If only I had wings like a dove that I might fly away and find rest. / Far away I would flee; I would stay in the desert./I would soon find a shelter from the raging wind and storm.
Psalm 55:7-9
Pandemics remind us that borders mean nothing. There is no policy, no wall, no border patrol that can keep this virus from crossing human-made boundaries. It lands where it will, teaching us the folly of separation, even as we practice social isolation. It is teaching us that we are indeed one, united in our humanity and shared suffering, despite the mad ramblings of a president who feeds his base an endless stream of scapegoats to satiate their hunger for security and vengeance. This week it’s the Chinese.
Water reminds us that borders mean nothing. There is nothing that can stop the wild defiance of Sister Water who flows where she will, inviting us to laugh at the absurdity of human control. She boldly reminds us that she cannot be tamed or restrained. She circumvents borders and laughs at boundaries. She moves with an awesome wisdom that demands our deference.
The Spirit reminds us that borders mean nothing in the eyes of the Divine. Ours is a God who dwells in a makeshift tent in the shadow of a Juarez bridge alongside mothers and children waiting for asylum. A terrified God who huddles in hiding under this administration’s cruel Remain in Mexico policy that invites predators of all stripes to exploit migrants who are sometimes deported to their deaths within hours. A detained and traumatized God swaddled in a silver mylar blanket who dreams of having wings like a dove in order to fly away and find rest and shelter in a place without borders.
Were you there when they bordered off their hearts?
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Rescue me, Lord, from evildoers; protect me from the violent, who devise evil plans in their hearts and stir up war every day.
Psalm 140:1-2
They are children of all ages weighed down by backpacks and carrying stuffed animals. They are scared mothers, wearied fathers, families clinging to one another at the border where they place their trust in God and the U.S. immigration system. Like the persistent widow in scripture who cries for justice day and night, they have gone to remarkable, desperate, courageous lengths to seek asylum.
Most come from Honduras, Guatemala, El Salvador, and Mexico, but there are others, too. They come from Haiti, Cameroon, and over 30 other countries. Some have traveled on foot, others by bus, some arrive alone, while others travel in caravans designed to ensure safety from criminal gangs, human traffickers, corrupt law enforcement, and others who prey upon and profit from those who are most vulnerable. They are tired and traumatized. The President has vilified them as criminals, rapists, animals, and scammers who “look like they should be fighting for the Ultimate Fighting Championship.”
They are, in fact, war refugees, the so-called “collateral damage” that has resulted from U.S. meddling and arms dealing and military intervention over a long span of history.
What is going on at the U.S.-Mexico border, and at other borders around the world, is nothing less than the vicious hawks of militarism coming home to roost in ways that are heartless and inhumane. A history of iron-fisted imperialism that is reflected in the faces of those who stand in the shadow of barbed wire and borders, detention centers and even death as they choke on the rotten fruit of war that has caused them to flee. The gang violence that has driven so many from their homes in the Northern Triangle is also a by-product of war.
The trauma touches everyone.
The border is the place where the bloody dots of colonialism, economic exploitation, environmental destruction of indigenous land, racism, and weapons connect. Whether it’s the overthrow of a democratically elected president or an orchestrated coup or training in torture at WHINSEC, the School of Assassins formerly known as the School of the Americas, it all comes down to the use of weapons to keep wealth and power in the hands of the few.
The border is where we meet Christ crucified by the gods of greed and war.
Were you there when their weapons drove you out?
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For he himself is our peace, who has made the two groups one
and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility.
Ephesians 2:14
Borders and barbed wire. Separation fences. Spotlights. Guards and guns.
And always the walls.
Walls divide humanity, creating the illusion of “other” who then becomes objectified into “enemy.” Walls are always built on a foundation of fear. They serve as monuments to the idols of nationalism, racism, militarism. They say something profound about the human heart.
The old, corrugated walls that separate the U.S. from Mexico still stand but now there are new walls that more accurately reflect this political moment. Towering, slotted rust-iron walls separated from large concrete walls topped with concertina wire by a paved “no man’s land” where Border Control and contractors come and go. This means no more kisses, smiles, or communion passed between people who belong together.
Then there is the bizarre “showcase” of wall prototypes on the border set down with precision like a surreal set in a dystopian film. The cost of each of the eight prototypes ranged from $300, 000 – $500, 000. This is the site where Donald Trump staged a speech a few months ago. Now the prototypes are being destroyed.
A few miles away families, driven by the violence of poverty and war, arrive at the border and run into the wall of cruelty called the U.S. immigration system. They will be criminalized and treated like animals for fleeing the conditions that have, in many cases, been caused by U.S. foreign policy. One wonders what it would take to destroy this wall and replace it with prototypes of compassion and justice.
So much separation . . . so many walls.
Serpentine walls that snake over lush green hills of Palestine and towering walls that rub up against busy, congested highways in Tijuana.
Along the U.S. – Mexico border, the wall reaches out into the ocean like a finger pointing toward freedom. A place where ocean waves roll out and in whispering a mantra that echoes all the way from Mexico to Palestine to the shameful Eight Mile Wall here in Detroit and, finally, to the most faraway place of all – the human heart: These walls must fall! These walls must fall! These walls must fall!
Were you there when they built their walls of fear?
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