Gilead Chicago: we’re not for everyone, but we might be for you.
Images from our Winter 2020 social media push to get the word about a church where we make beautiful, creative worship together, throw great parties and make real friends, and tell true stories that save lives. Share ‘em up. (And don’t be surprised if you get some haters. But probably…it’s just not for them. #BelovedChildrenOfGod)
We’re teaming up with Mishkan Chicago again!
Put on your ugliest Hanukkah or Christmas sweater and come out for an evening that'll make you glad you haven't sworn off all the traditions yet. With food by Carbon Arc, cocktails, mocktails, and some of Chicago's best storytellers, this isn't your bubbe's queer interfaith holiday story-telling event. Brought to you by Gilead Chicago and Mishkan Chicago, partners in interfaith crime since 2014.
We'll light Advent and Havdallah candles, marking the end of Sabbath. We'll sing Hanukkah songs, and that Christian holiday favorite "We Belong to the Light." (Who were we kidding with all that "we sing carols" stuff.)
The Davis Theater, 6:15 - 10 pm
Doors to theater open 6:45, stories begin at 7 pm
Tickets are $20 in advance, for Gilead folks. Email us for the code at info@gileadchicago.org
(They’re $25 for the public, and $30 at the door for everyone, so get on it!)
In the year 2016, two young ministers started work on an ambitious new project: to found a creative, inclusive congregation of Christian practice on the far north side of Chicago. They wanted to gather a community that would make beautiful worship together, grow and share good food, throw great parties and make real friends, and tell true stories that save lives. Today, that congregation is known as Gilead Chicago, and its mission is as vital now as it was when those two young dreamers began.
For this year's pledge campaign, we hope to honor Gilead's storied legacy, while building toward a future our founders could never have imagined. To do this, we've set a goal of $55,000 in pledge commitments and recurring gifts for 2020. If Gilead is your church or the kind of church you'd like to see more of, we hope you'll consider setting up a recurring donation through our website and filling out a pledge card in church or online at bit.ly/GoodOlGilead.
Pledges of any amount are helpful, and we're grateful for all you do.
Looking into the Gilead archive recently, we discovered this text sent to one of Gilead's ministers way back in spring 2019:
“Gilead feels like spiritual rehab...the kind where they teach people with traumatic brain injuries how to walk again. That community and that approach to communal worship is teaching me how to...be open to religion again? Be open to God again?”
It's not hard to imagine words like those being written in our own time, is it? Help us continue the important work of doing church differently. Together we can make sure there are as many years ahead of us as there are behind us!
Mostly Sincerely,
The Committee for Ensuring Gilead's Rich Historical Legacy
Making it up as we go.
A few years ago, my teaching pastor took an improv class, not with the intention of ever really performing, but for, like, personal growth. "You couldn't pay me to do it," I said.
But you've done stand-up, he said!
Um, right. In stand-up, you're alone, you're in control, you don't have to trust some bozo who might eff up the thing with a stupid idea, and no one is relying on me to not eff it up.
When I put it like that, I could see how improv might, after all, provide an opportunity for personal growth.
Quick and dirty definition (that you probably already know): "yes, and..." is the idea in improv that you accept what someone else has brought to the scene, and expand on it. It's a collaborative move, that trusts self and others. It's relational, moving toward others instead of isolating. It's playful, and creates unknown possibilities. It asks, "If this is true, what else is true — or could be?"
This month, we want all of that and more. Playfulness. Collaboration. Risk. Trust. Humor (maybe). Relationship. Surrender. Possibilities. The chance to make something new together every. single. time. we get together.
We've got improv teams coming most Sundays but this week, we've got shorty, improvised sermons. (Is that a good idea?) Don't worry: no one's gonna make you do anything you don't wanna do; just come to church, say yes, and we'll make up this new thing we're doing, again, together.
Read the rest of the July 3, 2019 newsletter here.
We meet Sundays at 5 pm, for stories, music, food, Communion, community, and whatever else you show up with. Winter 2023, we’ll be at Rewired Cafe, starting Jan 29th. Mask up and join us! Also: in the pandemic era, our plans keep changing because we want to be as safe as possible for as many people as possible. Make sure to check in on Facebook or by emailing us to confirm what’s up. But in general:
What to expect/know: You're welcome to come as you are. Fresh from the beach, and still wearing your bathing suit? A-ok! Is your kid prone to fussy outbursts? Us, too! In junior high and more interested in folding origami (or whatever) during worship? We've got a place for that!
Dress is casual (or whatever you're comfortable in). The welcome is wide and real. We sing pop music, chosen for that night’s theme, with drums and keyboard. There’s communion, a sermon, prayer, and usually two people who share a true, personal story they’ve crafted for the service. It’s funny, a little bit loud, a little bit chaotic (although oh-so-carefully planned), and real. We usually meet for about an hour and fifteen minutes. If you want to know a bit more about what it feels like, here are some reports from people who aren't pastors here:
Ruth, 7th grader (Chicago). "I am glad I went to a service that wasn’t boring. I would have had a much blander experience if I had gone to any other church. Gilead was unique and endearing and I am glad that I went. I would definitely consider returning." Read Ruth's whole reflection here.
Chad the Bird, Chicago's avian op-ed columnist. "'...real butter Christians. It's delicious. They sound delicious. And they were. Lovely room. Um, first of all, they meet at a bar, which I was, like, 'K.' ...So I walk in there and they're like, 'Hey, what do you wanna drink?' And I was, like, 'I dunno. What're you drinking?' And they were like, 'We've got PBR and shots of Malort for $5.' I was like, 'C'monnnn.' So yeah, they just get drunk on happiness — and also beer." Listen to all of Chad's story and his take on bar-church here. (He calls us "stupendous, and super huggy.")
Maria Vorhis, writer/performer, filmmaker, and teaching artist (Chicago). "I was not wondering about an escape route this time because I was listening. I was listening to my friend preach about creativity, how we are all created and therefore creative. How it is our job to live our most creative lives as a way of fulfilling our potential and serving others. After the service I met people. Lovely, inviting, kind people who were curious and smart and inclusive. I hugged some of them. I even held one of their babies. And when I left, I was confused because I had just been to church and I was not religious..." Read the rest of Maria's piece here.
[For posterity! February 2019’s magnificent theme, suggested by music director Adam Motz.]
This church is different from other churches.
YOU and YOU ALONE are in charge of what happens in this church.
There are dangers, choices, adventures, and consequences. You may laugh — or ugly cry. You may sing a song you thought you knew but realize you only know the chorus of. You may make friends. You may be asked out to coffee by someone you find irritating.*
To make this church, YOU must use all of your not insignificant talents and emotional intelligence and love. The wrong decision could end in disaster** — even death. But don't despair. At any time, you can go back and make another choice, alter the path of your story, and change its results.
Or can you?
February 10, 17, and 24, we're at Mary's Attic for Choose-your-own-adventure church, with stories of forks in the road and paths not taken, what to do when you hit a dead end, and how to have a happy ending.
* It's Rebecca. She'll be ok if you say "no."
** Probably not. It's church.
Read the rest of the first choose-your-own-adventure newsletter here.
From this week’s newsletter:
Gilead is a queer, storytelling, bar church that meets...in a theater (not a bar). For now. Starting February 10 (no church Feb 3!), we'll be a queer, storytelling, bar church that meets at Mary's Attic (5400 N. Clark) — a Rogers Park church meeting in an Andersonville karaoke joint. It can all be a little...disorienting, even for you, and you've been there at least once (otherwise...how do we have your email address?).
Even when we're in one place for a while (#RIP Red Line Tap), there's a lot to get used to at a Gilead service, especially for someone coming for the first time. What even is Gilead? Where are the bathrooms? A name tag and a bulletin and a prompt? What's a prompt? (Shit. I grabbed a name tag with pronouns that aren't mine.) Every single week people we've never met go out on a limb to try a new thing and come check us out. Sometimes, first-time folks are as much as a third of the congregation.
And then there's you! You, too, left your house and came out to be in community. Maybe you weren't sure you wanted to be around this many people. Maybe you felt like staying on the couch. But here you are.
The folks standing at the front door — the front door of wherever we are — are the face of Gilead, the welcome, the bridge from out there to in here. The friendly face between "I kinda wanna stay home" and "I'm glad I came." The path from "I haven't been to church in years" to "I went to this, I guess, queer storytelling bar church last night?"
Greeters help orient and re-orient everybody who comes to Gilead. Greeters help build the community and strengthen the congregation. Seriously. (Ever been to a party where you only know the host and, from the front door, you can't see them anywhere? Are you even in the right place?)
Lizzy and Pedro Bortoto are pulling together a crew of regular greeters. They'd love to have 8 - 10 people a month, so we can have at least two folks at each service doing this work. They created a form where you can let them know when you're available and they'll take it from there.
Read the rest of the week’s news here.
Maybe you were bitten by a radioactive spider on a school field trip. Maybe you had a sled called Rosebud. Maybe you discovered Nirvana's "In Utero" on a choir trip to New York and it changed your life.
What's your origin story? What are the moments that made you who you are?
The fork in the road where you made a choice that has come to define you. The accident that altered the course you were on forever. The night when it might have all turned out differently.
What made you so spunky, so friendly, so cautious?
Come share the story of how you became particularly...you.
And we'll share some of the stories of how Gilead became such a particular community. Hear the moments private and public that have defined our first two years as a church. (And celebrate that anniversary on January 20th!)
Let's go back to where it all started - for you, for us - and see where it's gonna go.
*We’re good, giving, and game for caring for our community.
Gilead is more than just a church that meets at a bar (or theater). We are a growing community of friends who need support and provide support for one another. These gifts and needs come in a wide array that are as diverse as we are! You can request resume help, moving assistance, or even just a cup of coffee after a difficult week. We are still discovering all of the ways that we can help each other. We crave your creative gift ideas!
So how do you share your gifts or a need you have? Your gateway into the Gilead support community is here - where you can electronically bring your needs or gifts that you have to share! Although we know we can’t meet every need (ahem, finding you a spouse is one of the more difficult ones) but we do our best to match your need with someone who can help. We promise to respond to all requests within a week, even if it’s just to let you know that we are working on it! Help us build intentional, caring community. Let us know what you have to offer, and how we can help.
As you may have heard, the Heartland Cafe is selling the building where we meet.*
Good news: Gilead has never been a building (literally because we don’t have one). Gilead is the people, and energy that fill the space, but it's true that this place has felt like Gilead to us for the past year or so. Twinkling lights, rainbow stars, glitter high tops, and leaky toilets, we made the space as ours as it could be.
Harder news: we'll be leaving Red Line Tap at the end of the month. Although we’re definitely sad, we’re so glad that we get to continue to be church together wherever we end up. We’ll let you know where we’re headed next as soon as we know. But for now, keep showing up on Sunday nights. Llt’s make our last few weeks here something special.
Come be church in December at Red Line Tap (7006 N Glenwood). As usual, kids are always welcome as is anyone you want to bring with you. Soft drinks are on us, booze is on you.
*Is it our fault? When we made this calendar entry, we completely arbitrarily set Dec 30, 2018 as the end date. We’re planning to put another date on the calendar for Heartland’s grand re-opening, and hope that works too.
Hey you,
Yeah, you. I love you, you know that? I really do. You’re like, my best friend. And well…we’re always together, and we’re not seeing anyone else. So, I guess what I’m asking is: do you wanna be friends with benefits?
Just to be clear, this is a pledge letter, and I’m hoping you’ll give in an ongoing way to support the community we share and love. But what I really wanna know is: are you DTF?
That’s “Down to Fund” the work of making beautiful, inclusive, creative church at Gilead Chicago. Yeah, maybe that is kind of a dad joke. I see that now. Imagine what we could pass on to our children, tho.
Whoa, OK. Maybe that’s moving too fast. We don’t need to mess with labels right now. Why don’t you just fill out a pledge card, set up recurring giving, and let’s see where this thing goes?
I’m not asking for forever. But we’ve got something good here. Something we’re both enjoying. I get a lot out of being with you. And I think you feel the same way. So why not make it just a little official? You don’t have to call me your significant other, we can just fund this 2019 budget and watch Netflix like we always do.
It’s not awkward unless we make it awkward.
Did I make it awkward? My bad. While we’re in that uncomfortable space, let me just say, our goal for 2019 pledges is $35,000. That’s a lot of money, but together, we can do it. That’s all I’m trying to say: let’s do it. Together.
And if neither of us is married by the time we’re 40, we can meet at the top of the John Hancock building and you can sent up some kind of memorial endowment. Baby.
XOXO,
Gilead
Laughing matters.
There's nothing funny about so much of what's happening. That's probably true more of the time than we know, or attend to, but it's palpable these days.
So...a comedy series? At church? Kicking off on...All Saints Day?
If you're not a stand-up comedy fan, it may seem like bad timing. But this is what comedy's made for — it pokes holes in the bullshit of the powerful and lets all the air out. It looks around with eyes wide open and tells it like it is. It speaks truth in a way that makes you say "I never thought of it that way!" at the same time as "That's so true!" It's revelatory.
It's also, y'know, not to belabor it, funny. And we could use some laughter. Not the brutal, mocking laughter coming from lots of corners these days, but laughter that feels like relief, that's a reminder of what it feels like to feel good. #GoodNewsThatFeelsLikeGoodNews
We've got some excellent comics coming over the next few weeks to take on some of the hardest shit: death, mental health & illness, family, and race. And on November 18th, funny-pants and political bad-asses Myq Kaplan, Alex Kumin, and Shannon Noll are coming to Gilead for a fundraiser after church. Get ready for whatever's waiting for you at the Thanksgiving table with a fat dose of comedy. (You can get tickets here.)
And: if you're looking for a place to grieve and stand in solidarity with others (in response to the synagogue shooting in Pittsburgh), head downtown on Thursday at noon. We got word of this interfaith vigil from our friends at Mishkan.
This Sunday, we're kicking off Serious Shit, Funny People and, yes, it is All Saints Day. Masood Haque will be with us and you should (if you want) bring photos of people you love who have died, and we'll fill the room with images of those we often carry with us, unseen.
