Last Saturday a group of us gathered for a workshop on
immigration. In putting together this
workshop I was reminded of the vast amount of statistical data, research,
legislation, and history that exists concerning the topic of immigration in the
U.S.
There is estimated to
be 12 million undocumented immigrants in the States. I say estimated because if a person is
residing here without documentation of citizenship, he or she is not going to
raise their hand to be counted in a census.
Two to three million of the undocumented are children. A great number have been in the U.S. for more
than five years. In fact, there are
children who have never known any home other than the U.S.
Statistics are
necessary to understanding the breadth, depth, and manner of an issue but
numbers don’t wear a face. Numbers do not
tell of joy or suffering and it is people with their unique experiences and
stories that touch the heart and remind us of what it means to be human. The goal of this workshop was to give voice
to those stories and to gain a more intimate understanding of the human aspect
of the immigration issue.
Fourteen people came together to tell their stories: recent
immigrants with personal experience and a few whose immigration stories go back
to the 18th or 19th century. Several countries were represented in our
group: El Salvador, Nigeria, Ethiopia, India, China, Nicaragua, the Philippine Islands,
Italy, Germany and Ireland. We heard
stories of fleeing from war and poverty and of the adversities and sorrows of
having to leave one’s homeland in search of a better future for one’s
family.
We began by discussing the impact of using the term “illegal”
versus “undocumented.” It is easy to
forget that words have power to injure, to heal, to shape opinion and even
behavior. If I am referred to by
legislation, popular opinion and by the media as an “illegal” does mean I am actually
a criminal? If I am in this country out
of desperation to save my children from dying of malnutrition, should I be detained
and deported? Does the label of criminal
shape how the other members of society view me?
Would that label shape the way I in turn view the community around
me?
An old phrase that gets tossed around is “The
American Dream,” the definition of which means different things to different
people. To the recently immigrated definitions
like “unity”, “acceptance”, “community”, and “equal opportunity” were
voiced. Those intangible concepts were
not part of my understanding of the term growing up during the early 1960s in
California. That phrase calls to my mind
“a chicken in every pot and 2 cars in every garage”, automated appliances,
swimming pools, a 5,000 square foot house, summer vacations, boats and a perfectly
manicured lawn. I have seen both
definitions expressed in our country, in pockets, but not on a wide scale and I
wonder if my definition of the term sets a bar that few, particularly
immigrants, will ever realize. Furthermore,
should it be realized? Is achievement of
this understanding of the American Dream really bringing anyone true
happiness? The consensus in the group was
that the American Dream is just that, a dream and was not rooted in reality in
the 50s and 60s nor is it now.
Discussion also included feelings of being welcomed by
neighbors and new friends upon arrival in the U.S. as well as feelings of being
unwanted. In examining pictures from
Ellis Island early in the 20th century, we reviewed stories of our grandparents
who were forced to adopt a new culture, a new language, and sometimes even a
new name in order to find work and support the family. Just because generations before us suffered,
do we need to make future generations follow in their footsteps?
A gentleman from El Salvador fled the civil war and poverty
to come to the U.S. as a refugee and has encountered the same poverty here. He spends his days working several jobs and
also helps other immigrants to become assimilated to the culture and way of
life in the U.S. He struggles like
generations of immigrants have. As a
society that wishes to advance, don’t we have an obligation to work to lessen
the sufferings of future generations?
From a faith and social perspective the issue of immigration
in the U.S. is not black and white. We
struggled with our responsibilities as Christians to follow God’s law (one of love
and acceptance) with our responsibilities as citizens to obey the law of the
land. Several scripture passages from
the Hebrew Scriptures, the Christian Scriptures, and the Quran were examined that
reveal God encourages us to welcome the stranger, for to do so “some have
entertained angels.” Since the beginning
of time, humans have migrated around the world; it is part of the human
experience. Where does our
responsibility lie in cases where the law of the land conflicts with the law of
God?
Recognizing our desire
to be as one with each other and with the stranger, we created a representation
of interconnectedness with symbols on the floor of our work space. Sometimes it’s easier to say things with
symbols than with words. Participants
chose flags, pictures, wrote family names on cards to represent their
particular heritage, history, and family experience and placed them on a cloth
with a globe in the center. We left the
workshop with a new motivation to express a spirit of welcoming to whomever we
should encounter and to speak up when we witness oppression and injustice. This is what God has called us not only to do
but to be: God’s feet and hands and love in our world.
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