Lenten Devotional by Robert DeLossa
March 4, 2017
“I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!” (Matthew 25:40)
At the high school, we are still scrambling to figure out how best to protect our students and their families. It suddenly has become an unimaginably hard time in the United States to be someone who has migrated from abroad — whatever the reason — to our country. Trauma piled onto trauma.
How detestable is the term “illegal immigrant”? It reduces a human being to something that sounds like a patent infringement…a knock-off person. Who has ever heard of even the worst citizen-criminal being called an “illegal American.” The effect of the term is to dehumanize. It acts in the very same way that racism always has in our country: “we will always be better than you, because you are illegal. Even if one of us murders and you show compassion to the injured, you still are the illegal one. Even if one of us rapes, and you protect the innocent, you still are the illegal one. Even if we are indolent and avaricious, and you are industrious and frugal, you are still the illegal one. Even if you made our quality of life possible, you still are the illegal one. Even if you cared for us when we needed care, you are still the illegal one.”
This is a sickness that we must cure from our collective soul. There are no illegal immigrants in this country. There are documented, undocumented, heroic, refugee, criminal, compassionate, arrogant, humble… people. People who have come to this country for more reasons than we can imagine, but almost always with hardship and pain in their past. I know these people because I teach their children.
Our students and their families have begun to get deportation notices. Some are receiving hate mail. Families that fled chaos and fear are experiencing it again, in a place that they thought was a safe haven. How are we to process a time in which ideologues proclaim the ascendancy of a nationalist, cultural Christian identity and, yet, turn their back on a core Christian value?
“When you did it to one of the least of these…” In Matthew the phrase is a response to the question of “When did we clothe you/give you food to eat/care for you?”
But I think that isolating the answer here is useful. “I tell you the truth — whatever you did to the least of these… you were doing to me!” And so: When we did not give them clothes, we did not give you clothes. When we did not care for them, we did not care for you. When we did not feed them, we did not feed you. How can a Christian not see that Christ calls us to see every opportunity to do what we can for the least of those who need us as an opportunity to walk in right relationship with God.
What of the high school? We are trying to make safe spaces; assure our students that not only are they safe, but they are valued as our friends and compatriots, and as human beings. We are trying to figure out how to render legal advice, perhaps help. We are planning ways to keep life normal in an abnormal time, for people who have lived through the most terrible of abnormal times.
Sanctuary is a place. But it also is a heart. A heart that has compassion and connects to another heart. It is eyes that see what must be seen and seek to look through the eyes of another. It is a mind that is agile, seeking pathways that will protect and celebrate another mind. It is a voice that will speak truth to power and say soothing things to the frightened. It is a body that is ready to stand up to protect the body of another. It is not easy. We are called to it. We are called to create sanctuary for our sisters and brothers wherever we see that they need it. Only then will the King say, “this you did for me.”
Dear God, help us to abandon the notion of other and allow us to open our hearts and our actions fully in ways that honor your love and care for each of us. Amen
Lenten Devotional by Robert DeLossa
March 4, 2017
“I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!” (Matthew 25:40)
At the high school, we are still scrambling to figure out how best to protect our students and their families. It suddenly has become an unimaginably hard time in the United States to be someone who has migrated from abroad — whatever the reason — to our country. Trauma piled onto trauma.
How detestable is the term “illegal immigrant”? It reduces a human being to something that sounds like a patent infringement…a knock-off person. Who has ever heard of even the worst citizen-criminal being called an “illegal American.” The effect of the term is to dehumanize. It acts in the very same way that racism always has in our country: “we will always be better than you, because you are illegal. Even if one of us murders and you show compassion to the injured, you still are the illegal one. Even if one of us rapes, and you protect the innocent, you still are the illegal one. Even if we are indolent and avaricious, and you are industrious and frugal, you are still the illegal one. Even if you made our quality of life possible, you still are the illegal one. Even if you cared for us when we needed care, you are still the illegal one.”
This is a sickness that we must cure from our collective soul. There are no illegal immigrants in this country. There are documented, undocumented, heroic, refugee, criminal, compassionate, arrogant, humble… people. People who have come to this country for more reasons than we can imagine, but almost always with hardship and pain in their past. I know these people because I teach their children.
Our students and their families have begun to get deportation notices. Some are receiving hate mail. Families that fled chaos and fear are experiencing it again, in a place that they thought was a safe haven. How are we to process a time in which ideologues proclaim the ascendancy of a nationalist, cultural Christian identity and, yet, turn their back on a core Christian value?
“When you did it to one of the least of these…” In Matthew the phrase is a response to the question of “When did we clothe you/give you food to eat/care for you?
But I think that isolating the answer here is useful. “I tell you the truth — whatever you did to the least of these… you were doing to me!” And so: When we did not give them clothes, we did not give you clothes. When we did not care for them, we did not care for you. When we did not feed them, we did not feed you. How can a Christian not see that Christ calls us to see every opportunity to do what we can for the least of those who need us as an opportunity to walk in right relationship with God.
What of the high school? We are trying to make safe spaces; assure our students that not only are they safe, but they are valued as our friends and compatriots, and as human beings. We are trying to figure out how to render legal advice, perhaps help. We are planning ways to keep life normal in an abnormal time, for people who have lived through the most terrible of abnormal times.
Sanctuary is a place. But it also is a heart. A heart that has compassion and connects to another heart. It is eyes that see what must be seen and seek to look through the eyes of another. It is a mind that is agile, seeking pathways that will protect and celebrate another mind. It is a voice that will speak truth to power and say soothing things to the frightened. It is a body that is ready to stand up to protect the body of another. It is not easy. We are called to it. We are called to create sanctuary for our sisters and brothers wherever we see that they need it. Only then will the King say, “this you did for me.”
Dear God, help us to abandon the notion of other and allow us to open our hearts and our actions fully in ways that honor your love and care for each of us. Amen