returning soldiers traumatized by war can speak to the trauma of their comrades; that survivors of gun violence are the ones who will not let us accept what has become the greatest cause of violent death in this country.

We also need other people to shed light on suffering that we cannot understand from our vantage point, or to which our own sins and privilege have blinded us. I am grateful—and challenged daily—to serve a diocese filled with people passionate for justice and mercy, you who dedicate your lives to serving others in great need and repairing past wrongs with multi-generational impact, whose family ties bring you in close proximity to the calamities across the globe, and whose personal suffering has stretched your hearts in Christ-like ways.

How I wish that we had the capacity to address all these needs with the dedication and sacrifice they deserve. But this I know: we are called, as a body, in ways that defy human understanding, to show up, love our neighbor, and work for justice. The work can feel impossible. Yet through Christ and with the encouragement—and sometimes the goading—of one another, we can, and are, making a difference for good in this world.

In my own prayers, I ask for the strength to stay present and responsive in the places where my heart breaks. As your bishop, I feel deeply connected to the places where your hearts are breaking, too. Within the diocese, certain priorities have risen to the surface and we will continue to invest ourselves in them. But that doesn’t mean the places of need that have claimed your heart are not also of importance to us all.

Given our diversity and breadth of life experience represented among us, not to mention that vastness of suffering and calamity before us, we will always be stretched beyond our capacities. That, I am persuaded, is what God loves most about the Diocese of Washington. We also love the world, and are willing to join with Jesus in his self-giving love, for the sake of others.

So carry on, dear ones, in the ways that your broken hearts move you to love, and give, and work for God’s vision of a better world. As my spiritual director says to me, I say to you: God’s loving gaze is upon you. God is grateful for you, and so am I.

1Teresa of Avila, Christ Has No Body
2See Andy Stanley’s sermon series, A Better Question
3Dorothee Soelle, Suffering (Fortress Press: 1984), p. 15

Porque tanto amó Dios al mundo

Porque tanto amó Dios al mundo

Porque tanto amó Dios al mundo que dio a su Hijo único, para que todo el que cree en él no se pierda, sino que tenga vida eterna.
Juan 3:16

Mi director espiritual me anima a comenzar los momentos de oración imaginando la mirada amorosa de Dios sobre mí. No es una postura tan reconfortante como podría pensarse, pues cada vez que lo hago, no puedo evitar pensar en todas las demás personas a las que Dios también está mirando.

Y me pregunto cómo soporta Dios el sufrimiento y la tristeza de este mundo.

En el corazón de la fe cristiana está la convicción de que Dios es amor. En Jesús, la respuesta de Dios al sufrimiento humano es la compasión y un amor que supera la muerte. En nuestra hora más oscura, las Escrituras nos aseguran que la luz de Dios sigue brillando. Nunca estamos solos, y la muerte no tiene la última palabra.

Vivo mi vida de acuerdo con estas verdades. Sin embargo, hay momentos en los que la profundidad del sufrimiento humano me deja en silencio ante Dios. En esos momentos, Dios también calla, y el propio silencio parece preguntar–como muchos de nosotros me preguntan como su obispa–”¿Qué vas a hacer?”

No me hago ilusiones de que ninguno de nosotros, incluido yo misma, pueda responder a todas las penas de nuestro mundo, o incluso, para el caso, a todas las penas, dolores y manifestaciones de injusticia en nuestras comunidades inmediatas. Sin embargo, también sabemos, en palabras atribuidas a Santa Teresa de Ávila, que “Cristo no tiene ahora en la tierra más cuerpo que el nuestro. Nuestros son los ojos con los que mira con compasión a este mundo. Nuestros son los pies con los que camina para hacer el bien. Nuestras son las manos con que bendice a todo el mundo”.1

Un pastor al que admiro pregunta periódicamente a los miembros de su congregación: “¿Qué te rompe el corazón?”. Con ello no se refiere a lo que les hace sentir mal o a lo que desearían que no fuera cierto. Quiere que identifiquen la forma concreta de sufrimiento humano que verdaderamente les rompe el corazón. Es el dolor que no les deja marchar y que parece exigirles algo. “Presta atención a lo que te rompe el corazón”, les dice. “Porque en el dolor puede haber un llamado a la acción, algo que Dios necesita que hagas”. Además, señala que es probable que haya organizaciones enteras llenas de personas apasionadas dedicadas a esa misma preocupación. “No lo hagas solo”, aconseja. “Únete a ellos”.2

La proximidad al sufrimiento es importante, como nos recuerda el renombrado abogado especializado en derechos humanos Bryan Stevenson. Cuanto más nos acercamos al sufrimiento, más posibilidades tiene de ablandar nuestros corazones e inspirar un compromiso sostenido. La teóloga Dorothee Soelle escribe: “La solidaridad gratuita con los afligidos no cambia nada. Sólo podemos ayudar a los que sufren entrando en su tiempo”.3

No hay, por supuesto, mayor proximidad que el sufrimiento que nos toca personalmente. Así, los que lloran la muerte de un ser querido serán el mayor consuelo para otros que pronto sufrirán; los soldados que regresan traumatizados por la guerra pueden hablar del trauma de sus compañeros; los supervivientes de la violencia armada son los que no nos dejarán aceptar lo que se ha convertido en la mayor causa de muerte violenta en este país.

También necesitamos que otras personas derramen luz sobre el sufrimiento que no podemos comprender desde nuestra posición ventajosa, o ante el cual nuestros propios pecados y privilegios nos han cegado. Estoy agradecida–y desafiada diariamente–por servir a una diócesis llena de personas apasionadas por la justicia y la misericordia, ustedes que dedican sus vidas a servir a los más necesitados, a reparar los errores del pasado con un impacto multigeneracional, cuyos lazos familiares los acercan a las calamidades en todo el mundo, y cuyo sufrimiento personal ha estirado sus corazones de manera semejante a Cristo.

Cómo desearía que tuviéramos la capacidad de atender todas estas necesidades con la dedicación y el sacrificio que merecen. Pero esto lo sé: estamos llamados, como cuerpo, de maneras que desafían la comprensión humana, a mostrarnos, amar a nuestro prójimo y trabajar por la justicia. El trabajo puede parecer imposible. Sin embargo, a través de Cristo y con el aliento–y a veces el incitación–de unos y otros, podemos y estamos, haciendo una diferencia para el bien en este mundo.

En mis propias oraciones, pido la fuerza para permanecer presente y receptiva en los lugares donde mi corazón se rompe. Como su obispa, me siento profundamente conectada con los lugares donde sus corazones se están rompiendo. Dentro de la diócesis, ciertas prioridades han salido a la superficie y continuaremos invirtiendo en ellas. Pero eso no significa que los lugares de necesidad que han reclamado su corazón no son también importantes para todos nosotros.

Dada nuestra diversidad y la amplitud de la experiencia vital representada entre nosotros, por no mencionar la inmensidad del sufrimiento y la calamidad ante nosotros, siempre estaremos más allá de nuestras capacidades. Eso, estoy convencida, eso es lo que más ama Dios de la Diócesis de Washington. También amamos al mundo, y estamos dispuestos a unirnos a Jesús en su amor sacrificado, por el bien de los demás.

Así que sigan adelante, queridos, de la manera en que nuestros corazones rotos nos muevan a amar, a dar y a trabajar por la visión de Dios de un mundo mejor. Como me dice mi director espiritual, yo les digo: La mirada amorosa de Dios está sobre ustedes. Dios está agradecido por ustedes, y yo también.

1Teresa of Avila, Christ Has No Body
2Ver la serie de sermones de Andy Stanely, A Better Question [Una pregunta mejor]
3Dorothee Soelle, Suffering (Fortress Press: 1984), p. 15

Resources for Confirmation Prep

Resources for Confirmation Prep

The Book of Common Prayer describes confirmation as “a mature public affirmation of faith and commitment to the responsibilities of Baptism” completed by the laying on of hands by a bishop of the church. In the Episcopal Diocese of Washington, we celebrate two Diocesan-wide confirmation services at Washington National Cathedral, one in the Spring and one in the Fall.

As the May 11, 2024, Spring Confirmation service approaches, here’s a quick refresher on what resources are available through the School for Christian Faith and Leadership to support congregations in preparing candidates for confirmation, reception into The Episcopal Church and reaffirmation of baptismal vows:

  • CREATE is a ten-module online confirmation course for youth who are inquiring about faith and preparing for Confirmation. CREATE is based on the Rev. Jenifer Gamber’s book, My Faith, My Life: A Teen’s Guide to The Episcopal Church. Module topics include Baptism, Bible, Church History, Beliefs, Worship, Sacraments, Spirituality, Navigating the Church, and Mission and Ministry.
  • To assist those wanting to learn more about Jesus and be able to share his story with others, the School offers Getting to Know Jesus, a module to supplement the online CREATE course. The course connects learners with visual aids, scripture prompts, reflection questions, and tools to help learners tell Jesus’ story in creative ways. While geared towards youth, the course is also appropriate for adult learners. Consider engaging this course as part of your confirmation process or as a Lenten or Holy Week offering to get to know Jesus better.
  • A curriculum designed for adult learners is DISCOVER, EMBRACE, and BECOME. DISCOVER focuses on building a relationship with God, EMBRACE on the Episcopal way of living out Christian life, and BECOME on baptismal living. These courses can be used in series or independently. A shorter confirmation preparation course could also be assembled by selecting modules from across the three courses that most correspond to the needs of a particular class or candidate.

For assistance using these materials or finding the right confirmation preparation approach for your congregation and its candidates, please don’t hesitate to contact the Rev. Anna Olson, director of the School.

Parish History Spotlight: Calvary Explores Its Early History

Parish History Spotlight: Calvary Explores Its Early History

All parishes in the Diocese of Washington are encouraged to examine their histories from the perspective of race and racism. Over the next few months, we will spotlight parishes that are engaging in this work of truth telling through a racial lens.

Calvary Episcopal Church is one of seven historically Black Episcopal churches in the Diocese of Washington. In 2022, three dedicated parishioners from Calvary formed a committee to begin the work of examining its history. The goal: to determine how its congregation has shaped and been shaped by the realities of race in the United States.

As they continued their research, one of the committee members remarked, “I am amazed at the forced separation of Blacks and Whites in The Episcopal Church. I did not realize how prevalent the church’s racist attitudes were towards Blacks in The Episcopal Church.”

By the end of the Civil War (1861-1865) and Reconstruction (1865-1877), more than 25,000 African Americans had moved into the city of Washington, DC. By the early 1900’s there were 90,000.

In response to this migration into the city, the 1899 Diocesan Convention adopted a resolution to establish a “Committee on Colored Work.” The purpose of this committee was to prevent African Americans from leaving The Episcopal Church to join Methodist and AME churches and to address other issues of African Americans in the diocese. These issues included their representation in the priesthood, their desire for leadership positions, substandard conditions, educational needs of parishioners, vestry formations, and a continued call for respect for African Americans as intelligent and self-governing members.

In response to these issues, the Diocese of Washington established “colored chapels” or “domestic missions” to increase the number of Black Episcopalians. Its Commission for Work among Colored People attempted to achieve several goals: gain a presence and physical foothold in “East” Washington, DC, establish a place of employment for African American priests educated in King Hall (a theological institute connected with Howard University for aspiring Black priests), and provide a parent mission to serve other missions.

To fulfill some of these goals, the Rt. Rev. Henry Yates Satterlee, first Bishop of Washington, summoned the Rev. Franklyn Isaac Abraham Bennett, then in charge of St. Andrew’s Mission School in South Carolina, to come to Washington and open a new Episcopal Mission for African Americans. In June 1901, Calvary Episcopal Church in Washington, DC, was founded as a new mission church in the Diocese of Washington.

The issues of white supremacy and segregation are embedded in the founding of Calvary. Bishop Satterlee wanted the new mission to be located in the southeast section of the city, but Rev. Bennett threatened to return to South Carolina if he was not allowed to select the location.

After a careful search, Rev. Bennett located a two-story building at 1303 H Street, NE, and negotiated with the owner to use the second floor. He then secured six months’ rent, after which he searched the basements of DC churches to find equipment for the mission. Meanwhile, meetings were held in various homes in the neighborhood.

The area in Northeast DC selected by Rev. Bennett for the mission was a neighborhood of middle-class single-family homes adjacent to the H Street business district, close to the U Street Corridor. The population in 1901 was approximately 85% white, and area churches were segregated by race.

After the mission officially opened, Calvary quickly became the center of spiritual inspiration and a source of civil and social guidance. Rev. Bennett conducted services for students at Gallaudet School for the Deaf and established classes in industrial arts, cooking, sewing, and carpentry. Calvary also established the first neighborhood kindergarten, playground, branch library, and community center.

Calvary soon outgrew its quarters and, in March 1909, Rev. Bennett led the congregation to lay the cornerstone for a larger space at 11th and G Street, NE. Rev. Bennett paid for the church rectory at no cost to the church or the diocese. Although Calvary always paid off any debts it incurred for renovations, it took 40 years for the diocese to allow “Colored Calvary Chapel” to become independent with a vestry in charge of its own church funds.

Rev. Bennett was active outside of Calvary, both in the diocese and in the District. He became treasurer of the “Diocesan Committee on Colored Work” and one of the earliest civil rights advocates in the diocese. While at Calvary, he was also assigned to the Chapel of St. Philip In Anacostia and opened the Church of Atonement in northeast Washington. In addition, he served as priest-in-charge at St. Simon’s Mission in Prince George’s County for five years (1910-1915). In addition to his clerical duties, Rev. Bennett served two terms on the DC Board of Education, was a member of the Selective Service Board, and founded the Public Interest Citizen’s Association of the northeast section of the city. He was pastor at Calvary until his retirement in 1941.

During Black History Month, we are reminded that we must continue to seek a true multiracial democracy and equitable society for all. The early struggles of Black priests and congregations are beginning to be acknowledged as the wider Episcopal Church, along with American society, seeks to respond to the Black community’s cry for self-expression, liberation, and full participation.

For more information on parish history projects in the Diocese of Washington, visit Parish History Projects: Telling the Truth About Race and Racism.