Text of Reflection and Prayer
Good evening, Brookfield! We’re gathered tonight from many
different faith traditions and from no faith tradition, and I want to respect
that. I speak from a tradition, progressive Christianity, that respects other
traditions, and tries to appreciate their teachings without appropriation.
Please forgive me if I step over that line tonight—it is unintended, and I
welcome education.
This is a vigil for the children separated from their parents as
they crossed the border, as they entered this country. Children—infants to
teenagers—taken from their parents, from the only caretakers they knew, without
explanation, many of the children unable to speak in any language, handed over
to for-profit child care providers who were not properly screened. The result has
been children who are traumatized—no longer bonded to their parents when they
are reunited, who do not recognize or trust their parents, who have been
abused, medicated to keep them docile or quiet, shipped to other parts of the
country, inadequate records kept, in effect lost in the system—by an
administration that thought no-one would notice, no-one would care. We noticed,
we care.
In both Christian and Jewish tradition, the Divine is often seen
as a loving parent—“You are my child, today, today I have begotten you.” Israel
is the Holy One’s child—“Like a child on leading strings, I led you.”
In the Christian writings, in the Gospels, children appear
frequently as symbols of innocence—“if someone should lead these children
astray, it would be better for them that they have a millstone tied around
their neck and they be drowned in the sea.” “Let the children come to me,”
Jesus said. “Who would give their child a serpent when he asks for fish?”
And there is no greater mourning than that of a mother for her
children. The prophet Jeremiah says:: "A voice is heard in Ramah, mourning
and great weeping, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be
comforted, because they are no more."
This is the voice of our immigrant sisters, weeping for their children—they
do not know where to find them; they have been taken from them. We, who are the
privileged ones who live here, this is our cause—to insist that our elected
leaders in Congress and the administration find those children, return them to
their rightful parents, help them heal—they will never be the same, but help
them—and change this hateful, evil policy—remove it from our land. This is what
justice demands.
All spiritual paths that I have studied, all moral systems I have
read of, have one tenet in common. “Do to others what you would want done to
you.” Whether you follow a spiritual path or not, we can all agree on this. And
we would want our children kept with us.
My friends and neighbors, do not tire of this work, this
struggle, this fight. We remember, we work, for these children, to return them
to the place they belong—with their families, where they belong. I’d like to
offer a moment of prayer to strengthen and encourage us in this work, in this
struggle.
Holy One, Creator of the Universe, Allah, You Who Are,
Grandfather; Higher Power; we have gathered today to remember these children
and families and to gather courage and strength from those memories. Give us
wisdom and teach us your ways; may we speak truth to power, demanding answers and
justice for these children. Do not let us weaken or give up out of frustration
or weariness; remind us of your love for us, like a parent for a child, and
that as we are never abandoned by you, we cannot allow this administration, or
any human power to abandon these children either. Grant us an open heart to
love and strong shoulders to bear any burdens, until the day comes when all the
children are home with their families and justice is served upon those who
separated them, and the policies are changed, so that no more children will
suffer as these have suffered. May it be so, may it be so, may it be so. Amen.
