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| PICO California clergy leaders protest outside Otay Mesa Detention Center |
On Saturday,
June 23, I participated with nearly 1,000 faith leaders from across California
in a march and protest at the Otay Mesa Detention Center in San Diego, a
concentration camp for refugees run by a private company called CoreCivic. Otay Mesa is a separation center, where
parents are left grieving while their children are caged elsewhere.
I was not
planning to go to San Diego. In fact, I
was outside Healdsburg, CA with our parish youth group for our annual service
learning trip when I received the call to go there. I was just returning to San Francisco on
Friday afternoon, and would need to fly down to San Diego and back on Saturday
so that I could be at my parish on Sunday.
It felt like a huge interruption, but when I called my husband and
asked, “Do you think I should go?” he responded, “You have to be there.” He was right.
On Saturday, as
we marched up to the concentration camp, the imprisoned refugees could hear our
chants and prayers. Then, we stopped and
observed a moment of silence. Suddenly,
we could hear the voices of the parents inside the camp crying out, “Where are
our children? Can you tell us where they
are?” It is one thing to read about the
“immigration issue.” It is quite another
thing to hear the pain in the voices of our sisters and brothers lamenting the
loss of their children. What began as an
interruption in my schedule turned out to be a major disruption of my world. I was undone by their love for their children,
and by my love for them. All I could do
was stand there and weep.
I do not know
what the parents inside were experiencing.
I hope they could feel our love and solidarity with them. I do know that some of them they were doused
with pepper spray by the guards when they tried to call clergy they knew, who
were participating in the protest outside.
I guess the guards didn’t appreciate the interruption. Even so, I hope
the disruption was healing for the terrified parents, reassuring them that they
are not alone.
I do know that
the disruption was an awakening for me.
I have heard the voices of our sisters and brothers, refugees crying out
for their children. I can no longer
ignore their voices. I can no longer be
tempted by the lies that seek to brandish them as criminals. I can no longer accept what is being done in
my name.
Some need to be
healed. Some need to wake up. What is the meaning of the disruption for you?
Pondering this
question reminds me of a story in Mark’s Gospel. Jesus is on his way to heal the daughter of
Jairus, when along comes this unnamed woman, hemorrhaging blood, who interrupts
his journey to call attention to her own need.
She engages Jesus in a stealth healing.
She doesn’t ask for what she needs, she just slips in and touches the
hem of his garment, trusting that Jesus can provide the power she needs – and
he does! For her, this disruption is
healing.
Meanwhile,
Jairus’ daughter appears to have died.
It probably doesn’t feel like a healing disruption to Jairus. Turns out she isn’t dead after all: just
sleeping. Waiting to be awakened. Jesus, seemingly unperturbed, moves on from
the healing to the awakening.
Healing disruptions
can be a personal experience, but there is also a social and political
dimension to such disruptions, and this too is a part of the Gospel story. It is not insignificant that Jairus’ daughter
is twelve years old, and that the anonymous woman with the flow of blood has
been ill for twelve years. The number
twelve signals the twelve tribes of Israel.
The healing and awakening that these two women experience represents
Israel’s healing and awakening. What is at stake
here is the need for the whole people of God to experience a healing disruption.
Jairus is a
leader of the synagogue, a person of social standing and influence. He is
operating from a position of privilege, able to access the resources he needs
for the sake of his daughter. He has
power to speak directly to Jesus and bring him to his home. The unnamed, hemorrhaging woman in the crowd
has no social standing or influence. She
is an outcast, rendered unclean by this continual flow of blood. She is
operating out of desperation – and unshakable faith. In her poverty, she has no home and so she
takes to the streets to find Jesus.
Her interruption
of Jesus and Jairus is a parable about the need for social disruptions –
challenges to the way things are – so that the whole people of God can
experience healing and reconciliation. The
unnamed woman is forced to take to the street to access power, and Jesus shares
his power with her freely. He declares
her interruption justified and commends her initiative as the source of her
healing. She isn’t taking anything that
isn’t already hers. By simply acting on
the reality of her human dignity, she claims a healing that would never have
been necessary if the people of God had not treated her with such contempt and
indifference in the first place.
For people like
Jairus, such disruptions are a scandal and a threat to their privilege. What Jesus tries to convey is that such disruptions
are necessary for healing those who are most in need. Otherwise, they will just continue to be
exploited and ignored. Jairus thinks
this disruption can only mean loss for him – the loss of his daughter. But she is not dead, merely sleeping. This healing disruption is an opportunity for
her – and all who fear the loss of privilege – to wake-up and acknowledge the
genuine need of the poor.
This is a
parable about how disruptions of the status quo are necessary for the healing
and awakening that reconciles and makes whole the entire people of God. It profoundly challenges us to wake-up and
acknowledge that our wholeness is inextricably bound up with the health and
well-being of others. Until power is shared, the people of God cannot be whole.
When people take
to the streets to assert their dignity and claim their power, such actions can
feel like threatening disruptions, but they offer the gift of awakening to
those who are willing to receive it. The
refugees at are border and in our community are disrupting the status quo
because of their need for healing. Those
of us marching at Otay Mesa were disrupted by our encounter with the brutality
of the status quo and are experiencing an awakening.
Some need to be
healed. Some need to wake up. What is the meaning of the disruption for
you?
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