One of my big ideas involves a church that has always been run and headed by women. If the women at the empty tomb had been the ones to go into all the world, or if the spreading of the news had been done at their direction, how would the church have evolved differently? If the early followers of Jesus had centered his relationships with women, the poor, the oppressed in their own ministry, how would the church look now? If Christianity had never evolved into a state religion, but had always stayed in the cultural background, what would a church look like in our society?

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Amelia stirred the soup pot slowly, watching the liquid bubble. Soon, the family would gather, and she would serve the soup. Adrienne was bringing the bread today, and Erica was bringing the wine. Either Jessica or Amanda was bringing the cake, and whichever one of them was not bringing the cake was bringing the salad. Amelia smiled to herself. Last time the family gathered, there were 40 in the house. It was not the most there had ever been, but it was more that at any point last year. Some of the family had moved, taking other jobs in different cities. Some had stopped coming because the dinners were at the same time as sporting events or school plays. Amelia knew this is how it always was. She did not expect that everyone would come for the meal every week. She had been a Maryam long enough to know that there would always be floating in and out, growing and shrinking. It was never a goal to convince them all to stay. The only goal was to offer them the meal, and the love that came with it.

This is, after all, what Mary had been instructed to do. After her encounter with Christ in the garden, after the men did not believe her story, she knew that it would be her job to carry on the work of Jesus’s life. Mary let the unclean touch her, as Jesus had left the woman who was bleeding touch him. She welcomed the lowest of society, just as Jesus had welcomed the Samaritan woman. She did not refuse a gift, just as Jesus did not refuse the woman who poured out her perfume over his feet. She sat at the feet of her teachers, the older Maryams, to learn, just as Mary had sat at Jesus’s feet to learn.

And she served the soup, every week, just as Martha had prepared her home and a meal for Jesus.

The doorbell rang, and she laid the ladle in the spoon rest, wiping her hands on her apron as he moved through the house, past the folding tables that had been set in the small living room. Soon, they would be packing with people, all gathering to share, eat, learn and grow together. She had set out 10 chairs in the living room, another 20 in the basement, and prepared 6 seats at her table. Anyone else who came tonight could find a spot standing at the kitchen counter, or outside on the deck, as long as the rain held off.

Amelia pulled open the door to reveal Erica, reusable bags in tow. “I brought 10 bottles. I got some non-alcoholic as well,” she said, as she snuck past Amelia into the house. She headed straight for the kitchen, having moved through this routine setup hundreds of times before. Erica’s graying hair was pulled back into a bun today. She was wearing a raincoat and her old sneakers.  

Amelia followed her into the kitchen, returning to the huge soup pot on the stove. She turned the heat down on the burner as she regarded Erica. She Amelia tucked a blonde curl that had escaped from her ponytail behind her ear. “I think that will be enough,” she said. “I’m glad you picked up the non-alcoholic too,” she added. “Jim and Valerie will be so appreciative.”

“It’s something we should have been doing this whole time,” Erica said, beginning to unpack the bags and organizing the bottles on the counter. She opened the cabinet above her, and began gathering cups. “I talked to Maryam Bonnie this morning, and she said she had always done that for her family. Of course, her family tends to be a little different than ours.”

It was true. Families attracted different types. That was the point of having so many of them. The family that Amelia, Erica, Jessica, Amanda and Adrienne headed tended to be middle-aged, sometimes a little older, on the wealthier side, busy, with teenagers or college-aged children. Bonnie’s family, which she headed with only one other Maryam, Jenny, attracted people looking to recover from substance abuse. There were thirteen other families in their town—one which tended to have young parents, one with mostly widows, one that served dinner mostly to teenagers. Each one had their own unique flair and flavor. The family atmosphere depended on the Maryams at the head.

Amelia nodded, trying not to feel foolish for not having considered this before. “We’ll make sure we always have it from now on,” she said.

The door opened again, and she heard Amanda yell, “Knock! Knock!” A moment later, Amanda too was in the kitchen. She was carrying a cake pan. “I left the other one in the car. I’ll be right back,” she said, as she deposited it on the counter next to the wine bottles. When she returned, she had Jessica with her. They began to busy themselves arranging the salad bowls, soup bowls, wine cups, forks and spoons. Amelia was pulling the bread plates from the cabinet when the doorbell rang again.

“I hope I’m not too early,” Maggie Clark said. Maggie had been coming for dinner about once a month for five years. She was in her forties, divorced, hoping to remarry. She sometimes brought her son Travis with her. Today, he was also standing on the porch.

Amelia smiled broadly. “No, not too early. We’re just setting everything out. Still waiting for Adrienne to arrive. She’s bringing the bread tonight.”

Maggie followed Amelia to the kitchen, but Travis lingered in the foyer, eyeing the living room and the rows of tables and chairs. “Anything I can help with?” Maggie offered.

“We have it all in order, I think,” Erica answered. Her hair was coming lose from her bun. She took a moment to re-wrap it.

“Okay, I’ll just wait with Travis in the other room,” she said.

“Actually, Maggie, we were hoping to ask you something,” Erica said.

“Oh,” she sounded serious enough to make Maggie pause, and she awkwardly looked at the four Maryams, all who had stilled at Erica’s words. Amelia smiled encouragingly at Maggie, and this seemed to break the tension that had begun to show on her face. “Um, sure. What is it?” she asked.

“We were wondering if you’d ever consider being a Maryam,” Amelia asked, her heart fluttering slightly. Usually they said no on the first ask. But eventually, some of them said yes.

“A…Maryam?” Maggie asked. “Like…like all of you?” She was slightly confused.

“To run a new family, our of your home,” Erica said. “With the help of Amanda.”

Amanda’s sunny smile seemed to melt away the confusion on Maggie’s face. “You think I could?” she asked, smiling herself.

Amelia felt joy bubbling up. “We think you could, Maggie. Would you like to try?”

Maggie was nodding to herself. “Let’s…let’s talk more about it over dinner,” she said.

Amelia and Erica smiled at one another across the kitchen. This is how the family grew. Each new Maryam taking up the mantle of Jesus to serve and welcome in the broken.