Open Door by Old South Church in Boston

Open door March/April 2015

Letter

Table of Contents

from the

Editors

These bodies we inhabit are everything to us: our mobility, our way of loving, the means of experiencing vanilla ice cream on the tip of our tongue, of how we speak and proclaim ourselves, our avenue for delighting in an infant’s gurgling, murmuring coos, the way we are dazzled by aqua blue and lapis lazuli and a bright red poppy. Yes, we are spiritual beings but we inhabit our bodies and our bodies—at least for now, at least on this side of heaven— are everything to us. So, when they fail us—when illness comes, or old age, or we bear the brunt of violence … perpetrated against our body, but also our soul … against our skin, but also against our minds and our emotions—and we struggle against the limits of flesh and bone, of organ and blood, it is we ourselves who are compromised. Or is it? My friends, read this issue of Open Door and weep … and laugh … and nod for knowing what is written here, what is unmasked here, what is laid both bare and beautiful here. From a geriatric doctor’s visit to the eldest and frailest of patients, to one living with Lyme disease and another with Crohn’s, to one who was assaulted … and all the unknowing and all the mystery and all the dread and all the tenderness. Jesus was a healer of both body and soul, for after all – at least this side of heaven – the two are one and one are two and we are both. We love our children madly and wholly with our bodies, with cradling arms and the touch of our fingertips on tender flesh, and the sweet smell of our infant’s hair in our nostrils, and the sight of him, and the sound of her.

John Edgerton

Dan Oates

Dad Sandra Perry

Lucky Few Erika Mitchell

Featured

Always Advent Maggie Giles

The Unbreakabke William Wei William Wei

Opinion

Rev. Nancy Taylor

Amy Perry

The Power of Everyday Heroes

To be Christian and to be human is to be in-fleshed, to care about healthcare and hospice, vaccinations and diagnosis. We are not too spiritual for that … for neither is God.

EDITORIAL

Ministry Spotlight

Mouth-house

EDITOR & PUBLISHER

Chris Breen CHAIR, COMMUNICATIONS COMMITTEE: David Albaugh, Brian Fluharty, Chris Breen, Jackie Geilfuss, Jim Hood, Amy Perry, Corey Spence, Nancy Taylor, William Wei

Old South Church in Boston 645 Boylston Street, Boston, MA 02116 Ph. (617) 536-1970 OldSouth.org Facebook.com/OldSouthChurch | @OSCboston

CREDITS 3,4,8 Used by permission from the authors

Open door 1

When

Big Business Gets Too Big GBIO vs. Partners HealthCare

2012 Citing the rapid increase in health care costs, Greater Boston Interfaith Organization (GBIO) supports passage of the Health Care Cost Containment Law, including the creation of the Health Policy Commission, a watchdog group tasked with advocating for the interests of health care consumers.

THE PLAYERS Greater Boston Interfaith Organization – Formed in 1996, GBIO is a grass roots coalition of churches, synagogues, and mosques that engages in non-partisan political advocacy. Partners HealthCare – Formed in 1994 by the merger of Massachusetts General Hospital and Brigham and Women’s Hospital, Partners is the largest provider of health care services in the state, comprised of a network of many hospitals, rehab centers, clinics, labs, and a health insurance company.

THE GAMEPLAY The Greater Boston Interfaith Organization (GBIO) was instrumental in the passage of the 2006 landmark Massachusetts Health Care Reform Law, as well as the 2012 Health Care Cost Containment Law. In the adjoining timeline, you can see one specific way in which GBIO has continued to have meaningful impact on the Health Care System. At a critical moment, GBIO stood up to the Attorney General’s office as well as Partners HealthCare, the largest health care provider in the state, putting a stop to a deal that would have allowed Partners to add three hospitals to its already enormous market share.

2012 JUNE Partners HealthCare announces deal to purchase South Shore Hospital in Weymouth, a 318 bed facility. 2013 JUNE Health Policy Commission begins independent investigation of Partners merger, investigating the possible effects on consumer prices should the Partners deal advance. 2013 SEPT MA Attorney General’s office joins with Federal officials in an antitrust investigation, assessing whether the Partners deal would be anti competitive due to its size and influence in the system. Arguably, Partners would be able to negotiate unfair prices from insurance companies because of their market share. 2013 DEC Health Policy Commission officially advises against allowing the merger, citing its own investigation that the merger would increase consumer health care costs. 2014 MAY Attorney General’s office unveils proposed settlement, which would allow Partners to purchase South Shore as well as two other hospitals, against the advice of HPC.

2014 JUNE GBIO calls for a period of public review of the agreement between the Attorney General and Partners, citing the HPC’s advisory ruling. 2014 SEPT Attorney General Martha Coakley defends proposed

deal; Judge delays final ruling, citing HPC study.

2015 JAN Incoming Attorney General Maura Healey breaks with Coakley’s position, and announces her office opposes the merger. 2015 FEB Partners ends bid to acquire South Shore Hospital.

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POWER

The of everyday HEROES Dan Oates Looking back at my development, I see God’s caring hand everywhere – in personal and professional relationships, in my mentors and teachers. I believe she clearly had a vision for who I would become. I now have the honor and pleasure to carry out that vision as a geriatrician, a specialist in the care of the elderly, who visits the homebound throughout Dorchester and Roxbury, providing them with healing, teaching, compassion, smiles, and company. It is a privilege, joy, and honor for me to carry out God’s work, reaching out to members of her flock that can be forgotten and left behind. This role in and of itself is a gift from God. However, God had a greater gift in store for me when he set me on this path. Among the many roles Jesus played on Earth, he was a healer. When I entered medical school I dreamed of learning how to be a healer, like Jesus was. I was excited to learn how to make the correct diagnosis, how to choose what medications to prescribe, what questions to ask and just how to ask them to gain patients’ trust. However, as my career developed, my eyes were opened to the many forms that this healing takes. Quite often the most powerful healing is not given by medical providers. They have been married more than 65 years. Mr. Q says to me, “To this day she is the best thing that ever happened to me,” speaking of his wife. He very proudly points to photos of them when they were younger, “Now that’s my wife. Isn’t she beautiful?” Mrs. Q is 97, about 4’6”, and very hard of hearing, though always friendly and smiling. Mr. Q cares for her every day – laying out her medications, heating up their lunch from Meals on Wheels, setting the small kitchen table, and making sure she uses her cane around their small apartment. As he has reminded me many times, “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to her. You better not screw up.” Their very presence in each other’s lives has healing power.

Mr. and Mrs. P have been married for over 50 years. They live on the second floor of their Harvard Street home where they have spent most of their lives together. Mr. P was admitted to my homecare practice after a stroke prevented him from traveling to his regular health center. He had some trouble speaking because of the stroke, so his wife often did a lot of the talking at our visits. She organized his meds, checked and diligently recorded his blood sugars, prepared their meals, and helped with his personal care. It was done out of love for her husband. It seemed a simple and common scenario that I encounter almost daily. That was until a year later when their daughter called, asking if we could please take care of Mrs. P. All along, while checking blood sugars and letting us know about her husband, tenderly smiling as he complained about small things, Mrs. P. had lung cancer. She was getting treatment, but now it had spread to her brain. She was too weak to leave her house anymore. She needed someone else to be her healer. Each one of us has the ability to be a healer, using Jesus’ gift to us. We often think that medical providers, nurses, doctors and therapists are the people that have this gift and are the ones who should use it, but through home visits and conversations at kitchen tables and on porches I have learned that often the true healing—which involves love, energy, compassion, and sacrifice—is best given by everyday heroes: families, friends, spouses, church members, and neighbors. Jesus gave this gift, the gift of healing to all of his followers. This I believe. This I know … because I have seen. Dan Oates oversees Granite Medical Group’s skilled nursing facility and home-based care team and is the primary care provider for some of Granite Medical’s homebound patients. Dan has been an OSC member since 2004. about the author

Open door 3

Sandra Perry My generation is sometimes referred to as the ‘sandwich generation’. I have said to my friends and family that I feel like a club sandwich – caring for my children, my grandchild, and my father all at the same time. But for my family, helping one another is what you do. In 2008, my mother died from the flu after developing pneumonia with an underlying heart condition. Her sudden death made it necessary to consider caring for my 84-year-old dad. Dad is from the generation when men did not do housework or cook. Those daily, necessary duties were left to the wife. Shortly after my mother’s funeral, my husband, our two sons, and I moved in with dad. Some of my friends remarked on our sacrifice, but again that’s just what you do for family. At the time, I did not anticipate fully all that encompassed caring for dad – his medical issues were greater than I had known (my parents kept many details private even from their only child), and added to that were his deep emotional issues after losing the love of his life. I faced hours of phone calls and a mound of paperwork finding dad the medical care he needed. Finally, I was pointed in the right direction. As a disabled vet, the VA Healthcare System is an invaluable resource for dad’s needs. Visiting nurses came to our home several times a week. And as he continued to withdraw from the world, social workers and counselors worked with him on his depression. During an emergency, the VA stepped in and provided treatment far beyond what I expected. They even pay for a day program where he socializes with men and women his own age. I feel very fortunate to have found this support for dad, as well

as myself. My sleepless nights would surely have been worse if not for the VA. Part of the filling of this club sandwich is caring for my 4-year-old grandson. For the first three years of his life, my husband and I cared for him during the week while my daughter worked. Now we happily drive him to and from school and care for him until she gets home at night. This child is the light of my life and I would not miss caring for him or helping my daughter for anything, so as hard as it was we decided to move dad to an assisted living community where he could receive skilled care onsite. The Village is a five minute drive and what I consider a five star facility. It’s clean, bright and offers many activities for the residents while caring for their every want and need. Over the past seven years I have buried one parent and watched the other withdraw into depression, I have welcomed my first grandchild and watched my three children grow into the adults they have become. There are hard days filled with guilt, asking myself “Did I do enough?” or “What should I have done differently?” But I hope that when my dad’s time comes I can feel that I did all that I could do and that mom is smiling down knowing that I did what she might have done as well.

Sandra Perry is a retired school teacher for the Archdiocese of Boston and now spends her time as a doting grandmother. She is the mother of Old South Church Communications Administrator Amy Perry. about the author

4 Open door

ALWAYS Maggie Giles 2014; Good Friday felt more like Advent, the time of waiting, falling as it did equidistant between my CT scan and MRI. It was my first time going to church in months. I remember walking to Old South Church that evening from Inman Square, like I’d usually do, but gingerly, aware of each step, wondering whether things were going to get better or worse. Waiting. my liturgical calendar was all over the place in early

I’d known something was wrong the previous summer: the week I’d set aside in May 2013 to catch up on sleep after my first year of a doctorate didn’t do the trick. Usually active and energetic, I cut myself some slack; I was already frustrated I hadn’t been able to start rowing when the boathouse opened in March. What would another week matter? The friends I’d neglected through two grueling semesters of coursework could wait another week, as could my ambitious pitches for possible consulting projects. That next week dripped into the following one, and then the next. Soon it was June and I was still unable to muster the energy to do more than get out of bed. Grappling with a listlessness that was completely foreign to me, consulting projects didn’t get pitched and friends didn’t get seen. I mustered the energy to take a boat out on the Charles on a handful of days over the summer, but each time I would have to turn back, exhausted after only a brief time out, and grapple with nausea the rest of the day. I had no energy to go to the beach, or outdoor movies, or church, or hiking. In August, I had a stomach bug. I’d had a few of these sporadic “episodes” in my life: one minute I would be fine, the next minute I would be violently vomiting, acute phases that lasted from two to eight hours, and which took me one to four days to recover from. Each time I sought medical care I was told I had a bug and sent on my way. On Christmas Day 2013, I had another “episode”. I suspected something was wrong because this was my second in one year. I knew something was very wrong when I had four more “episodes” in the next month.

ADVENT

Open door 5 I was afraid to eat, because no one could tell me what was making me so violently ill, and I couldn’t sleep, because the constant pain in my abdomen was a continuum from intense discomfort to agony, and it always hurt to lie down. I expressed to my doctor and to my new GI specialist that I simply had to pass my comprehensive exams (“comps”) in May. The medical specialists in my life responded to my entreaty with a litany of medication recommendations to try to keep symptoms enough at bay to enable me to attend classes and sit for comps. And yet, before I took any, in that intense silence that only seems to accompany pain, when all our senses are at their most keen, all I could hear was the word: ‘wait.’ I attended class only sporadically. I usually sat at home, waiting. I would not ingest anything until in the silence it became apparent my body craved a certain food. I would muster the energy to go out and acquire that thing, and prepare it, and eat it, and go back to resting. Soon patterns emerged. I appeared to crave foods with antiinflammatory properties, and to be seriously turned off by the opposite. I ate especially clean. Soon my body was telling me to walk. Years earlier, I enjoyed Tai chi. Soon I was walking the three miles each way a couple times per week to Brookline Tai Chi as well as practicing at home. My spring consisted of scheduling, preparing for, going to, and recuperating from physical exams and GI tests, and trying not to Google my symptoms. My GI specialist is warm, funny, but no holds barred. She told me her hypothesis, and from the get-go prepared me for the possibility of aggressive treatment, possibly of multiple surgeries in the future. And each time, the word: ‘wait.’ The prayer asking God to take this away from me was on the tip of my tongue, to please let it be anything but Crohn’s disease. I had to finish my PhD and find a decent job. I had to row again and renew my social life. But I couldn’t form the words. My silent waiting was my prayer. And then one day it dawned on me. This isn’t “my” doctorate. Two years earlier I grappled with the choice of pursuing this PhD program or the prestigious and satisfying career I had. The only way I could make it work financially was if I won one of the two training fellowships my school awards for the National Institute of Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism. A three-year fellowship, it not only pays full tuition – no strings attached – and health insurance, but also affords a twice a month stipend. Two years ago, mired in the pros and the cons, I relinquished that decision to God: whether I would be of greater service keeping my job or pursuing the path awarded by a fellowship. I won the fellowship and left my job. Later the words did form. I prayed for the strength to keep my heart open to whatever lay ahead on this journey. I prayed for the strength to have faith, that whatever way God was directing my journey, that I would exhibit courage. I prayed for service, that with this increased

understanding I might have chances to help others grappling with Intestinal Bowel Disease. I prayed for the strength to wait: for a diagnosis, to see over the course of weeks and months how lifestyle changes would affect me. I prayed for the strength to tell my GI specialist that I was declining the most aggressive course of action she was recommending while I waited to see if the wholesale lifestyle changes I was implementing had any effect. In April 2014, the leadership of my doctoral program offered to let me take incompletes with the understanding that I’d finish all my work over the summer. And despite not having the wherewithal to prepare at all for comps, I decided to take them with my cohort as scheduled. Four days before comps began, I received my diagnosis of Crohn’s disease. And still I wait. I am not opposed to medication, or to aggressive courses of treatment, or to surgery to remove parts of my small intestine, but right now my prayers are leading me to devote myself to lifestyle changes and hold off on aggressive treatment. For another month? For another year? For many years? I have no idea; I’ll have to wait and see. I take mild anti-inflammatory meds. I have slowly been introducing foods back into my diet. I rowed several times last summer without any pain, worked out on a rowing machine this winter without any pain. When I lay on my back now I am not aware of the weight in my abdomen that was there one year ago. I haven’t had an “episode” in over a year. And I’ve had more energy, attending Old South Church more regularly again. I have even started participating in initiatives at the church around education and addiction treatment and recovery. And I passed my comps, and am now in dissertation-land. Which is less painful than Crohn’s ... but only slightly. I have a realistic mind and an open heart. This could all change for the worse tomorrow, and I will cross that bridge when I come to it. I have good days and bad days, but now my continuum is one of mild discomfort to feeling completely symptom-free. I’ve spoken to several close friends about help if my condition should take a turn for the worse. My siblings and mother and I have spoken about the family all living in the same city so that when medical issues arise we can more easily help one another. I am scouting around for the perfect apartment in the Back Bay so no matter my condition I will face fewer barriers to participating in the life of Old South Church. Crohn’s has been an amazing teacher – offering lessons in prioritizing, and opening my heart, and being patient, and learning that beautiful things can happen when we wait. Maggie Giles is a full-time doctoral student in Social Policy who consults with the MA Department of Public Health on adolescent substance use disorders, mental health, and trauma. She is enthralled with understanding health across the lifespan and is always up for good conversation over tea. about the author

6 Open door

the Unbreakable William Wei

William Wei

Open door 7 I. I was sitting in the sanctuary – feeling the sticking, itching pain from my stitched lip under a surgical mask, looking down at the scripture that I would read for Festival Worship. The sweet harmony of the practicing choir and the light shining through the stained glass windows bathed me in peace. I had never felt safer. I was in the house of God. Two days earlier, while walking home at night, I was attacked and robbed not far from my apartment. My lip was split, my shirt was torn, and my clothes were soaked in blood. I was afraid. The next morning, after I returned home from the hospital, I finally looked at my injured face. What I saw: a broken face, a face of defeat. I thought, “Everything could be taken away in a moment.” My cellphone, passport, and ATM card were stolen. As soon as I posted an online message about the attack, I received emails from both Revs. Nancy Taylor and John Edgerton. The moment I read their messages I felt strength returning to my body. After a scary night, I was warmed by the calling from my church: “You have a safe place. Come to us.” I was scheduled to read scripture the Sunday after the attack. I had reservations about getting up in front of the congregation looking the way I did. But John insisted that if I felt comfortable I should still read. That was the first time after the attack I realized there is something that no one can take away from me – the love I have from God and my church. They will love me no matter how badly I am falling apart. They will love me as they always do. With a surgical mask covering my broken face, I ascended the pulpit with scripture in hand and read the verses aloud Under the surgical mask, I was broken; in the house of God, I was whole. The night I spent in the hospital following the attack, a strange calm came over me – it can’t get any worse than this. I was wrong. One week later, I received a text from my father in China: “Your grandmother is dying.” How can so much happen in such a short time? I now felt entirely broken. The most loving person in my life, my sweet grandmother, was dying and I could not even be by her side; I had no passport. I asked my father to contact me when she passed. I I. After the doctor removed the stitches, I went to the restroom to see my face. What I saw looking back at me was a changed face. A scar over my lip was proof of what I lost and a reminder of what I would soon lose. On my way home, I sat at the bus stop. The feeling of loss ran through my veins like poison. Then a very interesting thought came to mind: in the stories of Harry Potter, Harry received a lightning bolt scar on his forehead because of how deeply he was loved by his mother. It became a powerful charm that protected him through many dangers.

He received his scar when his mother was dying. I received my scar when my grandmother was dying. It might sound funny, but it made sense to me. A scar could be a symbol of love not of defeat. I carry so much love from my grandmother and from all people in my life. Their love makes me strong. I I I. It was a Saturday. My dear friends Katie May Tucker and David Story took me out for a birthday dinner. A great time ended with a text from my father. My grandmother had just passed away. On this day, I was born, and on this day, my grandmother passed. I was in great shock. Katie and David walked me out of the restaurant and to Old South Church. Though the building was long closed, we stood outside and held hands. David turned to me and said, “William, say a prayer for your grandmother in Chinese.” I believe God prepared me for her passing with the company and comfort of my strong friends. I was not alone. I was with family. The next day, when I arrived at church, I ran into the arms of sweet Joyce Akintola, the first friend I made at Old South. Like a mother or a grandmother, she loved me, comforted me, and prayed for me through the grief. She is family. God blessed me with a new family in this city and in this church, thousands of miles away from my family in China. And this family started with sweet Joyce. As if in the arms of my grandmother, I cried my heart out. After I wiped the tears away, Joyce suggested a memorial service. On July 26, 2014, Rev. John Edgerton led the service in the Gordon Chapel. Joyce and I organized it, and Katie lent her voice to a solo. David was there, too … in pink. My wonderful friend David knew I needed brightness in this time of grief. Besides, the memorial was a celebration of my grandmother’s life, and how strong my life would forever be thanks to her. I sat in the Chapel surrounded by friends – family – feeling the itch of my recovering wound. None of these people knew my grandmother, but they came to mourn beside me. They are my family. IV. Nothing that has happened can be erased. Though my wound has recovered, the scar is permanent. Recovery is not reverting back to the old. It is growing stronger. Recovery is embracing the pain and making it your strength – the strength to love and be loved, to help and be helped. I was in the valley of the shadow and now I smell the fragrance of the rose of Sharon. I will never be the same person that I was, for the miseries I went through and for the healing I have received. Thanks be to God, and my church. From Wuhan, Hubei, China, William Wei is a second year student at the New England Institute of Art studying digital film and video production. He is active in the life of the church - volunteering at Jazz Worship and the Boston Warm Day Center. William also serves on the Communications Committee. about the author

8 Open door

Nearly ten years ago, I was diagnosed with severe Lyme disease. I’d had numerous Lyme tests before, all of which were inconclusive. Unexpectedly, I rejoiced – I finally had an answer to the symptoms that plagued me. I finally felt like there was a logical explanation – an explanation that I’d prayed for over a three years’ time – to put my mind at ease. The following years were difficult. I was diagnosed too late to eradicate the disease, and it had crossed the blood-brain barrier. I had neurological effects – normal problems that people Erika Mitchell have on a regular basis, like mixing up words and letters and completely losing your train of thought, but they were amplified 100 times. That, combined with joint and muscular damage and constant exhaustion, made everyday living with the disease complicated. To the pleasant surprise of my doctors, and myself, I still graduated from high school on time with honors. There’s no solid solution to treating Lyme disease, and it’s a highly disputed illness in the medical community. I went through numerous doctors, all of whom insisted that I try different treatments. I was one of the lucky few – the treatment that my family and I settled on was only supposed to work for six months tops.

Miraculously, it put me into remission for five years, and the disease went dormant. There’s no explanation as to how or why it happened, but it really helped to restore my faith in both God and medicine. Since then, I’ve been through one more recurrence, which lasted two years and involved various debilitating antibiotic treatments. The side effects from the treatments were almost as bad as the illness itself, but through perseverance and through the grace of God, I pulled through, earned my Master’s degree, and kept up with a crazy mix of work and pursuing a career in music. According to my doctor, I am in the top 1% of functioning chronic Lyme patients. I’m extremely blessed and lucky to be one of those few. I can’t express how relieved that makes me, although it takes a great deal of work and faith just to make it through day-to-day routines. Recently, the Lyme went dormant again, although the permanent effects are still there. Sometimes it becomes difficult to acknowledge that my life will never be normal, and that the disease will continue to recur periodically. But I have faith that, with the help of my wonderful support system and with my faith in God, I’ll be able to pull through.

Erika Mitchell is originally from New Hampshire, and is a professional mezzo-soprano. She is one of the Choral Fellows at Old South Church, where she has worked since 2010. She sings regularly throughout the Boston area with various opera companies and choral societies, and works for several nonprofits. about the author

Open door 9

Mouth-house

English translation of the German “Mundhaus”, a term used by Martin Luther for a Protestant Christian church, emphasizing that God’s word is an acoustical affair.

Should private and public schools mandate that all children (who are not medically exempt) be vaccinated against the measles in order to attend school?

“I do not think you can mandate that all children need to be vaccinated to attend school. I strongly believe that children should be vaccinated but I feel it is hard to mandate such a thing since religious beliefs and/or medical reasons can play a factor in the parents’ decision to vaccinate. I think the best thing we can do is try and get good information about how important vaccinations are to parents and hope that they make an educated decision when trying to navigate what is best for their child.” Erika Carlson “I believe in doctors, scientists, and years and years of medical advancements and achievements … and in the greater good, public health, and herd immunity. Thankfully, vaccines have wiped out or reduced many diseases, and hopefully we will continue to see enough people vaccinated to avoid having new outbreaks of diseases that have been eradicated. In my opinion, the many proven benefits outweigh the risks. I have never had a single doubt about having my children immunized.” Summer Marsh “Private and public schools should absolutely mandate that all students (who are not medically exempt) be vaccinated in order to attend school! Those that choose to not vaccinate their children are relying on herd immunity from the surrounding community to protect their children, all the while putting at serious risk those that are too young to be immunized, are immunocompromised or medically unable to receive the vaccinations. What those families are choosing to do is extremely dangerous and thoughtless. While it is their right to not vaccinate their children, they should not be potentially exposing others to preventable diseases. If parents make decisions that put the community at risk, the schools need to enforce a vaccination mandate for the greater good of their community.” Kate Grant “I am a believer in immunizations, especially as it is related to children being required to have them up to date in order to attend school. Exclusion, other than medical exemption, is a protective measure, and often sets in motion a decision about individual rights versus rights of the whole. Schools are charged with helping to protect the whole.” Carolyn Davis *Some responses have been edited for length.

“I absolutely agree that all children should be vaccinated unless they receive a valid medical exemption. Anyone who feels they’d rather not have their otherwise healthy child vaccinated not only puts their child at risk but also puts my children at risk, which is unacceptable. While I support the right of all parents to raise their children largely as they please, I also recognize that that liberty ends at the point where it negatively impacts the lives of others.” Andrew Percey

“It should be mandatory that children be vaccinated for measles and mumps before they can attend school. [Parents’] decision on vaccinations should not impose a risk on school children and teachers and administrators, as well as the general population. If they have a religious or other reason for not having their children vaccinated they should homeschool their children.” Charles and Renate Gerlinger

“Yes, I think all [children] should be vaccinated in order to attend school. It is the best way to ensure that the immunization process works in the manner science dictates. The whole ‘individual freedom should not be compromised by Government interference’ argument makes me bonkers. The price of not immunizing children can result in far more traumatic consequences such as blindness or even death, far more serious than having an individual’s right infringed upon.” Connie Hodgkins

“Unless a family is living in isolation and not a functioning member of society, it is simply not okay to claim a religious exemption about a public health issue. It’s selfish of parents NOT to vaccinate. It puts their children, as well as other innocent individuals, at risk. Moreover, what about the people caring for their children? If a child is not vaccinated, institutions should have a right to not have those children under their care. School workers have a right to interact freely with children and, in this day and age, given the current medical advancements made over the last century, contracting measles should be the last thing on any school employee’s mind.” Meredith Peetz Larsen

Old South Church is a vibrant and historic congregation of the United Church of Christ in the heart of Bostonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Back Bay. To check out our Adult or Children & Family Ministries, visit us online at OldSouth.org. Or better yet, walk through our open doors seven days a week.