Over a century ago, a group of Methodists claimed the corner at Cleveland and Monroe as a sacred place. Earlier this year, the land and building on that corner changed owners but the presence and work of God through the new owners is what will continue to mark this obscure corner in Memphis as holy ground.

The property at 1300 Monroe was the site of the historic Madison Heights United Methodist Church, with a sanctuary built in 1898. The congregation voted to close in 1994 and members joined with other churches, principally St. Luke’s and Trinity United Methodist Churches.

The building was repurposed to serve as the United Methodist Resources for Ministry (UMRM), a local agency of the United Methodist Church. The purpose was to develop and support missional ministries and to help churches remain connected (or reconnect) to their neighborhoods.

At this holy corner, UMRM incubated Nehemiah Housing, an affordable housing initiative that resulted in 81 affordable housing units in South Memphis through a collaboration representing six denominations along with city and private partners.

UMRM also helped launch the Workers Interfaith Network, comprised of people of faith, workers and community activists joining together to win living wages and stop unfair working conditions.

Additionally, UMRM supported the formation of the Memphis School of Servant Leadership, offering classes, workshops, activities and worship for individuals seeking a powerfully spiritual, disciplined faith life that translates into action in the church and the world.

The tragic fire that destroyed the sanctuary and the large Character Builders Bible Class building in 1998 did not squelch the ministry potential at this corner. The yellow brick education structure remained and was the place for additional ministries to find their start including Families of Incarcerated Individuals and Door of Hope as well as housing Memphis Leadership Foundation in its early years.

The work of UMRM continues today as an independent, ecumenical organization re-launched in 2009 as the Center for Transforming Communities. The Center for Transforming Communities repurposed another former United Methodist Church building in the Binghamton neighborhood that sits on yet another corner recognized as holy ground by many.

Meanwhile, at the site of the former Madison Heights UMC, the long heritage of service to the community continues. On February 10, 2012, the building and land at the corner passed to the Society of St. Vincent DePaul, a Catholic lay organization of women and men who seek to witness God’s love by embracing all acts of charity and justice.

More and more congregations and faith-inspired people are recognizing the transformational power that comes from being in right relationship with the place — the bit of geography — that surrounds you.

Whether the geography is four square blocks, an inner-city neighborhood, a rural township, or a corner amid a dense urban setting, there is a growing longing to experience faith lived in a particular place.

How do you begin? Step outside the doors of your church and look around for the ways in which God is already at work in your particular place. As you begin to pay attention to your neighborhood, you will discover how you and your congregation can be part of God’s dream for health and wholeness for your particular place.

Soon you will discover that the presence of God, and God’s work through you, has marked your place as holy ground.

Amy C. Moritz is director of the Center for Transforming Communities.

The room is pitch-black, except for a tiny pinprick of flame, barely visible through a door into another smaller room. Suddenly, that pinprick of light turns to blackness as a shadow passes in front of it.

Hundreds are gathered, crowded together in pews, silent and still, waiting, as the shadow turns and steps through the door. It’s a priest holding a second point of light. It illuminates a bearded face and bright white vestments as he begins to sing: “Come receive the light from the never-setting Light, and glorify Christ, Who has risen from the dead.”

A second voice takes up the hymn, then the entire choir joins in as the priest comes forward and lights the candles of those waiting at the front. They pass it in turn to those behind, and so on until every candle is lit, every face illuminated. What only seconds before was darker than a tomb is revealed as a brilliant and beautiful Church, filled with the joy of the Christian Faithful and the triumph of Christ’s Resurrection.

This is not a description of one of the many Easter services held last Sunday, but rather an anticipation of tonight’s midnight Easter service. For the Eastern Orthodox Christians of Memphis, Easter (or Pascha) falls on April 15, and the above scene is the service we will celebrate tonight, at the very second Easter Sunday arrives.

Why our Easter varies from Western Easter is a complex question, and beyond the scope of this small piece (although the question can afford countless hours of diversion to the theologically, mathematically or astronomically inclined hobbyist). But, indeed, strange though it may seem, we Orthodox are still waiting for Easter.

We have been waiting, in fact, since last Pascha, when we began the cycle of Sundays that has led to this day. Our preparations moved into high gear eight weeks ago, when we began our Lenten fast. For the past seven weeks we have had services at least four days each week. This past week, we have had at least two, sometimes three, services each day. All to prepare for tonight.

The Orthodox have a distinctive approach to Easter. Our celebration not only focuses on Christ’s return from death, but also reflects with joyful fear and trembling on an event often skirted around as confusing or controversial in the Christian West: the Harrowing of Hades.

Our central image of Pascha depicts Christ standing upon the shattered gates of Hell, in the manner of a conqueror, and reaching down to grasp the hands of an elderly man and woman, pulling them from the darkness of their crypts. The two are Adam and Eve, whose Creator and God could not bear to leave them to the consequences of their (and our) fall, but pursued them, and, by means of the cross, gained access to the place of their captivity as a man — and then as God vanquished death and the grave, and led captivity itself captive.

The message is one of unbridled joy, of the hope that lies at the core of our identity as Orthodox Christians. We greet Christ as our Bridegroom, come in triumph from the bridal chamber of the tomb, and receive Him as the first fruits of the very descent of heaven to Earth, of the healing of creation itself, of the reconciliation of God and man.

From the distribution of the light described above, the service continues into the early hours of Easter morning, concluding with the Eucharist. It is a glorious night, and it is the crown of the Orthodox year.

Rev. Anthony Cook is pastor of Annunciation Greek Orthodox Church, 573 N. Highland, where services begin at 11 p.m. tonight. Other Orthodox congregations in Memphis are St. John Antiochian Orthodox Church, 1663 Tutwiler (11:30 p.m.); and St. Seraphim Orthodox Church, 3174 Carnes (11:20 p.m.).

Philosophy and religion ask the same questions, according to philosophy professor and author Peter Kreeft.

“Nobody isn’t interested in philosophy,” said Kreeft, a Boston College professor. “To be human is to wonder about good, evil, life, death, God, self, eternity, etc. People who hate philosophy have only been exposed to dull, scholarly, ‘analytic’ philosophy.”

Kreeft, the author of more than 60 books, is bringing his relevant and robust philosophy to Memphis next week as part of the Distinguished Catholic Lectors Series at Christian Brothers University. He will discuss “Happiness: How Do You Get It? Christ’s Version vs. the World’s” at 7 p.m. Friday in the university theater. The even is free and open to the public.

Kreeft, who was raised as a Protestant and converted to Catholicism at age 21, is an unapologetic apologist, rigorously defending absolutes and, more specifically, Christianity.

“Christ not only transcends, not only contradicts, but exactly reverses the world’s concepts on all the most important points,” Kreeft said in a recent e-mail interview.

Kreeft’s books reveal a crisp, quirky, well-stocked and well-ordered mind that doesn’t seem to take itself too seriously, despite the weighty subject matters he engages in.

His resolute assertions, sometimes delivered acerbically, may be bracing for some, or exasperating for others. The man who has been teaching since 1962 doesn’t traffic in cheap emotionalism and manipulation. Rather, he uses a head-on intellectual approach to relevant subjects such as abortion, or suffering, or Marx, as well as heavy doses of humor.

“Humor is one of the attributes of God,” Kreeft said. “No one who looks an ostrich in the face can doubt that. And all the attributes of God that we know of (there are so many more!) are important for understanding ourselves and our world. Humor is not ‘comic relief,’ it is an essential quality of wisdom.”

Included in his large repertoire are what he calls his “Socrates Meets …” books, in which Socrates meets an author of a Great Book in the afterlife and explores and debates the merits of the ideas. Included in this series are “Socrates Meets Hume — Questions the Father of Modern Skepticism” and “Socrates Meets Marx — Questions the Founder of Communism.”

He plans to publish next “Socrates Meets Freud” and “Socrates Meets Kierkegaard.” He has also recently finished three of four volumes in a history of philosophy for beginners called “Socrates’ Children.”

In his books “A Refutation of Moral Relativism: Interviews with an Absolutist,” and “Three Approaches to Abortion,” Kreeft uses a debate between two fictitious characters, Libby and Isa, to explore the subject and deliver his points. Isa, the pro-life character, accuses Libby of being “sheepish” and a “weak conformist.”

When asked if the creator of Libby and Isa believes that people are easily led, he responded, “You ARE kidding with this question, right? If people are not fools who are easily (mis-)led, how do you explain the mess that is history?”

Melissa Ruleman is an editorial assistant at The Commercial Appeal. For more information about Kreeft’s lecture at CBU, contact Dr. James Wallace at (901) 321-3018 or jwallac6@cbu.edu. To listen to Kreeft’s lectures or read his writing, visit peterkreeft.com.

Since the coming of the Arab Spring, dictatorships across North Africa and the Middle East have fallen to civilian protesters, and many more are being shaken to their foundations.

But as the cry for freedom from oppression and atrocity grows louder, entire nations are plunging into a murderous darkness. In Syria, the Assad regime has unleashed a brutal campaign of rape, intimidation and murder against unarmed protesters. In Sudan, hundreds of thousands are hiding from their own government in caves, as rockets and bombs aimed at civilians kill and maim hundreds of men, women, and children.

When we in the West look at these horrific crimes being committed around the world, it is tempting to shut the doors on them. However, our world is an increasingly smaller place. As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., wrote, “Injustice anywhere is now a threat to justice everywhere.” Whether we like it or not, we must do something about these crimes, and what that something should be is arguable, and rightly so.

This Friday, Memphians will join millions of Americans in demonstrations calling for the arrest of one of the world’s worst war criminals — Joseph Kony, the commander of the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), a rebel group.

Kony has terrorized communities across central Africa for the past 26 years. His forces have raped and killed thousands, and on a more disturbing level have forcibly recruited more than 30,000 child soldiers and underage sex slaves. The severity and perversity of these crimes led the International Criminal Court to release a global arrest warrant for Kony and his top generals in 2005.

Despite the small size of the LRA, Kony and his soldiers have killed hundreds over the past year and have driven more than 300,000 away from their homes. The LRA have wreaked havoc across the borderlands of four countries. International pressure in the region is mounting with U.S. advisory troops on the ground and additional logistical and financial support rolling into humanitarian and military campaigns.

For the first time in more than two decades, Joseph Kony is running out of places to hide from the justice. We must keep the pressure on.

That’s why we’re organizing “Cover the Night.” At 7:30 p.m. Friday, we’re going to gather in the gym at First Evangelical Church, 735 Ridge Lake Blvd., to view “Kony 2012,” a 30-minute documentary about the Ugandan despot. We’ll hand out “Kony 2012” shirts and posters, then fan out across the community.

A week from today, the community and the world will wake up to untold numbers of posters demanding justice for the people —- and especially the children —- of central Africa.

Bring your own tape or staple guns. If you want to be a team leader, contact coordinator Sarah Howard at showard@operationbrokensilence.org. Please include your name, age, telephone number and e-mail address.

Visit http://www.operationbrokensilence.org to learn how you can join. Register at the OBS Facebook Memphis Event Page. On Twitter, use the hashtag #MemphisKony2012.

Our mission is to make Joseph Kony infamous for his crimes, and in so doing pressure world leaders to pursue and arrest him. I invite you to join us on this global campaign for justice, peace, and protection.

Mark Hackett is the CEO of Operation Broken Silence, a Memphis-based human rights organization that works against mass atrocity and modern slavery crimes.

I am a scientist. For most of my life, I have lived with the dictates of science: the physical world operates according to rational and mathematical laws, all phenomena have physical causes, all hypotheses must be tested against experiment.

Yet I also believe there are things we take on faith, without physical proof and even sometimes without any methodology for proof. We cannot clearly show why the ending of a particular novel haunts us. We cannot prove under what conditions we would sacrifice our own life in order to save the life of our child. We cannot prove whether it is right or wrong to steal in order to feed our family, or even agree on a definition of “right” and “wrong.” We cannot prove the meaning of our life, or whether life has any meaning at all.

For these questions, we can gather evidence and debate, but, in the end, we cannot arrive at any system of analysis akin to the way in which a physicist decides how many seconds it will take a 1-foot-long pendulum to make a complete swing. These previous questions are questions of aesthetics, morality, philosophy. These are questions for the arts and the humanities. These are also questions aligned with some of the intangible concerns of traditional religion.

For many years, a family of ospreys lived in a large nest near my summer home in Maine. Each season, I carefully observed their rituals and habits. In mid-April, the parents would arrive, having spent the winter in South America, and lay eggs. In early June, the eggs hatched. The babies slowly grew, as the father brought fish back to the nest, and in early to mid-August were large enough to make their first flight.

My wife and I recorded all of these comings and goings with cameras and in a notebook. We wrote down the number of chicks each year, usually one or two but sometimes three. We noted when the chicks first began flapping their wings, usually a couple of weeks before flying from the nest. We memorized the different chirps the parents made for danger, for hunger, for the arrival of food.

After several years of cataloging such data, we felt that we knew these ospreys. We could predict the sounds the birds would make in different situations, their flight patterns, their behavior when a storm was brewing. Reading our “osprey journals” on a winter’s night, we felt a sense of pride and satisfaction. We had carefully studied and documented a small part of the universe.

Then, one August afternoon, the two baby ospreys of that season took flight for the first time as I stood on the circular deck of my house watching the nest. All summer long, they had watched me on that deck as I watched them. To them, it must have looked like I was in my nest just as they were in theirs. On this particular afternoon, their maiden flight, they did a loop of my house and then headed straight at me with tremendous speed.

My immediate impulse was to run for cover, since they could have ripped me apart with their powerful talons. But something held me to my ground. When they were within 20 feet of me, they suddenly veered upward and away. But before that dazzling and frightening vertical climb, we made eye contact for about half a second. Words cannot convey what was exchanged between us in that instant. It was a look of connectedness, of mutual respect, of recognition that we shared the same land. After they were gone, I found that I was shaking, and in tears.

To this day, I do not understand what happened in that half-second. But it was one of the most profound moments of my life.

Alan Lightman, born and raised in Memphis, is a theoretical physicist and adjunct professor of humanities at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. He is the author of several books, including “Einstein’s Dreams.” His new novel, “Mr. g,” is the story of creation as told by God.

On a remote mountaintop village in Honduras last fall, Dr. Ron Coleman noticed something different and alarming about one of his patients, 15-year-old Dunia.

Coleman had been monitoring little Dunia’s big heart since she was about 8. The surgeon didn’t need a stethoscope to tell him that the girl’s heart condition had gotten much worse.

“You could see her heart thrusting in her chest,” said Coleman, a surgeon from Cleveland, Tenn., who makes monthly mission trips to the Central American country.

A faulty valve was allowing blood to leak back into Dunia’s enlarged heart. Coleman knew she needed open-heart surgery to repair or replace the valve. Without the surgery, she would likely die in five years. With it, her heart would work properly and she could live a normal life.

But Coleman is a general surgeon. Dunia Peraza-Ramirez needed to see a cardiologist, but there wasn’t one in the nearby small mission hospital.

Dunia, a quiet, doe-eyed girl with a shy smile and long, black hair that has never been cut, remembers being short of breath since she was about 5. She has never been able to run and play like other children. But except for Coleman’s monthly mission trips, Dunia rarely sees a doctor.

Dunia Peraza-Ramirez,15, is a heart patient in Memphis from Honduras. She was diagnosed with Mitral Valve Stenosis. When she arrived in Memphis, she was a very sick and frightened girl. The valve couldn't pump blood as quickly as it should from the heart, which made living daily life in the mountains difficult. (Karen Pulfer Focht / The Commercial Appeal)

She lives with her parents and younger brother and sister in a 15-by-30 foot wood-frame house with a tin roof and a cement floor. The house sits on a steep incline along a rutted dirt road. The terrain makes it impossible for land line phones but almost everyone has a cellphone.

Dunia (pronounced DOON-yuh) walks to her eight-room village school house, where she is in the ninth grade. She cares for her 5-year-old sister, Ebelni. She cooks over an adobe stove making tortillas or fried banana cakes. She sews with her mama, Deisyi Ramirez, making aprons to sell. Her papa, Erasmo Peraza, is a pastor.

The family owns a refrigerator and a television. They carry water in containers from a nearby spring. An outhouse sits behind their house. Dunia, Ebelni, and her brother, Brayan, 12, sleep in one bed. Their parents sleep in another nearby. They rarely leave the mountain. The prospect of getting Dunia’s heart repaired was as remote as their village.

“The image I have of Dunia is disparate puzzle pieces and all of a sudden God putting it all together, and lo and behold we are saving Dunia’s life,” Rev. Anthony Burdick, pastoral care director for Baptist Memorial Health Care Corp., said last month.

“It’s not serendipity . . . My image of that is God putting the pieces together.”

***

Coleman found the next piece of Dunia’s puzzle after he returned to East Tennessee last fall.

Because of a family history of heart problems and as a precaution, he decided to see a cardiologist. He called Teresa Dawson, his former nurse and mission partner, to get a recommendation. Dawson is the nursing director of Baptist Hospital’s Cardiovascular Services in Memphis.

She suggested Dr. David Wolford, a Memphis cardiologist who had seen her husband and who had gone on a medical mission to Honduras the previous January, through Woodland Presbyterian Church.

“It gets in your blood,” Wolford said. “It’s something you hunger for. I get so much more out of it than I give. It affects me in the way I deal with life, my family and my patients. I re-prioritize what is important in my life.”

Wolford said that some of the patients in Honduras walked three hours to see him. One day, he and other mission members took flour, eggs and rice to the home of an elderly woman. When they arrived, the woman raised her hands in joy, saying, “Hallelujah. Thank you, God for sending these angels.”

Wolford examined Coleman in late October and the two men talked about their love for mission work. Wolford said he was going back to Honduras in January. Coleman was, too. Wolford agreed to see Dunia.

On Jan. 21, Coleman brought Dunia and her parents to San Pedro Sula Airport to meet Wolford. Amid the savory smells from the airport’s Dunkin’ Donuts and Wendy’s, Wolford took his stethoscope and listened to Dunia’s heart.

Dunia and her parents met Dr. David Wolford at San Pedro Sula Airport where Wolford took his stethoscope and listened to Dunia’s heart. “The murmur was so loud. You could hear the swooshing sound,” he said.

“The murmur was so loud. You could hear the swooshing sound,” he said.

“It radiated from her chest to her arm and through to her back. It was causing a vibration throughout her chest. At a point, if you don’t fix this, it’s irreversible. You get winded walking across the room. You can’t climb stairs. She has to be quiet and sit around.”

As a cardiologist, Wolford can diagnose heart problems and treat heart disease. But Dunia needed a cardiovascular surgeon to repair her leaky valve. She needed to come to Memphis.

Over the years, Coleman has brought 20 ailing children to Tennessee for advanced medical care. He would find a hospital willing to offer its services as charity, and a family to care for the child. But times have changed.

“Finding a hospital that would be willing to do that is quite difficult,” said Coleman, who noted that declining reimbursement rates for TennCare and Medicare patients and lower profit margins have caused hospitals to be reluctant to take on too many charity cases.

When Wolford returned to Memphis, other pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place.

Dr. Ed Garrett Jr., a cardiovascular surgeon, agreed to operate on Dunia at no cost. Dr. Vince Samuel agreed to be her anesthesiologist for free. Baptist Memorial Hospital-Memphis, where Wolford practices and Dawson works, agreed to provide free hospital care.

But Dunia didn’t just need medical care. After the surgery, she would need a place to stay during her recovery and rehab. Wolford talked to his wife, Gwen, a former critical care nurse.

“Well, she can stay with us,” Mrs. Wolford replied.

On Feb. 21, Coleman and Dunia flew to the Chattanooga Airport. It was her first airplane ride and her first trip to America. She marveled as people patiently waited in line for tickets or luggage. As Coleman drove Dunia to his home in nearby Cleveland, she noticed that cars and trucks were going in the same direction on her side of the road.

“There is so much more organization here,” she told Coleman.

On Feb. 27, Coleman and his wife, Shelley, drove Dunia to Germantown to meet the Wolfords — David and Gwen and their two daughters: Hanna, 16, a junior at Houston High, and Halle, 11, a fifth-grader at Dogwood Elementary.

Mrs. Wolford had four years of Spanish in high school, but Dunia’s host family decided to use an iTranslate app on their iPad to help them communicate.

“Today is my birthday,” Mrs. Wolford told Dunia in Spanish. “You are a gift.”

The Wolfords live in an ample, two-story house. Outside there’s a tennis court and a swimming pool. Inside there are six bedrooms and seven bathrooms. Mrs. Wolford told Dunia she could have any bedroom in the house. She chose a nook in Hanna’s room that had a tiny twin bed with a hot-pink blanket.

Hanna and Dunia are just a year apart in age, but it was Halle who gravitated to the girl with the big heart. Dunia keeps a photo of her family near her bed. At first she was so homesick she cried when anyone mentioned her family. Sometimes, Halle would stay in Hanna’s room with Dunia until she fell asleep.

Before and after her hospital stay, Dunia has been at the home of cardiologist, Dr. David Wolford. Language is a barrier but Wolford’s daughters Hanna, 16, (left) and Halle, 11, are able to play numbers-based games with Dunia. They also use an iPad translator to communicate. (Karen Pulfer Focht / The Commercial Appeal)

While Dunia waited for her operation, she played games with her new sisters. They assembled a 500-piece flower puzzle. They watched “Ice Age” and “Shrek” in Spanish. They took turns painting smooth, round rocks.

On one rock, Dunia painted a flower and wrote Dios es Amor (God is love) and TKM Halle. TKM is her abbreviation for “Te quiero muchas” or “I love you.”

After Halle finished painting her rock, she said, “It’s kinda funny you become best friends and you can’t even speak their language.”

Dunia’s heart surgery was scheduled for March 3. She arrived at Baptist Memorial Hospital-Memphis East at 6 a.m. Mrs. Wolford held her hand as nurse Cristina Colamonici, a native of Uruguay, played comforter and interpreter.

At 7:32 a.m., Coleman, David and Gwen Wolford, nurses Dawson and Colamonici, and anesthesiologist Samuel formed a circle around Dunia’s bed. They joined hands, closed their eyes and bowed their heads.

“Thank you for Dunia and her love,” Coleman prayed in English and then in Spanish. “Protect her and give her strength. Give the doctors and the nurses strength and wisdom. Let her be a blessing to her family and all those she comes into contact with. Amen.”

Garrett, the surgeon, appeared in the hallway.

“We’re all set,” Coleman replied.

“I’ll call you when we’re done,” Garrett said.

***

Three hours later, the surgical team rolled Dunia into the intensive care unit. The operation had gone as planned. But just as nurses were weaning her from the ventilator, her blood pressure plummeted. Her heart raced at 160 beats per minute.

As physicians and nurses worked on Dunia, Wolford wondered if they might have to take her back to surgery.

Mrs. Wolford and Coleman stepped out of the room. “Oh God. Your will. Your will,” Mrs. Wolford prayed.

Dunia finally stabilized two or three hours later. Her blood pressure increased and her heart slowed. Her left ventricle was working properly, possibly for the first time in her life.

Several hours later, the nurses insisted that Dunia sit in a chair. Nurse Colamonici and former nurse Wolford asked Dunia to rate her delor (pain) on a scale of “nada to grande.” Both expected her to say grande.

Dunia Peraza-Ramirez,15, was recovering from her heart surgery when she was visited by Dr. David Wolford during his rounds. Dr. Vince Samuel, who came in on his day off to do her anesthesia also stopped by to check on her post surgery progress. (Karen Pulfer Focht / The Commercial Appeal)

“Zero,” Dunia replied.

“He’s letting us know who’s in control,” Mrs. Wolford said.

A few days after the surgery, Dunia was walking and sitting up to eat but she couldn’t bear to look at the 7-inch scar that runs down the center of her chest.

Janet Allsopp, a former heart patient, learned about Dunia’s surgery and visited her in ICU. While Dunia listened through an interpreter Allsopp told her that she had the same surgery three years before.

“The scar is what makes us special,” Allsopp said. “Don’t be scared to look at it. It is a part of you. We will always carry that. If someone makes fun of you, you tell them, ‘I’m special. I went to the States. I was sick, and they made me well.’ ”

Dunia listened in silence.

“Would you like to see my scar?” Allsopp asked.

Dunia nodded.

Allsopp pulled up her shirt.

“See? Now I don’t have anything. Would you like to touch my scar?”

Dunia nodded, then gently ran her index finger down the nearly invisible and smooth 8-inch scar. She smiled.

As Allsopp was leaving, Dunia asked her about the pain.

“Your pain will get better,” Allsopp told her. “Your scar will heal. Be proud of your scar.”

***

Six days after Dunia’s surgery, Coleman was back in Honduras on another medical mission trip. While there, he arranged for Dunia’s parents to make an Internet phone call to Dunia via Skype.

When Dunia saw her mother’s face, she cried.

“Give me a smile,” her mother cooed. “Give everybody a smile.”

Dunia tried. She showed her mother her scar.

“You are special. You are in my heart,” her mother said. “I will see you in May. The time is going to fly by.”

The corners of Dunia’s mouth turned into a smile.

“Be strong,” her mother said. “God has a very big purpose in your life.”

Dr. Wolford spoke briefly to Dunia’s parents, assuring them that she will be all right. “You can call and check on Dunia whenever you want,” Mrs. Wolford told them.

“We know she would have died without the surgery,” Dunia’s mother said. “God gave her the chance.”

Dunia was discharged from the hospital a few hours later. Since then, her appetite has been picking up. She’s gained almost 2 pounds. She sounds like a chatty teenager when she talks to her mom on the phone.

Her activity level also is picking up. She’s getting out more. She visited the Memphis Zoo. She ate a West Coast burger at Huey’s. She’s been to church.

One recent Sunday, Dunia, Hanna and some of Hanna’s friends attended Iglesia Bautista Nueva Vida, a Hispanic congregation that meets in Kirby Woods Baptist Church. About 35 people sat in the four rows of folding chairs.

During the service, pastoral care minister Manfredo Contreras asked Dunia to come to the front of the church. He gave her a Spanish language Bible along with a gift card to a local Christian bookstore.

“I want to thank God for everything, for putting you in my life here,” she told the congregation. “I thank God for your help. I am very blessed.”

Dunia is spending three days a week in cardio rehabilitation walking on a treadmill, riding a bike and building up strength in her arms and chest. On her first day of rehab, she walked 1,100 feet. “That little girl is our miracle,” one of the nurses said.

If all continues to go well, Coleman plans to take Dunia back to Honduras in mid-May and monitor her repaired mitral valve during his monthly visits. She should be fine.

Today, Dunia will join the Wolford family as they celebrate the hope and new life of Easter at Woodland Presbyterian Church. Dunia and Mrs. Wolford have been reading a devotional called “Jesus Calling.” One day recently, they read a passage from Isaiah 40.

“But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength,” they read, Dunia in Spanish, Mrs. Wolford in English. “They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not be faint.”

“Oh, Dunia,” Mrs. Wolford said. “This is you. You will run and not grow weary. This is your life’s verse.”

The two hugged and cried together. Tears rolled down Dunia’s face. She knows what she wants to do when she gets home.

“Walk,” she said in Spanish. “I want to walk and visit a friend in a nearby village.”

Memphis in Honduras

The team of physicians and nurses who brought Dunia Peraza-Ramirez to Memphis has inspired Baptist Memorial Health Care officials to think about making more lasting connections to the girl’s home in Honduras.

“I want to see Dunia and follow up with her. Go see her home and be with her family,” said Rev. Anthony Burdick, pastoral care director for Baptist Memorial Hospital. “This could end up being a lifelong relationship.”

In coming months, Burdick and Dr. David Lewis of CrossLink International in Memphis, a non-profit, Christian ministry that equips medical mission teams, local free clinics and mission hospitals, plan to visit Honduras to see about adopting and supporting a hospital there.

One option is the hospital in Sula, where Dr. Ron Coleman of Cleveland, Tenn., conducts his monthly medical missions. Coleman is the surgeon who was monitoring Dunia’s heart condition and brought her to Memphis for surgery. The Sula hospital has dorms for doctors and nurses and cooking facilities that can feed and sleep 30 to 40 people.

Coleman had been trying for two years to equip the Sula hospital with laparoscopic equipment for gall bladder surgery. While he was in Memphis helping Dunia, Burdick took him to the local CrossLink office in the basement of First Baptist Church in Memphis.

“I walked into their office and there was an entire laparoscopic machine,” Coleman said. “I have taken it to Honduras piece by piece. When I am down there, I hope to do my first gall bladder surgery.”

This speech by Joshua Johnson, a sophomore at Central High School, won MIFA’s 2012 Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Teen Oratorical Contest.

By Joshua Johnson
Special to The Commercial Appeal

Choosing an organization that exemplifies Dr. Martin Luther King’s principles (leadership, service, moral character and unity) was a daunting task.

After much thought, I chose Central High School’s drum line. Our motto: “One band, one sound.”

I have been a part of this talented group for two years. During this period, we have won numerous awards at competitions, both locally and across the state. Central High School drum line displays the principles of leadership, unity and service.

In choosing those three principles, I was reminded of Dr. King’s speech entitled “The Drum Major Instinct.” He stated: “There is deep down within all of us an instinct. It is a kind of drum major instinct — a desire to be out front, a desire to lead the parade, a desire to be first. And it is something that runs the whole gamut of life.”

I do not know about you, but that sounds like a drum line to me.

The 11-member CHS drum line shows leadership in everything we do. We have an overall section leader and three sub-section leaders, of which I am one. Everyone has a responsibility to watch over himself and his fellow musicians. Even though the authority we have resembles a hierarchy, it is not run like one because we recognize the important role of each member.

It is important that we attend practice sessions, even when the band as a whole doesn’t practice. If one person is off, another member will get us in check. That is what I love about being a part of the drum line. Everyone has a sense of leadership. We are “One band, one sound.”

In addition to the principle of leadership, our drum line also has a sense of unity. Being on the drum line is not just about playing music; it is a brotherhood. We are all very close and do things together whenever we can, from parties, to ball games, to simply hanging out at each other’s houses on the weekends.

I believe the brotherhood we have is a major contributor to our combined talents and our success. We support each other, and we hold each other accountable on the line, in the classroom and morally. We are united. We are “One band, one sound.”

Last, but not least, the Central High School drum line demonstrates service. We cannot just be focused on our own success, for we are just a part of the whole band. We’re the heart that pumps the rhythm. Everyone depends on us for keeping the tempo.

In addition to games, pep rallies and other school functions, we provide entertainment and support at local races, such as the annual Heart Walk/Run. We understand that our ultimate service is to the fans and students who come out each night to cheer on the Central Warriors.

In conclusion, the Central High School drum line displays the principles of leadership, unity and service, and one of these cannot exist without the others. Without the brotherhood and respect that we have for one another, our capabilities to lead each other would diminish, and we would not be able to serve. Without everyone on the drum line having a sense of leadership, our talents would not be showcased and, therefore, would cause conflicts within the group, destroying the unity.

When we step on the field or into those stands, we all take on that drum major instinct — a drum major for leadership, a drum major for unity, a drum major for service — and hopefully a drum major for peace as Dr. King would have wanted.

Central High School drum line: “One band, one sound” and friendships for life.

***

Nekiaya Elam of Central High School, was the 1st-runner-up in MIFA’s 2012 Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Teen Oratorical Contest.

By Nekiaya Elam
Central High School

Hello, my name is Nekiaya Elam. I attend Central High School. Leadership, service, moral character, and unity are the four principles on which Dr. King’s legacy rests.

“A positive attitude causes a chain reaction of positive thoughts, events, and outcomes. It is a catalyst and it sparks extraordinary results.” This quote by baseball hall of famer Wade Boggs shows that positivity leads to Dr. King’s beliefs. There are many organizations available that promote a better society. One of those organizations that I would like to focus on is Modern Distinctive Ladies, also known as MDL. MDL is an all-female high school organization. When these ladies come together, they change the world one step at a time. Modern Distinctive Ladies sets high expectations when it comes to moral character, service, and unity.

MDL is a Christian-based organization, established in 1988, that centers its values around moral character, which enhances you as an individual. Monthly, the young ladies attend church service to fellowship while learning to follow Christ’s footsteps. The founders are responsible for encouraging all the young ladies to maintain the correct persona. Ladies learn to respect self first while learning the principles of loyalty and honesty.

When moral character is developed, a link for service is added. Service is one of the most important aspects of MDL. Once a month, the ladies of MDL devote a Friday night or Saturday morning to help serve their community by tutoring younger students, helping others less fortunate, and putting a smile on the faces of ailing children at St. Jude. MDL believes that giving is better than receiving.

It takes moral character and service to birth unity. Unity is the final phase utilized by MDL to build upon the bond of sisterhood. These young ladies are educated monthly on sisterhood through a variety of activities. As a result, the young ladies are able to come together as sisters to reach greater heights and meet all expectations.

MDL is a great addition to the community of Memphis. How do I know these young ladies have moral character? Who am I to say MDL is truly giving service? What clue do I have about their unity? My statements today are factual because I have experienced them first-hand. You are listening to a young lady who exceeds those high expectations. I stand before you as a PROUD member of Modern Distinctive Ladies, Incorporated.

***

Cenishia Hines of Central Middle College High School, was the 2nd-runner-up in MIFA’s 2012 Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Teen Oratorical Contest.

By Cenishia Hines
Middle College High School

Their motto is, “First of All, Servants of All, We Shall Transcend All.” The first inter-collegiate black Greek letter fraternity, Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, Inc., was founded on December 4, 1906, at Cornell University in Ithaca, New York. Alpha Phi Alpha evolved from primarily a men’s social group a service organization and provided leadership and service during the Great Depression, World Wars and Civil Rights Movements.

This organization is built on service which began during the early struggles experienced by African Americans. Some of the service projects sponsored by the Memphis Chapter of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity are “Go to High School, Go To College,” which provides role models to African American males with an emphasis on secondary and post-secondary school completion; Voter Education/Registration Program, which is designed to educate citizens on voting as well as sponsor a voter registration drive; Sickle Cell Walkathon, developed to raise awareness of sickle cell and to offer patient care, social services, and research; and Project Alpha in collaboration with the March of Dimes, which consists of workshops and informational sessions to raise awareness for young men on the issue of teen pregnancy.

Leadership is also a major principle of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, Inc. In fact, one of the greatest, most notable leaders of the organization and the nation was Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., the civil rights leader. Other honorable Alphas are Jackie Robinson, first black man in major league baseball; John H. Johnson, founder of Ebony and Jet magazines; U.S Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall; and Dr. Cornell West, educator and author. The Memphis chapter offers a branch of the Youth Leadership Development Institute (LDI), where the focus is to develop 21st century leaders. This program serves 9th through 11th graders who have demonstrated leadership capabilities or skills or an interest in leadership. The main objectives of the institute are to expose youth to leadership models, theories, and opportunities; to instill the importance of service as the key element in leadership; and to provide leadership learning experiences for participants. Since its inception, over 930 students have benefited from this initiative, which allows urban youth an opportunity for scholarships and internships that may not generally be available to them.

Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, Inc. is deeply rooted in leadership and service. The powerful name Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. speaks high volumes for this fraternity. I was drawn to Alpha Phi Alpha because I strongly admire Dr. King and feel that anything he endorsed must have been worth knowing about. I also feel blessed to know that there are organizations like APA trying to promote leadership and service in my community for students like myself.

As most of us know very well, Passover is coming up fast. I, personally, am excited as it is one of my favorite Jewish holidays. Many people think it’s a chore with the cooking and the cleaning and the even stricter eating rules, but I think it is a wonderful time to really connect to the story.

This week’s Torah portion is set just as the Israelites are getting ready to leave Egypt. Since they were technically free to go, I wonder how they felt about freedom and what they were thinking at the time. Obviously, they were happy, but I would feel a little lost in such a big and unfamiliar change.

As I was saying before, we celebrate Passover with the same basic rules: no hametz and a proper Seder, but we all have special ways of bringing our own flair to the holiday. How do our traditions relate to this piece of the Torah? If you ask a hundred people, you are likely to get a hundred different answers.

To me, Passover is setting all the places at the table. Passover is fighting with my brother over who gets to open the door for Elijah. Passover is pushing the squeaky matzo ball soup cart, which is very loud, but we still don’t have the heart to get rid of it. If you ask me, Passover is different for everyone. My Passover is about being with family and carrying on traditions from years before.

Even though Passover is technically supposed to be about celebrating our people’s freedom from Pharaoh, it has grown beyond that. There are so many more things each person looks forward to.

At my grandma’s Seder, we all take turns going around the table reading passages from the Hagaddah. Each year, as my brother and I get older, we have the chance to read more passages. Our family manages to continue teaching the children about the story, which is what God told Moses to do, while still focusing on the traditional and fun aspects of the holiday. This is how our family strikes a balance between old and new.

But one of the things people don’t usually think about is how the story of Passover can relate to today. Every day, we relate to the story in ways we don’t even think about.

For example: What’s the first thing that comes to mind at the word “slavery”? It might be African-Americans and the Civil War. It might even be Pharaoh and the Jews. These are examples of physical slavery. However, there are many different types of slavery, even today. One of the topics I want to share with you is mental slavery.

As the Torah tells us, the Jews spent 40 years in the desert after they were released in Egypt. Why? Some sages say it was because their minds were still enslaved. A big part of being a slave is thinking like a slave: always needing someone to tell you what to do, when to do it, and how to do it. For the Jewish people, it was hard to adjust their minds to being independent.

It’s a lot like when you get into a habit and your mind forces you to always do it, whether it’s a good one or a bad one. Your most powerful slave master can sometimes be yourself.

There are other examples of holding yourself back, though. One of the easiest to relate to is fear.

I bet everyone has a lot of fears like spiders or snakes or heights. Fears make you feel like you can’t do anything about them and they will always control you.

When people talk about facing their fears, it’s really like fighting yourself for control and breaking the chains. However, some fears are harder to cure. Fears like your own death or losing a loved one.

One of the biggest fears I struggle with every day is my fear of failing. I am so afraid of failing and letting people down that sometimes I don’t even bother to try. It can really affect me in a lot of places: school, dance, even writing. It seems to control my whole life.

But it isn’t always like that. People can face and conquer their fears every day, and if you never give up, you can break through any kind of slavery, physical or mental.

For my bat mitzvah project, I chose to focus on the physical aspect of slavery. I’m devoting time, effort and energy to help raise awareness of modern human trafficking.

For those who don’t know, human trafficking is basically another name for slavery. It is happening in many different parts of the world right now and must be stopped.

In the Hagaddah, it says: “Now, we are slaves; next year, may we be free.” This is interpreted as meaning that we cannot be truly free unless all the peoples of the world are free. As a human race, we all need to work together to create a world free of slavery. Now, we are slaves; next year, may we be free.

Editor’s note: Niki Scheinberg, a seventh-grader at Bornblum Solomon Schechter School, delivered this speech at her bat mitzvah a week ago at Beth Sholom Synagogue.

March 16 marked the 10th wedding anniversary for my husband, Rev. Dr. Noel G. L. Hutchinson, Jr. and me. It’s hard to believe it’s really been that long.

Because God has blessed us in some powerful ways over the years, we decided to use our wedding anniversary celebration as a means to bless others. So, on Friday, March 30, we hosted a “Party with a Purpose” with family and friends. In lieu of gifts, we asked our guests to make charitable contributions to Mustard Seed, Inc., a separate 501(c)3 nonprofit out of First Baptist Church, Lauderdale and to Southern Avenue Charter Schools. Because tin and aluminum represent the 10th anniversary, we also requested guests to bring can goods to be donated to the Memphis Food Bank.

Through the kind generosity of our family and friends, we were able to raise close to a combined total of $1,000.00 for the nonprofits. And contributions are still coming in.

And of course, we have lots of can goods.

I know ours was a union made by God. He was truly in the midst of things.

Noel and I were formally introduced by a mutual friend, Rev. Dr. Rosalyn Nichols, during a Christmas party for her nonprofit on December 14, 2000. However, the interesting thing about us, is that our paths had crossed several times before the “official” introduction. We both served on Rev. Nichol’s board, but we had never met.

During one of the board meetings, I remember this man walking into the meeting late, sitting directly across from me, but never looked in my direction. Another occasion, Noel spoke at Metropolitan Baptist Church, my home church. The bad thing about this, is that I remember First Baptist Church, Lauderdale’s (the church Noel pastors) choir singing and greeting the members after the program was over, but I don’t remember Noel. However, there was one place where we both kinda sorta noticed each other – that was at the Downtown Y. We both worked out often, but never spoke. I noticed Noel, thought he was that preacher at First Baptist, but wasn’t sure, didn’t really care, because I only saw preachers as preachers, and nothing more. (Honestly, I had no use for a preacher – especially a pastor – in my life, except to preach from the pulpit and pray for me. And I told Noel this.) Noel says he saw me, but I looked so mean with a scowl on my face, that he opted not to even say “hello.” He tells me that we even worked out on machines right next to each other; but of course, I didn’t notice.

One Sunday in January 2001, as I was leaving Metropolitan, headed to LeMoyne-Owen College for the Baptist International Tea, Rev. Roz yelled from the gym’s balcony, “Becky, somebody wants your phone number.” I thought for a moment, what man has Roz and I both encountered who could possibly want my number? “Is it that preacher?” I yelled back. “Yeah, can I give it to him? After a moment of thinking, I gave Rev. Roz my permission.

As I was walking across the church parking lot towards the college, I ran into Rev. Hutchinson, and we walked over together.

During the tea, Noel kept hanging around Metropolitan’s table trying to make small talk. We agreed to meet at the gym the next evening, but my back-to-back classes prevented the rendezvous.

Noel called me the next day, we went on our first date that Friday. That was January 2001; from that point, everything happened nonstop.

Noel proposed twice. The first time, 2 months later, in March. The second time at Owen Brennan’s in September (that’s when I got the ring.)

It’s been a wonderful 10 years. And with God’s grace, we hope to continue to bless others throughout our marriage.

Rebecca Matlock Hutchinson

Straight off her Harley, decked in biker gear and silver-studded boots, Cheryl Morgan is ready to pray.

Surrounded by people in jeans, hats and the occasional suit, the 40-year-old Collierville resident revels in the come-as-you-are vibe at her church.

“It’s more inviting because you’re not intimidated by what you wear,” she said. “Everyone fits in.”

For people across different faiths, once expected to dress in their finest attire, attending worship has become a less formal affair.

Of the roughly 8,000 people who come to worship with Morgan at Hope Presbyterian Church each weekend, fewer than 10 typically wear ties, said associate pastor Eli Morris.

“Flip-flops are pretty standard,” he said.

Since the Cordova church was launched in the 1980s, the aim has been to be laid back in both music and dress.

“It was more about having people feel welcome and comfortable,” he said.

Yet the incredibly relaxed tone has been an evolution.

“When we started, I’d wear a sports coat and tie,” he said. “Now, I’ll preach in jeans.”

Morris points to a verse in the book of James when Jesus warns against favoring a well-dressed stranger over one in rags.

“No one should ever be cast out because of what he wears,” he said.

Morris adds, “Do you need to dress up? Do you need to wear a coat and tie to church? I say no.”

Dressing down has touched nearly every aspect of life over the past 20 years.

While dressing less formally in the workplace used to be reserved for casual Fridays, now men and women rarely wear suits.

Boarding a plane also used to be an occasion for donning your best attire.

But ties for men and white gloves for women have been replaced by stretch pants and slip-off shoes.

As a kid, Yasir Qadhi, 37, resident scholar at the Memphis Islamic Center and professor at Rhodes College, was scolded by mosque elders for coming to prayer in short sleeves, he recalled.

Today, he says, no one would blink at his exposed elbows.

The shift to more-casual dress, he says, “is a universal thing for all religions.”

Jeans and a T-shirt during daily prayer at the Islamic center is typical, as people come to mosque to pray four to five times a day, Qadhi said.

That includes a 6 a.m. service, where kids and teens shuffle through the doors in their pajamas.

“We’d rather they come to the mosque than be shooed away because of their dress,” he said.

The Houston, Texas, native moved to Memphis to help lead the center and has embraced casual dressing as a stepping stone to making a younger, and mostly American-born, generation feel more welcome.

When Qadhi started his position in Memphis, he witnessed an elderly woman block a young girl at the door because of what she was wearing, he said.

“I said, ‘We are not going to prevent anyone from coming into the mosque.’ ”

However, most religious leaders draw a line as to how casually dressed their parishioners can be.

When it comes to Islamic law, a woman must cover her head during prayer, and there are no exceptions to that, Qadhi said.

Morris said overly revealing or inappropriate clothing is not welcome.

“We want to make sure the culture we’ve created is one we’re comfortable with,” he said.

Micah Greenstein, senior rabbi of Temple Israel, one of the largest Reform Jewish congregations in the country, has seen a gradual shift in his East Memphis congregation as well.

An older generation, raised on dressing their best to worship, have expressed their distaste for the more-casual attire worn by younger temple members, he said.

But Greenstein says much of it has been an outgrowth of changing times of services over the years.

“Twenty years ago, 8 p.m. services on a Friday night was a more formal hour. Now at 6:15 p.m., people come as they are or straight from work,” he said.

As more of his congregation dresses with ease, Greenstein has been shedding some of the formality as well.

More often, the senior rabbi finds himself forgoing the long robes in which he’s led services for decades, keeping only the Jewish prayer shawl. He still dons the robes for weddings and holidays, but overall, he sees the relaxed tone as an advantage to forming stronger connections with his congregation.

“It’s a matter of eliminating whatever divide there is between clergy and worshipers,” he said.

Being able to enter temple in either jeans or a jacket, Greenstein says, is also helping break down any unnatural divide between the faith that congregants follow and the lives they live.

“If the synagogue is an extension of your family home, we want the totality of the worship experience we offer to include everyone,” he said.

Orthodox synagogues, which follow a more stringent dress code, are also experiencing a drop in formal attire.

Fewer ties and jackets now appear on Rabbi Joel Finkelstein’s flock at Anshei Sphard-Beth El Emeth Congregation, a 300-member synagogue in East Memphis.

For many American Jews, regularly attending synagogue was once as routine as putting on their shoes. Now, Finkelstein says, they’re delighted to see old and new faces walk through the door and focus less on what they’re wearing.

“Today, we don’t take it for granted people come to synagogue,” he said. “It’s not the time to berate them.”

Finkelstein, however, hasn’t been bitten by the casual bug.
“I’m Mr. Formal. I play basketball with the kids with a tie on,” he said with a laugh.

Morgan, who dreaded putting on a dress and going to church as a young girl, is now heavily involved at Hope Church, she said.

In part, Morgan owes her renewed interest in faith to not having to focus on her choice of apparel.

“You’re more concerned about what you’re hearing in the message than what you’ve got on,” she said.