By Rev. Dr. Kharma R. Amos, Minister of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Brunswick, Maine
A poem inscribed on the Statue of Liberty proclaims an explicit message of welcome. It was written by a Jewish American poet and activist, Emma Lazarus, when funds were being raised for the statue’s pedestal. The poem refers to her as the “Mother of Exiles,” and movingly proclaims her welcome in this way: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free. The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-lost to me.” The statue, and this message, quickly became symbols of welcome for immigrants who found refuge in the United States. (This reminder seems sadly necessary: every one of us here who is not indigenous is descended from immigrants.)
Unfortunately, that message is at considerable odds with our current reality. Rather than welcoming the poor, tired, and weary; the current administration has clearly said, “Go away. We do not want you here. We do not care that you’re in life or death situations. We do not have room for you (unless, of course, you happen to have $1 Million for a ‘Gold Visa’).” This immorality would be enough to make me feel embarrassed and appalled as an American citizen, but there’s more. Immigrants have been demonized. Friends and neighbors we have lived and worked alongside for decades have had their right to belong questioned. Many have been rounded up and detained. Some have been disappeared. Others are living every day under the shadow of fear.
I agree with artists who have sketched Lady Liberty with head in hands, crying enough tears to raise sea level. And, of course, we still must notice that the majority of those for whom she is weeping are black or brown people. In a dissent she recently read from the bench, Justice Sonia Sotomayor said, “We should not have to live in a country where the Government can seize anyone who looks Latino, speaks Spanish, and appears to work a low wage job.” She is correct. We should not. Sadly, we currently do.
This month, my congregation has been reflecting on the spiritual practice of building belonging. These current US realities surrounding immigration have provided visible, loud, and tragic examples of how NOT to build belonging. In contrast, we are tasked with building belonging for a group of diverse people—people from many backgrounds, with different experiences and many strong and conflicting opinions. If that sounds difficult, it is. Like many faith communities, we do not strive to do it because it is easy, but because it is necessary. We belong to one another.
We humans are interdependent, whether we like it or not. There are consequences for all of us when injustice is inflicted on any of us. An old parable points to the peril we face if we do not recognize this:
Two people were out on the ocean in a boat. One of them began drilling in the bottom of the boat; and the other, aghast, said “What are you doing? Stop drilling!” The first person replied: “It’s all right. I’m only drilling on my side.”
There are no sides in this big blue boat we are sailing together. Every act of violence, greed, and oppression we inflict on “them” (whomever the White House identifies as the enemy or opponent du jour) will also impact us. We all belong.