I always had a difficult time sitting quietly and meditating. I did not have the
patience to still my mind. My mind would jump to all the things I was
worried about or had to accomplish. I explored contemplative practices
after graduating from seminary and found my way into the silence. While on
a retreat in a monastery, I stumbled across their labyrinth. I had walked
labyrinths before, but this time it was life changing. The kinesthetic activity
of moving my body, calmed my mind and allowed me to engage with the
silence, and in that silence to hear God profoundly. Patience came to me
through the activity of walking. It helps some of us to be patiently active. I
went on to become a trained labyrinth facilitator in 2019 and plan to
become an advanced facilitator soon.

The labyrinth is a meandering path that leads to a center. It is used as a
tool for meditation, contemplation, and spiritual transformation. It is typically
circular, following the circular, spiral patterns we find in nature, in shells, in
plants, and snails. It is not a maze, where there are dead ends in which you
can get lost, but a path that leads you to the center and leads you back out
again. The labyrinth dates back at least 4,000 years. One of the most
famous labyrinths is on the floor of the Chartres Cathedral in France. The
construction of the cathedral began in 1200, and it is believed that the
labyrinth was always a part of the plan.

Most labyrinths follow one of two patterns. The labyrinth in Chartres is a
medieval pattern. In Sweden you will typically find the classical labyrinth.
Sweden is a country with more labyrinths than many larger countries and
you may even find them scratched into the wall at the end of a pew in a
medieval church. Like someone who might have been bored during a
service and wanted something to help them focus. Labyrinths are found all
over the world and many faith traditions use them for spiritual centering,
discernment, and contemplation.

In the Middle Ages it was popular to take pilgrimages and many
pilgrimages contained a labyrinth walk. The Chartres labyrinth is part of the
Camino de Santiago pilgrimage. It is like a pilgrimage inside a pilgrimage.
Walking is a spiritual experience; movement can be prayer. It is used for
contemplation, discernment, and as a way to encounter God. The Labyrinth
is a spiritual tool in which our walking becomes a spiritual purpose. I look
forward to sharing more about my passion for the labyrinth, and guiding
walks.

Kristie Finley

December is patience month for us this year. If you remember, we are taking a slow jog through the fruit of the Spirit…”the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” (Galatians 5:22-23). We started in September, so here we are with patience.

Patience is the patron-saint of the Advent season we are in. It just has to be! Because here we find ourselves waiting in the dark for the light to come, for the Messiah, Jesus, to appear. Once Israel did, and he was born into the body of a human baby. His own promise is that he’ll come again, and that when this happens all will be completely well, whole, and right.

Spoiler alert! Here’s how the prophet Isaiah will give it to us as we gather at the community table next Sunday: “The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them….they will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the LORD as the waters cover the sea.” (Isaiah 11)

When waiting is hard is when it’s connected to something deeply anticipated and longed for. The image that comes to mind for me is of childhood years, when mid-June came along, and school was out for the summer, and it was time to get ready for the trip north to Minocqua, Wisconsin and our family cabin. Anticipation built. I helped mom make sandwiches we’d eat at the rest stop by the cows near Fond Du Lac. I was more than willing to pack up my summer stuff. Then we were off, and it’s that moment when we’d hit the Wisconsin line that my longing would hit a fever pitch, and of course, time seemed to stand still! UUGH! Didn’t it take Foreeeeever to get through Milwaukee and catch 41 north? I would try to hold on until we hit the bridge at Oshkosh and Lake Butte des Morts, but then we always had to stop at Fremont for bacon and cheese. Then it was a short ride to the roadside rest stop by the cows out in the country.

Don’t get me wrong! I love bacon and cheese, and mom’s limpa bread sandwiches. But the thing was that I so wanted to pull in that sand driveway and run down the hill and onto the dock for the first time. That was the thing! And I wish mom and dad were here so that I could call and ask them how many times I must have asked from the backseat, “Are we almost there?” “When are we gonna get there?” Tom Petty’s writing says it well: “The waiting is the hardest part/every day get one more yard/you take it on faith, you take it to the heart/the waiting is the hardest part.”

Finally, finally, it was when we got across 10/110 and hit 51 north at Stevens point, when I could feel and watch that big turn right and straight north, that I knew it was only 100 miles more to go. It’s getting more and more north-woodsy. Wausau, 70 miles. Tomahawk, 30 miles, and then, oh boy, Hazelhurst, 5 miles! Just a couple ups and downs before a left at the bowling alley, and we’re on Doolittle road, and we’ve made it!

During advent, we recognize ourselves to be somewhere on a journey like this, toward a glory we most long for. How close, I don’t know, but what I do know by faith is that we’re closer all the time. Because of Jesus we’ll get there through our mortal death or should Jesus come back in the meantime.

We will get there! Even though some days feel like we’re still just passing Great America, or just as far as Racine, we will get there! The waiting is the hardest part, but patience will help us as our longing grows.

It was at the very cabin that my father and my brother-in-law wrote a hymn about that longing. It’s in our hymnal, 748: Like the spring after winter’s snow/like the seedlings hint of harvest/we are drawn by the hope that grows from our longing to be home with you/ someday soon, someday soon you will come and we will see your glory/’Til that day may our hearts burn bright with the hope of one day someday soon.

Love From Here

Peter Hawkinson

“Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise.

Give thanks to him, bless his name.

For the LORD is good; his steadfast love endures forever,

And his faithfulness to all generations.” (Psalm 100:4-5)

Among the many of my dad’s poems, there’s one that sits on our fireplace mantle. It goes like this:

Our Inheritance flows

Like a fresh, clean stream

From the heart of God.

Who knows where it begins

Or finally ends

In oceans of time?

Whatever we may say is inadequate to trace it clearly –

Except that God once gave and is still giving

Out of love for us.

We are never worthy to receive or give

The fruits of his grace

All that fits properly

Is thanks to him,

“Thanks for everything!”

May we all be swept up

With gratitude, and love for the giver.

He wrote it on the anniversary of his mother, my grandmother Lydia’s death. In May of 1986 she was receiving hospice care at Swedish Covenant hospital, and as her time was drawing near, my father, and my cousin Tim stood at her side, holding her hands. Her breathing shallow and spaced, my dad remembered years later what a sacred moment it was; he was then the age I am now. Dad recalled laughing about the stupid stories, remembering family life through the depression and world war II; They expressed their gratitude for her faithful love through life, and at that she labored a heavy smile, eyes closed. Finally, my father asked, “Mother, what would you like to say that we might always remember?” And after a bit, a broad smile came, and labored, she said her final words: “THANKS FOR EVERYTHING!” and then she died. Hence the poem, which says “All that fits is thanks to God, Thanks for everything!” May we all be swept up with gratitude and love for the Giver.”

In this week as we count our many blessings and give thanks, may we find un-numbered reasons to say to God and to one another, “Thanks for everything!”

Peter Hawkinson

Judi Geake

The Tuesday Women’s Bible Study has been looking at Biblical stories of God’s presence in the lives of the Israelites, even when they went through hard times. I could certainly tell my story of how God has been active in my life…in fact, I could tell story after story. Two stories immediately come to mind. Both stories are similar… times when what looked like a hard time was ultimately the precursor to a particularly wonderful time.

My husband Howard was older than me, so when he was offered early retirement from his company after a large corporate buy out, he was 52 but I was only 40…and we had three sons – the oldest just entering high school, the middle one entering Jr. High, and the youngest in nursery school. This was not a good time to have a drastically reduced income and a husband not yet qualified for a pension or Social Security. However, he was convinced if he didn’t take the offer, he would be let go with in the next year anyway, and then wouldn’t even have the early retirement bonus they were offering. He made out a budget… the first in our married life… and decided we could afford it. However, his idea of our expenses and what it would cost to raise our three boys was entirely unrealistic. I’ll never forget that his budget allowed $300 for the boys clothing for the year. He was not detoured, even though I told him that $300 would barely buy each boy a new pair of shoes. 

Clearly we needed another source of income going forward. I decided to go back to school for my masters degree at National Louis University in Evanston. However, instead of an MBA to follow my undergraduate degree in business, I decided I wanted to get a MS in Human Services…a much better fit for where I was in my life at the moment. The expense was greater than I anticipated so I took a job as a part-time nanny to two local families with three young girls. I took all my classes in the evening and used the girls’ nap times for homework. Howard stayed home with Adam.

It was a hard three years, and don’t think or a minute that I didn’t question where God was in all this. However, I finally graduated after taking a year’s internship with an organization called the Women’s Exchange, an outreach ministry of Winnetka Congregational Church. Getting that internship was the first of many God infused moments. The Women’s Exchange wasn’t really big enough to need an intern, however, the director had been diagnosed with breast cancer and really needed help. Having an intern, she told me, was a Godsend. That year I took over many of her responsibilities. I got to know the board of directors so well that at the end of the year, when she resigned, they hired me to be the new director.

July 1st, 1991 I began the the first year of a 20 year love affair with my job and the women who passed through the doors of the Women’s Exchange. I can honestly say that every time I left my house and made the turn from Lagoon Drive onto Willow Road to head to work, I was excited for the new day. What had started with my husband’s untimely retirement and the worry of how our lives would change, God had turned into one of the greatest joys of my life. 20 years of pure joy. 

The second story that immediately came to mind was similar. My retirement did not turn out the way that I thought it would. I found time heavy on my hands and I missed the daily interactions with people. Pastor Pete mentioned that he was looking into a program at North Park Seminary that would lead to a certificate in Spiritual Direction. It sounded intriguing. When I called to inquire about it they said it was full for the next year but a last minute cancelation allowed me to start immediately.

Again, the next three years were not easy. Much of what I thought I knew and much of what I thought I believed was challenged. My journals during that time are filled with laments to God, asking why…and how…and what questions. But gradually my theology broadened. Love became more and more a part of my vocabulary. Love for my fellow cohort members, love for my church, and love for people… all people.

Some time after graduation, I approached Peter and Jen, and asked to be considered for a position on staff… a position that would allow me not only to use my Spiritual Direction certificate, but my love of putting together small groups of people to form more ways of building community within the church. They and the trustees said yes. Once again God had taken a troubling situation and turned it into something that I love… something that again brings me joy every day that my car turns off Lagoon drive and onto Winnetka Avenue heading to church. 

These are just two of the bigger, more obvious stories of how God’s story became part of my story. I could write a book about all the others, large and small, significant and seemingly insignificant. In fact I am. It is called a book of memoirs. I write a new one every month for the three memoir groups I facilitate. Not all stories or writings are about God’s role in my life. But they are all stories about my life so I trust that God is in there somewhere. 

Whenever the leaves are about gone and the first snow and cold of each year comes, I come back to a poem I wrote now 25 years ago in Minnesota. I have noticed about my own family ancestors how often they were keen on poetry, reading and reflecting on it, and working on their own expressions — their file folders stuffed full call out to me for exploration. I have a whole thick file of poems I’ve written too, but am hesitant to share. But here’s one from October, 2000:

These Days are Changing

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea. (Psalm 46:1-2)

These days are changing With each new leaf shimmering down in sunshine And frosty air through my bedroom window These days are changing

These days are changing Children growing up, parents growing old Death is stilling the laughter of friends These days are changing

Yet you, God of everything, do not change Forever hiding us in Your love Still helping us to face our troubles You become a man and change our days

These days are changing Forever creeps closer like snow Many glad reunions, the laughter of heavenly friends These days are changing

So come, changing days Blow winter-time of life with all your challenge and pain Meet our Refuge and Strength Who conquers for us your trouble

These days are changing Falling leaves promise us that life shall come again And for now, until then, Refuge and Strength, very present help

Peter Hawkinson

Yesterday in adult Sunday school we began to talk about peace, which is our focus for the month of November. We focused in on the Hebrew word Shalom, and it’s beautiful and complicated understanding of peace. It’s rooted in a well-being, wholeness, and harmony that is more collective than it is personal. In other words, “If any person is therefore denied shalom, all are thereby diminished.” (United Methodist Council of Bishops, 1986).

The scripture says it this way: “Seek the welfare (shalom) of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.” (Jeremiah 29:7). Re. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. reflected on Shalom this way: “In a real sense all life is inter-related. All men are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be, and you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be…this is the interrelated structure of reality. (Letter From a Birmingham Jail).

My greatest life experience with Shalom and its call to mutual flourishing happened because Chicago Public School teachers were on strike. It happened for a few years in a row during the mid-seventies at the start of the school year. What to do? Well, i’m not sure how it happened, but a number of my friends and I ended up at Share Tikvah (“Gates of Hope”), a synagogue just north on Kimball from Peterson School, where the rabbis and a couple of pastors (including my own) and a number of good-hearted people took care of us kids for a couple of weeks until the teacher strike was settled. They taught us — I remember one rabbi being exasperated with my inability to write cursively, which in fact I never accomplished. They fed us, they took us to Hollywood park for extended recess, they coordinated with our parents to give them the help they needed, and more than anything my lingering memory is that I felt loved and cared about and for. I remember being sad when we had to get back into the school building!

That’s my story about Shalom. Do you have one? And isn’t Shalom our deepest need and hope these days?

Next week we’ll be reflecting on the challenges to this kind of Shalom mutual flourishing that we find in our own broken and fearful selves and in the world which we belong to. Then we’ll explore how Jesus is our peace and brings us together. Hope to see you at 9:30 next Sunday morning!

Love from here!

Peter Hawkinson

I’m at home this morning looking out my window and pondering the years. The village leaf pushers/catchers are hard at work as the massive locust tree in our front yard shed it’s little leaves. I’m collecting time, as it’s the twentieth autumn I have watched the world go by from this spot.

I remember the day that two new saplings, now forty feet tall, were planted across the street. All our neighbors around us have changed except for one. My kids have grown into adults. Two dogs have kept us alert and loved. Forties welcomed me here; sixties now carry the day.

Where does the time go?

It’s a good question for this week as we prepare for All-Saints Sunday as we come remembering those who have loved us and left us. I’m looking at a picture on the wall of my girls group-hugging my mom and dad with birthday candles glimmering at the photo’s bottom. It must have been about the time we moved onto Lockerbie Lane. It seems like yesterday! Yet it’s now been ten years since my mom’s death, and soon fifteen for dad. I’ll whisper their names come Sunday. I miss them so!

Yet as I treat the photo like an icon — just sit and gaze at it for awhile, and let the smiles and faces and voices come to life, it’s not sadness I feel, but joy, deep joy, for the wonder of life and the blessing of time and all that is has held for me. “The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places” Is how Psalm 16 puts it.

Life has been, is now, and will be a good gift as long as it lasts. That doesn’t mean it’s all good, all the time, every day. It does mean that my spirit is grateful this morning for my life’s journey and all the joy through it. I’m glad to rest here for awhile with a cup of coffee as Oliver carries on with his euphonium in the living room and Stina arrives home from a morning walk with bear. Life goes on. I’m so glad.

Love From Here!

Peter Hawkinson

A Song of Ascents. Of David.

O LORD, my heart is not lifted up, my eyes are not raised too high;

I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me.

But I have calmed and quieted my soul,

like a weaned child with its mother; my soul is like the weaned child that is with me.

O Israel, hope in the LORD from this time on and forevermore. (Psalm 131)

This psalm has become a favorite of mine for a few reasons.

First, it’s short and sweet, like most of the “Psalms of Ascent” (120-134) that ancient Israel would sing on the road to Jerusalem when festival times were nigh. There’s no way to Jerusalem except up! It’s short and sweet, easy to memorize and say or sing repeatedly. That’s good for the soul.

Second, there’s a delicious invitation to let go for a moment of those things out of my control: the great mysteries of life, the anxieties of unresolved situations, whatever it is that likes to keep me up at night. That’s an invitation I need to engage every day!

Third, there’s an image put to soul possibilities. And it’s something I see every day! A little child in its mother or father’s arms, having let go, exhausted, sound asleep, without any worry that they might be dropped, completely trusting and so at rest. I wonder, is it even possible that my soul, my spirit can find that space?

Which brings me to number 4! Contentment is so elusive for me! So deeply desired, but so elusive in this wide awake, non-stop world, with an ever-growing list of demands, and stresses and strains, and pains and sorrows and griefs and tragedies. And growing up from being a little child only increases this collective sense that life’s journey seems to conspire against a calm and quiet soul.

The soothing balm for David is that his hope is rooted in The LORD, the Living God, with a real history of saving, guiding presence, a heavy hand of mercy, and faithfulness to keep promises. No one knows this better than David!

It’s a song for the road toward Jerusalem, for the journey of life. David’s, Israel’s, yours and mine. Contentment comes not in more, but in letting go, giving up, and giving into the Living Presence of the God who loves. Memorize this little ditty. Sink it into your mind and heart. Say it like a breath prayer on your journey through life. And rest in the One who is holding onto you.

CONTENTMENT!

Peter Hawkinson

The late pastor and writer Eugene Peterson had a way with words, especially in his knack of helping us consider spiritual and theological words. In his book Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places: A Conversation in Spiritual Theology (Eerdmans, 2005), Peterson defines Theology as what we think about God, and Spirituality as the way we live with God. His whole long reflection is summed up in the sense that these two, theology and spirituality, are deeply and organically connected. Here is a great summary word: “The two terms ‘spirituality’ and ‘theology’ keep good company with one another. ‘Theology’ is the attention that we give to God, the effort we give to knowing God as revealed in the Holy Scriptures and in Jesus Christ. ‘Spiritual’ is the insistence that everything that God reveals of himself and his works is capable of being lived by ordinary men and women in their homes and workplaces. ‘Spiritual’ keeps ‘theology’ from degenerating into merely thinking and talking and writing about God at a distance. ‘Theology’ keeps ‘spiritual’ from becoming merely thinking and talking and writing about the feelings and thoughts one has about God. The two words need each other , for we know how easy it is for us to let our study of God (theology) get separated from the way we live; we also know how easy it is to let our desires to live whole and satisfying lives (spiritual lives) get disconnected from who God actually is and the ways God works among us.”

I’m intrigued by this kind of thinking about the importance of living with checks and balances, especially when it’s simpler and more efficient to choose one thing over another. Somehow, this keeps us balanced and healthy. Here I’m remembering my seminary Homiletics professor, Robert Hjelm. I don’t remember a whole lot of his instruction from thirty-five years ago, except that he hammered away on the deep connection between preaching and pastoral care. I can just hear him reminding us again and again that faithful preaching leads to abundant pastoral care opportunities and conversations, and that faithful pastoral care that tends to relationships leads to hunger for worship, and so the proclamation of good news. He was teaching us — some whose gifts and passions move toward the the pulpit, and some whose gifts and passions move toward visits and relationships — that our call as a parish pastor is to both, back and forth, rhythmically, all the time.

Finding and tending to these connected but different skills in whatever vocation or life experience we find ourselves in is healthy. Hard work to be sure not to jump fully into what we like to do most and let go of the other, but if we let the sages speak, worth the effort. Fruit bearing.

Jesus, surely the great sage of them all for we Christians, bought into this kind of thinking/doing connectedness. “Love God” he said, “and love your neighbor.” Surely he is saying that we are to be working at both, and that they circle back around to each other. The work of loving God pushes us toward our neighbor, and our experiences of loving our neighbors finds us running back to Jesus for more strength, more wisdom, and sometimes just the chance to share our thanks and praise.

Memory serving me right, it was St. Francis of Assisi who said, “Preach the gospel at all times. Use words if necessary.” Another sage to teach us.

What do you think?

Peter Hawkinson

Hello again friends! In light of last Sunday’s sermon, yesterday’s blog, and the ongoing immigration issues front and center in our country, and now in our own Chicagoland area, I have heard from a few of you about the need for further addressing of and reflection about questions like these biblically and theologically:

What about our laws? And what do we do with law breakers?

What about those who have entered our country illegally?

I will give some thoughts here. It goes without saying that I may be wrong, and so I am very grateful for the ongoing dialogue as we wrestle together with our faith and how our faith shapes our life — our thoughts, words, opinions and actions — as they take shape in the public square, the in the real world. It is healthy and critically important for us to dialogue together from a shared posture of the desire to learn and grow together.

Biblical Witness.

HEBREW SCRIPTURE

The Hebrew Scripture repeatedly reminds the Israelites of their own history as foreigners in Egypt to instill empathy for immigrants/refugees now living among them: “Do not mistreat or oppress a foreigner, for you were foreigners in Egypt.” (Ex. 22:21)

The Hebrew scripture roots the people in the action of love: “When a foreigner resides among you in your land, do not mistreat them. The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself. (Leviticus 19:33-34)

The Hebrew Scripture calls God’s people to provide for their needs: “When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap to the very edges of your field, or gather the gleanings of your harvest. You shall not strip your vineyard bare, or gather the fallen grapes of your vineyard; you shall leave them for the poor and the alien: I am the LORD your God. (Leviticus 19:9-10)

The Hebrew Scripture calls for just treatment and advocacy: “Do not deprive a foreigner of justice; you shall not take a widow’s garment in pledge. Remember that you were a slave in Egypt and the Lord your God redeemed you from there; therefore I command you to do this.” (Deut. 24:17-18)

JESUS’ TEACHING AND THE NEW TESTAMENT

Jesus’ teaching and the New Testament reinforce and expand on the Hebrew scripture’s call to care for foreigners and strangers.

Welcoming the Stranger is welcoming Christ. “I was a stranger and you invited me in…whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” (Matthew 25)

Love your neighbor. Jesus expands the understanding of neighbor to mean anyone in need, regardless of nationality or background, and calls for merciful action toward them. (Good Samaritan, Luke 10:29-37).

Hospitality to Strangers. “Let mutual love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it. Remember those who are in prison, as though you were in prison with them; those who are being tortured, as though you yourselves were being tortured.” (Hebrews 13:1-3)

BALANCING COMPASSION WITGH THE RULE OF LAW

Some interpretations of biblical texts have led to different perspectives on modern immigration laws:

Obeying the Government. “Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities.” Romans 13:1-7 emphasizes that Christians should submit to governing authorities and obey the laws of the land. Some argue this includes immigration laws.

Prioritizing Mercy. Other biblical perspectives argue that a government’s responsibility to protect citizens and uphold laws must be balanced with God’s commands for justice and mercy toward vulnerable people.

MY THOUGHTS AS A CHRISTIAN AND AS AN AMERICAN CITIZEN

We are a nation of Immigrants and of laws. There is a common sense just now in our nation’s history that we face unprecedented immigration issues and work with an ongoing process and practice that is need of reform.

I am a Christian, seeking to follow Jesus, and attempting to seek first God’s Kingdom. As I think about immigration issues (or any other issue) I expect that in some ways God’s ways and Kingdom clash and are opposed to the ways of any earthly government or empire. So, naturally, there is always tension. How do I hold in tension the call to follow Jesus and seek after the Kingdom of God while at the same time seeking to be faithful as a supportive citizen of my country? Here are some of my thoughts just now:

My first and clear call is to love and care for all people as I encounter them. The clear drumbeat of scripture as I read it through the person of Jesus Christ and with the help of the Holy Spirit sets this agenda. Regardless of status, as a Jesus follower I must show compassion and concern for immigrants, refugees, and asylum seekers. I can only do this if I am in touch with my own history as an immigrant, which comes through my family journey two and three generations ago. At that time there was no “illegal” status. My own family came because of poverty, seeking religious freedom, and with an eye toward a hopeful future for their family. This is some the same for those coming now, especially from Central and South America, except that their situation is so much much more dire than was that of my family. This helps me understand, or at least have compassion for those here illegally according to our current laws.

Regarding the laws of my country, I must seek to obey and support them unless and until I am convinced that God and God’s Kingdom deems them unjust or inhumane in their lack of mercy and compassion. Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Junior says “The church must be reminded that it is not the master or servant of the state, but rather the conscience of the state. It must be the guide and the critic of the state, and never its tool. If the church does not recapture its prophetic zeal, it will become and irrelevant social club without moral or spiritual authority.” Throughout it’s history the church has spoken out and sometimes even resisted (the mandate is non-violently) the unjust treatment of other human beings. This many Christians believe to be the case currently in new and exceedingly aggressive deportation efforts.

So our faith compels us to speak out. According to conservative estimates, 60 to 70% of those detained and arrested are not criminals, but contributing members of our society. Our constitution guarantees due process rights to “all persons” without qualification. This includes non-citizens, including undocumented immigrants, who are entitled to fair treatment under the law, which includes the right to defend themselves in court. Yet recent policy that is speeding up arrests and deportations is limiting and in many cases denying these folks this important right. Further, this due process is what can and will help us make our own national process more just and right. In this sense, we are breaking our own laws as we seek to root out those who we’ve deemed to have broken the law. What is not right or just is detaining and arresting individuals without warrants, and separating parents from each other and their children. We must do better!

There must be a better way. Here’s where we might come together if we have enough courage to seek a better, more humane way forward. As a pastor and theologian, I am moving out of my league here, but my questions:

How can we handle with care and compassion those immigrants presently among us without status? There must be some better way to identify a process whereby we could move folks in a more hopeful direction toward belonging, while we do diligence in terms of those meaning to cause harm to us as a nation. Instead of seeking to simply be rid of those who come desperately in search of a better life, how can we engage them with what the possibility of a future we now are experiencing? And how can we care for, love and welcome them into our lives and homes and churches in the meantime? We should seek to incorporate effectively those without status who are already here into our national life and put them on a hopeful journey toward citizenry. Maybe some sort of national mentor program that could match us up with those new to our land and journey with them in the process.

What would a fruitful immigration reform effort and initiative look like? For those who will continue to engage the possibilities of life in America, is there a more efficient and inviting process? A more bi-partisan approach to find again a hopeful spirit as reflected in the words noted on our Statue of Liberty: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” How can we return to seeing immigrants as people who bring life and energy to our American experiment, who add to our society and enrich our lives, and who we have so much to learn from? Again, what about asking us as citizens to get involved in the process relationally with others different and new.

SOME FINAL THOUGHTS

“Then Pharaoh commanded all his people, ‘Every boy that is born to the Hebrews you shall throw into the Nile, but you shall let every girl live.’ Now a man from the house of Levi went and married a Levite woman. The woman conceived and bore a son; and when she saw that he was a fine baby, she hid him three months. When she could hide him no longer she got a papyrus basket for him, and plastered it with bitumen and pitch; she put the child in it and placed it among the reeds on the banks of the river. His sister stood at a distance, to see what would happen to him.” (Exodus 1:22-2:4).

In many ways this is the plight of those who have made it here into our country. They walk and walk at risk to their own lives because their lives are at risk. They face oppression, starvation, and have lost hope for the future. Imagine what that moment must have been like for Moses’ mother, Jochebed, to push that basket out into the river’s current, and for Moses’ sister Miriam to linger and watch what would happen to him.

“The daughter of Pharaoh came down to bathe at the river, while her attendants walked beside the river. She saw the basket among the reeds and sent her maid to bring it. When she opened it, she saw the child. He was crying, and she took pity on him.”

Threatening to take the metaphor too far, we are in the powerful and privileged position. In the live moment we can look into the eyes of the world, we can “see” others, and in so doing if we see with God’s eyes take pity, lit. have compassion on those who appear with their lives and futures hanging in the balance. The love of Jesus and the Spirit of God have equipped us well for this work.

Getting back to my grandmother’s garden, it’s quite easy to create a common space there among friends very much alike. Much more challenging in matters we are engaging these days. Yet for me it remains my hope, maybe too naive, for this aching world. Love of neighbor. The image of God in every person. This is the only way forward as I see it.

Love from Here

Peter Hawkinson

(This is such important discussion! My deepest prayer is for us to continue to engage with each other. Please receive this reflection as such. Maybe we could gather an interested group for more sharing, listening, and prayer?)