Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

38
Σοφíα Sophia: Celebrating the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO Spring 2013

description

A Collection of poems, articles, and reflections written by the women and friends of MTSO.

Transcript of Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

Page 1: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

Σοφíα

Sophia:

Celebrating the Wisdom

of the Women of MTSO

Spring 2013

Page 2: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

2

About the Front Cover:

Sophia (Σοφíα) is a female name derived from the Greek word for "Wisdom. Photo taken by: Laura White at the Association of Arulagam in Tamil Nadu, India. The Association of Arulagam (House of Grace)- Arulagam is a Tamil word which means grace. The Association of Arulagam accepts women who are sexually abused, rejected by society and their families. The women’s center creates a space where women and children can be “accepted and enabled”. In January of 2012, the cross cultural group from MTSO were honored to visit the center and meet some of the women who live and work there. While there the MTSO students learned that a perimeter wall on the property was in need of repair. The crumbling wall was causing security and privacy issues for the residents of the center. MTSO students were able to provide the necessary funds for the wall to be repaired.

About the Back Cover:

Illustrated by: Sarah Wells, friend of MTSO and employee of

Worthington Christian Village.

Acknowledgements:

Marion Correctional Institute for donating time and resources for the printing of the hard copies. Nicole Pickens- for lessons in formatting. Shirley Nyhan- for help with proofreading and editing. The Women of CL/CE 275- for various acts of assistance! Rev. Dr. Lisa Withrow, Lauren Dennis-Bucholz, Sara Hill, Mary Kerns, Jeeyong Kim, Claudine Leary, Jenni Meyers, Whitney Prose, Stepheny Ransom.

Thank You,

Laura White

Page 3: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

3

Table of Contents:

Forward page By: Laura White 4 Women’s Manifesto By: CL/CE 275 Sp 13 5 Community By: Nancy Shute 6 A Prayer By: Lauren Dennis-Bucholz 10 A Journey of Infertility By: Jenni Meyers 11 Faith By: Linnette Wise 14 My Call as a Licensed Local Pastor By: Teresa Smolka 15 Cute Shoes By: Carol Williams-Young 18 Afro-Mexicana

By: Racquel F. Welch 19 We Are Baptised By: Emily Cannon 20 A Sacristan’s Prayer By: Deborah Caulk 21

Mizuko Kyou (水子供養) and the US Abortion Debate

By: Whitney Prose 22 The Continuous Call By: Sara Hill 24 A Collection of First Person Narrative Sermons By: Mary Loring 25 With Ease By: Betty Bennington 33 La Patita Fea By: Racquel F. Welch 34 It can be tempting to return to the comfort of our old skin By: Grace Welch 35 Clergy Spouses Unite By: Ray White 37

Page 4: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

4

The Complexities of Pantyhose behind the Pulpit!

By: Laura White

M.Div. ’13

I am not sure when it first happened, that moment of realization that I will forever be known as

“the lady pastor”. It must have snuck up on me like a soft whisper. Or perhaps it was there from

the very beginning and I simply refused to see it. The only thing that I know for certain is that it is

there now and no matter how hard I try to ignore it, it will not be silent.

_____________________________________________________________________________

“I’ve never seen a lady pastor before” these were the words of a very kind teen boy. His words

came after I had officiated at a very long, rainy and windy graveside service. It would be the last graveside

services that I would I naively wear high heels and a long flowing skirt to officiate in. Thankfully, no one saw

the less-than-graceful fall which occurred when I stepped out of the hearse, my heel sinking in the mud

causing my body to propel forward down the steep ditch and landing headlong into a tombstone.

That was also the day in which I discovered the true beauty and strength of women in

community. One look at their disheveled pastor (now back at the church) and the ladies who had been

cooking the funeral dinner came to the rescue, cleaning up my appearance and my bruised pride. It was the

compassion of Sara (all names have been changed) which would leave the most lasting impression. Sara was

the widow of the former pastor. Her husband had been a pastor at the church for close to ten years and he

had passed away the previous winter. Sara laughed and giggled with me joking about how her husband had

never had to deal with pantyhose behind the pulpit. Her compassion and empathy that day calmed my frayed

nerves. It is the memory of this moment which has continued to calm my frustration as I navigate the realities

of being the “lady pastor”.

It was this moment that helped me to answer a male colleague when he complained about the fact

that the district clergy women met for a monthly breakfast. He wanted to know why we had to have a special

time apart if we want to have equal rights. I looked at him and said, “We need this time apart to discuss the

complexities of wearing pantyhose behind the pulpit”. My strange sense of humor was lost on my colleague

but not on his wife who smiled and winked at me.

The truth is that our monthly clergy women breakfast provides us with a community which

provides strength for the journey. It was my sisters in ministry who helped me to figure out what to do with

the pulpit microphone which is made to clip onto a tie or a collar and the other end which must be placed in

a pocket (two things that most of my “girl” clothes do not have). They also agonized and laughed with me

over the concern of my congregation that the tone of my voice was higher than my predecessor, making it

difficult for older members to hear. I still have not managed to lower the tone of my voice but somehow we

muddle on. My sisters in ministry shared similar stories when I shared my frustration after a dcom meeting in

which a colleague was concerned about the “feminization” of the church because I had used dancing as an

analogy for faith in the sermon which I had submitted.

It is in the sharing of the story within the community that we find our strength and solidarity. It is my

hope that as you read the reflections, articles, sermons and poems in the following pages that you will find the

comfort and strength that you need to amplify your own voice in the world.

Page 5: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

5

We, the women, declare that God created all humans with intrinsic worth. God calls us to rise and fully live as God – our Creator, Sustainer, and Redeemer – intends.

We craft this manifesto recognizing it is incomplete and must be updated by those who

follow us. We recognize that no written document can represent the living reality of a

person.

o We recognize that gender is defined differently in all times, places, contexts, among

individuals, and even in an individual’s daily life. We stand in solidarity with the

female sex throughout these transitions. Naturally and socially constructed gender

differences are a reality and should be used to complement one another rather than

promote harm.

We are beautiful, but we are not for display, for sale, or as sex objects.

We are hard workers, but we are not slaves.

We are individually strong and gain further strength within community.

We are intelligent and deserve to be involved in decision making from the beginning in all

projects involving humanity.

We are complex beings and are not limited to specific traits that society views as feminine.

God calls humanity to practice a variety of shared traits that transcend gender.

We are long suffering, and we refuse to accept the exploitation, exclusion and abuse.

We know that the world can change and heal the old ways of patriarchal, hierarchal, and

unjust systems that promotes the mentioned injustices.

We demand that all of humanity be included in all aspects of life, especially in public and

private sectors of leadership.

We demand an “effeminate” leadership style to be valued and recognized. This style includes

horizontal, collaborative power structures, a commitment to relationships, and an ability to

lead from within rather than from the “top” or “front.”

We commit to being equal partners with men and masculine genders, to promote peace and

dignity of all people, to being good stewards of all God creates, to encourage development

of the mental, emotional, spiritual and physical strength of all people, and to nurture the next

generation to do the same.

By: Rev. Dr. Lisa Withrow, Lauren Dennis-Bucholz, Sara Hill, Mary Kerns, Jeeyong Kim, Claudine Leary, Jenni Meyers, Whitney

Prose, Stepheny Ransom, Laura White

Women’s Manifesto

Page 6: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

6

“Even though I never expressed the

thought, I secretly doubted my ability

to continue on as a pastor let alone be

of any comfort to this family.”

As one who holds a specialization in

Feminist and Womanist studies, the lens

through which I view and practice ministry is

one of community. My experience of God’s

presence and action has been one of the

Spirit moving within a group of people for

the purpose of relationship, healing, and

wholeness. Quite simply, I experience God

working in and through people; and not

always people of faith, well…of formal faith.

But God does use the willing. That much I

know. In my twelve years of pastoral

ministry I have definitely seen the worst of

people, church people: hate, abuse, division.

Nasty stuff. But, I have also experienced the

very best in people. People who even in the

midst of their own suffering, care about the

healing and wholeness of others, even the

pastor. This story is of one such experience.

It was August of 2005, just two months

after the death of my son and his fiancé, that I

received a call from one of my parishioners.

Joe (all names have been changed) was calling

to tell me

that his

older

brother Dan had just died. I had had the

privilege of baptizing Joe and his infant

daughter a few years earlier. It was one of

those wonderful moments of community in

the church. Joe embracing the baby, the

community of faith embracing them both, and

God’s grace embracing everyone. It was a

palpable moment of God’s presence. And

now Joe was asking if I would officiate at his

brother’s funeral since the family had no faith

community.

This was a very close family with strong

Appalachian roots. The matriarch of the

family had grown up in the hills of Western

Pennsylvania on a remote farm. She had

married young and started her family. Dan,

Community

By: Nancy Shute

M.Div ‘12

Page 7: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

7

“I listened, I cried along side, I

nodded and held her hand as she

shared her grief as well as her joy

in the life of her oldest son.”

her oldest, was found to have muscular

dystrophy, which not only confined him to a

wheelchair but eventually ended his life. He

was only thirty-one years old.

As I met with the family to plan the

funeral Dan and Joe’s mother expressed her

condolences for the loss of my son. My son

and his fiancé were killed in an ATV accident

that left our family devastated and left me at

odds with God. Even though I never

expressed the thought, I secretly doubted my

ability to continue on as a pastor let alone be

of any comfort to this family. I was torn

between my own grief and the thought of

leaving this woman alone in hers. And so I

did the only thing I was capable of doing, I

practiced the ministry of presence. I listened,

I cried along side, I nodded and held her hand

as she shared her grief as well as her joy in the

life of her oldest son.

On the day of the funeral I arrived to find

the funeral home packed with family and

friends. In true Appalachian community there

must have been over 200 mourners. The

funeral director had opened all partitions and

filled the rooms with chairs. It was standing

room only, and even that was scarce.

I began my approach to the lectern and

surveyed the room. To my left was Dan. He

rested in a rented particleboard coffin

surrounded with the mementos of his

presence in the lives of hundreds of friends

and family. There were stuffed animals, single

flowers picked from the surrounding

countryside, bottles of his favorite pop, and

photos. It was the largest display of love and

connection I have seen in twelve years of

ministry. I remember wondering how in my

broken state I would ever be able to offer

anything to this group of people who gave so

much of

themselves.

As I took the

last step up to the

lectern to begin the service there was a small

rustle in the crowd directly in front of me and

Page 8: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

8

“It would be years of healing and

a seminary education later before

I would recognize even the

smallest bit of God’s healing

action that occurred within that

community at that place and

time.”

behind the

family. The

crowd

parted to

make a path and directly in front of me

taking up intentional visual positions were Joe

and my husband. They looked at me and

smiled then put their hands together to signify

they were praying for me. And then everyone

in the room looked at me and nodded. As the

Spirit moved about the room the community

of that day drew together in faith, hope, and

celebration of Dan’s life and God’s grace.

I had the privilege of being graveside a

month later when Dan’s ashes were gently

placed in his grandmother’s grave. In a small

cemetery of the remote hills near the family

homestead I offered words of hope and peace

as the family took turns replacing the earth of

the grave. It was this community’s last

physical act in their direct care for Dan. As I

drove away that day I felt changed. It would

be years of healing and a seminary education

later before I would recognize even the

smallest bit of God’s healing action that

occurred within that community at that place

and time. We came together in shared grief

and hope and together we shared the gift of

God’s presence.

Did You Know that MTSO

has a women’s

network?

Check us out on

facebook!

Page 9: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

9

Heavenly Mother, you knew my name and my heart before I was born.

You carefully crafted me in your image and blessed me in my Earthly

Mother's womb. My first cries, although strained, called out your holy name...

and for that I am thankful.

Heavenly Grandmother, you fill my soul with spiritual nourishment, warm

and delicious like apple pie. You sooth my pain with hugs and kisses, and you

hold me in your secure arms. You teach me to appreciate the land around me

and find healing in it – from the song of the birds to the rippling waters

between my fingers… and for that I am thankful.

Heavenly Teacher, you answer my questions and ask me more, leaving me

wiser but still more confused. You encourage me to find my voice and share it

with others. Your wisdom goes beyond anything that I could ever image… and

for that I am thankful.

Heavenly Spirit, I never feel alone because you reveal yourself to me in the most

ordinary of places. A simple smile from a stranger or a song on the radio has

pieces of you within them. Each part of your creation is sacred and beautiful…

and for that I am thankful. Amen.

Photograph by Megan Gehrlich (Mickey G Photography)

A Prayer

By: Lauren Dennis-

Bucholz

Page 10: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

10

“I may appear fine on the

surface but underneath I

am struggling with deep

hurt.”

“I am angry with God.

I feel like a broken

woman. I am

depressed and anxious.

I am a pin cushion, my

relationships are

struggling, and we are

broke.”

A Journey of Infertility By: Jenni Meyers

Master of Theological Studies and MA Counseling Ministries Student

As women we are physically designed

to give birth. However, for some women that

desperately desire children, the ability does

not come so “naturally”. Infertility is defined

as the inability to become or

stay pregnant after a year of

trying to conceived for

those under 35 or six

months for those 35 and

older. Approximately 1 out

of 8 women suffers from

infertility. I am one of those

women. Infertility is a

physical disease but has very real mental,

emotional, and spiritual components. I

recently asked some friends what they would

want to know if they could ask a woman with

infertility anything. The following is my

attempt to answer those questions with what I

want you to know.

I want you to know that infertility has

turned my world upside down. It threatens

the future story of my family. It affects every

single piece of my life. I may appear fine on

the surface but underneath I am struggling

with deep hurt. I am angry with God. I feel

like a broken woman. I am depressed and

anxious. I am a pin cushion, my relationships

are struggling, and we are broke. But I get

dressed and put on a show to get through the

day because infertility is so misunderstood

and today I do not feel like explaining. I don’t

want you to judge me when I say that my

husband and I decided to use medical

treatments and supplements. I certainly don’t

want you to tell me to adopt. Trust me I have

considered every possible path on the

infertility road. I do not want you to pity me.

Tomorrow I will spend the day crying and

angry but then I will feel the need to share my

own story for the healing of myself and

others. So I start a blog and hold on to the

little hope I have left believing I can make a

difference even in my pain.

I want you to know that I am still not

pregnant and we are starting a new cycle of

treatment. In the next two weeks, I will have

three or more ultrasounds and just as many

blood draws. I will give myself at least a dozen

injections, take several supplements, and hope

it all works this time. I will spend a couple

hours on the phone with my reproductive

endocrinologist’s office. I will sit in the

OBGYN’s office with pregnant and

menopausal women. We all are dealing with

hormones; at least we have that in common. I

will drive hundreds of miles to see a naturalist

and a chiropractor. I think about seeing an

acupuncturist but there is no way to afford

that with the thousands of dollars we already

spent on treatment this month. I will contact

a different reproductive endocrinologist that

is an additional forty miles away in hopes that

he will treat me like a

person and not a uterus.

This month I will see

Page 11: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

11

half a dozen or more healthcare professionals,

each providing more questions than answers.

I want you to know that my husband

is my biggest supporter and all of this is

affecting him as well. I wonder whom he

could talk to who could possibly understand. I

want you to know that I searched for

emotional support very early on, but there are

no support groups close and I cannot afford a

therapist if I want to continue physical

treatment. So, I settle for internet support

forums and blog writing. If anything, getting

my story out helps me process what is

happening. I know I should lean on God.

Some days I pray constantly, but others I am

angry at God and remain silent. The mental

aspect of this disease is the hardest. There are

hopes followed by disappointments and there

are too many unknowns. I cannot explain

how I feel most days and it leads to

depression and anxiety. I wonder if I will ever

recover for this.

I want you to know that I am not mad

at you if you became pregnant. I am angry at

my situation and if it came easy or naturally

for you I am jealous. If we are close I really

need to hear your news from you personally.

Please do not hide it from me; it will only hurt

more. Try to be understanding when I do not

have much to say and if I become distant. I

am trying to deal with my own issues without

hurting you too but it is really difficult. I want

you to know that I am happy for you. If you

were able to conceive on your own, I am also

glad that you do not have to suffer in this

barren land. If you too have been struggling

with infertility, your story gives me hope. Do

not complain about pregnancy. I am aware

that it is very difficult for many, but I would

be on bed rest for the whole 40 weeks if it

meant I could have my own child. And some

of those symptoms I know too well as I pump

myself with artificial hormones each month.

If you have a baby shower it is okay to invite

me, but please understand if I do not attend. I

will be sure to send a gift. When your little

one arrives, I may come to introduce myself

to him/her/them but do not take it personally

when I am quiet and reserved. I am struggling

with many mixed emotions and whether this

will ever be possible for me. We are both

going to have to discover what your new

status as mom means for our relationship. If

this is not your first child it may be harder for

me to be around the baby than your other

child(ren), so please be patient with me.

I want you

to know that we had success! We are pregnant

with our miracle, but I am nervous, worried,

and scared. I am still taking hormones to help

the pregnancy and I am considered high risk. I

will try so hard not to complain about

anything; however, I have wanted this too

much. I will not even let myself enjoy this

pregnancy at all until after that first trimester.

I do not know how I would deal with a

miscarriage because there are so many more

“what ifs” after infertility. The pregnancy is

rough but I have excellent care and it seems

we are going to have a healthy baby. Infertility

still plagues my mind and I feel the distance

Page 12: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

12

grow from my other friends with infertility. I

want you to know that I cherish this

pregnancy with everything I have, but there is

still little support for those pregnant after

infertility.

I want you to know that it was a

difficult road but I am a mom. My son is one

of the greatest blessings of my life. I am

beyond thankful to experience pregnancy,

birth, and parenthood. I reached my goal but

I am not cured. As I put my baby to bed

tonight I will wonder if he will be my only

baby. I worry about how difficult it maybe to

give him siblings. How long will it take? What

will it take? Can I do it all again? Can we do it

all again? Is it fair to my husband, my son, and

my friends?

I want you to know that infertility still

has a strong hold on me and haunts me daily.

Infertility is debilitating and lifelong. The

wounds it created may heal but there will

always be scars. What I need from you is

patience and a listening ear. Most of all I need

you to know that I am not alone. There are

7.3 million other women in the US alone

fighting this disease. Each of us has a

different story and many suffer in silence. I

want you to know that the disease is not

respected by some. I want you to know

insurance companies rarely offer coverage and

treatments are expensive (as is adoption). I

want you to know that legislative issues often

threaten treatment options. I want you to

know that there are not enough counselors,

pastors, families, or friends that know about

infertility. I want you to know that infertility

hurts, destroys, and does not discriminate. I

want you to know this because the one in

eight women struggling with infertility is

someone you know.

For more information about infertility visit

resolve.org.

Page 13: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

13

Photograph by Megan Gehrlich (Mickey G Photography)

L.O.V.E

Love is for Everyone!

Check us out on facebook .

Faith

By: Linette Wise

MA in Counseling Student

Lord I need for you to give me faith

I need the faith to share your faith

I don't need the faith to move mountains,

just the faith to move me

I don't need the faith to part the sea,

just the faith to part sin from me

I don't need the faith to conquer nations,

just the faith to conquer fear

I don't need the faith to do miracles,

just the faith to keep you near

Just the faith to spread Your Word

Just the faith to share what I heard

Amen

Page 14: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

14

“You did a wonderful

job…but women don’t

belong behind the

pulpit.”

God has always been present in my

life. As a child I attended church and

responded to an altar call at the age of 13,

asking Jesus to be my friend. At 13 I wasn’t

sure what it meant to have a personal

relationship with Him but I knew that I

needed Him as a friend and a confidant.

Time passed and at the age of 19 I

was asked to deliver the student day message

at church. After the service, my mom came up

to me and said, “You did a wonderful

job…but women don’t belong behind the

pulpit.” So I returned to college ignoring the

call that I thought I was hearing from God. I

completed my degree in Art Education. I

taught at both the high school and college

level but was never completely happy. So I

left education and went on to pursue a career

in photography while trying to serve in some

capacity in the church setting.

More time passed and I went from

being a wedding photographer to a

construction photographer. That led to my

next adventure of becoming the first

Architectural Hardware Consultant in

Youngstown. That career move caused me to

drift away from the church and from my

friend Jesus. It was during this time that I met

and married my husband. A year later we

welcomed our beautiful daughter into our

lives. After looking in her eyes, I took out pen

and paper and wrote down these words in her

baby book:

In the eyes of my child

I saw my friend Jesus,

I met my redeemer,

And reached for his hand

Though life did not go

Where I thought it would go

I now know it was part of his marvelous plan.

Meeting my daughter for the first time

made me want to be a better person. Yet, I

still was not ready to listen to the call that was

always in the back of my mind. I felt it would

be disrespectful to my mother. So I tried to

manipulate the call into

something more manageable,

something she would approve

of so I went back to teaching.

Then over the course of 18

years, I became the leader or

president in numerous organizations. I

volunteered in Girl Scouts, the PTA, the

Band, VBS, Great Books, I directed the

Children’s choir grades k-3 then 3through 8. I

became the youth group director for children

grades 6-12. Then in 2004 my mother was

diagnosed with non hodgkins lymphoma. I

quit my job as a teacher and took care of my

mom until her passing on January 21, 2006. It

was my youth group that gave me exactly

what I needed; they loved me and would not

allow me to remain in my grief. God had sent

a group of energetic teenagers to keep me

afloat. In 2007, God’s call seemed to be

getting louder. Again, I tried to manipulate it

so I went to my first lay speaking training. My

logic was: “That should quiet Him down!”

In the fall of 2009, while I was still

director of youth ministries and teaching as a

full time substitute for a teacher, God woke

My Call as a Licensed Local Pastor

By: Teresa Smolka

Course of Study Student

Page 15: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

15

“OK, I’ll do it but

YOU have to tell

my mother!”

me up in the middle of the night. I sat straight

up in bed and said “Seriously…YOU want

ME to become a minister???” I thought it

must have been a bad dream and tried to

ignore it again. But every night I was

awakened with the same thought and kept

asking the same question. Finally, on the third

night I said: “OK, I’ll do it but YOU have to

tell my mother!” I went to my senior pastor of

the church to talk to him, I confessed that

“what I needed was a big neon sign telling

what to do” about 5 minutes later the

secretary came to deliver my mail. In it was a

letter announcing the next lay speaker

training. I opened it up to find a green neon

flyer that said: “Go Preach. Lay speaker

training for those exploring ministry.”

Needless to say, I took the training.

I was still uncertain of my calling so I

prayed that God would clear my path, get rid

of every excuse I could possibly have if He

wanted me to go into ministry. The next day,

I went into my class room and to my surprise

the teacher I was substituting for came into

the class before the children arrived. She

looked at me and said: “Could I please have

my job back, I’m not cut out to be a stay at

home mom!” I took that as a sign that the

path was clear. But then I still was not

convinced. So I asked again for my path to be

free from distractions. I met with my pastor

and went through the material. Then I met

with the staff parish committee, then the

District Superintendent, the District

Committee on Ordained Ministry, and was

assigned a mentor. I jumped through all the

necessary hoops and before you knew it …it

was the month of May. I did not have an

appointment but the District Superintendent

still allowed me to go to licensing school. I

completed licensing school but had no

appointment and our District Superintendent

was leaving the district so I felt all hope was

gone for me to ever really get appointed. But

then in July, I was called to meet the new

District Superintendent. It was his first time

being a DS and I was his first appointment. I

was given a two point charge in a rural setting

about 25 miles from my home. It was part

time and I loved it. That first year, I continued

to serve as director of youth ministries while I

served the two churches. In 2010, I began

taking classes for the Course of Study at

MTSO. Today, I am more than half way

through the classes.

Even though I first heard God’s call

on my life at 13 and realized He wanted me to

serve Him at age 19, I didn’t respond to that

call until age 50. I often wonder if I

responded to the call when I was younger,

would I have chosen to go to

seminary? Probably. But when

you have a child in college and a

husband who was raised

Catholic…you take everything

into consideration. For me, becoming a local

licensed pastor allowed me to answer God’s

call while still remaining faithful to the

promise I made to my husband on our

wedding day. I thank God for being patient

with me. I also thank Him for the wonderful

life experiences I have had that I use in my

ministry. Having waited this long to answer

the call has placed a certain urgency on my life

that I may have taken for granted if I had

answered the call when I was younger. I love

serving a church…can you believe it…they

actually pay me to talk about Jesus!

Page 16: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

16

Cute Shoes

By: Carol Williams-Young, M.Div ‘13

I think we can probably all agree that people generally

pay more attention to what women wear than what men

wear, even in the pulpit. I wear a robe in worship

services, partly to try to reduce attention to what I’m

wearing. A robe may help, but it’s not foolproof. I’m

told how pretty my robe is (although it is plain white).

One parishioner routinely tells me I look “just like an

angel” (a comment I’m pretty sure my male colleagues

have never heard when serving in their white robes).

Someone told me my black robe was not as becoming

as my white one. My favorite comment, though, is this:

one Sunday morning, a woman asked why I wasn’t

wearing my robe. After I explained that I was not

leading in worship that day, she observed, “Oh, that’s

why you’re wearing cuter shoes.”

On Saturday April 28th, 2012: Abigail Salak, Kim Wisecup and Brian West hosted a "Do-Love-Walk" social justice event at Methodist Theological School in Ohio to help both laity and clergy examine and name their own passions, interests, social concerns, experiences, and much more, as well as to explore ways in which any of these or other elements may be offered in and through social justice efforts. Claudine Leary highlighted the needs of the

refugees around the world. During the

months which followed the Do. Love.

Walk., Claudine has learned about

Community Refugee and Immigration

Services; a non profit organization.

Community Refugee and Immigration

Services is an affiliate of Church World

Services and Episcopal Migration

Ministries. Claudine has been serving the

refugee community since September 2013.

To find the videos which were used by

the CL/CE 275 class during Women’s

History month go to:

Affirming images

http://animoto.com/play/0M7VUm267kXXzRPU4sK1XQ

and

Non-Affirming images (warning content is offensive)

http://animoto.com/play/DQbe5Koz20A7sToVg412pA

Photo taken by: Kim Wisecup during the MTSO

Do. Love. Walk.

Page 17: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

17

Afro-Mexicana

By: Racquel F. Welch

Friend of MTSO, Daughter of Grace Welch

Arizona State University, Tempe Arizona

I am torn,

Torn between the very people who should accept me.

The ones who should look at me, and see a piece of themselves.

But yet…

I. Am. Invisible.

Even worse I’m non-existent.

My nappy hair or my brown skin only gets me so far,

To YOU,

I am NOT up to par.

My Spanish lacks the perfection that it needs,

And my skin lacks the color, of my African American mother.

I have learned to accept, that acceptation is over-rated.

I can NOT and will NOT try to please YOU, by splitting myself in to TWO.

I have the best of both worlds even if you can’t see me as whole,

My Black and My Brown,

Are embodied in my soul.

There is no separation or the choice of just picking one,

I can not be divided nor subtracted by one.

My skin speaks the languages of my cultures intertwined.

As my ancestors shine through me,

I’ll speak these words one last time.

You look at me as one,

Or don’t look at me at all.

I am of both worlds,

That in ME will never dissolve.

Page 18: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

18

“We Are Baptized”

(sung to the tune of “Christ the Lord is Risen Today”)

By: Emily Cannon

M.Div ‘13

We are baptized, we are claimed, Alleluia!

Called by God, and called by name, Alleluia!

Poured or sprinkled or immersed, Alleluia!

Loved by One who loved us first, Alleluia!

Washed and cleansed, we are transformed, Alleluia!

Made to weather all life’s storms, Alleluia!

Born again from God’s own womb, Alleluia!

Now we need not fear the tomb, Alleluia!

Children of the covenant, Alleluia!

Follow Him whom God has sent, Alleluia!

We, the baptized family, Alleluia!

Live in blessed community, Alleluia!

We are baptized, we are claimed! Alleluia!

We shall never be the same! Alleluia!

God who calls us—now, always, Alleluia!

We respond with thanks and praise! Alleluia!

Page 19: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

19

You are here with me, Holy God,

in this dark and quiet space,

as I now bring the Centrum back to life.

You go with me as I tidy chairs, hymnals, linens,

seeing your created radiance glimmer from the east,

waiting to welcome worshippers.

May the spark that lights these candles

remind all who enter that you are here,

warming, guiding, encircling.

May the beauty of this bread, lying still upon the paten,

reveal your love to all who come and see

as the bread is lifted high and broken.

May the sweetness of this juice, poured into the chalice,

be for all a freely flowing means of grace

as they taste and see that you are good.

You are here with us, Holy God,

Through music, prayer, scripture, sermon, silence.

May the worship in this room bring us back to life.

A Sacristan’s Prayer

By Deborah Lee Caulk

M.Div Student

Page 20: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

20

Jizou Bodhisattva at Mibu-Dera

Temple (Ritsu / Risshou), Kyoto

Japan.

Mizuko Kyou (水子供養) and the US Abortion Debate A longer version of this paper was presented at the 2013 American Academy of Religion Midwest Regional

Conference at Ohio Northern University, Ada, Ohio By Whitney L. Prose.

Master of Divinity and Master of Theological Studies Student Mizoku kyou, a “water baby ceremony,” is a new term and concept being used in the pro-life /

pro-choice stalemate in the United States. This ceremony from Japan ritually memorializes pregnancy

losses; most commonly these are aborted fetuses today. Pro-life advocates argue that mizuko kyou

shows the universally damaging nature of abortion, and abortion is contrary to human nature. Pro-

choice advocates argue that mizuko kyou shows how to handle the emotions of abortion within

religious contexts, while still recognizing that sometimes abortions must occur. Some scholars (and

advocates) argue that mizuko kyou is what keeps Japan from being polarized on the topic of abortion.

Some argue that if America should adopt mizuko kyou, or ceremonies derived from it, the US abortion

debate will begin to find common ground and be less volatile.

Mizuko kyou is made up of two Japanese terms. The first, mizuko means “Water-child,” (Wilson

7). Mizuko is a name given to fetuses in general, but more often it refers to a

dead fetus, still-born child, or other miscarriage (7). The name comes from the

idea that pre-existence is water, and out of this comes form. The second word

in mizuko kyou means “to offer,” as in offering prayers or apologies (7). Kyou

rites are the most common Buddhist practice in Japanese life and honor

everything (or everyone) from ancestors to broken household objects (7).

Thus, mizuko kyou is a rite to offer prayers and apologies to fetuses.

The ceremony itself is generally a shortened funeral service

where a Buddhist priest chants sutras, requests that the mizuko becomes a

Buddha, and has those requesting the service offer food, incense, and toys (7).

At some services, there is a memorial tablet made with the name Mizuko on it

(7). This is naming the lost fetus, much as one would name a child David or

Anne. At other ceremonies, a small statue of the bodhisattva Jizou is purchased. If Jizou is used in the

“Both pro-life and pro-choice advocates view mizuko kyou

as a means of pastoral care””

Page 21: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

21

service, the bodhisattva’s statue is often dressed in a red bib made by the mizuko’s parents (7). At

mizuko parks, the statue or statues of Jizou are washed, given offerings, and dressed like little children.

Many non-Buddhists seek out Buddhist temples to have mizuko kyou and to receive pastoral care

because “these non-Buddhists often feel they cannot receive [such] in their primarily religious

traditions” (138).

Pro-life advocates claim that mizuko kyou shows the damage abortion does. The Japanese

recognize the value of life and know they have to make amends. Mizuko kyou ceremonies are even

being adopted by the Catholic Church – with Saint Joseph rather than bodhisattva Jizou. To pro-life

advocates, mizuko kyou proves there is a real mental (and spiritual) trauma from any abortion, which

means these murders must stop.

To pro-choice advocates, mizuko kyou shows how to handle the emotions of abortion while

recognizing that sometimes abortions must happen. They argue that mizuko kyou allows one to

recognize this moment in life and heal from it. The idea that mizuko are partially formed from water and

simply move back into water, to be reborn in Heaven, or at another date on Earth (perhaps to the same

family), is a comfort and therapeutic.

Both pro-life and pro-choice advocates view mizuko kyou as a means of pastoral care. Post-

pregnancy loss manuals written by pro-choice advocates encourage women to make their own

“cleansing” post-abortion rituals, and then give mizuko kyou as an example (138). Ironically, some of

these pro-choice books offer the pro-life Catholic sacrament of Reconciliation as another good model

(138).

The Oblates of St. Joseph describe their Reconciliation steps after explaining the many negative

effects of post-abortion syndrome: “Steps include having the mother tell her story with all its pain,

grieve her loss, acknowledge the uniqueness of her child and give it a name, ask forgiveness of her child,

ritualize her loss, accept God's forgiveness, and forgive herself” (Toschi). These are very similar to

mizuko kyou. St. Joseph’s even has the name of the child memorialized on a stone placed in a garden

around a large statue of Saint Joseph holding an infant. It is easy to imagine St. Joseph as the

bodhisattva Jizou, and the stones as the memorial plaques used in mizuko kyou. Although St. Joseph’s

“Mizuko kyou will not solve the US abortion debate,

but it may solve a gap in Judeo-Christian pastoral

care.”

Page 22: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

22

St. Joseph, Patron of the Unborn

at the California Oblates of St.

Joseph (Roman Catholic);

does not mention mizuko kyou, the similarities between their ceremony and mizuko kyou suggests they

are conducting a Christianized version of the service.

Since mizuko kyou is known by both sides of the abortion debate in the US, and used by both,

could it be a means of mending this split nation? Some scholars (and advocates) think that mizuko kyou

is what keeps Japan from being polarized on the topic of abortion.

Should America adopt this ceremony, we could stop arguing about

abortion. However, scholars and researchers are now finding that

mizuko kyou is just another tool used in the abortion debate and is not

solving the problem at all. Although mizuko kyou no longer looks like a

way to solve the abortion debate, it does hold promise as a method of

pastoral care – whether that be in its native Buddhist setting or

modified to fit in another religious context. As it is, there is a dearth of

pastoral care materials for those who have lost pregnancies, especially

in the case of abortions (Neuger 125; Wilson 172). Many pastors are

often uncomfortable and ill equipped to help those who are considering

abortions, or have had abortions. Additionally, there is a stigmata in the

US that labels women who’ve considered abortions as “criminals”

(Bohler 45). Without religious rituals, and with a negative stigmata, many women choose not to seek

pastoral care and face their lost pregnancies alone (Neuger 125; Wilson 168). These women are isolated

in their time of spiritual need without a religious support system. This isolation increases depression

symptoms and feelings of worth. Mizuko kyou, or a derivative, is a way pastors could reach out to those

who are hurting and reconnect them back into a religious support system. If these rituals are known,

and those participating in them are not ostracized, those who have lost pregnancies could also feel

comfortable approaching pastors for care. Mizuko kyou will not solve the US abortion debate, but it may

solve a gap in Judeo-Christian pastoral care.

Page 23: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

23

Works Cited

Bohler, Carolyn Stahl. “Female-Friendly Pastoral Care.” In Jeanne Stevenson Moessner (Ed.), Through the

eyes of women: Insights for pastoral care (pp. 27-49). Minneapolis, Fortress: 1996. Print.

Keown, Damien ed. Buddhism and Abortion. U. of Hawai’i, Honolulu: 1999. Print.

LaFleur, William. Liquid Life: Abortion and Buddhism in Japan. Princeton University, New Jersey: 1992.

Print.

Neuger, Christie Cozad. “The Challenge of Abortion.” In Pamela D. Couture and Rodney J. Hunter (Eds.),

Pastoral care and social conflict (pp. 125-140). Nashville, Abingdon: 1995. Print.

Toschi, Larry M. “St. Joseph: Patron of the Unborn.” Oblates of St. Joseph, Oblates of St. Joseph, Santa

Cruz CA: 2007. Web. 15 May 2012.

Wilson, Jeff. Mourning the Unborn Dead: A Buddhist Ritual Comes to America. Oxford, New York: 2009.

Print.

An excerpt

Continuous Call

By: Sara Hill

Master of Theological Studies Student

“I have the wonderful opportunity to partner with the Lord in ministry. God calls, but it is up

to me to respond. As I choose to respond to the call, it is my prayer that God goes before me in

all things and in all areas of my life. My strength and authority for ministry and leadership come

from God and God alone, without the Lord I am nothing. I look forward to the journey!”

Page 24: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

24

A Collection of First-Person Narrative Sermons: from the Female Perspective By: Mary Loring Master of Divinity Student Sarah’s Laughter

Sarah enters and looks back through the curtain as she listens to the man’s words.

“I’m coming back about this time next year. When I arrive, your wife Sarah will have a son.”

(Sarah turns to congregation and laughs a very low belly laugh of unbelief.)

Did you hear what that man just said? He said that this 90-year-old woman and that 100-year-old man

are going to have a child. Isn’t that the most hilarious thing you’ve ever heard. (Big belly laugh) This man

must be playing a practical joke on a poor old woman.

Oh, how I’ve dreamed of having a child. How many years Abraham

and I have tried to conceive? How could Abraham be the father of a great

nation if his wife was barren? Our many dreams help to sooth the wounds

from the nasty stares and the not so quietly spoken gossip of the women of

the village. “It’s shameful to not be able to bear your husband a son.”

And now…now am I to believe that this old body, this old soul is

going to bear a son? I’ve seen what the young mothers go through during

childbirth...not to mention the throwing up at the smell of something so

common as figs, I love figs, and the large belly, the very large belly. Did I

forget to mention…. I’m 90 years old! What took God so long to fulfill this

promise to us?

But then I heard what we were to name our new son. What irony it is

that his name shall be Isaac. This child of my old age will be known as the son

of my laughter. Isaac will be my laughter. (Reflective laugh)

So whatever may come, I will accept this joy of a child even in my later years. I will relish each

easy and hard time ahead. I will choose to live in full joy because God will fulfill his promise to Abraham

and myself and give us a son, my Isaac, my laughter. God has blessed me with laughter and all who get

the news will laugh with me! (Sarah laughs a low belly laugh as she walks off stage.

Wonder of Wonders: A Shepherdess’ Story

Luke 2:8-20

Page 25: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

25

I shouldn’t be out here in the barren dessert with the sheep tonight. I should be at home, in our

cave, warm and sleeping. But once again my husband has been too kind to the boys who work for him

and he has given them the night off instead. He told me that they had been working hard and they

deserved a break. I told him I had been working hard as well and deserved a break. Constantly we are

working our sheep in order to make ends meet. My husband and my sons spend hours with the sheep

outside, while my daughters and I slave away in our tiny cave home churning sheep milk into butter and

cheese, spinning wool until my fingers ache, and then going out and bartering in the market for the best

price. I knew what life would be like in a sheepherder’s family. I knew that no matter how hard we

worked we would still be seen as uneducated and unclean by the townsfolk. We are a vital part of this

town supplying the pure sacrificial lambs, but no one wants to look at us or associate with us because

we work with dirty sheep.

My husband told me this would be an opportunity to spend time together, just our family. Yes,

this would be a luxury being outside for the night plus we rarely get two minutes together as a family

with all the work that has to be done. But now the girls and I are cold and my husband and our sons are

after one of the wandering sheep. So much for family time together, the old fool?

Make the best of this you complaining old woman is what he’d tell me. He is right too. How often

do I get to see a sky like this, the stars seem to be right on top of us. And look at that star over in the

East. It’s so large. The night is so clear and that is why it is so cold. Ah, there they come with that good

for nothing wandering lamb.

But who is that beside my husband. I have not seen this one before and it’s as if this stranger is

aglow. He is saying, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.

Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is

Christ the Lord” (vv. 10-11)

I know the townsfolk think of us sheepherding families as

an ignorant lot, but I know what this stranger is saying. He is

saying that the Messiah, the one that Isaiah the prophet

foretold has been born tonight, right here in our hometown of

Bethlehem. But why would we be told such great news?

Shouldn’t this messenger be telling the religious authorities?

Wait, now he is telling us where to find the baby. “This will be a

sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a

manger.” (v.12)

A baby lying in an animal feed trough. But if this is the Messiah, our King, why is he not lying in a

grand palace? Why such a humble place? Why tell such a lowly people as shepherds such news?

Oh my goodness, there are so many others with this one now. They are singing. What are they

saying, “Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace to all on who his favor rests.” (v. 13b)

Page 26: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

26

But his favor has rested upon us lowly shepherds? God is telling us about the birth of our Savior.

Oh my, the messengers, they must have been angels, are gone. I look into my husband’s eyes and he

does not hesitate but says to us, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the

Lord has told us about.” (v. 15b)

We didn’t hesitate and left the sheep grazing as our family descended into the town of Bethlehem.

My husband recalled hearing that Jacob’s son Joseph had traveled to Bethlehem from Nazareth for the

census with his very pregnant wife. We would begin our search for the child in a manger at the house of

Jacob. Instead of knocking on the front door, my husband went directly to the stable. I wasn’t sure this

was the proper way, but I too could not wait to find the child the angels had told us about.

And yet, I wasn’t prepared for the beautiful scene before us. There as the angels had told us was

the baby boy wrapped in clothes and lying in a manger. The peace that flowed from that manger was

undeniable. The mother, Mary, was glowing with love for her new born son as each of us knelt by the

manger gazing upon our Messiah, our Savior, our new born king. Joseph was standing by Mary’s side

and he was in awe of the babe as much as we were. Even the very animals within the stable seemed to

bow down and worship the Christ-child.

As we left the stable, my husband sent me to tell everyone we knew of the wonder of wonders we

had seen that night. Of the stars and the angels, the child in a manger and his family so holy. We both

went our separate ways, my husband back to tend the sheep and I to our family and friends in the city

telling all the grand news. We were glorifying and praising God for allowing us to be the first to witness

God with us, Emmanuel, in this babe in a manger. But why did God send the angels to us? Surely this

wonder of wonders is to marvelous for a lowly shepherd family to convey. And yet who better to tell of

a babe in a manger than lowly shepherds like us.

Oh wonders of wonders how will this child in a manger be a Savior, not just for lowly shepherds but

for all people as the angels said? I wonder as I wander….

I wonder as I wander out under the sky

How Jesus the Saviour did come for to die

For poor on'ry people like you and like I;

I wonder as I wander out under the sky

When Mary birthed Jesus 'twas in a cow's stall

With wise men and farmers and shepherds and all

But high from God's heaven, a star's light did fall

And the promise of ages it then did recall.

If Jesus had wanted for any wee thing

A star in the sky or a bird on the wing

Or all of God's Angels in heaven to sing

He surely could have it, 'cause he was the King

Page 27: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

27

I wonder as I wander out under the sky

How Jesus the Saviour did come for to die

For poor on'ry people like you and like I;

I wonder as I wander out under the sky

Ponderings

Luke 2: 1-20

After the incredible visit by the angel, Gabriel, then spending three wonderful months with my

relatives, Zechariah and Elizabeth returning home to Nazareth with Joseph seemed as if it were a

dream.

Joseph married me, but when I began to show my pregnancy and the townspeople began to

count the months...well the rumors began to fly. I could not walk to the town well to draw water

without someone making a comment or staring. And Joseph's carpentry business which had been doing

well prior to our marriage began to lose customers. It was our community's way of telling us that we

weren't acceptable anymore.

Even so, the months until Jesus birth seemed to pass by quickly. My parents though happy about

our marriage and overwhelmed with the news of the holy pregnancy were concerned for us. They would

often bring by extra food and Mama would make such wonderful bread for me to eat. My parents and

Joseph were constantly insisting I eat to keep my strength up.

Then the decree came. Joseph must go to Bethlehem to be counted with the line of David. From

the moment of the decree my parents and I argued. They said it was too close to my time of delivery

and that I should stay in Nazareth. My father accused Joseph of endangering mine and the child’s lives

with this foolishness. My mother was especially afraid. She knew that if we traveled I would be

Page 28: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

28

delivering the baby alone. But I knew that I must stay with Joseph and that God would provide a way.

Finally, after discussing the issue for what seemed like the hundredth time, Joseph though dreading this

moment finally spoke up. He explained to my parents that prophecy was being fulfilled. That Micah had

predicted that the Messiah was to be born in Bethlehem. He too told them that God would provide a

way.

My parents somehow began to understand. My mother took me through all that would need to

be done at the delivery, making sure Joseph was within ear shot. My father helped Joseph to purchase a

place with one of the Mesopotamian caravans passing through Nazareth. The Mesopotamians would

travel the quickest way south while also giving protection on the road. Traveling with foreigners wasn’t

settling well with Joseph, but he knew they would be traveling under heavy guard and therefore safe

from bandits and mountain lions. The next morning with everything packed on my father’s donkey,

including the birthing kit my mother had made especially for me, we said our good-byes and made our

way into the middle of the caravan and began our journey towards Bethlehem.

We descended the high Galilean hills, Mount Tabor rising in the east. After a bit of walking,

Joseph stopped the donkey and placed me on its back. The walking was tiring, but riding on the back of a

donkey when one is so full of child wasn’t easy either. I would not complain. This was a burden I must

bare and I didn’t want Joseph to worry. I was relieved when we stopped that first night. We ate some

bread my mother had packed and quickly fell asleep.

The next day it was as if God had wanted to lift my spirits for we crossed through the beautiful

plain of Jezreel with the incredible smells of green forests. That day of traveling through the forest

would carry me as over the next days we began the hard climb into the mountains. The Sabbath was

coming and I knew that Joseph was nervous about stopping, but it was more important to worship God.

The next day we caught up with the slower moving caravan as we passed by Mount Gilboa, where King

Saul and his son Jonathan had been slain by the Philistines. As we passed through Dothan, Joseph and I

talked about Jacob’s son Joseph being sold by his brothers and how Moses would hear from God

through the burning bush and lead the Israelites to safety.

As the days went on, I could feel Jesus moving inside of me. He was preparing to be born moving

down into the birthing canal. The contracts began slowly, but as we neared Bethlehem the pain was so

great that I could barely contain the screams inside of me. Joseph knew he must find us a place to stay

and soon. He knocked on many doors, doors of relatives even. At each door the same answer came--no

room. Finally, Joseph knocked on the door of an innkeeper who took the time to notice my predicament

before slamming the door. Quite frankly, how could anyone have missed for as he opened the door the

pain gripped me and I screamed out holding my swollen belly. He told Joseph he had no room in his

house, but that there were cave stables in the hills behind. We walked as quickly as we could. Joseph

entered the cave ahead of me with his lantern lit. He quickly found some clean hay and helped me to lie

down. I asked for my mother’s kit and then told Joseph to wait outside the cave entrance. He began to

argue with me, but I told him I would be fine and if I needed him I would call out.

I could see Joseph pacing just outside the entrance. I got the things mother had packed prepared

Page 29: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

29

and placed the water Joseph had drawn for me by my side. Jesus came quickly then. Within a few

minutes Joseph could hear the strong cries of God’s son. I cleaned Jesus up and then myself. Once I had

Jesus quietly nestled at my breast I called to Joseph. Though this was God’s son, the love I saw in

Joseph’s eyes was overwhelming. Joseph crawled down next to us and we slumbered there peacefully.

I don’t know how long we slept there but awoke when we heard voices outside the cave. I quickly

wrapped Jesus and placed him in the manger that Joseph had supplied with fresh hey. Joseph sprang up

and went outside to see what the commotion was about and returned with shepherds. Many, many

shepherds came. They said an angel had told them about this miraculous birth of a Savior, Christ the

Lord. Then a whole choir of angels began to sing, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace and

goodwill to all.” These many, many shepherds knelt down and worship the son of God. The radiance of

that cave must have glowed throughout the countryside. But why shepherds? In your day and age

shepherds would be equivalent to garbage collectors I think. They were unclean and hardly any of them

could or would worship on a regular basis. Why had God chosen such a lowly lot to be the first to

worship the newborn king?

As the shepherds left you could hear them shouting the news throughout the city. Who else

would come worship this child I had just bore? Would those who had stared and sneered at Joseph and I

come to worship the son they thought was ill got? Would the many innkeepers, our very own relatives

who had turned us away early come worship the King of Kings and Lord of Lords?

How about you? Will you find room in your heart for Jesus this Christmas? Will you come

worship the newborn king? Will you, like the shepherds in your excitement, go and tell the good news

for all to hear? Will the radiance of God’s light glow forth from this place so that all will know that Christ

the King is being worshipped here in every heart on this night of nights? Please don’t say there’s no

room for God’s son. For today in the city of David the Lord, our Savior, has been born. Won’t you

worship him with me?

What are you looking for?

John 20:1-18

From the voice of Mary Magdalene

“Mary” I remember the way he said my name that early morning by the tomb. “Mary” what a

sweet sound, I thought I’d never hear again. “Mary”

I am Mary of Magdala. There are many stories you have heard about me, but don’t believe them

all. Yes, I was the one who had seven devils cast out of me by the holy one, Jesus. And yes, I was one of

the women who followed Jesus and helped the disciples during his ministry. I am also the woman who

could wait no longer to be with my murdered king that Easter morning so long ago.

Page 30: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

30

The Sabbath was technically over. I had laid awake in my bed until the very beginning rays of sun

light came in. I grabbed my head covering and a bag of burial spices and began the long walk to the

place we had placed him.

I knew that the guards would still be there. That’s why I didn’t worry about the large stone. But

when I arrived there were no guards and the stone was rolled aside.

I turn and ran to fetch Peter. I knew where the disciples had been hiding. I didn’t blame them.

Only the women could be with Jesus till the bitter end. It was almost a sure thing that the others would

have been arrested. No one took much notice of the weeping women, but the men who associated with

Jesus…now that was another thing entirely. So they hid, in the upper room where they had had the

Passover with Jesus just a few short days before.

The moment I told Peter that someone had taken

Jesus’ body he and the disciple Jesus loved, the only one

who dared to be at the foot of the cross with we women,

ran to see for themselves. I could barely keep up and

noticed that Peter fell behind as well. Yet, it was Peter

who entered the tomb first, without hesitation. Peter

was impulsive as ever. Then the other disciple entered.

When they came back out they had such looks of peace

on their face and left the garden. But I couldn’t leave. Not

until I knew where the body was.

How could they have peace? There was still no body to be found. I couldn’t help myself. I began

to cry uncontrollably. Finally, I bent down and looked into the tomb and saw two angels sitting where

Jesus’ head and feet should have been. They asked me why I was crying and I told them that the body of

my Lord had been stolen.

Then I turned around and saw a man. I thought he was the gardener and knew if I asked him

he’d know where they had taken the body.

He too asked why I was crying and who I was looking for. I knew this man would be able to tell

me where Jesus was and so I asked again if he’d carried Jesus away to tell me so that I could get him.

Then in the call of my name I heard music. “Mary” that’s all it took and I knew that this was no

mere man standing with me, but my Lord and Savior Jesus. This was the only man who had accepted me

as I was—a sinner in need of release. I had come to the tomb looking to remember what that

acceptance felt like. I had come to the tomb mourning not just the man, but the renewal of life I had

been given. Without Jesus would the other disciples would anyone respect me and see the new me that

Jesus saw even before my sins had been forgiven? I had come to the tomb looking for a body to mourn

and understanding that my life as I had experienced it in Jesus was over.

Page 31: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

31

What are you looking for? Are you seeking a man who was a great prophet and preacher…a

great healer and leader? Or are you like myself looking for a body to mourn so that we can get back to

our sorry lives of business as usual…knowing that our acceptance and forgiveness are a thing of the past

living without Jesus.

Do we go to the empty tombs of our lives where things are fuzzy and unclear to celebrate a

victorious resurrection? Or, is it our mission to verify the existence of dead bodies while we

wish for things the way they were or the way we wish they had been?

Well, let me tell you what I discovered that morning so long ago. I had come to the tomb looking

for a body to mourn and what I discovered was the Lord who wanted me to tell the others…to tell

you….HE IS RISEN!!! Jesus died yes, I watch him suffer on the cross, but on the third day he rose just like

he had told us he would. Through Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection we have the ability to be

transformed into the people only Jesus imagines us to be. Not the people of our past or present, but the

disciples that Jesus calls us to be, the disciples Jesus knows we are capable of being.

What are you looking for? He is not dead. Jesus is risen! Alleluia!

Photo taken by: Laura White

Page 32: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

32

I came to the Garden Alone

By: Deborah Caulk

She is sitting in her chair;

she has a dowager’s hump. her face is puffed and wrinkled, her hands are thin skinned and gnarled-

her laundry is being done in the latest machines. She is rebelling being bossed by children, doctors, and time:

so says, “I’m disgusted with me.”

As she talks, I know and recall- Her sheets and diapers were always white, she often hauled or carried water from a well or from a spring, she often primed a pump while her breathe was freezing mid-air and her hands were sticking to metal, she boiled water and some clothes, too, shaved old yellow soap and sometimes used lye and scrubbed them on a board- leaving knuckles raw and bleeding; those clothes that froze on the line did eventually dry after all. And she says, “Once I did my laundry with ease. I would like to hang my sheets on a line- See them glistening in the sun And billowing in the breeze.”

With Ease

(First Published in “The Dream Shop” 1992 Verse Writer’s Guild of Ohio)

By: Betty Dodge Bennington

Friend of MTSO, Member of Denmark UMC

Conflict Managed, Conflict Transformed

By: Deborah Caulk

Page 33: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

33

La Patita Fea By: Racquel F. Welch

Friend of MTSO, Daughter of Grace Welch

Arizona State University, Tempe Arizona

I’ll admit, Your words cut like a knife going across my wrist.

Tortured and tormented my pride, Even though I refused to let you win.

You may have sent me home with watery eyes, But I wouldn’t let you get the satisfaction of

seeing me cry. Your words my have temporarily bounded to my

physical sight, Made me hate everything I saw,

When I looked in the mirror at night. You may have made me believe I was ugly and

not made right. That the pimples on my skin were too blotchy and

red, That my teeth were over-sized,

And I had a big head. That my body was almost perfect…

If it didn’t have my face. That my hair was never done or hot combed

straight. Your words may have hurt me, But I eventually found my way.

My acne scars are present, My teeth are still big,

My head may not fit my body, But I found beauty in it.

My imperfections are flawless because there is

only one me, I was then,

And still am, Made how I was supposed to be.

Page 34: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

34

It can be tempting to return to the

comfort of our old skin By: Grace S. Welch

MA in Counseling Ministries ’14

First published in Campus View, February 2013

God wants to authenticate us – provide us with

new skin. The process of shedding your old skin

is painful, however. Your new skin can feel too

large, too tight, too short or just plain

uncomfortable. That can send you searching for

your old skin.

I am in my third year and internship phase of

the MACM program (the Pastoral and

Professional Counseling Track). I know all about

the pain of purging old skin.

Before coming to MTSO, I transitioned from a

successful 23-year career in human resources

for which I was passionate. I enjoyed my home,

a comfortable living, great weather, a network

of friends and contacts, and my church.

Here in Ohio, I found myself working in MTSO’s

buildings and grounds department, living on

campus, enduring the ups and downs of student

life, and raising a son by myself, 1,400 miles

from my family back in Arizona.

A year ago, my old skin came searching for me

in the form of an assistant chief of staff

opportunity, with significant pay and travel, a

chance to work with a former business partner,

and the prospect of returning home to Arizona.

I was conflicted.

I prayed, spoke to my pastor and advisor, and

tested the idea out with my Theories I class. I

even accepted the invitation to interview and

tour the facility, where a familiar sense of

comfort washed over me. I was able to quickly

assess departmental waste, process duplication,

“Learning to let go of the comfortable and

familiar – and surrendering to new and

unexplored areas – is a large part of the

authentication process.”

Page 35: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

35

excessive overhead and spending. My old skin

had not failed me.

Only this time, I saw my skin differently. This

corporate opportunity was no different than I

was used to, but I realized I had changed.

Learning to let go of the comfortable and

familiar – and surrendering to new and

unexplored areas – is a large part of the

authentication process.

I was offered the position and a chance to

return home to loved ones. In those

deliberating hours, I wrestled with my new and

old skin and was reminded of the parable from

the gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke. We all

know what happens when new wine is put into

old wineskins. The skin will be destroyed. But

when new wine is poured into a fresh wineskin,

both are preserved.

Needless to say, I did not take that job. Staying

here at MTSO, pressing toward the calling, has

not only preserved me, but it has shown me

how to recognize the surrendering time. It has

tested me and placed in me the courage to

submit and the power to confront the

unknown.

Those things were useful as I searched for a

practicum intern site. I thought I could not work

with alcohol and other substances or with

troubled youths. I was hoping to intern in a

facility where I could practice my pastoral care

skills. Yet I was led to an addictions treatment

and recovery facility.

Reluctant and hesitant at first, I pulled on the

new skin. After the first couple of weeks, I was

uneasy. This new skin felt like burlap. As I

learned the operations, worked with staff and

built therapeutic relationships my comfort level

steadily increased. By the time my practicum

ended, I had a newfound desire to work with

this population. Had I tried to shed my new skin

too soon, I clearly would have missed the

chance to feel how well it could fit me.

Recently I had yet another chance to try on new

skin, spending an internship working with

adolescents, providing trauma informed care in

a residential, shelter and acute-care setting.

“This new skin felt like burlap.”

“Resisting authentication – your new

skin – is refusing a precious gift

intended especially for you to

accomplish the work you are called to

do.”

Page 36: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

36

I am doing everything I thought I would never

do. Why should I be surprised? The Lord

declared in Jeremiah 29:11, “For I know the

plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and

not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a

future.” Resisting authentication – your new

skin – is refusing a precious gift intended

especially for you to accomplish the work you

are called to do. My sisters and brothers,

though the old and familiar lurks and calls to

you, I encourage you to press on toward new

goals in your new skin.

Page 37: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

37

Real Men

Support

Women’s Rights!

Clergy Spouses Unite By: Ray White

Friend of MTSO, Spouse of

Laura White

I have to admit I borrowed

the title for this article from a

facebook group which I began following several

months ago. The group was designed as a place where clergy

spouses can ask for prayer, post on events, share concerns and ask for

wisdom from people who have been through the same situations.

I must confess though that I have not felt comfortable to post

or respond to any of the comments. Comments on this page usually begin with statements such as,

“Okay girls, I have problem…” or “Alright ladies…”. I would like to respond by saying that I am not a

girl or woman but I have something valuable to contribute. I would like to say, “I have been through

this or yes, I would like to pray for you” but I have not had the strength to respond.

To be honest, it is probably the first time in which I have experienced this sort of thing. I have

always acknowledged the reality of my white male privilege but I was never fully aware of what that

meant. I am not naïve enough to think that this small amount of feeling like the “other” lets me know

what it feels like to be oppressed or marginalized but it has allowed me to more fully be aware of the

privileges which have been offered to me simply because I was born white and male in the U.S.A.

Over the past several years I have seen my wife struggle with the

stereotypes and prejudices that come with being a clergy woman in rural Ohio. I have watched Laura

with God’s help and her unending determination continue to overcome each obstacle. She continues

to do what God has called her to do, which is to bring God’s word and love to a broken world even

when that world does not always acknowledge her right to do so.

My hope is that God will grant me the strength that she has shown. I want to have the strength

to stand up for change; change in the way in which the world and the church view women, men, race

and sexual orientation.

I pray to be more patient when I am introduced as the “pastor’s wife”, or invited to a clergy

spouse tea and bake sale. I am, also, more determined than ever to use my white male privilege to

give voice to those who have no voice and to stand for equality for all of God’s children.

"Change will not come if we wait for some other person or some other

time. We are the ones we've been waiting for. We are the change that we seek."

Barack Obama

The View from the “Other” Side

Page 38: Sophia: A Celebration of the Wisdom of the Women of MTSO

38