Sun, Jul 05, 2009
 Gerald Jenkins claps and sings during a WORKship service in the carriage house of the Z Mansion. The services officially began in January, and attendance has swelled to more than 60 each week. More Photos (3):
  
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More than a mansionArizona Daily Star
Tucson, Arizona | Published: 06.22.2008
Chances are you've driven by or been to a wedding there. But Downtown Tucson's distinct sky-blue Z Mansion is far from a typical party venue. It's also a church for down-on-their-luck Tucsonans and home to the large and unique Hill family. The family has a vision for alleviating homelessness in Tucson through resourcefulness and faith — but not a sit-in-the-pews kind of faith. They believe in faith through action. Tom and Em Hill put their own faith into action by bringing three homeless children into the mansion, adding to their brood of four. Now they're advancing a program where local churches double as homeless shelters. They call it the "chelter" project. — Stephanie Innes
They aren't the typical ingredients of a church — a 19th-century mansion Downtown, a group of down-on-their-luck Tucsonans, pressed white tablecloths, fancy brunch and Broadway tunes.
On this sunny Sunday in May, more than 50 people are lined up outside the Z Mansion's carriage house as children of the distinct blue mansion's owners dish up cinnamon buns, rolls, chicken, orange juice, eggs and other brunch items.
"Breakfast pizza? Here you go, darlin'," says 18-year-old Addie Hill as she doles out food alongside two of her siblings.
"Last week I had on shorts and a tank top with cleavage. I didn't know. I heard about it, and when I got here I didn't think I was in the right place. It's so beautiful," says Nicki Marchetta, wearing a conservative blue and white dress and heels, as she sits down with a plate of food. "Today I got up at 2 a.m. I was so excited. I got this pretty outfit from the shelter."
The Z Mansion church services began in January as part of a much larger vision that Tom and Em Hill and their family have for improving the local community's homeless problem through resourcefulness and faith — but not a sit-in-the-pews kind of faith.
The Hills strongly believe in worship through action and example, one reason they stopped attending a local United Methodist Church and formed their own in the back of their home. The couple met 27 years ago while doing volunteer work at Casa de los Niños, an agency devoted to preventing child abuse.
At the beginning of this Mother's Day service, Hill, 51, talks about the Church of Mom. The modern church may be failing, but the Church of Mom still helps followers to find the path of righteousness and stick to it, he says.
"Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children," he says, quoting William Makepeace Thackeray.
On a different day, Hill begins the service talking about the essence of church. It's not about money, it's about doing, he explains.
"Original religion ignited the world because Jesus created it for the poor. It wasn't for the pope," Hill says.
There's no Holy Communion. There are no hymn books. There is often acting and singing — Tom Hill comes from the theatrical family that founded Tucson's Gaslight Theatre, and his children apparently inherited the thespian gene. One week, Addie and Em act out a song from the Broadway musical "Wicked." Another week, Addie, 18, and 16-year-old Tiffer, dramatize a song from "Aladdin."
The Sunday worship is called the WORKship Methodist Church. Using a model from other denominations, they've created a multi-year seminary program for ordination. Tom has completed the program, which explains the clerical collar he wears to lead services.
Of utmost importance to the Hills is that each service ends with a work project.
The tasks include making cushions for children going through chemotherapy. On this day, they make brownies for cancer patients.
The Hill family only recently began getting the word out about their carriage-house services,. The handful who came the first weekend has since swelled to more than 60 each week.
"I came here five weeks ago and started here my very first Sunday," says 64-year-old Bob Franks as he cleans up chairs and plates after the service. "I don't have any family; I am fresh out of incarceration," adds Franks, who lives in a local men's shelter. He is wearing blue dress pants, a pressed white shirt and running shoes.
"I am by religious practice a Buddhist, but this is very refreshing, innovative," he continues. "It's a very liberal situation, and they don't force anything on you. Their example has been quite profound."
The Hills' four children take part in the church service in one way or another, whether it's singing, cleaning up, or playing with the kids of other parishioners, running in and out of the carriage house during the casual worship hour.
"Mostly everyone has their own job, but it can get crazy," responded 13-year-old Allie Hill, writing her answers on this particular day, since she is observing a national day of silence to protest bullying and harassment against gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender kids in school.
Z Mansion is a lively place
Until school ended this academic year, the younger two Hill children were home-schooled at the mansion, while the elder two attended University High School (Addie is off to college later this summer to Arizona State University's Barrett Honors College).
The Z Mansion is a lively place. In addition to being the Hill family home, it is a popular venue for social gatherings, particularly weddings and quinceañeras, with the Hill children frequently helping out. The Hills have a few career rules for their kids — at some point they need to wait tables because it will help them understand life, and at some point they must also be a salesperson because "if you can sell, you can do anything," Tom says.
This summer Addie is helping some family members with their traveling sales business, selling tortilla warmers and purses with interchangeable covers. Eventually, she expects she'll have a career in academia.
In addition to running the business side of the Z Mansion and to offering the church service, the Hills and their four children — often known as "the Hilldren" — put their beliefs into action. They invited three homeless children and their mother to live with them two years ago. The three children, ages 11, 10 and 2, never left.
"When it comes to helping people, there are a lot of people like this in Tucson. But usually you don't find this kind of thing on Sundays," says Shawn Waldeck, stepping out of the carriage house during the Mother's Day service.
"It seems like a beautiful place to me," says Waldeck.
Waldeck, recently released from prison, is living on the street until he finds a job.
Tom Hill likes to call the carriage house church a "chelter" — church and shelter combined. It is equipped with showers and has enough space for people to sleep there as needed. His dream is to have a bigger, more visible chelter, where one building could simultaneously be a church and a shelter for one or two families.
The chelter would be an example to the other 600 potential chelters in the city, he said, referring to the approximately 600 houses of worship in the Tucson area. He's noticed that many appear to sit empty during the week.
Hill is adamant that his church never receive any money. It's an antidote to churches that make money their main focus, such as those that follow the so-called "Gospel of Prosperity," he explains.
He says he "deflects" any money that comes to his church to groups in need. Currently, he's deflecting money to the nonprofit Arts for Life Community, which works with the underserved and the greater arts community through arts education. The group's executive director is looking for a permanent building and has already committed to sharing the space with Hill's chelter.
"We serve a giving God, and we are trying to emulate that through Arts for Life," Kathi McKay Stafford said.
Stafford first met the Hills at the United Methodist Church, where she was contemporary worship director. Later she spent three years as the music director for Casas, a megachurch on Tucson's Northwest Side. But WORKship is what has held her interest. Stafford attends weekly services there.
"Getting God's work done in churches is difficult because there's a lot of business that needs to be tended to. But you don't learn something by talking about it; you have to practice. I really believe this is where church is going in 20 years."
Hill is putting together a group of about 10 families who will be able to run the Arts for Life Community/chelter through volunteering their skills and time.
Getting people off the streets
By Hill's estimates, most of the local homeless population is a result of addictions to crystal methamphetamine. That was the case with the 30-year-old mother of the three children who are now living with him.
Their mother, who has struggled with drug addiction and problems with the law, visits often. She frequently attends the Sunday morning services and said in an interview that the Hills are giving her children a better life than she could. She expects they will remain there. The Star is not identifying the mother to protect the identities of her children.
The Hill family believes chelters are a better way of getting such people off the street than a regular emergency homeless shelter. The idea of a chelter is that it houses just one or two individuals, or a family. That way, there's less risk of being influenced by other addicts, they say.
"We think you should bring people in and treat them like they are human," Tom said.
He tells the worshippers that when you have no fear, "it's amazing what you can do."
During one service, the congregation sings the Simon and Garfunkel song "Bridge Over Troubled Water," led by three of Hill's children. As the song progresses, the voices grow louder.
"When you're down and out, when you're on the street, when evening falls so hard, I will comfort you," they sing.
A few people wipe their eyes.
A new way to worship
"This is nontraditional, more of a people's church," said Don Jayne, who regularly brings his 8-year-old daughter to the services.
Jayne, a former construction worker who has had three surgeries for nerve damage in his hands, is living in transitional housing with his daughter. Before that, he spent several months living in a shelter. When he first met the Hills, Jayne and his daughter were living on the street.
Jayne is now helping with renovations in the Z Mansion kitchen and is hoping to be able to work full-time again.
"Virtually all religions teach the same concept — the concept is just go and do good things for others. When you look at the idea where people say we can't do it, we don't have the money, that doesn't matter. All you need is your energy," said Tucson business owner Johnny Linebarger, who has known the Hills for more than a decade.
He met the family when they came to take karate lessons at Kosho Karate, which he owns.
Linebarger comes from a family of religious leaders. But now he chooses to attend services at the Z Mansion. Typically, he helps out with the sound.
"I'm just not one to sit there and talk about it," he said. "The Hills and I all had a mutual belief in the practice of faith."
"If you are going to go into a church and someone is sitting there speaking down to you, how are you going to feel?" Hill says. "You are going to feel scared, small and timid."
Hill instructs his own children on speaking down to people — it isn't acceptable.
As a recent service wraps up, several of the younger Hill children run in and out of the carriage house with Jayne's daughter.
"People are tired of the big 'C' church." Hill said. "We're in a reformation."
● Contact reporter Stephanie Innes at 573-4134 or sinnes@azstarnet.com.
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