draconian laws make a comeback...

“Happy the eyes that can close.”

These are the ending words of the last sentence of the first chapter of Cry, The Beloved Country. I have had this book on my shelf for some time- last summer actually, and am just now at a place where I think I am capable of reading about this land of Africa. The book is set in late 40’s early 50’s South Africa. It follows a priest on his journey, leaving behind his wife, in search of a wayward sister, brother and son. That is as far as I have gone…so far.

What struck me last night, reading in my favorite chair (a gift from one of my favorite former housemates who lives in Wisconsin…yay CW) was I don’t know how well I have slept in the last couple of days…two weeks really. I am uncertain of my own role is to play in the racist law recently passed in Arizona, but I know that I am disturbed. I am disturbed because I think of the men that I was working with in Phoenix two summers ago, the kids I was playing with, my friend who I went on a lark with to Mexico for a fantastic one day trip. All the raspados I had that summer…There were so many phenomenal points in which I was challenged as a person who lives with others in a global community.

I think one of the more disturbing trends is that I am unclear how people who don’t see immigration through the same lens that I do are able to justify their position with their faith…how is that reconcilable. (Please let me be clear- I am not asking for these positions to be made clear on this blog!)

I wonder how many people are not sleeping in Arizona. Is the Governor? Is the Sherriff of Maricopa County- America’s self-appointed toughest sherriff? How many children are afraid to sleep at night? How many children are afraid to wake up because it could be the day that their parents are taken away…or their sibling…or their grandparents… or neighbors…

Maybe, if I were writing, I would say, “Happy the eyes that can close with peaceful rest.”

Musings....

“Truly great people have never had much peace of mind, for they were too aware of their own inner conflicts, of the pain and suffering around them, and of their own calling to a life of struggle.” ~John Sanford

A friend sent me this quote recently. I had been discussing the merits of my job. *Disclaimer- I love my job, what I do, etc…I do struggle though with my job as vocation- since I thought I primarily had been in ministry, I thought there might be a more direct ministerial link…

There are some dynamic words at play in this quote that continue to engage me: peace, aware, pain, calling, life and struggle. At different points in my own life I have been all of these words, imagined them in my own reality and put them to work in my life. But what do they mean for personal identity and reality of a life lived aware of vocation, calling, discernment? I think that , before anything else can be laid down, it should be understood that all these words will mean different things to different people. Again, I believe as previously stated, that this is one facet of the beauty of Catholicism. We don’t have to make a point to fit everything into little boxes, neatly organized. Instead we can relish our time in the chaos. As a Catholic woman, that is where I find myself anyways. As a professor of note would remind a class gathered everyday- chaos is where creativity lives and God makes beauty from chaos- just look at the world.

I have been spending an inordinate amount of time focused on the word of struggle lately…

Since my last entry Arizona passed one of the most disastrous laws which will affect the way America deals with immigration. As a country founded around the idea that all people seeking refuge from oppression should be able to find a place in the US- Arizona has just changed the way it can/could ever be perceived in the US, in the world. There are many stories of men and women who are staging their own protest of a law that legalizes racial profiling.

I don’t pretend to know what it is like to be an immigrant, the challenges, the scared reality of moving away from all that I could know, people that I know and living in a new country. What is worse then moving to a country where a number of people (lawmakers) have made it clear that I am not welcome? I find though that my response is tied fundamentally to my identity as a Catholic woman. It is my responsibility to continue to speak with those who are not being welcomed.

Are we not all born of immigrants? How is this discrimination different from the profiling of past times in US history when the Irish were targeted? Or the Poles? Really, every single ethnic group has been targeted- the fears are all the same. People cry out that the immigrants are going to ruin the country, they are going to eat up too much of our tax dollars, they won’t learn the language…Yet, the reality is that English is still the national language even if we are showing respect to those who move to the country and need help with translation (see the ad by an Alabama gubernatorial candidate- icky!).

My grandpa and I were having a conversation about this about a year and a half ago. My parting comment was, “Well, I guess then that it was a good thing that Mary, Joseph and Jesus had all their papers in order when they went to Egypt to flee oppression.”