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Published 10/14/09 at http://www.hpherald.com/pg4.html
Can a seminary really build a ‘green’ building while destroying a beloved community garden in the process?
Chicago Theological Seminary and the UofC will gather at 2pm, Thursday, October 15, to break ground on the new seminary building at 60th and Dorchester. A few weeks later, they’ll pave paradise in favor of a parking lot.
LEEDS, the ratings system for ‘green’ construction to which CTS aspires, specifies that a building not only be environmentally friendly in construction process and function, but also that it contribute to overall quality of life for its inhabitants and location. An active community garden which unites generations, classes, and races as the centerpiece of this block does well in this regard; looking out over an urban wasteland of empty lots does nothing good.
It’s important to know that when the Board of Trustees and administration of CTS had the opportunity to use their influence to stop this destruction, they chose not to do so, despite alumni pressure.
Throughout this decision-making process, CTS has operated as a silent accomplice. I can understand why community garden supporters might not want to challenge the UofC for its community development ethics; it’s an 800 lb. gorilla. But here is a seminary that is about to reap enormous gains from the neighborhood’s loss, earning fame for preaching its concern for creation and the world’s oppressed, and saying nothing about destruction done on its behalf in our own backyard.
Only a few students including myself ever went down to meet with folks at garden, local churches, schools, farmers’ markets, or the Experimental Station; the administration initiated no genuine efforts to do so.
This silence is not unique to the garden’s destruction. For years, CTS has been completely disengaged from the neighborhood--so much so that hardly anyone realizes there’s a seminary above the Seminary Co-op Bookstore in the first place.
Lest readers think I’m a chronically disgruntled alum, I used to love this school. I was editor of the student paper, student government co-president, student representative to the Board of Trustees. I worked in the Development office and gave generously of my personal time and money. I was even on a design committee and participating in LEEDs discussions until it became clear that accountability to the surrounding neighborhood would be no serious priority. At every step, I raised concerns for community preservation and neighborhood accountability, and my words fell on deaf ears.
We need to hold CTS accountable, and not allow their silence to protect them. The onus is on CTS to prove itself prophetic outside its walls. As this ‘progressive’ seminary leaves one ivory tower to build an ivory fortress south of the midway, it is up to the people who care to demand they shoulder the responsibility for what they’ve done.
Any institution can speak prophetically, and can even gain a little fame and fortune for doing so. It’s entirely another thing for the administration, Trustees, faculty, and students to walk their talk.
Rev. Le Anne Clausen de Montes
M.Div. CTS 2009
Showing posts with label urban ministry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label urban ministry. Show all posts
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Monday, April 07, 2008
Notes from My Cell, April 7
We've had beans five times in four days. I'm surprised, I guess, although I know it's cheap filler. I guess fiber is beneficial too since there's very little veggie and lots of starch. If I didn't mention it earlier Bisquick is at almost every meal. Bisquick and blue berries, Bisquick with butter, or jam, or as Chicken ala King.
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A good film is on tonight's TV and many of the girls are watching. Others are playing cards – the girls from Syria, Mexico and Korea all realized they knew rummy and spades and my translation isn't so necessary there. It's nice not to be needed (too much.) I've been reading through the stack of novels- generally skipping the romances….
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I don't know if I've written yet about praying the Green Line, like the Rosary, stop after stop along the tracks. Sometimes it's the Metra and sometimes the #15, but mostly the Green Line, through which I see some of the hardest luck places in the city.
Anyway, I miss that ride, but I can pray the cells or even the telephone calls I can't help but overhear from my cell next to the phone. Anguished calls, or calls followed by tears, or anger another party isn't answering. Many pain-filled lives are literally at my door. I do my best to listen and comfort above my own physical difficulties, exhaustion, and sometimes a heavy locked door.
Most have children, most have partners. Some are here because of their partner's drug or crime problems. Others, of course, are here because the problems were primarily their own. All the mothers worry about being inside on a child's birthday. I write all of this because my not having any children or desire for a partner is an endless source of fascination for the other women.
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Jail is not built for comfort. I remind myself this twelve times a day, mostly while working on loosening that back spasm. It's supposed to be cold and you're supposed to be hungry and tired. My younger friend wants to know if I've cried yet, and is amazed I haven't. She wonders where I get the calm. She's equally fascinated by my wanting to do ministry. I think she may have potential for good things.
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It was so good to have Easter, my 30th birthday, and the farewell before coming in. Necessary spiritual support. I was reminded of this because of the lousy chapels [chaplains? editor] – where is the Gospel of telling me everything I am up to this point is garbage, and all I need is to choose the clothes of righteousness? Whatever happened to a loving God? Whatever happened to Biblical study rather than choosing "magic words" from a dozen different verses? But I suppose these suburban ladies mean well, and some of the girls really like them. As my young friend says, "You have to understand most of us have lived lives outside of Christ." But the Catholic girl says, "They teach us in there stuff I've never seen in church and their Bible isn't like any Bible I've read."
----
Nearly all the girls play cards, which I am terrible at generally, but I'm about to get better I think. It's neat that cards are the universal language.
----
A lot of my time has gone these past two days to helping the Syrian girl reach her husband or family and find out what's going on. I almost wonder if her husband isn't planning to pick her up. Or perhaps they don't know enough English to set up the phone [collect calling plan through a company that charges exorbitant rates. In GA, it was Beall's Communication, and it took both of my internet-savvy adult sons several attempts to help my husband set this up while I was in prison. ed] And I don't know enough to really help, which is frustrating.
---
A trip outside today, for a physical at the hospital nearby – mandated by the BOP [Bureau of Prisons. ed] So, into full shackles and the paddy wagon for me. This had a startling effect on the citizens of Woodstock who happened to be in the hospital at the same time. I just tried to smile and say, "don't mind me." He guards and the medics I spoke to today were also pretty surprised to hear what I was here for protesting. One was actually quite upset, possibly by another case she's familiar with – a child molester who also only received 30 days. "Why are we locking you up when this girl's whole life has been ruined?" She also apologized for the shackles, saying that if I was seen outside without them, she'd be in trouble. It was an interesting conversation, the guards, the docs, and myself. The guard and I didn't see eye to eye on immigration, but I still felt as though it was a transformative few moments.
##
----
A good film is on tonight's TV and many of the girls are watching. Others are playing cards – the girls from Syria, Mexico and Korea all realized they knew rummy and spades and my translation isn't so necessary there. It's nice not to be needed (too much.) I've been reading through the stack of novels- generally skipping the romances….
---
I don't know if I've written yet about praying the Green Line, like the Rosary, stop after stop along the tracks. Sometimes it's the Metra and sometimes the #15, but mostly the Green Line, through which I see some of the hardest luck places in the city.
Anyway, I miss that ride, but I can pray the cells or even the telephone calls I can't help but overhear from my cell next to the phone. Anguished calls, or calls followed by tears, or anger another party isn't answering. Many pain-filled lives are literally at my door. I do my best to listen and comfort above my own physical difficulties, exhaustion, and sometimes a heavy locked door.
Most have children, most have partners. Some are here because of their partner's drug or crime problems. Others, of course, are here because the problems were primarily their own. All the mothers worry about being inside on a child's birthday. I write all of this because my not having any children or desire for a partner is an endless source of fascination for the other women.
---
Jail is not built for comfort. I remind myself this twelve times a day, mostly while working on loosening that back spasm. It's supposed to be cold and you're supposed to be hungry and tired. My younger friend wants to know if I've cried yet, and is amazed I haven't. She wonders where I get the calm. She's equally fascinated by my wanting to do ministry. I think she may have potential for good things.
----
It was so good to have Easter, my 30th birthday, and the farewell before coming in. Necessary spiritual support. I was reminded of this because of the lousy chapels [chaplains? editor] – where is the Gospel of telling me everything I am up to this point is garbage, and all I need is to choose the clothes of righteousness? Whatever happened to a loving God? Whatever happened to Biblical study rather than choosing "magic words" from a dozen different verses? But I suppose these suburban ladies mean well, and some of the girls really like them. As my young friend says, "You have to understand most of us have lived lives outside of Christ." But the Catholic girl says, "They teach us in there stuff I've never seen in church and their Bible isn't like any Bible I've read."
----
Nearly all the girls play cards, which I am terrible at generally, but I'm about to get better I think. It's neat that cards are the universal language.
----
A lot of my time has gone these past two days to helping the Syrian girl reach her husband or family and find out what's going on. I almost wonder if her husband isn't planning to pick her up. Or perhaps they don't know enough English to set up the phone [collect calling plan through a company that charges exorbitant rates. In GA, it was Beall's Communication, and it took both of my internet-savvy adult sons several attempts to help my husband set this up while I was in prison. ed] And I don't know enough to really help, which is frustrating.
---
A trip outside today, for a physical at the hospital nearby – mandated by the BOP [Bureau of Prisons. ed] So, into full shackles and the paddy wagon for me. This had a startling effect on the citizens of Woodstock who happened to be in the hospital at the same time. I just tried to smile and say, "don't mind me." He guards and the medics I spoke to today were also pretty surprised to hear what I was here for protesting. One was actually quite upset, possibly by another case she's familiar with – a child molester who also only received 30 days. "Why are we locking you up when this girl's whole life has been ruined?" She also apologized for the shackles, saying that if I was seen outside without them, she'd be in trouble. It was an interesting conversation, the guards, the docs, and myself. The guard and I didn't see eye to eye on immigration, but I still felt as though it was a transformative few moments.
##
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