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South Bend Tribune
No organ chords, no trumpet fanfares, but a loud, steady beat for people to feel and move to in prayer and praise.
"Alleluias!" joyously signed, not sung.
And the words of a sermon sculpted by agile hands, not shaped by lips.
Deaf Michiana Missionary Church, South Bend, will join other Christian churches around the world in celebrating Easter today, providing vibrant, meaningful worship for the deaf, not the hearing.
An emphasis on music, long liturgies in English and formal phrases don't cut it here.
"Hearing people require all that music," says James Beldon Sr., one of about 25 current deaf members of the church. "They do a lot of talking, and the deaf person just isn't going to get it. It feels like a lot of work."
The indigenous deaf church formed about 10 years ago to meet the needs of the "culturally deaf" in this area, says James' wife, Elizabeth Beldon, who also is deaf.
The culturally deaf -- often signified by the capital D -- view deafness as a unique culture within society. They consider American Sign Language to be their native language, not just a communication tool. They think of themselves as a minority group, not a disabled one with a need to be "healed."
When the Beldons came to this area 12 years ago from Ohio, they found many deaf people had had negative experiences with hearing churches, Elizabeth Beldon says. Many had just stopped attending.
"In your name, I will lift up my hands." -- Psalm 63:4
"They felt they were in prison," she says. They told of being constantly quieted for noises they were unable to hear. Pastors would ask people to bow their heads.
"Well, deaf people can't bow their heads because then they can't see," she says. Closing their eyes to worship during prayer or music also meant they couldn't understand what was going on and wouldn't know when others had finished and sat down.
Beldon says she discovered many area deaf people had little or no knowledge of the Bible. Information coming through media such as radio and uncaptioned television programs taught the hearing, not the deaf.
"Deaf people are forgotten," she says. "Missionaries go everywhere else, but they have forgotten that deaf people need them, too."
So a multidenominational deaf group began to meet for weekly Bible studies in space provided by St. Mark Missionary Church in Mishawaka, she says.
Providing access to the Bible also meant translating its messages into ASL, a challenging task.
"You lose a lot of the inherent meanings," she says.
The Bible study bloomed into an indigenous deaf church in December 1997, then the church moved to 706 N. Eddy St. in 2005. Members come from throughout Michiana.
Elizabeth Beldon and Michael Kalling serve as Deaf Michiana's pastors. Beldon also is an associate professor of American Sign Language and the program director of Deaf Studies and Interpreter Training Programs at Bethel College. Kalling, who is deaf, works in graphic design.
Dan Kuehn, of Niles, started attending Deaf Michiana after about 25 years at a hearing Baptist church.
"It was a lot of work to try to get access for myself," he says.
Though his hearing wife, Teresa, served as interpreter, he felt he missed a lot by receiving information secondhand. Besides, she couldn't always be there to interpret, and it would have been awkward for her to interpret at men's fellowship meetings, he says with a laugh.
Kuehn also is better able to understand a deaf pastor.
"A hearing pastor -- their English may be a little too advanced to register and too formal," he explains.
But he doesn't want to speak against his former church.
"At the Baptist church, they were nice and everybody was friendly, but I just couldn't be involved like I can be at this church," Kuehn says. Though his wife now attends Deaf Michiana with him, their two sons still attend the hearing church.
"I can meet more people. I can minister to more people. I can talk to people and encourage them and be more interactive," he says.
James Beldon credits his wife and attending such an indigenous church with saving his faith life.
He went to a hearing church as a boy, but unable to understand people and with no interpreter, he felt left out and bored.
He just tuned out.
Years later, Beldon went to a deaf church with Elizabeth and met with a different experience.
Surrounded by other deaf people, he was able to fully participate in the service and fellowship. He grew spiritually.
Having accepted Christ, he now wants to share his faith.
"I look forward to Easter because it's a chance for me to get people into the church so they can hear the Gospel message," Beldon says, noting that at Deaf Michiana -- as at many churches -- pews fill up more on holidays.
Parishioners attending on a recent Sunday are an even mix of young and old, men and women.
Kalling gives his sermon, standing in bright light and in front of a plain dark wall on which a wooden cross hangs.
The small church provides clear lines of vision for anyone sitting in the four or five rows of pews.
Deep purple banners hang on the walls and show signing hands with the phrases "Trust Him," "Praise Him" or "Love Him" written in gold.
A large-screen television highlights the scriptural references Kalling uses in his sermon.
Throughout the pastor's message, people in the congregation raise and shake their hands.
"Father in heaven, You're wonderful. You are so awesome -- the blessings that You've given us in Jesus," Kalling says. "That we can be a family of Christ and have a relationship with You.
"Praise You, Lord."
No organ chords, no trumpet fanfares, but a loud, steady beat for people to feel and move to in prayer and praise.
"Alleluias!" joyously signed, not sung.
And the words of a sermon sculpted by agile hands, not shaped by lips.
Deaf Michiana Missionary Church, South Bend, will join other Christian churches around the world in celebrating Easter today, providing vibrant, meaningful worship for the deaf, not the hearing.
An emphasis on music, long liturgies in English and formal phrases don't cut it here.
"Hearing people require all that music," says James Beldon Sr., one of about 25 current deaf members of the church. "They do a lot of talking, and the deaf person just isn't going to get it. It feels like a lot of work."
The indigenous deaf church formed about 10 years ago to meet the needs of the "culturally deaf" in this area, says James' wife, Elizabeth Beldon, who also is deaf.
The culturally deaf -- often signified by the capital D -- view deafness as a unique culture within society. They consider American Sign Language to be their native language, not just a communication tool. They think of themselves as a minority group, not a disabled one with a need to be "healed."
When the Beldons came to this area 12 years ago from Ohio, they found many deaf people had had negative experiences with hearing churches, Elizabeth Beldon says. Many had just stopped attending.
"In your name, I will lift up my hands." -- Psalm 63:4
"They felt they were in prison," she says. They told of being constantly quieted for noises they were unable to hear. Pastors would ask people to bow their heads.
"Well, deaf people can't bow their heads because then they can't see," she says. Closing their eyes to worship during prayer or music also meant they couldn't understand what was going on and wouldn't know when others had finished and sat down.
Beldon says she discovered many area deaf people had little or no knowledge of the Bible. Information coming through media such as radio and uncaptioned television programs taught the hearing, not the deaf.
"Deaf people are forgotten," she says. "Missionaries go everywhere else, but they have forgotten that deaf people need them, too."
So a multidenominational deaf group began to meet for weekly Bible studies in space provided by St. Mark Missionary Church in Mishawaka, she says.
Providing access to the Bible also meant translating its messages into ASL, a challenging task.
"You lose a lot of the inherent meanings," she says.
The Bible study bloomed into an indigenous deaf church in December 1997, then the church moved to 706 N. Eddy St. in 2005. Members come from throughout Michiana.
Elizabeth Beldon and Michael Kalling serve as Deaf Michiana's pastors. Beldon also is an associate professor of American Sign Language and the program director of Deaf Studies and Interpreter Training Programs at Bethel College. Kalling, who is deaf, works in graphic design.
Dan Kuehn, of Niles, started attending Deaf Michiana after about 25 years at a hearing Baptist church.
"It was a lot of work to try to get access for myself," he says.
Though his hearing wife, Teresa, served as interpreter, he felt he missed a lot by receiving information secondhand. Besides, she couldn't always be there to interpret, and it would have been awkward for her to interpret at men's fellowship meetings, he says with a laugh.
Kuehn also is better able to understand a deaf pastor.
"A hearing pastor -- their English may be a little too advanced to register and too formal," he explains.
But he doesn't want to speak against his former church.
"At the Baptist church, they were nice and everybody was friendly, but I just couldn't be involved like I can be at this church," Kuehn says. Though his wife now attends Deaf Michiana with him, their two sons still attend the hearing church.
"I can meet more people. I can minister to more people. I can talk to people and encourage them and be more interactive," he says.
James Beldon credits his wife and attending such an indigenous church with saving his faith life.
He went to a hearing church as a boy, but unable to understand people and with no interpreter, he felt left out and bored.
He just tuned out.
Years later, Beldon went to a deaf church with Elizabeth and met with a different experience.
Surrounded by other deaf people, he was able to fully participate in the service and fellowship. He grew spiritually.
Having accepted Christ, he now wants to share his faith.
"I look forward to Easter because it's a chance for me to get people into the church so they can hear the Gospel message," Beldon says, noting that at Deaf Michiana -- as at many churches -- pews fill up more on holidays.
Parishioners attending on a recent Sunday are an even mix of young and old, men and women.
Kalling gives his sermon, standing in bright light and in front of a plain dark wall on which a wooden cross hangs.
The small church provides clear lines of vision for anyone sitting in the four or five rows of pews.
Deep purple banners hang on the walls and show signing hands with the phrases "Trust Him," "Praise Him" or "Love Him" written in gold.
A large-screen television highlights the scriptural references Kalling uses in his sermon.
Throughout the pastor's message, people in the congregation raise and shake their hands.
"Father in heaven, You're wonderful. You are so awesome -- the blessings that You've given us in Jesus," Kalling says. "That we can be a family of Christ and have a relationship with You.
"Praise You, Lord."