Is it illegal to be a Christian?

Is it illegal to be a Christian? This is a good question raised by Mark Adams, a PCUSA mission co-worker at Frontera de Cristo, a Presbyterian a border ministry n Agua Prieta, Sonora, Mexico. It seems that for some, who have followed Jesus' message to care for the hungry, thirsty, naked, and stranger, it is been, as they have been arrested for living into the gospel message.

In his article, "Proclaiming Good News in the Midst of Bad," (in Horizons journal) Mark reminds us of the story of the Good Samaritan. In the story, "the Levite and a priest pass by the wounded man on the side of the road. In the strictest sense, they were following the law - to have stopped to provide assistance would have endangered their law-abiding status, they would have risked becoming 'unclean'. But the priest and Levite who had justified legal reasons for passing by are not held up as the example to follow. Rather, the Samaritan is."

Here are some other Scriptures which can guide how we reflect theologically on immigration, the border and migrants:

Genesis 1:27 - All humanity is created in God's image and therefore deserves to be treated with dignity and respect.

Matthew 22:39 - We are commanded to love our neighbors as ourselves and to do unto others as we would have them do unto us.

Matthew 25: 31-46 - We are called to welcome the stranger, provide food for the hungry and water for the thirsty - and "just as you did it to the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me."

Luke 10:37 - We are encouraged to follow the example of the Good Samaritan and "Go and do likewise."

I thank God for those Good Samaritans who will not allow the government to define their Gospel values.

H2O

June 24, 2009

I’ve thought a lot about water on this trip.

Water = Life. NO! Clean Water = Life

Unfortunately, not everyone thinks that putting safe, clean water in the desert is a compassionate deed. As I reported in a previous blog entry, on a water run with Humane Borders, we discovered holes drilled in the tank to deliberately drain the water. With No More Deaths, several of my patrols discovered gallon jugs that we had placed at particular sites a few days earlier had been slashed. Other NMD patrols found jugs they had placed only hours earlier, empty - intentionally cut open. This was hard to see – to feel – to know.

Note our message to those slashing the jugs.

Water is also an issue in Nogales, Sonora, Mexico. In the last 10-12 years, Nogales has gone from a town of 30,000 to 300,000 in population. This rapid growth was the result of people moving to the border for work in the maquiladoras when they could no longer sustain themselves in their small farming economies. In Nogales, there was no infrastructure in place to absorb this increased number of residents who began to squat on un-owned land. There were no roads, no water lines, no electricity, no sewage treatment plants, etc. – and now the city is unable to keep up and provide these services. Many neighborhoods are still without basic services.

Residents who can afford to, purchase water several times a week. This non-potable water, which is stored in a large tank (see picture), often on top of the house, is used for showering, flushing toilets, washing dishes, etc. Potable water for drinking and cooking must be purchased separately. Some homes don’t have tanks, and some who do cannot afford to fill them on a regular basis. Also, someone has to be at home when the water truck passes or the tank will not get filled. This makes it particularly difficult for a single mom who works in a maquila 10+ hours a day.

In the home where I stayed, the big tank was empty. This meant we could not get water from the tap to wash our hands or dishes, nor to flush the toilet, nor to take a shower. (Although, we would not have showered anyway as that would have been an extravagant activity.) Our “mom” had been able to save a large bucket of water for our use. To “flush” we had to pour a pitcher of water into the toilet to wash down anything we had deposited there. :o)

The very basics that I take for granted – that when I turn a faucet, water will come out; that when I press a handle, the toilet will flush; that when I want a shower, I can have one; and that when I want a drink of water or need to rinse when brushing my teeth that the water will be safe to do so. These basic functions, easily accessed in my world are a challenge for the poor people of Nogales.

There’s another water issue in Nogales caused by the wall the US has (is) constructing along the border. The impermeable material of which the wall is made has functioned as a dam, blocking the natural water run-off and causing significant flooding. Yet, our country does not take responsibility for the environmental damage, physical destruction and loss of life this flooding has caused.

Finally, is the issue of polluted and poisoned water, not only on the Mexico side of the border, but in Nogales, AZ. The lack of environmental regulations has allowed maquiladoras to improperly dispose of harmful waste – pouring toxins into the soil and dumping poisons into the streams, rivers and watersheds – causing sickness, disease and death. Just one example is the disproportionate number of people diagnosed with lupus in Nogales, AZ.

Clean water is a basic human need. Clean water is a basic human right.

Shrines in the Desert: Places of Prayers and Pain

(It is significant to post this today as Coalición de Derechos Humanos just reported that human remains recovered in the AZ desert since October 2008 reached 100.)

The desert landscape is dotted with shrines. Some, crudely made with objects carried by migrants, mark places where folks stop and pray for safety. Others mark graves of those whose journey to a new life ended in a horrific way. Here are pictures three of the many shrines I encountered:

Josseline Janiletha Hernandez Quinteros, a 14-year-old girl traveling through the desert with her 10-year-old brother and a group of migrants, was seeking to be reunited with her parents in LA. On her February journey, she sustained an injury and was abandoned by the coyote. Her brother made it to LA where he was able to report some of the desert landmarks where his sister was left behind. His family immediately called humanitarian groups to ask for help in searching for Josseline. Three weeks later several No More Deaths volunteer discovered her body. The coroner reported that she had only been dead for about a week, which means that she survived for two weeks, alone in the desert, before she died. Her body was found with her feet submerged in an icy pool of water in a wash very near a more heavily traveled trail, her shoes and socks folded neatly beside her. Her mother and father could not travel to attend her memorial service.

Location where her body was found.

This is the shrine in the No More Deaths Byrd Camp.

This shrine along the trail is made with objects carried for days by the migrants. Notice the card of Josseline on the tree. (This is a card distributed by No More Deaths.)

I close with this poem:

To Those Who Have Died in the Desert

In memory of those who went to look for a better life, yet only encountered death . . .

In memory of those who risked everything and lost everything . . .

Of those who went with hope in their eyes and challenge in their souls . . .

The sun burned them and the desert devoured them . . .

And the dust erased their names and faces.

In memory of those who never returned . . .

We offer these flowers and say with the deepest respect . . .

Your thirst is our thirst,

Your hunger is our hunger,

Your pain is our pain,

Your anguish, bitterness, and agony

Are also ours.

We are a cry for justice that no one would ever have to leave their land,

their beliefs,

their dead,

their children,

their parents,

their family,

their roots,

their culture,

their identity.

For out of the silence comes a voice that speaks . . .

So that no one will ever have to look for their dream in other lands,

So that no one would ever have to go to the desert

and be consumed by loneliness.

A voice in the desert cries out . . .

Education for all!

Opportunity for all!

Jobs for all!

Bread for all!

Freedom for all!

Justice for all!

We are a voice that will not be lost on the desert . . .

That insists that the nation give equal opportunity to a dignified and fruitful life to all its children.

Orthón Perez – Summer 2004

“For the right to live in peace . . .”

Living Conditions at Byrd Camp: Enough to Make a "J" Go Crazy

Some folks have wondered about our living conditions at Byrd Camp. Here are some pictures:

Camp Entrance - Welcome!

Tent Village – Each volunteer brings his/her own camping gear if he/she is able.

Kitchen

Kitchen Storage

Medical Tent

Campfire

Bathroom :o)

The organization of the camp will make a "J" (Myers-Briggs) go a little bonkers. I had been warned by the Presbyterian Pastor volunteer from Pennsylvania to leave my "J" in Tucson, so I tried. Admittedly, one day I had to "force" myself to go out on water patrol because my "J" was really wanting to stay in base camp to organize everything. I was "saved" by another "J" who volunteered to do so before I did. :o)

The Real Heroes

The volunteers with whom I worked may be seen as heroes (and she-roes) by some. Many gave up their vacation time and funded their own travel, choosing the physical, emotional and spiritual challenges in the desert for a week. Others have given years of time and energy in working to change unjust policies. Some have even risked prison sentences for their humanitarian work. Yet, the real heroes I met were the migrants. These men and women risk their lives so their families can survive. For so many, it’s not just the Sonoran desert they must cross. They have come from Guatemala, Honduras and Nicaragua, traveling weeks, often dangerously riding on top of trains to get to the border. They have had to pay exorbitant sums of money to coyotes without any guarantee of reaching the US. They have had to walk for days – perhaps weeks - through the scorching Sonoran desert, not knowing their location, fearing banditos, drug cartel members, US Border Patrol, and/or abandonment by their coyote if they slow down due to fatigue or injury. Sometimes they drink cow tank water, or even their own urine, to survive.

Why do they do it? Why don’t they just stay home? They can’t. They need work. They need to feed their children. Every migrant I spoke to (at NMD and Borderlinks) said they come because they need work to support their families.

When the US implemented Operation Gatekeeper (San Diego) and Operation Hold the Line (El Paso) in the mid-1990’s, the strategy was to force migrant crossings into the desert. The thinking was that the harshness of the desert would be a natural deterrent. This hasn’t been the case. Parents will go to great risks to provide for their families. (I’m spending some days in Denver with my brother and nephew and am aware that my brother would do the same to provide for his three-year-old son.)

I was able to talk to several migrants along the way. Here are their stories:

We met Juan in the desert as he whistled at one of our passing NMD trucks. He was obviously “in trouble” otherwise he would never have signaled for us to stop. In walking through the desert he had developed blisters on his feet and was vomiting for having drunk bad cattle tank water. He was dehydrated and exhausted. He was sobbing, not from his physical distress, but from the emotional stress. In very good English, he stated over and over that he just wanted to be with his family – in WA. Later I learned that he had previously been in the US for 17 years, working in agriculture in the Pacific Northwest, but had been deported 7 years ago. He has three young adult children and several grandchildren, who he has never seen, in WA. He was now trying to cross again to be with his family, but more importantly because his mother in Mexico had become ill and required hospitalization. His family could not pay the medical bills so he was trying to come back to the US to earn money to send home.

We met Carlos at Grupos Beta in Nogales, Mexico, an organization that helps migrants repatriate after deportation. He was also living and working in agriculture in WA with his three children and wife who is five months pregnant. He was stopped for a driving violation and in the process the sheriff discovered that he was undocumented. Thus, he was deported. He was very anxious and just kept saying, “I’ve got to get back to my family.”

Jesus, who we also met at Grupos Betas, had just been deported after his fourth attempt at crossing and some time spent in the US. He is an older gentleman – a farmer from Chiapas. He, too, was coming north for work since his small, family farm had been put out of business (by large US agribusiness, NAFTA, and huge subsidized corn imports from the US). The only thing he had in his possession were his deportation papers. US Border Patrol had taken and destroyed his Mexican identification card, which makes it very difficult for those being returned to Mexico. He had no money. He was staying at Grupos Beta and trying to find work each day in order to make enough money to be able to travel home. He had one offer of work but could not take it because he had no identification.

These men (and women) are not trying to invade our country or take our jobs. They are humble, hard working, human beings who love their families and are seeking the best way they know how to take care of them.

Presbyterian Pastors and Anarchists: Unity in Diversity

One week removed from my desert camp experience with No Mas Muertes I continue to reflect on the amazing group of people doing humanitarian work in and around Tucson, AZ. There are those who live in the area who do the work year round – people of faith, college students, anarchists, retired professionals, ministers, and all sorts of folks. There are those who drive Land Rovers and those who drive clunkers (if they even own a car); those who can eat at the best restaurants in town and those who dumpster dive for their food; those who wouldn’t darken the door of a church and those who have made ministry their life work; those who are clean-cut and smell fresh and those who haven’t showered for weeks whose odor can knock you out. It’s quite an eclectic lot!

This odd assortment of folks have become community for each other – and they don’t just tolerate one another. They respect and value each other, they work together and they learn from each other. Their decision making is by consensus, where all voices are heard. They have come together around the common cause of saving lives and reducing suffering in the desert. It was beautiful to witness and be a part of their community and their on-going work for five days. It gives me hope!

One young adult, who had been involved in social justice work while in college at the University of Arizona told me that he was really skeptical of this group of Christians that started No Mas Muertes. He had certain stereotypes and expectations of Christian people and wondered, “Do they not know their history? Do they not know how much damage they have perpetrated in the name of Christianity? There must be some ulterior motive to their work. Where’s the catch?” After hanging out and volunteering with No Mas Muertes, and getting to know the folks, he realized, “Yes, they absolutely do know their history and the pain they have caused. And they are trying to be different – to make a difference – in the name of love – because they are Christians.” This young man now feels called to the ministry and will enter seminary this fall.

As equally as impressive as the Tucson folks, were the volunteers, who like me, came for the week. In our group of desert dwellers was a college professor from KY; an army vet who served 4 tours in Iraq; graduate students from Boston and Vermont; a Unitarian Universalist religious educator and seminarian; two high school students who came last year with their youth group; a Spanish teacher getting ready to move to NYC for a new job; several college students from NC (Duke) and Texas; a social worker; an English teacher from Monterrey, CA who is driving around the country in a veggie fueled car; a cellist (yes, really); a Presbyterian pastor from PA; and a couple of wanderers. I was humbled and inspired by their life stories and the journeys that had brought each of them to this place at this time in their lives.

Throughout the week we functioned in camp by just pitching in to get things done. We had no particular assignments, not even a sign up sheet for chores. We just saw what needed to be done – cooking meals, washing dishes, securing tarps, gathering firewood, etc. – and each contributed as we were able. In addition to our work of placing water in the desert and maintaining camp, we broke bread together, gathered around the campfire for processing and singing (we had amazing musicians), shared our stories, and genuinely enjoyed being in each others company. It was a true gift to live and serve with these incredible (yet, quite ordinary) human beings. My hope in the goodness of humanity has been restored by these humanitarians!

Realizing I'm Exhausted

From June 5 – 14 I spent 5 days in the desert camp (“Byrd Camp”) with No Mas Muertes and 5 days on a Borderlinks delegation which took me into Nogales, Mexico. Over the next several days I will write about some of my experiences. The days were FULL - and I was so busy living them that I did not have much time to reflect. Now that I have had a few days away from the encounters I am realizing how exhausted I am – physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. I need some time to process. I will write when I am ready and able.

In the meantime I share this Franciscan Blessing:

May God bless you with discomfort . . .

at easy answers, hard hearts,

half-truths and superficial relationships.

May God Bless you so that you may live

from deep within your heart

where God’s Spirit dwells.

May God bless you with anger . . .

at injustice, oppression and exploitation

of people.

May God bless you with tears . . .

to shed for those who suffer from pain,

rejection, starvation and war.

May God bless you

so that you may reach out your hand to

comfort them

and turn their pain into joy.

And may God bless you with enough

foolishness

to believe that you can make a difference

in this world, in your neighborhood,

so that you will courageously try

what you don’t think you can do, but,

in Jesus Christ, you’ll have all the strength necessary.

May God bless you to fearlessly

speak out about injustice,

unjust laws, corrupt politicians,

unjust and cruel treatment of prisoners,

and senseless wars,

genocides, starvations, and poverty that is

so pervasive.

May God bless you that you remember

We are all called to continue God’s

redemptive work

of love and healing

in God’s place, in and through God’s name,

in God’s Spirit, continually creating

and breathing new life and grace

into everything and everyone we touch.