This past Sunday, when I arrived at El Faro in Playas de Tijuana, my friend and colleague Saul Montiel was all alone on the U.S. side of the fence. The first rains of the year have flooded the vehicle road inside Border Field, which means that people wanting to get to Friendship Park will have to undertake a 30-minute hike. Until the road dries out next spring, only the determined will be able to join us at The Border Church / La Iglesia Fronteriza.
In Tijuana, where I was accompanied by a group of friends, I wondered what we should do. In my tradition the ritual of communion is meant to remind us that that we are receivers, not givers, of God's grace, and so it is somewhat improper for anyone to serve themselves the sacrament. This is why we customarily receive the bread and juice from someone else, rather than "from our own hand." I wondered what Saul would do when it came time for communion.
Our gathering in Tijuana included several children, so I asked them how they thought Saul must feel, and at first the answers came as I expected - "solo" (alone), "triste" (sad), "frio" (cold). Then Darissa, the 8 year-old daughter of Anna who has become an enthusiast of The Border Church, piped up with: "desesparado." The word - which in Spanish captures the meanings of two English words, desparate and hopeless, struck me as entirely apt.
We next turned to a reading from the Bible, and I chose the passage where Jesus compares the Kingdom of God to a mustard seed, "which a man took and planted in his garden. It grew and became a tree, and the birds of the air perched in its branches." (Luke 13:19)
I asked the children if they thought what we were doing was small or big. Small, they all agreed. I asked them if they thought that this meant that it was unimportant. No, they were quick to respond. I agreed and told them: "puede ser que lo que estamos haciendo aqui en la frontera es algo muy chico, pero yo confio que aun de algo chico Dios puede sacar algo muy importante." It may be that what we are doing here on the border is very small, but I believe that even from something small God can create something very important.
By the time we had finished our Bible lesson, our friend Maria Teresa had arrived on the U.S. side of the fence and she had brought with her some new friends who gladly joined in with Saul. While M-T snapped the photos, Saul served - and received - the sacrament.
Afterward, I went walking along the fence with Darissa.
"Que se requeria para tumbar el muro?" Darissa asked me. What do you think it would take to knock down that wall?
"Imagino que uno necesitaria una de esas grandes maquinas," I said. I imagine it would take one of those big machines. (I couldn't conjure the word for "bulldozer.")
"Una excavadora!" Darissa exclaimed.
"Asi es," I said. Yes, that's it, a bulldozer.
Darissa was enthralled with her idea. She continued: "Yo creo que si uno tumbara un solo pedazo, el muro entero tendria que caerse."
I think that if you were able to knock down just one piece, the entire wall would have to fall.
"Estoy de acuerdo," I told Darissa, "porque cada pedazo del muro esta conectado con otro pedazo."
I agree ... because each piece of the wall is connected to another piece.
Darissa thought about this for a moment, and then concluded: "Puede ser que se requerria una de esas maquinas con la gran bola."
I laughed because this time she couldn't find the right word in Spanish. I knew exactly what she was talking about, though. She was talking about one of those machines with a big ball ... a wrecking ball.
I do not believe Darissa will ever forget this visit to Friendship Park. And I do not think she will ever stop wondering, "what would be required to knock down that wall."
For my part, I know I will not forget it, and three days later I think I know the answer to Darissa's question. What will it take to knock down the wall that now stands between Mexico and the United States? What it will take, I believe, is a generation of bulldozers and wrecking balls. And when that generation comes it won't surprise me in the slightest if some of them will be wearing pink ribbons in their hair.
O God, you once told your puzzled followers that the Kingdom of God was like a mustard seed. And when they didn't understand, you told them that to enter the Kingdom they would have to become as little children. So this day I give you thanks and praise and honor and glory for Darissa, and I pray that you would take her vision and plant it in the souls of those who sit in high places. Amen.
In Tijuana, where I was accompanied by a group of friends, I wondered what we should do. In my tradition the ritual of communion is meant to remind us that that we are receivers, not givers, of God's grace, and so it is somewhat improper for anyone to serve themselves the sacrament. This is why we customarily receive the bread and juice from someone else, rather than "from our own hand." I wondered what Saul would do when it came time for communion.
Our gathering in Tijuana included several children, so I asked them how they thought Saul must feel, and at first the answers came as I expected - "solo" (alone), "triste" (sad), "frio" (cold). Then Darissa, the 8 year-old daughter of Anna who has become an enthusiast of The Border Church, piped up with: "desesparado." The word - which in Spanish captures the meanings of two English words, desparate and hopeless, struck me as entirely apt.
I asked the children if they thought what we were doing was small or big. Small, they all agreed. I asked them if they thought that this meant that it was unimportant. No, they were quick to respond. I agreed and told them: "puede ser que lo que estamos haciendo aqui en la frontera es algo muy chico, pero yo confio que aun de algo chico Dios puede sacar algo muy importante." It may be that what we are doing here on the border is very small, but I believe that even from something small God can create something very important.
By the time we had finished our Bible lesson, our friend Maria Teresa had arrived on the U.S. side of the fence and she had brought with her some new friends who gladly joined in with Saul. While M-T snapped the photos, Saul served - and received - the sacrament. Afterward, I went walking along the fence with Darissa.
"Que se requeria para tumbar el muro?" Darissa asked me. What do you think it would take to knock down that wall?
"Imagino que uno necesitaria una de esas grandes maquinas," I said. I imagine it would take one of those big machines. (I couldn't conjure the word for "bulldozer.")
"Una excavadora!" Darissa exclaimed.
"Asi es," I said. Yes, that's it, a bulldozer.
Darissa was enthralled with her idea. She continued: "Yo creo que si uno tumbara un solo pedazo, el muro entero tendria que caerse."
I think that if you were able to knock down just one piece, the entire wall would have to fall.
"Estoy de acuerdo," I told Darissa, "porque cada pedazo del muro esta conectado con otro pedazo."
I agree ... because each piece of the wall is connected to another piece.
Darissa thought about this for a moment, and then concluded: "Puede ser que se requerria una de esas maquinas con la gran bola."
I laughed because this time she couldn't find the right word in Spanish. I knew exactly what she was talking about, though. She was talking about one of those machines with a big ball ... a wrecking ball.
I do not believe Darissa will ever forget this visit to Friendship Park. And I do not think she will ever stop wondering, "what would be required to knock down that wall."
For my part, I know I will not forget it, and three days later I think I know the answer to Darissa's question. What will it take to knock down the wall that now stands between Mexico and the United States? What it will take, I believe, is a generation of bulldozers and wrecking balls. And when that generation comes it won't surprise me in the slightest if some of them will be wearing pink ribbons in their hair.
O God, you once told your puzzled followers that the Kingdom of God was like a mustard seed. And when they didn't understand, you told them that to enter the Kingdom they would have to become as little children. So this day I give you thanks and praise and honor and glory for Darissa, and I pray that you would take her vision and plant it in the souls of those who sit in high places. Amen.
Comments
Post a Comment