God, Grace and Racism

Like most people in the United States, I was heartbroken when I learned about the slaying of nine members of the Emanuel A.M.E. Church in Charleston, South Carolina.  I was overwhelmed by this event, especially due to it's significance within a history of violence against Black churches and Black people.  Living on the border, I have begun to fully realize, for the first time, the ways in which our society consistently marginalizes and abuses people of color.  On the border, this racism is embodied in unjust immigration policies, racial profiling, and the death, detainment, and deportation of mainly Latino migrants.  On the border and in our nation, this racism is embodied in the death and incarceration of countless young Black men, hate crimes, and unequal access to education, job opportunities, and healthcare for people of color.  Recently, these injustices have felt almost unbearable for me.  As a privileged White woman, I am not as aware of these inequities because I do not have to face them everyday.  I merely wake up to these injustices, ever time there is a large national events.

God's children at Emanuel A.M.E. Church in Charleston, SC 

As an educated college student, I naively thought I was knowledgable about these issues as I had learned about institutionalized racism, slavery, and various forms of oppression in classes.  But it is very different when you are surrounded and immersed by issues of race.  These issues affect you differently when your friend tells to you about leaving a job because they were racist towards her.  These issues cut more deeply when you tell someone your roommate doesn't like hiking and they assume it's because she's Black.  You start to see patterns when your friend is denied a driver's license and a college education because of his immigration status.  It startles you when you realize you haven't had to learn about or protest this because you are White.  Our society usually caters to you with you having to do anything. PHRASING

Amidst these daunting, depressing thoughts and realizations, I have found strength in my YAV community, my church, and the Tucson activist circles.  The Sunday after the Charleston shooting, my pastor, Rev. Bart Smith of St. Mark's Presbyterian Church, compared the gigantic monster of racism to Goliath from the story of David and Goliath.  We are David and we must be brave, patient, and purposeful as we throw little stones at the beast's head.  As Bart held up a small river rock, he reminded us that the monster of racism is not only external, it also resides in the deep, dark cavities of our heart.  We must work to cleanse ourselves of our own prejudices as well as working in community.

Recently, I listened to President Obama's eulogy for Reverend Clementa Pinckney, one of the pastors of Emanuel A.M.E. Church.  It gave me much hope, clarity, and peace.  I strongly recommend listening to his wise words.  I'd like to reflect of some of things he said.

"Clem was often asked why he chose to be a pastor and a public servant. But the person who asked probably didn’t know the history of AME Church.  As our brothers and sisters in the AME Church, we don’t make those distinctions. “Our calling,” Clem once said, “is not just within the walls of the congregation but the life and community in which our congregation resides.”

I deeply respect the AME Church for the longstanding commitment to fight for justice for all people.  During my YAV year, I have had the opportunity to worship in churches like Southside Presbyterian Church and St. Mark's Presbyterian Church who try to live out the gospel every day of the week, not just on Sunday morning.  They live out their faith by providing sanctuary for migrants, putting water out in the desert, visiting migrants in detention, and advocating for humane policies.

"We do not know whether the killer of Reverend Pinckney and eight others knew all of this history, but he surely sensed the meaning of his violent act. It was an act that drew on a long history of bombs and arson and shots fired at churches, not random but as a means of control, a way to terrorize and oppress, an act that he imagined would incite fear and recrimination, violence and suspicion, an act that he presumed would deepen divisions that trace back to our nation’s original sin.

Oh, but God works in mysterious ways.
God has different ideas.
He didn’t know he was being used by God.

Blinded by hatred, the alleged killer would not see the grace surrounding Reverend Pinckney and that Bible study group, the light of love that shown as they opened the church doors and invited a stranger to join in their prayer circle.

The alleged killer could have never anticipated the way the families of the fallen would respond when they saw him in court in the midst of unspeakable grief, with words of forgiveness.  [Video below]  He couldn’t imagine that."

When I learned about the shooting, the first thing I thought was, "Why? Why would God let this happen this to His people?"  Although I do not believe that Dylan Roof's actions were part of a divine  plan or necessary for people to come together, I do believe God works in mysterious ways. I was blown away when I heard the victim's families forgiving Roof, just days after he had murdered their loved ones.  God's grace and love are boundless and impossible to predict or define.

According to the Christian tradition, grace is not earned. Grace is not merited. It’s not something we deserve. Rather, grace is the free and benevolent favor of God.... By taking down that flag, we express God’s grace.

This has helped me understand my name, Grace, as an action.  We can embody God's grace through racial reconciliation, by loving our neighbors, advocating for our neighbors and fighting for a Kingdom-like world alongside our neighbors.

Below are some questions I am still pondering.  If you have any ideas or answers please let me know.

Why would God create a world where such horrible things happen?
How can we forgive people while still holding them accountable for their hurtful actions?
How can I, as an ally, express God's grace?

Keep Families Together

          Yesterday, I participated in a Father's Day march for family unity at Southside Presbyterian Church to demand an end to the separation of migrant families

due to detention, deportation, and death in the desert.  Before I came to Tucson, I did not understand the complex web of immigration policies that tear families apart.  After living here for a year, I have heard countless testimonies of people who have been disconnected from their spouses, parents, and children.  Many undocumented parents go to work every morning with the fear they may not return in the evening to see their children.  

          Due to laws like S.B. 1070, police are allowed ask the immigration status of anyone they pull over, arrest, or suspect to be here without papers.  If someone cannot prove they are in the U.S. legally, the police call Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) or Border Patrol to process the individual and take them to detention, prison for migrants. In detention, migrants are often abused as they wait behind bars for months, hoping for a court date or bond hearing.  If they are lucky and get a bond, they must raise thousands of dollars, which most working class migrants, do not have.  For more information, please read this Center for Immigrations Studies report on detention centers.

          Most detained migrants do not get access to a lawyer, do not receive a bond, and are deported back to their home countries. There, they must decide whether to create a new life in a country that may be unfamiliar, dangerous, or without jobs, or to take the perilous journey across the desert to reunite with their family in the United States. Many parents hike through the Sonoran desert, risking their lives to be with their children again. In the last 15 years, at least 2,000 migrants have died attempting to crossing the Arizona border alone. For more information on migrants deaths in the desert visit Colibri.

A mother embraces her son through the US-Mexico border wall. Source
Some families who cannot be in the same country, gather at the dividing line.  About a month ago, I saw a family having a picnic through the wall.

Why do we separate families?

          Every person who has died crossing the desert was someone's child.
          Every person who has been racially profiled is someone's friend.
          Every person who has been sent to detention is someone's mom, dad or supporter.
          Every person who has been deported is someone's partner, lover, daddy, papi, mama, mommy, tio, tia, cousin, or sibling.

....

Praying at the shrine

During the march, we gathered at a shrine for migrants who have passed away in the desert and read this beautiful prayer:

Father's Day Prayer

God our creator, daily we call upon you and remember you as our father who art in heaven. You have known the joy of watching your child grow, of witnessing Mary, Joseph, and Jesus develop as a family or prophets who endured and challenged the oppression of their government.  You Father, journeyed with them through the darkness and the light, and in the darkest of moments when your own Son was apprehended, detained, and eventually murdered, you were there in the mercy and compassion of those who worked and continue to work tirelessly to keep alive his memory and message.

As we remember fathers and all those who have embodied such responsibility, we particularly pray for migrant fathers who journeyed thousands of miles with the dream of providing for their children, but who never reached their dream.  Many of them remain in our deserts simply as bones clamoring to you and us all for justice.  We remember these deceased migrants fathers, we pray for the livelihood of their children and family, and we ask that you continue to make of us instruments of life and not death.

We especially pray for all those crossing the desert as we speak, those dying of thirst, those who have lost their way in the wilderness, those who are enduring brutalities, those who are locked up and treated as though they were not human.  We pray for these your people, your holy ones whom you continue to send and whom we continue to reject at the border.  Bless them with perseverance, light their path, direct their way, shelter them from the burning heat, and comfort them in their despair.  On this father's day, may we remember that we are all brothers and sisters to each other, that I am in fact my brother and my sister's keeper, that you are Father to us all, and that ultimately, we are all migrant families journeying home.  May the courage of migrant fathers be also our courage in the struggle for justice and peace.  Amen.

....

Alison Harrington, the pastor of Southside Church, ended the march with a great rallying cry to help us recommit ourselves to welcoming our neighbors and fighting with our migrant brothers and sisters for justice. I am thankful for the active community members of Tucson who come together, time and time again, to advocate for the just treatment of God's people.

My YAV family says, "Keep migrant families together!"