A Ministry of Pentecost on "The Hill"

When the Rev’d Leah Wise ’22 MDiv arrived at “The Hill,” the southeast campus of the Episcopal Church of the Good Shepherd in Austin, TX, she expected much of her ministry to focus on bilingual Spanish-English worship. Instead, she quickly discovered that the Holy Spirit had already been at work in another way: a thriving and growing Deaf community was taking root. 

“I often use the image of Pentecost to describe The Hill,” Mthr. Leah says. “It’s a multilingual context, but our Deaf ministry happened almost spontaneously before it became a goal.”  

A few Deaf parishioners had already been worshiping at The Hill before formal ASL interpretation was offered. During the pandemic, a previous priest—who happened to know American Sign Language—helped expand that ministry. By the time Mthr. Leah arrived, the need was clear. Within her first two weeks, she and the leadership team made the decision to provide interpreters every Sunday. 

“It’s amazing what one little accessibility choice does,” she reflects. What began as a small step has grown into a vibrant ministry: Deaf Bible study, ASL-interpreted worship, and as many as 20 Deaf members and their families on a typical Sunday in a congregation whose average Sunday attendance is around 45 to 50.  

For Mthr. Leah, accessibility is not simply accommodation—it reshapes the life of the Church. She notes that many Deaf Christians have spent years in churches without meaningful access to theological education. 

“They know a lot about the Church and the Bible,” she explains, “but they were never able to ask their questions and get them answered.” Bible study often becomes expansive and deeply relational, creating space for questions, cultural context, and connection in ways hearing congregations often take for granted.  

The ministry has also changed Mthr. Leah herself. Learning about Deaf culture and practicing ASL has deepened her understanding of priesthood, humility, and communication. 

“My role as a priest is not to prove that I know everything,” she says, “but to foster and cultivate and be grateful for what other people bring to the table.” Preaching has become clearer and more conversational; liturgy has become more visual, with icons, embodied communication, and thoughtful adaptation of music and language. Even the congregation’s Anglican reserve has softened. 

“It has made all of us more expressive,” she says. “Even if you don’t communicate the same way, you can say a lot with your face. You can say a lot with a hug.”  

Mthr. Leah is equally clear that Deaf ministry must be led by Deaf people. Long-term sustainability, she says, means cultivating Deaf lay leaders and clergy rather than allowing hearing leaders to set the terms for the ministry. 

“There has to be a long game,” she says. “Not ‘I, the hearing person, created a Deaf ministry and now I run it for 20 years.’”  

That posture of humility and adaptability was shaped in part by her formation at Berkeley. During seminary, she was inspired by Berkeley’s flexibility during the pandemic, where worship and formation required constant adaptation, and by the ecumenical diversity of Yale Divinity School. 

She also points to Divine Abilities, a student group focused on disability advocacy. After spraining her ankle and realizing how inaccessible parts of campus could be, she joined the group and found that “the friendships and expertise of my fellow students” broadened her understanding of disability and ministry. A course in Disability Theology, where she encountered Nancy Eiesland’s The Disabled God, further deepened that perspective. 

For Mthr. Leah, her work is ultimately about stewardship—recognizing where God is already moving and responding with humility. 

“Here I am, Lord, send me,” she says. “Working from that place of humility, with the joy that something has been given to you to be a good steward of—that is amazing!”