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Thirteen years ago, I discovered Unitarian Universalism in a union hall in Fort Wayne, Indiana. The Carpenters’ union hosted the monthly meeting of the Northeast Indiana Central Labor Council in its building, and since I represented an affiliated group within the United Steelworkers union, I was always welcome at the table.
That August, a Teamster named Jim Reeder announced his church was doing a Labor Day service about the infamous Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire, which in 1911 killed scores of garment workers and helped foster support for labor unions. I don’t know if anyone could tell what I was feeling when he invited us to attend. Much like Dorothy Zbornak of The Golden Girls, my facial expressions are more honest than I want them to be sometimes. I was puzzled at the thought of a church attempting—in any way—to talk about my people.
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My relationship with religion had been a rocky one throughout my life. Since my stepmother was Catholic, we all had to become Catholic. My memories of church included mean priests, somber faces in the pews, and children being seen and not heard. Preachy, with a side of preachiness. Those experiences led me to believe that all religions were like this, and none of it was for me. So, how would a church pull off a sermon about the Triangle Shirtwaist fire and do those workers justice?
The fire was one of the deadliest industrial disasters in U.S. history. Immigrant women and girls, paid just fourteen cents an hour, worked at the Manhattan textile mill. The boss locked them inside the ten-story building because he thought it would prevent them from stealing merchandise—or organizing a union. When a fire engulfed the factory and fire truck ladders were too short to reach the workers, 146 of them perished, many by jumping to their deaths to escape the flames. Their story inspired activists across the country to demand workplace safety and labor law reform.
I had never heard of Unitarian Universalism before Jim invited us to his church. I was confused at what could possibly connect this group of religious people to workers and justice. After the meeting, someone leaned in and quietly gave me the CliffsNotes on Unitarian Universalism, which turned out to be wildly inaccurate: “They don’t cuss, and they don’t hug.” I decided to go anyway.
I had never expected to witness church and justice intersect as I did that day.
At the UU Congregation of Fort Wayne that Sunday, my idea of church was turned on its head. Rev. Jennie Barrington spoke about workers’ rights and justice in a way that encouraged exploration of the past but also an understanding of what work lay ahead to prevent it from happening again to another marginalized group. I had never expected to witness church and justice intersect as I did that day.
Since then, my exposure and experience with this religion in every pocket of the country has been eye-opening. Thanks to Jim and his congregation for the warm welcome of a young and skeptical union organizer.