My father was a typical Italian man. He was an opera singer;
he loved fast cars; and, he loved flashy speedboats. Some of my most vivid
childhood memories are of attending the annual car show in New York City where
we would spend hours getting in and out of the flashiest cars on the floor, and
of pounding across Long Island Sound regardless of weather predictions in our
newest Chris Craft motorboat. It was all great fun, very exciting, and not
infrequently a bit terrifying as we tore up and down the Hutchinson River and
Merritt Parkways or raced black clouds that forewarned thunder storms and the
unexpectedly strong currents and rolling waves so typical of Long Island Sound.
But for my father, the speedboat memories were not all good.
In early 1942 it was his flashy speedboat outfitted with a ship to shore radio
that landed him in the prison camp at Ellis Island for three months.
On that grim day in early 1942, the FBI appeared at our Westchester County home and presented my father with an arrest
warrant that named him as a agent for Mussolini, and perhaps Hitler. The agents
claimed that he had been using his ship to shore radio to send messages to the
enemy. Within a few brief moments he was in an FBI manned vehicle and
transported to Ellis Island where he was held in a communal cell, with no
ability to communicate with the outside world for over three months.
His career at an ignominious halt, estranged from family and
friends, and packed into an overcrowded cell with only two open toilets, my
father was trapped in that terrifying no man’s
land of not knowing what his future held.
Still an Italian citizen, he did not know if he would be
allowed to stay in America. He did not know whether if he would ever
see his family again. He did not know whether or not he could survive
the loneliness and the isolation. He was a stranger in a no man’s land. He was in darkness,
and could not find the light.
I tell this story today, World Refugee Sunday, to underscore
the devastating darkness and terror that fills the world of refugees who live
in exile with no assurance that they will ever return home, and the reality
that refugees are not only “over there,” somewhere
else in a far and distant country. Refugees are not only people who speak
different languages or have skin color other than white. Refugees are not
always unknown to us.
Refugees are everywhere. They are even members of our own
families.
Yesterday, refugees and their supporters across the globe
observed the 15th annual World Refugee Day. The United Nations
General Assembly established June 20 as World Refugee Day to recognize and
applaud the
contribution of refugees throughout the world and to raise
awareness about the growing refugee crisis. The numbers are staggering:
There are currently
more than 51.2 million refugees – the largest number since World War II.
In just the past
four years, nearly 4 million Syrians have fled the violence in their country,
finding shelter in neighboring countries including Lebanon, Turkey, Jordan, and
Egypt.
Last
year at the height of the border crisis in the Lower Rio Grande Valley the number of
unaccompanied minors taken into custody by the Border Patrol at the U.S.-Mexico
border reached a peak of 10,622 in June. Apprehensions of family units followed
a similar trajectory, cresting at more than 16,329.
As of August 31, for
the fiscal year that began October 1, 2013, Border Patrol agents had
apprehended 66,127 unaccompanied minors and 66,142 family units, the vast
majority from Honduras, El Salvador, and Guatemala. Compared to the same
11-month period last year, family unit arrivals have surged by 412 percent,
unaccompanied minors arrivals by 88 percent.
These
children, and by now many more, all refugees who fled from the terrorism and
violence of the South American drug cartels, have been resettled throughout
America - some to distant relatives; some to group homes.
Refugees are
everywhere. They are even members of our own communities.
For the past 75 years, the Episcopal Church, working in
collaboration with Episcopal Migration Ministries and its network of affiliate
offices, has helped refugees find safety, security, and hope in the United
States. This weekend, Episcopal churches throughout the United States will hold
events to honor and welcome refugees and to commemorate the thousands of
refugees who were unsuccessful in their attempts to flee the racism, terrorism and
violence of oppressive regimes and the brutal outcome of ethnic cleansing that
continues to be a part of our world order.
All of these events have as an end goal awareness. Awareness
of the darkness that surrounds the life of each and every refugee. Awareness of
the need to bring light into that darkness. Awareness of the reality that in
our various roles as disciples of Christ, and as members of our mother
organization, the Episcopal Church in the United States, we
are called to bring the light of Christ to those in darkness - in this instance
to refugees.
The good news of course is that Christ is always there for us
- all of us - even refugees. Even when we are in the deepest of all darkness -
Christ is there - in us and with us.
In today’s gospel reading,
Jesus encourages his disciples to join
him in a small boat in order to cross the Sea of Galilee. As frequently happens
in that area, a sudden storm brings heavy winds and high seas. In the midst of
the raging storm the fragile boat begins to take on water. The disciples are
terrified but Jesus remains, improbably, peacefully asleep, his head on a
cushion.
The disciples cannot
believe that Jesus is not awakened by the rocking boat and heavy winds. They
cannot believe that in the midst of such imminent peril and chaos Jesus is not
awake and caring for them. With trembling voices the disciples loudly ask, “Teacher, do you not
care that we are perishing?”
I am sure that we all have asked similar questions of God
when the seas of our own lives have become incredibly perilous and chaotic.
When the going gets rough, we all want to know if God really cares - if he is
going to be there for us - or, is he asleep, unaware of our terrifying
situation. How many
times have we silently cried out, “God, please help me
- I am so frightened - so overwhelmed.”
In preaching on this text, Augustine of Hippo challenged his
audience by saying that when we are buffeted by the storms of life, one has to
wake the
Christ within us in order to find peace. Augustine wrote, “A situation arises:
it is the wind. It disturbs you: it is the surging sea. This is the moment to
awaken the Christ within you and let him remind you of these words: “Peace! Be still!” “Why are you afraid?
Have you still no faith?”
Refugees, violently displaced by oppression, terrorism and
extreme violence are caught up in their own very real storm. The darkness of
their storm can be overwhelming; the light of returning home a dim shadow in
the far distance. To quote my father’s deepest despair while interred at Ellis Island, “I no longer felt
human; I was lost and did not know who I was anymore.”
The question for us is how can we be the voices that calm the
storm. How can we awaken the Christ within those who are strangers in a foreign
land; men, women and children without a home; lost in darkness and terrified.
How can we, as individuals, and as a church, bring the Light
of Christ to those who have lost all hope and live in despair. How can we
restore hope and faith to those who have lost all hope - to those who no longer
have any faith.
When my father was finally released from Ellis Island he
believed that his career was over and that his family would probably abandon
him. For several months he continued in depression and despair. It was the love
and encouragement of his friends and colleagues in the music world who restored
his hope and his faith. It was these same friends and colleagues who ensured
that his schedule for the upcoming year was filled with concert dates and opera
performances. Eagerly they reached out to him in friendship, love and
acceptance, and slowly the darkness faded away, leaving plenty of room for
light, and as he often said, “Time to give thanks
to God.”
A place to belong, filled with love and acceptance,
compassion and support - a chance to be human again - that is what we as
disciples of Christ have to offer to not only refugees but also to all who are
in the wildly rocking boat and believe that Jesus is asleep. It is through the
love of Christ offered through us and by us that will awaken the Light of
Christ in others. It is through the love of Christ offered through us and by us
that faith and hope may be restored to those who live in utter despair.
This World Refugee Day, let us remember in prayer all who
flee persecution and suffering in search of security and peace, let us remember
our baptismal promise to strive for justice and peace, and let us reaffirm our
commitment to welcoming the stranger as Christ himself.
Gracious and Loving God, may we recognize that you bind us together in common life. Help us, in the midst of our struggles for justice, truth, and healing to confront the evils of racism, oppression and violence that pervade the United States and the world. AMEN
Bellissimo
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