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Truth, Honor and Remembrance: National Day of Awareness for Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women (MMIW) in the ELCA

In honor of National Day of Awareness for Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, Girls, and Relatives (MMIWGR), which is observed on May 5 each year, ELCA Racial Justice Ministries invited Isabell Retamoza to write on this topic.

Truth, Honor and Remembrance: MMIW Awareness Day in the ELCA

By Isabell Retamoza

On May 5, communities across the United States will gather in remembrance and solidarity to honor missing and murdered Indigenous women (MMIW), girls and Two-Spirit people[1].

The alarming rates of abduction, disappearance and murder of Indigenous women, girls and Two-Spirit people represent one of the most devastating and ongoing injustices facing tribal nations and Indigenous communities. On some reservations, Native women experience murder rates more than 10 times the national average.[2] Two-Spirit individuals face exceptionally high levels of violence, with studies indicating that between 78% and 85% have experienced gender-based violence, sexual assault or physical violence.[3] These disappearances and deaths are frequently connected to domestic and dating violence, sexual assault, stalking, sex trafficking and other longstanding harms impacting Indigenous communities. Nearly 96% per of the time the perpetrators of this violence are non-Native men.[4] 

To honor and remember those lost, many people wear red or paint red handprints across their faces as symbols of visibility for those who have been made invisible. But MMIW Awareness Day is not only about remembrance; it is also a call to truth-telling and advocacy.

MMIW Day of Awareness calls us to:

  • Honor the lives of missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls and Two-Spirit people.
  • Raise awareness of the disproportionate levels of violence experienced by Indigenous families and communities.
  • Support community efforts of grassroots advocacy and organizing to change laws, policies, protocols and resource allocation at the tribal, federal and state levels.
  • Share and discuss the history of state-sanctioned violence perpetrated by the U.S. government against Indigenous people and communities to better understand the roots of this crisis and drive meaningful legal reform.

This crisis is neither isolated nor random. It is the result of centuries of state-sanctioned and structural violence. Rooted in colonization and genocide, U.S. policies forcibly removed Indigenous peoples from their ancestral lands, fractured families and kinship systems, and devalued Indigenous culture. These harms continue today through jurisdictional failures, underfunded services, extractive industries built near tribal lands, and systems that repeatedly fail to protect Indigenous women, girls and Two-Spirit people or that hold perpetrators accountable.

For the church, MMIW Awareness Day is also a moment of moral reflection. Christian institutions were often complicit in the systems that enabled this violence, including forced assimilation and boarding schools. Honoring this day meaningfully requires more than acknowledgment; it calls us to recognize the truth expressed through action, solidarity and sustained commitment to justice.

Honoring MMIW Awareness Day in Your Congregation

ELCA congregations can mark May 5 in meaningful and respectful ways, including:

  • Wearing red (T-shirts available from the ELCA) and taking pictures.
  • Using social media to raise awareness. Use the hashtags #MMIW, #NoMoreStolenSisters, #TruthandHealing and #ELCA 2.
  • Organizing a prayer vigil (with this resource).
  • Including MMIW in your congregation’s prayers for the day.
  • Saying the names of MMIW (especially meaningful if you research and identify MMIW specific to your region or locality) and lighting candles for them during worship.
  • Inviting (and compensating) a local Indigenous expert to share on this topic as part of your educational time.
  • Inviting (and compensating) local Indigenous musicians to play or sing during worship.

As members of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, we are called to bear public witness to truth, even when that truth challenges us. On May 5, may we commit ourselves not only to remembrance but to action that honors Indigenous lives.

For more information on how your congregation can get involved and honor MMIW Day of Awareness on May 5, please visit the ELCA website and download the MMIW Toolkit.

Isabell Retamoza is a citizen of the Cherokee Nation, a law student at the University of Illinois Chicago School of Law and is a member of St. Andrew Lutheran Church in San Diego.

 

 

 

[1] “Two-Spirit is a term used by some Indigenous people to describe roles, responsibilities, and identities that exist outside colonial understandings of gender and sexuality. For many, Two-Spirit is interrelated to expression, language, tradition, and/or ceremony, often carrying inherent responsibilities to the well-being of the land and community.” Understanding The Term ‘Two-Spirit’ — Wabanaki Two-Spirit Alliance, https://w2sa.ca/two-spirit-library/understanding-the-term-two-spirit.

[2] National Indigenous Women’s Resource Center, www.niwrc.org/mmir-awareness.

[3] Balsam, Kimberly F., et al., “Culture, Trauma, and Wellness: A Comparison of Heterosexual and Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Two-Spirit Native Americans, Cultural Diversity & Ethnic Minority Psychology, 2026, vol. 32, issue 2 (April), doi.org/10.1037/1099-9809.10.3.287.

[4]   The National Congress of American Indians Policy Research Center, Key Statistics | NCAI, https://www.ncai.org/section/vawa/overview/key-statistics.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Steady faith, strong traditions, lasting impression

In honor of Arab American Heritage Month, ELCA Racial Justice Ministries will be elevating the voices of our Arab and Middle Eastern Descent peers and reposting their works from other sources around the ELCA. The following article is cross-posted from the Voices of Faith section of Living Lutheran online. The original post can be found here.
Steady faith, strong traditions, lasting impression

Courtesy of Grace El-Yateem

By: Grace El-Yateem |

STEADY FAITH, STRONG TRADITIONS, LASTING IMPRESSION

An Arab American Christian reflects on her community’s quiet but profound impact on the American Lutheran life

April is Arab American Heritage Month in the United States. While this is a celebration of all Arab Americans—Christian and Muslim alike—I’m going to focus on Christians. As an Arab American Christian myself, I share this history to highlight the significant role this community has played in shaping American society and culture.

Arab immigration to the United States began in the late 1800s. The majority of these immigrants were Christians from Syria, Lebanon and Palestine, seeking economic opportunity, religious freedom and relief from political instability in their homelands. Most belonged to Maronite, Catholic and Greek Orthodox churches. These churches became more than places of worship—they provided spiritual guidance, helped newcomers find employment and fostered strong, cohesive communities. In this way, Arab American Christians maintained their heritage while adapting to American life.

When we think of American Lutheranism, it’s natural to picture the legacy of German or Scandinavian immigrants. Yet a small but vital part of the Lutheran story in America belongs to the Arab and Middle Eastern community. Though smaller in number, their contributions to education, social justice and interfaith dialogue have left a lasting mark on the Lutheran churches in America.

The roots of this community trace back to the mid-19th century in the Holy Land, where German and English missionaries established the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Jordan and the Holy Land (ELCJHL). Lutherans in Palestine and Jordan embraced a calling to diakonia, or service. They built world-class hospitals and schools that served all people, regardless of religion. When Lutheran Palestinians began immigrating to the United States—especially following the conflicts of 1948 and 1967—they brought with them this enduring spirit of service and a deeply rooted sense of identity.

In the United States, Arab American Lutherans have established vibrant centers of community, including Salam Arabic Salam Arabic Lutheran Church in Brooklyn, N.Y., and Mother of Our Savior Lutheran-Episcopal Church in Dearborn, Mich. These congregations continue to nurture faith, culture and connection across generations.

One of the most significant expressions of this leadership is the Association of Lutherans of Arab and Middle Eastern Heritage (ALAMEH). Through its work, ALAMEH encourages the broader church to grow in understanding, strengthens community ties and amplifies voices that too often go unheard.

Arab American Christians have long served as cultural ambassadors, bridging American society with the rich history and traditions of the Arab world. Their witness demonstrates how diversity strengthens a nation, fostering both innovation and mutual understanding. Though a minority group, their impact is profound. Through their commitment to education and advocacy for the marginalized, they remind us that the story of Christ’s church is a global one—spoken in many languages, including Arabic.

As we observe Arab American Heritage Month, we are invited not only to celebrate but also to recognize the enduring contributions of immigrant communities to our shared life—both in this country and across the world.

No author image available

Grace El-Yateem is an Arab American Lutheran born in Palestine. She is a nurse by profession, mother of four and wife of Khader El-Yateem, executive director for the Service and Justice unit. She has served on the executive board of the Association of Lutherans of Arab and Middle Eastern Heritage. She has also served on the board of Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service (now Global Refuge) and the the former ELCA Commission for Multicultural Ministries. She is passionate about justice and peace in Palestine as well as here in the United States.

Happy Arab American Heritage Month by guest author Dr. Ryan LaHurd

In observance of Arab American Heritage Month, ELCA Racial Justice Ministries invited Dr. Ryan LaHurd to share his thoughts on this topic with our readers.

April is Arab American Heritage Month. As an Arab American, I might be expected to write about all the great things Arab Americans have contributed to our culture. But as I think about anti-Arab attitudes in the United States and the massive destruction of innocent lives in the Middle East, I must focus on something more substantial.

We used to hear that Inuit people have hundreds of words for snow. The later correction is that they have dozens. But the principle remains: people have words for things that are important to them. In the U.S., we have no useful word for prejudice against Arabs. Some people speak of “anti-Arab racism.” But Arabs are not a race. Arabs are a cultural group from many different countries whose primary language is Arabic. Others describe such prejudice as “orientalism.” But that term denotes anti-Arab stereotypes from early colonialism: the belly dancer, the “camel jockey.” People uneducated, uncultured and unclean.  Since 9/11, we have heard about “Islamophobia.” This word refers not to Arabs but to the religion of most Arabs. Unhelpfully, using it reinforces a common misunderstanding that all Arabs are Muslims and that all Muslims are Arabs. In fact, an estimated two-thirds of Arab Americans are Christian.

So what’s the problem with our having no word for such prejudice? Back to linguistics. We have words for things that are important to us. No word = not something we care about. Furthermore, studies have demonstrated that we notice the things for which we have names. For example, study participants who spoke Russian — which has separate words for blue, light blue and dark blue — were much more likely than English speakers to distinguish lighter or darker hues on blue-colored paint chips.

Prejudice against Arabs and Arab Americans tends to be ignored — except, of course, by its victims. But it exists, and, like all ethnic and racial prejudice, it matters. In the U.S., such prejudice goes back to the earliest Arab immigrants, considered nonwhite and from “inferior” cultures. For example, my family name is transliterated from the Arabic as “Lahoud” (rhymes with “the food”). It means “the one who stands alone” and refers to Jesus, identifying our family’s roots in early Christianity. My grandfather had so much trouble getting jobs because of anti-Arab prejudice that he changed our name to “LaHurd” to make it look and sound French.  He got jobs but lost our history.

People whose lives we do not see, attend to or care about are much less likely to be considered the neighbors Jesus commands us to love and are much more easily dehumanized.  We have seen the tragic effects of such dehumanization recently in Israel, Lebanon and Palestine, where tens of thousands of innocent people, mostly children and women, have died and where millions more lives have been disrupted. Israel encouraged such dehumanization when it built walls and passed laws that eliminated contact between Jews and Arabs. Studies have unfailingly shown that having even a single personal connection with someone of another religion, race or ethnic group significantly reduces one’s prejudice against that group. Social psychologists call this the “contact theory.”

So I urge you to meet an Arab American, preferably a recent immigrant, and to hear their story. If that’s not possible, read such a story. Just be sure it’s a story written by an Arab. In his book The Message, U.S. writer Ta-Nehisi Coates argues, “If Palestinians are to be truly seen, it will be through stories woven by their own hands — not by their plunderers, not even by their comrades.”

As the great 12th-century Muslim philosopher Ibn Rushd wrote: “Ignorance leads to fear, fear leads to hatred, and hatred leads to violence. That is the equation.” That word “equation” reminds me of one last thing — Arabs invented algebra! We’re awesome.

 

 

Ryan LaHurd is president of the ELCA’s Association of Lutherans of Arab and Middle Eastern Heritage (ALAMEH). He retired as president of the James S. Kemper Foundation in Chicago. Previously he was president of the Near East Foundation, an operational foundation doing development work in the Middle East and Africa.  From 1994 to 2002 he served as president of Lenoir-Rhyne University in Hickory, N.C.

 

For more information: please visit Arab & Middle Eastern Ministries in the ELCA

Voices of Faith: The Timbre of Black Joy

In celebration of Black History Month which is celebrated in the United States in February, we share the following article which is cross-posted from Living Lutheran. The original post can be found here.

VOICES OF FAITH

THE TIMBRE OF BLACK JOY

The timbre of my voice rumbles at the back of my throat, and my mouth opens as a roar of laughter fills the space. Laughter is good for the soul. Too often, our brown bodies feel the tension of the world, and it dulls us. It quiets us, and its load weighs our shoulders down. Time and time again, the broken world shatters our being. So we must grip joy despite our pain because living in those joyous moments refuses pain the power of finality.

In a world that can be painful, Black joy is a sacred breath of insistence that flows through life. It is refreshing, breathtaking and enveloping, washing over us with peace, love and happiness. Its melody carries through the community, bringing people together and connecting them. It is love—love that protects us, and memories that give us strength. It is generations of praises that refuse to be silenced or erased. Black joy withstands. Black joy heals. It weaves through places of agony, bringing a balm of Gilead. It is quiet and audacious in our harsh world, turning struggle into beauty.

Far too often, we don’t celebrate and honor Black joy because it feels out of reach or fleeting. Its tempo is temporary. We put it off, telling ourselves we’ll get to it after finishing other tasks. Then it slips away, and life’s struggles weigh heavily, leaving us barely able to remember the last time we heard that sweet melody of peace. Sometimes we don’t even notice the absence of joy in life until it becomes blaringly urgent rather than a regular hush of our daily routines. Yet, when we recognize that we need sparks of happiness throughout our lives, to find the hope that keeps us pushing, the love that reminds us to care for ourselves, and quiet spaces that feed our souls, we realize joy is the marrow in our bones that gives us strength. Joy in Black bodies is essential. It shields us, protects us and gives us spaces to simply be. In those moments where pain and suffering are so tangible, we need these deep breaths of happiness to permeate our souls, swaying us to move past the hurt and twirl past the negativity.

In this state of being, we are free—free to be, free to thrive without looming pressures or expectations. It’s choosing tenderness and gentleness with oneself. In this space, our coiled locks spring freely and bounce in the wind, our faces feel the warmth of the sun, and our lives are fully lived.

Black joy is transformative and healing. Embrace it today. Lean into the delights of life and let it flow and form around you. Let it inspire you to be creative. Let it empower you to laugh loudly and often.

Ralen M. Robinson

Ralen M. Robinson

Ralen M. Robinson is pastor of Reformation Lutheran Church in Wichita, Kan.

Voices of Faith: Black Joy

In celebration of Black History Month which is celebrated in the United States in February, we share the following article which is cross-posted from Living Lutheran. The original post can be found here.

VOICES OF FAITH

BLACK JOY

My mother had the most sumptuous deep dark chocolate skin, full lips, large African nose and big beautiful eyes. She had a unique sense of style and a calming way of being. She chose the best fragrances that finished the whole experience—touching all the senses. I remember watching people come to her as a child. Some wanted to drink from her wisdom. Some were struck by her confidence and beauty. Others just wanted to laugh at her clever, inviting jokes. She made them feel both seen and safe. She had a fair share of friends, family and fans.

I witnessed her taking the last of what she had and using it to care for multiple people. Even as she figured out how to be a daughter and caregiver to her mom while raising two girls, she helped other people—giving them a place to stay and healing them with her Black joy. She seemed unstoppable. She made a way out of no way.

I remember a time when she took in my two cousins who are around my age. It felt like fun to us. We were too young to appreciate the financial, physical or mental weight it brought with it. It was just fun-having two extra siblings. Watching the world continue to lean toward her, we felt invincible and blessed. She worked at Goodwill that year as a supervisor and, when Christmas rolled around, we got the best gifts. I still wonder how she did it. We still nostalgically think back to the “Goodwill Christmas” with fondness—not just for the gifts but for the time together.

Looking back, I think it had to be Black joy. It eclipsed the weight and heartache of the reality of a woman coming out of the pain of divorce and welcoming added responsibility. She emulated the example that her mother showed her as a young widow when her husband died leaving her alone with two small children. She embraced the possibility and crushed the seemingly insurmountable odds.

Black joy is God-breathed. It’s the mystical resilience of African ancestry. It’s the personification of hope. It seeps up from the ground beneath our feet. It pours down from the sky. It blows every way the wind goes and glides through the stillness of when the wind stops. It leaps in the darkness of night and in the brightness of day. It’s edified by all things because it extracts the good from all it encounters. It is unmistakable. It has nourished millions and has not been depleted by even a drop. Black joy is so immense and so powerful that it cannot be destroyed. It walks in the surreal balance of arrogance and humility from the power and promise of God.

It’s easy to be distracted by other things and forget the access we have to Black joy. Then we get glimpses to remind us. Like Venus Williams who was the oldest player in the Australian Open women’s singles. Or like the passing away of Claudette Colvin, who at the tender age of 15 defiantly refused to give up her seat on the bus nine months before Rosa Parks did. Or like the election of Yehiel Curry as presiding bishop, an African descent person serving in the whitest denomination in the United States.

Black joy is an undercurrent that makes the good times better and the hard times bearable. It’s infectious and cannot be imitated no matter how hard one tries. It is the laughter, joy, love and excitement of God showing up as amazing energy in people of African descent who tend to let it flow to anyone in reach. It’s the Vibranium (from Black Panther) of real life and explains the unmitigated gall of Black people to excel irrespective of circumstance. It’s the rhythm of the earth in step with the rhythm of God’s heartbeat. Can you feel it? Black joy.

Lucille “CeCee” Mills

Lucille “CeCee” Mills is secretary of the ELCA.

ELCA Observes National Day of Racial Healing

UPDATE:  You can watch the 2026 National Day of Racial Healing programming here:  Just Us Narratives

ELCA Observes National Day of Racial Healing  

CHICAGO (Jan. 15, 2026) — In observance of the 2026 National Day of Racial Healing, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA), in partnership with Augsburg Fortress Publishers, will host “Just Us Narratives: A Night of Centering Multiracial Voices Across the ELCA” on Tuesday, Jan. 20, from 6-8 p.m. Central time. The free program will be available online and in person at Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church Celebration Campus in Naperville, Ill.

The National Day of Racial Healing — an annual observance that follows Martin Luther King Jr. Day — is hosted by the W.K. Kellogg Foundation as part of its Truth, Racial Healing & Transformation efforts. The ELCA joins organizations, institutions and community leaders across the country to honor and carry forward the legacy of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and his vision for a beloved community.

The program will feature diverse voices sharing powerful, intentional storytelling that fosters deep listening and reflection on narratives of truth and courage, challenge and triumph, lament and resistance.

“Storytelling is a sacred practice,” said ELCA Presiding Bishop Yehiel Curry. “It preserves our histories, sustains our cultures, and helps us see one another more clearly as God’s beloved. Each story shared has the power to build connection, strengthen trust, and draw us closer to the multiracial, faith‑filled movement that Dr. King envisioned. My prayer is that this program creates space for honest reflection, deeper understanding, and a renewed commitment to the work God sets before us.”

Online attendees: No registration is required. A link to join virtually will be available on the event webpage.
In-person attendees: Space is limited, and registration is requested. Register here.

This program will be recorded, and the video recording will be available on the ELCA YouTube channel at a later date.

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About the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America:
The ELCA is one of the largest Christian denominations in the United States, with 2.7 million members in more than 8,400 worshiping communities across the 50 states and in the Caribbean region. The ELCA emphasizes the saving grace of God through faith in Jesus Christ, unity among Christians and service in the world. The ELCA’s roots are in the writings of the German church reformer Martin Luther.

For information contact:
Candice Hill Buchbinder
Public Relations Manager
Candice.HillBuchbinder@ELCA.org