Do you realize you’ve just politicized your faith? Jason’s question struck me as it made profound sense. Of course I knew that taking communion from a Mexican brother through the border fence between California and Mexico was a customs violation and I was therefore breaking the law. I just hadn’t connected the fact that my decision to commit an act of civil disobedience by taking part in a religious tradition was therefore also a political act of faith.
I joined my friend and Pacific Southwest Mennonite Conference colleague Jason Evans and other members of the Ecclesia Collective in San Diego’s Friendship Park that bright Sunday afternoon on World Communion Day knowing that I’d be breaking a law. Why? The righteous answer is that I did it because I was seeking to bring exposing light to the dark and increasing injustices of our country’s immigration policies. The personal answer is that I did it for my friends here in Philadelphia who struggle with immigration issues everyday, adding stress and fear to already busy lives.
If I’m truthful I knew what I was going to do long before I stepped foot in San Diego earlier that week. In my search for cheap travel reading I raided the magazine racks at the Conference Center and happened across Christian Century’s October 8th issue. This issue just so happened to include an article written by Pastor John Fanestil, the man officiating communion services at Friendship Park for several months. As I read his article on my way to California goosebumps ran down my arms. Suddenly what I would be doing on Sunday became very real and I was aware that if the Border Patrol so chose, I could be arrested for taking communion through the fence. In an instant Jennifer Knapp’s simple version of the Lord’s Prayer, entitled “Hallowed” which we sang this year at Franconia Conference Assembly, played in my head and I was calm.
In actuality the risk of arrest was slim to none. The Border Patrol stayed a good 50 yards back from the crowd of around 100 people participating in the sacrament and did not disturb us even once. Even the forceful group of Minutemen, who had harassed participants in weeks before, stayed away on World Communion Day.
So why bother with such a small act in the face of such an insurmountable giant? Pastor Fanestil began his vigil soon after he learned that despite public protest Friendship Park will be shut down for public access in the near future. In place of the chain link fence, which replaced a mere chain in the 70s, three wall-like fences, with service roads in between, will be erected. No longer will people be able to visit family and friends through the fence, no longer will global Christians be able to face each other across the border and break bread together.
Jason helped officiate this service because he wishes to expose the racism that is inherent in immigration restrictions and anti-immigrant attitudes. In his blog response to the World Communion Day service, entitled The Body, The Blood, The Border, Jason revealed a more personal encounter with the racism embedded in the anti-immigrant attitudes that he grew up with. He looks back at his own beliefs and actions towards the Hispanic migrant farmers who lived nearby with dismay.
A June article in Sojourners magazine about young American Christians finding their own way in expressing their faith happened to address the issue of racism in immigration policy. The article’s author, Amy Green, followed Rusty Poulette, program director at Gainesville, Florida’s Presbyterian and Disciples of Christ Student Center, as he met with his church in a pub, over dinner and during a Sunday evening contemplative service. One of those meetings the group discussed a recent trip to Arizona where they engaged an ecumenical group of ministry leaders working to address immigration issues. “Those who participated in the trip,” reported Green, “compared the outreach [to immigrants] to the illegal but moral service Christians provided to African Americans in the late 1800s as they fled slavery through the underground railroad.”
Our Mennonite forefathers and mothers spoke against slavery when they first arrived here in the US some 300 years ago and later on there were many Mennonites who participated in the underground railroad. They committed illegal acts, some as small as helping one person find freedom, against the giant of slavery because they believed they were doing the right and faithful thing. In the Parable of the Yeast Christ tells us that the kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman works though a large amount of dough until it has permeated the whole batch. I committed the small act of accepting communion through the border fence because I believe in the yeast like power of the kingdom of heaven to spread though one voice, one action, one life committed to faithfully follow Jesus Christ.
The opinions expressed in articles posted on Mosaic’s website are those of the author and may not reflect the official policy of Mosaic Conference. Mosaic is a large conference, crossing ethnicities, geographies, generations, theologies, and politics. Each person can only speak for themselves; no one can represent “the conference.” May God give us the grace to hear what the Spirit is speaking to us through people with whom we disagree and the humility and courage to love one another even when those disagreements can’t be bridged.
Forrest Moyer says
Thanks, Jess!
Blaine says
I think you have interpreted (mind & action) the parable correctly!
Phil says
Thanks for these reflections. I’d love to see more Mennonites understand the inherently political implications of our worship.
One point of historical correction (since I arrived here searching for info on Mennonites and the Underground Railroad): Mennonites as a group were neither particularly vocal against slavery “when they arrived”, or especially involved in the UGRR. The 1688 Germantown statement against slavery that many Mennonites claim was actually signed by 4 Quakers (some of whom had previous Mennonite connections, but were not themselves Mennonite at the time) and it was written to a Quaker body. And, while a number of Mennonites made risky choices supporting the UGRR (to the extent of heavy fines and imprisonment), it is more accurate to describe them as “a few” than “many.”