Everything and Nothing Has Changed

Reflecting from the Border on Christian Discipleship a Week After Jan. 20th

On Saturday the 18th the migrant shelter where I work had 50 people at dinner; a week later it had half that number. When the CBP One program – the avenue to legally welcome asylum seekers – was terminated within minutes of the new president taking office, the numbers at the shelter plummeted. Over the next few days, given all the executive orders about immigration that followed, part of me was surprised that by Saturday the 25th the shelter still had any guests at all.

That night, when I asked the nun on the overnight shift - wiser in politics and far more proficient in Spanish - why the government was still releasing migrants to our shelters, she explained that the migrants in the shelter that night had mostly been apprehended crossing the border weeks earlier. They had been in ICE detention centers ever since but were now being released in order to make space for the upcoming round up of deportees from the interior of the country. She went on to say that the folks with us that night might also eventually get deported, but not yet; without criminal accusations against them they weren’t the target, for now.

It feels like everything changed last week. It’s also true that nothing changed.

I remember asking a wise elder and Christian meditation teacher after the 2016 election, “Why aren’t you talking about Trump? Why aren’t you talking about climate change? How can you only write and talk about Christian prayer and practice?” She answered, “No matter what’s happening, the directions are the same – surrender, let go.” She’s as right today as she was almost a decade ago: the acts of mercy haven’t changed; the creeds haven’t changed; the Bible hasn’t changed; the hymns haven’t changed; Jesus and the saints are no less present; the plea of Christians across the world hasn’t changed, “Thy will (not mine) be done.”

Another thing that hasn’t changed is what we promise to do as Christians. Our job isn’t to restore democracy or topple authoritarians. Our job, as vowed at baptism, is to: 1) continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers; 2) persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord; 3) proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ; 4) seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself; 5) strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being. Pick your favorite word or phrase for our new politics - oligarchy, authoritarianism, plutocracy, “court politics” - it doesn’t change our vows.

And yet, and yet, Christian theology and practice evolves and adapts. We don’t spend as much time talking about circumcision as Jesus’ followers did in the first century. Hairshirts are less popular for doing penance than they were 500 years ago. It’s harder to find a folk mass now than it was in the 60’s, or a U2charist than it was twenty years ago. And so I can’t help but think that after last week’s tectonic political change that our theology and practice must adapt to the new era. How? I’ll elaborate on this in the coming weeks. My thoughts are too feisty and grandiose for me to fully trust them today.

For now, more than any answers I can trust the importance of two questions. The Rev. Dr. Alexia Salvatierra told me earlier in the month regarding organizing faith-based efforts for immigrant rights, “It’s not a DIY project.” So if you’re wondering right now, “How do I respond to all the political changes as a Christian?” I encourage you to ask instead, “Whom do I join?” Alexia lists a number of groups in the interview. A second question I invite you to consider arose for me as I was editing my recent interview with the Rev. Dr. Michael Woolf, a pastor of a current sanctuary church and theologian. Talking about Nazi Germany Michael said, “God was small and weak because God had no friends. So how do you become friends of God?” What does it mean for you in this new moment to be a friend of God’s? And if God always has a special friendship with the poor and persecuted, how are you called to be a friend to God’s friends?