I can understand why those folks might be in a praying mood.

About
a week ago the owners of their company announced that they were closing
their doors for good, saying that orders for doors and windows had
dropped off. They gave their two hundred and fifty employees just three
days notice - even though the law requires sixty. They also withheld
the pay the workers had already earned, over a million dollars worth, I
am told.

The company claimed they couldn’t pay the workers
because their bank, Bank of America, refused to extend them any more
credit. Talk about adding insult to injury - this is the very same Bank
of America that had just been given 25 billion dollars of taxpayer
bailout money!

Let’s take a quick look at the scoreboard:

• Republic
  Windows and Doors = closes Chicago location, doesn’t pay workers, buys
  new factory in Iowa where they won’t have to pay workers fair wages and
  benefits.
• Bank of America = receives 25 BILLION dollar bailout, paid for by the American people.
• Republic Employees = fired with three days notice and have their wages stolen three weeks before Christmas!

Enough was enough.

The
workers occupied the plant. Following the example of the famous
autoworker strike of 1936, the workers of Republic Windows and Doors
simply sat down and refused to move!

They’d already been there
for five days by the time we went to pray with them. They “work” in
eight hour shifts, and are very well-organized, with cleaning crews,
food crews and everything else they need to stay in there indefinitely.
Nobody gets in or out except them - and, on this occasion – us.

We
arrived at the plant and stepped out into a very cold grey rain that
got even colder after you’d been standing in it for a while. There were
already lots of folks gathered there: union members, people of faith
and other well-wishers who’d been standing in the rain and would keep
on standing in the rain for as long as necessary.

We
started singing, and as IWJ’s Kim Bobo led us in “This Little Light of
Mine” and “We Shall Not Be Moved” the rain and the cold seemed to fade
far into the background. Some of the workers came out to say hello to
the crowd and an enormous cheer went up. Everyone wanted to let the
workers know that no matter how alone they felt we were all right there
with them.

After a brief press conference (for the few remaining
press crews who had not been diverted to cover the Governor’s latest
and most breathtaking act of corruption), we clergy were ushered inside
the plant.

The first thing I noticed was a plain white sign that
said, “5 Days and Still Strong!” written on it in black magic marker –
and then we were whisked in through the double doors leading into the
plant proper.

Republic’s production floor is a big one any day,
but with all the machines shut down it seemed even bigger, emptier and
more cavernous. But it was warm and bright after the relentless chill
outside – at least nobody had cut the power on them yet.
We all went
our own ways, shaking hands and talking with the workers, many of whom
didn’t have a ton of English but held out hands warmly and said, God
bless you…God bless you…God bless you.” I speak plenty of English, but
those were pretty much the only words I could find too.

In
movies heroes are always portrayed as being special somehow –
brilliant, powerful, beautiful, fearless, larger than life – but that’s
not how life really is. The heroes I have been fortunate enough to meet
in my life are never like that – they are always so normal. So
ordinary. Just…people, like anyone else.
And those are exactly the
kind of heroes I met on Republic’s factory floor. Just ordinary folks.
And they were far from fearless, in their eyes and in their hands I
could feel anxiety and fear as well as hope – and it was the hope that
kept them going in spite of everything. Courageous people are not those
who feel no fear (those people are fools), but those who keep on in
spite of their fear – and those are the people I met in Republic –
truly courageous people.

They are just ordinary people, the kind
of people I might not even notice on a crowded sidewalk – unless they
were clearing up my dishes at a restaurant or cleaning my hotel room.
And this is my loss.

Ordinary people. But there they were, a
couple hundred folks, mostly Latino and African American - occupying
their factory and refusing to budge. And they aren’t just doing it for
themselves – just to get what they are owed. It was so clear, visiting
with them, that they understand themselves to be taking a stand for
everybody! They are standing up for everybody who gets treated like
dirt, whose wages are stolen and whose rights are denied. They are
standing up against a system that bails out millionaires while families
lose their homes and children go to bed hungry. What an incredible gift
they are giving.

The workers moved together, into the center of
the circle formed by we clergy. We laid our hands upon them and prayed.
Some of the prayer was spontaneous and aloud – and much of it was
silent.

I will always remember the texture of the fleece and
t-shirts under my hands, and the human warmth beneath that. I will
always remember the prayers – of courage, hope, love and healing - I
will always remember the sound of breathing and the taste of tears.
Words cannot possibly describe what happened in that little circle, but
I will never forget what that inexpressible something felt like. We
were together in that moment – and our circle was so much bigger than
we were – somehow expanding to include all those who stood outside in
the rain… and even farther than that…the circle stretched even farther
than that…. and with such warmth and love and connectedness flowing
through my body I opened my eyes and, through my own tears, saw that
almost every face was wet.

This, I thought, is what is possible
for us! These are my sisters and brothers, every single one of them. In
that moment it was impossible to imagine letting harm come to them, to
these good, brave – ordinary people!

I do not know what will
happen now. I know that negotiations continue. I am optimistic that, at
the very least, these workers will get the pay that was stolen from
them. But is that enough?

What the workers at Republic want is
not just a paycheck – they want their jobs! Good, decent, reliable
jobs. They want to go to work every morning and build windows and
doors. They want to buy Christmas presents for their kids and to know
where they will be living next month. They want to work hard, to be
treated with respect and to know that everything will be okay.

Is that so much to ask?

I
don’t know how things will work out for those workers – those heroes –
I prayed with yesterday in Chicago, but I do know this. They are not
alone. How many workers, how many factories, how many children, how
many hopes and dreams and futures hang in the balance in these troubled
times?

Millions.

And so as far as I am concerned, any
conversation about bailouts that does not include provisions for the
ordinary heroes all around us is unconscionable, unjust, and downright
sinful. We must do everything in our power to support our sisters and
brothers at Republic Windows and Doors - and everywhere else our people
need us.

The one thing those folks needed to hear from us more
than anything is that they are not alone – and that’s what we told
them. Now we need to prove it, come what may.
See Interfaith Worker Justice to learn more about this struggle and how you can support these workers and the faith community’s partnership with them.

Read There is Power in Union (PDF): A UU Guide to Worker Justice, by Rev. Aaron McEmrys.

More information:
UUA January Action of the Month: Living Wage
UUA Resources for Living Wage
UUA Resources for Immigrant Rights
Interfaith Worker Justice Report and photos!