Open door March/April 2014
Letter
Table of Contents
from the
Editors
1
There is something important about that first anniversary. Anyone can tell you. Whether you are celebrating your first wedding anniversary, or your child’s first birthday, or leaving the first year of widowhood and crossing over into the second, there is something about having the first year behind you. It is a juncture. A pivot. The first leg of the journey accomplished. This issue of Open Door gathers together first anniversary reflections of the Boston Marathon bombings from members who experienced that day in radically different ways: a young family with front row seats to the first blast, a bystander thrown to the ground by the force of the concussion and whose hand was torn by shrapnel, a resident of East Watertown whose front yard and front porch crawled with armed SWAT teams, a young seminarian who turns to the ancient psalmist for comfort, and a marathoner’s mother who is trying to knit us all back together with wool, needles and prayers. Finally, Old Southers mouth-off on the death penalty, guilt, innocence and the fate of Dzhokhar Tsarnaev. These are the stories of some who “made it,” for whom the first leg of the journey is past. We hope that as you view the photos and encounter these stories, you will recall, engage and process your own memories of that day. Consider this issue of Open Door a therapeutic undertaking. It might not be a bad idea for you, too, to put pen to paper (or finger to keyboard) to investigate and air your own feelings. One way or another we were in this together last April 15th. None of us escaped entirely unscathed. This anniversary is important to all of us. We invite you, therefore, to participate in one or more of the first anniversary events planned by The Church of the Finish Line.
Rev. Nancy S. Taylor
Vision Update Ministry Spotlight The Old South Knitters
2 10
9 Days in April Portico Shawn Fiedler
Featured
4
A Year to Heal & A Life to Live Tom Ralston
6
Among the Lucky Ones Tom and Kate Grant
8
Stronger than the Dark Katie May Tucker
Opinion
13
Mouth-house
EDITORIAL STAFF Amy Perry
EDITOR & PUBLISHER
Chris Breen CHAIR, COMMUNICATIONS COMMITTEE: David Albaugh, Chris Breen, Jackie Geilfuss, Jim Hood, Amy Perry, Corey Spence, Nancy Taylor
Old South Church in Boston 645 Boylston Street, Boston, MA 02116 Ph. (617) 536-1970 OldSouth.org Facebook.com/OldSouthChurch | @OSCboston
CREDITS Front Cover
Nancy Richardson
2-3 Shawn Fiedler, Nancy Taylor, George Delianides, Eric George; 4 George Delianides; 9 Katie May Tucker; 10-11 Nancy Richardson; 12 Doreen Hodak
“Portico” notes 1 Craig Barnes. “Sheep on the Run” The Christian Century, February 13-20, 2002, p.17. 2 Mary Luti, Thou Art With Me
Vision Update
ministry spotlight
Sanctuary in the City is collaborating with the Communications Committee to create web content and a brochure to convey Old South’s Open and Affirming status and seamless inclusion of people of all sexual orientations, gender identities, and gender expressions. Our goal is to launch the new brochure in the spring. We have been engaging the church with a myriad of personal experiences and perspectives in this work, and we look forward to engaging others as we move forward. Our hope is that the new brochure and web content will be widely read and distributed. We also hope that our message will help individuals and families feel safe and welcome at Old South.
MARATHON
Lucy Costa, SIC member
In January, the Christian Education Committee was reconfigured to include former members of Christians in Formation as well as continuing members of the CE Committee and new members appointed by the Leadership Committee. Membership is intended to reflect diversity of age and experience and comprised with the aim of helping to facilitate spiritual formation programming across the life span. Our plan for the coming year includes a redesign of children’s programming to include a new Montessoribased curriculum called Godly Play for children age 3 - Grade 3 and a media and arts curriculum for children in Grades 4-6. Plans include continued support for middle school and high school youth, and an expansion of adult-oriented programming. Maren Batalden, Co-Chair
Faith at the Crossroads is working on various activities and discussing how to meld all of our initiatives into standing committees, knowing that all three task force tenures end by June. These initiatives include Caring for Creation (how we can live into God’s call to care for the environment) and the Restored Vision Project (focused on issues of incarceration). In January, FAC participated in City Mission Society’s annual MLK Day of Service and Learning – a successful, high energy day. We are currently preparing for the YWCA’s Stand Against Racism virtual walk on April 25th. Diane Palmer, FAC member
The Old South Knitters
scarf project
Marilyn Jackson Adams
It started with my son, Chris, whose 2013 Boston Marathon run was abruptly ended at Kenmore Square. From there he was forced to backtrack to Newton on foot, where his terrified family waited. We watched him walk toward us, slightly limping, wrapped in his silver thermal runner’s blanket, stunned but physically okay. We rejoiced as his wife and three young children ran ahead of us to wrap Chris in love and relief. That day will forever be burned in my mind – the not knowing if my son was okay, and then the beyond-words relief I felt when I saw him walk up Comm Ave. Chris and all of the marathon athletes need extreme determination and courage to train and run, let alone to go through what they did on April 15, 2013. This year, my fellow Old South Knitters and I wanted to acknowledge the athletes with a gesture that says, “Boston loves you. Boston thanks you.” Then came February 4th. I was standing in a yarn store beside Diane Gaucher, staring at all of that wonderful yarn. In her quietest voice Diane said, “But I really just want to knit scarves for the runners.” That was the moment our Marathon Scarf Project was born. The Old South Knitters are asking people across the country and beyond to knit, crochet, or weave handmade scarves in the iconic blue and yellow colors of the Boston Marathon. The scarves will be presented to each marathon athlete at our annual Blessing of the Athletes services on the Sunday before the Marathon; this year on Easter Sunday. The scarves will wrap each person in love, hope, and prayer. For more details on how to participate, visit OldSouth.org or contact the church.
For nine days in April, Old South Church was within the FBI crime scene perimeter and totally inaccessible. But this is not the story of a building. This is the story of our church, of our beloved city, of fear, strength, and resilience.
A
Year to Heal &a Life to
Live
Tom Ralston
I’ve lived in Boston or bordering cities since moving here in 1980 for graduate school. I’m not a long distance runner, more like a three or four miles every couple of days kind of a guy, but I immediately became a fan of The Boston Marathon upon my arrival in New England. In my 34 years in the Boston area, I think I’ve only missed a handful of races as a spectator. And the only times I did miss Marathon Monday were due to business travel. Last year I nearly missed the race again, but a business trip had me return home with two days to spare. On April 15, 2013, I was only one of the thousands of spectators on Boylston Street where I always view the race. It’s the best, most exciting place to watch and cheer on the runners down the last few hundred yards to the finish line. But even though I was one of the thousands, I unfortunately ended up as one of the 260 that became members of a “club” none of us wished to join. My recollection of that day began from my home on Revere Beach where I watched the elite runners on television cross the finish line near Old South Church. I then took the quick T ride into town. It was such a beautiful, serene day that I got off the Blue Line at Aquarium Station and walked to the Back Bay. The crowd was filled with electric enthusiasm, and I was so happy to be home after nine days on the West Coast. All of this so far was ostensibly typical.
Open door 5
After strolling around the finish area for an hour or so on the blocks between Arlington and Fairfield Streets, I found myself positioned and cheering on the runners in front of The Atlantic Fish Company next to Forum. I was by myself in the crowd when I heard a loud explosion closer toward the finish line. There was a very bright flash and a huge plume of light grey smoke rising into the air. I wasn’t sure at all what had just happened, but I instinctively took several steps to my left to try to see better. Within seconds after that first explosion, the second bomb exploded within 10 or 15 feet of me (at my best estimation). I was hit by an extremely powerful concussion, which knocked me to the ground. The bright flash and heat from the explosion was intense, and the loudness of the blast was deafening. I still wasn’t sure what was happening, but I quickly realized that this was not a random accident. For those first few seconds I was on the ground, and due to my ruptured eardrums, I faintly heard screams coming from all around me. At this point more people than just the athletes were running away from the area. I then noticed I was bleeding profusely from my left hand, and my jeans were burned through to my leg, which was also burned. I knew I needed to get away, so I got up off the ground and staggered toward Fairfield Street to make my way to Newbury. Anywhere away from Boylston Street. Two bystanders, who were not physically injured, ran to my aid and helped me to get as far away as possible. These two individuals were so helpful – calming me and applying pressure on my wounds to help minimize the bleeding. (I feel terrible to this day for not getting their names. I very much wish I could thank them.) They stayed with me until EMTs started to arrive, triage, and load ambulances with the victims. I was taken to Mass General where I was promptly assessed and interviewed by the FBI and Boston detectives. I was in surgery within two hours of arriving at the ER. Surgeons successfully removed the shrapnel, and closed and wrapped my wounds. At this point, I knew I would ultimately be fine, and I now felt completely safe and secure in my environment. Now that it’s been nearly a year from the date of the bombings, my hand and leg are mostly healed, but I continue to recover emotionally. I’m told that my
hearing loss is permanent, so I’m adjusting to that as well. I have received unbelievable support from so many wonderful folks as a result of this tragic event. ‘Our Own’ Nancy Taylor was one of the very first to reach out to me within hours of learning that I was injured. She remains extremely supportive. I’ve been helped in healing by the Old South Church family with handwritten cards and letters, a prayer shawl from the Old South Knitters, and personal calls and well wishes from members of the congregation. All of my ‘newly found’ physicians are available whenever needed, and my hometown church minister and the members of First Presbyterian Church in WilkesBarre, PA have all been supportive in my healing. My pathway to psychological and emotional healing will be ongoing, as I’m sure it will be for all those affected that day, whether present in the moment or not. (I don’t think you can be alive and not have had this horrible event affect you in some way.) My heart continues to go out to all of those survivors I’ve met through being a member of The One Fund Community Council. I’ve met those who have lost limbs and loved ones, yet are nonetheless still unbelievably positive in their thoughts, feelings, and toward their own healing. Throughout all of this, I have found so much comfort from my family and friends, the Old South community, Bentley University, The City of Boston and the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, but most of all through my own faith and trust in Jesus Christ. As I continue on my journey, I now realize that it’s quite a happenstance that the process of healing will be my marathon, just like April 15th, not just a jog. I am grateful to so many caring individuals, and I always will be. I am certain that I will come through this process as a stronger person in time, and I too will do my best to support those in need, in any way I am able. I am blessed to have been spared the tragic losses some others experienced. I know God was there with me at that moment, and that in itself gives me great comfort. about the author Tom Ralston has been attending Old South Church since the 1980s but joined as an associate member just over five years ago. He is currently a Church Trustee and the President of The Alumni Association at his undergraduate alma mater, Wilkes University, PA.
6 Open door
The Boston Marathon has always been a special event for our family, and last year’s was going to be the best yet. Kate’s sister, Rachel, was running the marathon as part of the Dana-Farber Team in honor of their father’s battle against colon cancer. We were so proud of Rachel’s huge accomplishment of training, fundraising, and running the race. We were gifted VIP passes to seats at the finish line by a good family friend, enough for the whole family to be seated in the bleachers. We were all so excited for this once in a lifetime opportunity to have the best seats in the house as Rachel finished the race. Unfortunately, we ended up having front row seats to the first bomb, which was literally across the street from us. At first we were confused. But once the second bomb went off only seconds later we knew we had to get out of there fast. Kate will never forget the fear and shock in our children’s faces (ages 6 1/2, 5 and 2 1/2) as she attempted to escape with all of them in tow. What had always been a weekend of fun and excitement turned to chaos and confusion in an instant. However, small miracles aligned to make sure everything worked out for our family. First and foremost, we usually stand and watch the race on the spot where the first bomb went off. In fact, the day before the marathon Kate and the boys were in that exact spot cheering on Tom in the BAA 5k. On Marathon Monday, at the last minute, Tom decided to jump into the race to boost up Rachel at Heartbreak Hill. When the bombs went off, Kate was able to get through to Tom and warn him of what he was running toward before cell coverage went out. Kate, meanwhile, was leading the boys in a roundabout route out of downtown Boston, trying to avoid congested, high-risk areas for further attacks. A family friend, who decided to visit Boston at the last minute, and had
Among Tom & Kate Grant
the
Lucky Ones
Open door 7
just arrived prior to the bomb blast, stayed with Kate and the boys. Other family members also escaped the finish line unscathed. It was a blessing that Tom was with Rachel. He was able to guide her safely back to our meeting place, and act as a comfort to her. We feel fortunate in many ways because, though we witnessed the blast, our immediate family escaped physically unharmed – miraculous given how close we were. In the aftermath we were mainly concerned about the dramatic sensory overload our children experienced and how they thought and felt about it. They had many questions about the bomb going off, which we answered openly and simply. We allowed them to talk about
the experience whenever they wanted. Indeed, one of the best sights we saw and discussed was how many helpers were rushing in to the explosion – police, fire, EMTs, and even military who had just finished running. The boys were able to see these community helpers jump into action, and really appreciated how much good they did in the middle of the scariness. The timing of April school vacation worked in our favor. We took the entire week to be together as a family and make the kids feel safe. We were concerned about their return to school and what other students might be discussing, especially since a photo of our family running from the bomb blast was in newspapers. For the most part our local community provided strong support that put them at ease. When other students talked about the bombing, it prompted our boys to bring questions home. This allowed our children to continue to process the event in a safe way and on their own terms. One of their main concerns was if our church was okay. They were relieved to hear it was. Thankfully they have been more resilient than we could have imagined. Three weeks later we welcomed our fourth son into the world. He is a ray of sunshine that brought a new sense of joy to our family and helped us continue to move forward. We definitely had angels watching over our entire family last year on Marathon Monday. We were touched by the outpouring of love and support from our Old South family. We are okay. We are among the lucky ones.
Tom and Kate Grant joined Old South Church in 2006. They reside with their four sons in Reading, MA.
about the authors
Left: Kate Grant rushes down the stairs following the first bomb explosion. Credit: David L. Ryan / Boston Globe
8 Open door
Bombs bursting in air has a whole new meaning for me after surviving the East Watertown “Boston Bomber” showdown. Explosions shook my house like an earthquake. Were those fireworks? When gunshots rang out there was no denying it … those weren’t fireworks. And I was alone. A little after 1 am I received a call from a dear friend in Oregon – “Katie, are you ok? What’s going on in Watertown? Did you hear the explosion? The Boston bombers are on your street! Turn on CNN!” It was assumed that Dzhokhar Tsarnaev had a bomb strapped to his chest with multiple hand grenades and machine guns, searching for a place to hide. By 2 am East Watertown was locked down. Overmastering fear of violence is what followed for me over the next 17 hours. Dzhokhar was spotted in my backyard. The police knew Dzhokhar was somewhere around my house. They just didn’t know where. For a time it looked as though they believed he was hiding in a neighboring shed, only 50 feet from my living room window. A SWAT team surrounded the shed with six tankers, and over thirty heavily armed FBI specialists. Thoughts of bomb explosions raced in my mind. What would I do if a bomb did go off next door? I waited all night and day to be evacuated – but that never happened. To this day I don’t know why. When they determined he was not there, the front of my house became FBI headquarters. They set up three units to circle back out, leaving no stone unturned.
With their guns pointed, steel boots marching, and helicopters swirling, they started entering homes. I started the day sleep deprived and frenzied. Now I was sleep deprived, frenzied, and panicked. My heart leapt out of my throat as they approached my house, the last house to be searched. Three trained gunmen to the left, three to the right, three in front, and three in back – all pointing guns straight at my house, at me. As I answered the door I stared straight down a gun barrel. I was so terrified I could hardly answer their questions. “What’s your name?” “What’s your address?” “Are you alone?” “Is he here?” After they searched my house it was reported on CNN that the lockdown was over. He clearly had moved out of the area. The helicopters stopped, the street became silent, but the FBI didn’t move out. We all know the rest of the story. An hour later he was found in a boat about two blocks behind my house. I don’t know how he got there. He had to jump over some big fences and stagger up a hill. God bless the man who found him. So that happened … I try not to think about that day – it was a very dark day indeed. It’s easy to focus on the dark moments in life, to get so consumed by it that it defines your life. Life didn’t get much easier after April 2013 and I constantly felt that I was pushing back one bad, uncontrollable situation after another. I discovered that my roommate embezzled money from me. I
STRONGER Katie May Tucker
dark
Open Open door door9 7
moved. My company restructured, laying me off. And my mom’s disease got so bad that both of her legs were amputated. It has not been easy to stay positive over the past year. After Watertown there was such a great fire in me to go on the New Orleans mission trip. To spread a light so great that it burns into shadows. Our mission was to repair the damage that Hurricane Katrina wreaked on New Orleans, and to rebuild Cassandra Wallis’ home. Cassandra visited the work site and told us stories of her children growing up and of her plans for the future. Her optimism helped me see that amongst such chaos people truly care about each other and together we are stronger than the dark. For me New Orleans was one of the richest mission trips I have ever been on. Our team of extraordinary individuals deepened my life with God. I saw God in Sam Ou when he stopped a neighborhood fistfight with water guns. I saw God in Caitlin Minnich’s constant smile. I saw God in Rev. John Edgerton’s leadership … and his willingness to try fruit-loop peanut butter sandwiches with me. I saw God in Katie Gerrish who, despite a severe red ant bite, still pushed through to contribute to the mission. I saw God in Erik Gustafson for his amazing spirit and warm heart. I saw God in Jade Franco whose spirit and groovy dance moves shows that God’s hard work can be fun. I saw God in Caitlin Lowell as she gave her heart to a rescued pit bull. I saw God in Suzanne Bacon when she helped me through difficult conversations with my former roommate.
These relationships are the backbone of what helped me through the past year. I am so grateful for the gift God has given me, for giving me people who help me move. People who show up, tell me to get out of bed and stand for something better than a life consumed by one negative after another. Currently I volunteer throughout the community. Giving back and helping others helps me to focus on the positive, heartfelt love in our world. I volunteer with the Red Cross in the communications department to spread the good news of neighbors helping neighbors during disasters. I work with the Greater Boston Interfaith Organization as an Ambassador to create cultural unity, and promote positive change in government policy. I joined Old South Church’s Christian Service and Outreach Committee to strengthen our church’s positive impact in the world. And I became a mentor for the Institute of Small Shop Development to help non-profits like Girl’s LEAP give girls the courage and strength to defend themselves against violence. We are stronger than the dark. And all God’s people said AMEN! about the author Katie May Tucker is a 35 year old Marketing and Business Development Director from Portland, Oregon. She specializes in strategic datadriven intelligence in multiple marketing platforms, formerly with the Risk Management Foundation of the Harvard Medical Institute. Below: Scenes from the lockdown in Watertown.
N
ewbury Street has lots of glamour and shine. Commonwealth Avenue has the splendor of brownstones and Victorians. Oh, but Boylston Street! The Boston Public Library sits like a throne upon Boylston Street. Massive with its lavish cloisters and galleries, entrancing with its murals and collections, the Boston Public Library invites knowledge enthusiasts as well as the casual onlooker to dwell within its stacks. The Prudential Center is just one block down, towering above all of Back Bay. And just yards further the street crowds with Berklee students—saxophones and xylophones, clapsticks and drumsticks. And all throughout Boylston Street are cafés and restaurants, toyshops and electronics. Yes, Boylston Street brings together the tourists and the executives, the chic and the not-so chic, those who have and those who have not. And for us, Old South Church, Boylston Street is the center of our life. Our venerable building, placed here by our ancestors, sits in the heart of Boylston Street. A house of prayer for many nations—our doors are wide open seven days a week for hours on end; welcoming all those who seek God’s presence. Our bell tower reaches into the sky, our chapels are built upon swampy marsh. And our portico … our portico pours out into Boylston Street. Under the coverage of our portico the homeless seek shelter, the tired seek relief from the days sun. Our summers are filled with fellowship hours out underneath the portico’s vaulted ceiling. Our autumns welcome craft fairs. Mourners gather beneath it following funerals. Children shout beneath it, to hear the echoes of their own joy. Our portico, like the porticos of ancient days, stands as a thin place … a place between triumph and tragedy … happiness and sadness … heaven and earth. Boylston Street extends our portico and our home—in the midst of commerce and attraction—this is our home. It makes sense then that the world’s oldest annual marathon would race down Boylston Street.
Bringing half a million on-lookers and over 20,000 participants, the Boston Marathon is our high holy day. It’s the day the world comes to Boston. Last Sunday, the morning before the marathon, as runners in 5ks and qualifiers raced loops around our building, our blue and gold banners were raised ... our doors were open. This year our annual Blessing of the Athletes reached attendance numbers comparable to Easter. continued on page 12
Open door 11
Portico
a sermon preached April 16, 2013 Shawn Fiedler
photo
April 14, 2013
12 Open door They came, they gave thanks to God, and blessed one another; cheered each other on. Following worship we flowed out into the portico. It was there I met a young couple from North Carolina getting married hours after they complete the marathon. I met a family from Guatemala who came to support their mother’s first international race. I met Debbie and Paul, Asher and Tina, Nora and Juan. I met confident runners who have run this course a dozen times. I met curious runners who were embarking on a new challenge. It was a festival. Inside the church and out on the portico … and into the street … it was a festival. And the feast continued the next day at the finish line. But by the afternoon, our cheers and acclamations had turned to tears and anguish. The events that rattled the foundations of Boylston Street yesterday, that rattled our stained glass windows, rattled our hearts. Fear washed over us; heartache overcame us. Our beloved Boylston Street covered in smoke and debris; our portico in the shadows of grief and panic. It is right, it is acceptable to ask, “God where were you? Where were you when we needed you the most? Where were you when destruction and pain overshadowed us? Why have you forsaken us?” We hear “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” And, yet sometimes I do. Sometimes I want. Sometimes I want God to take away all of the sorrow and terror. Sometimes I want God to stop it all before it even begins. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” Yet sometimes I want God to destroy the darkest valley before we even get there. Psalm 23, like the rest of the psalms, is a song born out of experience—the experience of a people who, when their patriarch, Jacob, limped away from the clutches of an angel, received along with him the name of Israel—“those who have struggled with God.” And they did struggle. They struggled, as one commentator put it, for a home—a land that “they were always trying to get into, hold on to or get back to. They struggled for peace, for food and for a future.”1 They struggled for faith in God. It did not come easily. We can relate. They knew they were meant to be the obedient and faithful flock of God, the Great Shepherd; but their life seemed always hard, and God was always mysterious, and so they almost always were scared. It was hard to trust that the Shepherd’s rod and staff were really with them. Hard to believe that God was leading
them to lush green pastures. It did not always feel as if goodness and mercy were following them all the days of their lives. In their fear, they ran. They ran off course.2 But as scared as they often were, they didn’t try to deny or hide their waywardness. Whenever they gathered for worship, they told and re-told their story of struggle and failure; they sang and re-sang of rescue and mercy. They taught the story in song to their children and to their children’s children and to their children’s children’s children and somehow it got to you. It is a lesson that though we may doubt, we may fear, we may struggle for our faith, our God promises to be near. God promises never to leave us in times of horror and darkness. God promises to be in the portico … to be in the street … to be in the crowds … and in the ambulance … and in the hospital. The valley doesn’t last, we are led through the valley, God remains with us. Leading us, comforting us, preparing a feast, God as our Good Shepherd cares for our flock—even when the shadows of this world numb us to God’s presence. Fear can cause us to run and scatter like sheep. But it is the voice of the Good Shepherd, the voice that we know, that calls us back. It’s the same voice we heard in the shouting of first responders. It’s the voice of those strangers who are calling out and offering their homes as sanctuary for those who have no place to go. It’s the same voice we heard in the phone call from a loved one at the finish line, “I’m okay.” I am the Good Shepherd, Jesus tells us. And indeed, we need our shepherd more than ever right now—strong with the shepherd’s rod and staff—gentle with a shepherd’s love and dedication. And we need the company of our flock. Boylston Street is quiet today. Our portico is closed off. Eventually the barricades will be lifted, the world’s media will go home, but the dryness, and darkness, and the sting will remain. Our street might never feel the same. But our city, our street, our portico, will reopen. I do not know if I can give you a message or a promise of healing, not yet. At least not in my own words … But with the words of the ancient psalmists in our hearts, those words that have comforted generations before us, let us be soothed and consoled by their promise: that we will make it through the valley; we will reach the banquet table, the feast in the house of the Lord … perhaps even on the portico … together. about the author Shawn Fiedler served as Old South Church’s theological student and Pastoral Fellow from 2011-2013. Shawn currently resides in Seattle, Washington where he is participating in a volunteer year of service.
Open door 13
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.
On January 30, 2014, US Attorney General Eric Holder authorized federal prosecutors to seek capital punishment if Dzhokhar Tsarnaev is convicted. Do you believe that seeking the death penalty is appropriate in this case?
“Absolutely ... and why should the taxpayer pay $40,000 per year? He isn’t a candidate for rehabilitation ... would you want him for a neighbor? Strip him of his citizenship as well.” Holly Fletcher
“I have come to the decision that the death penalty further brutalizes our already woefully violent society. I am also concerned that Dzhokhar Tsarnaev not be ‘martyred’ and become a cause célébre, which I fear could be an unintended consequence of levying the death penalty in his case. His horrific crimes can surely be adequately punished by long-term solitary imprisonment.” Sally Peabody
“Killing is wrong, and capital punishment is unconscionable. All the time.” Peter Stokes
“Absolutely not. Life has no meaning if we deliver hate for hate. Only love makes us truly human. We need to love both the victims and the perpetrators equally and unconditionally. Jesus did. God did.” Marilyn Jackson Adams
“This is a rare example of a positive use for the death penalty. Given the option, however, I would vote to make it illegal.” Peter Read
“I do not believe in the death penalty under any circumstances. It’s Old Testament ‘an eye for an eye’ retribution. In the New Testament Jesus says about forgiveness, ‘I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven.’” Bob Kosturko
“Initially when the bombings happened and the proof of guilt seemed undeniable, I thought the death penalty was appropriate. After reflection upon the Pennsylvania Amish reaction when their children were shot, and learning about Restorative Justice, and of course recalling Jesus’ conversation with one of the men on a cross, I am led to say that the death penalty is inappropriate.” Charlotte Simpson
One Year Later
Remembrance & Hope Visit OldSouth.org for our complete calendar
Tuesday, Apr. 15, 7 pm
remembrance and hope music, prayers, readings, reflection
On the first anniversary of the Marathon bombings, we gather to honor the memories of those whose lives were taken, recall all brave responders, encourage those still struggling to recover, and give wings to all who will run in 2014.
Easter Sunday, Apr. 20, 9 am & 11 am
blessing of the athletes
During Easter Sunday services anyone running the 2014 Marathon is invited to receive a blessing. A tradition since 2008, we pray down God’s blessings on the athletes: that they be kept safe from harm or injury, that they might serve as an example of peaceful international competition, and that God grant them the stamina to finish the race.
Apr. 8 - 22
memorial installation
Apr. 8 - 22
peace cranes installation
On April 15, 2013, Old South Church’s blue and gold tower banners overlooked the Marathon finish line. The banners bore witness to the ensuing tragedies and, behind FBI crime scene barriers, they hung for eight days at the mercy of wind and rain. They were tattered, but not destroyed. This year, these very banners are lovingly transformed by artist Kathleen Simone and installed along Boylston Street, at the heart of a city that was shaken but not destroyed.
Last Spring, Old South Church was gifted 1,000 paper cranes by Newtown Congregational Church (CT). Each crane is a prayer for peace lifted up for us by a community desperate for peace. The cranes were first folded by a UCC church in Sheboygan Falls, WI to mark the tenth anniversary of the September 11th terrorist attacks. On the first year anniverary of the Marathon bombings, we display these cranes in a defiant plea for an end to violence.