A good Good Friday

On Good Friday I found myself tearing up as I walked, among a crowd, up Tremont st. behind a giant cross, singing songs of faith & love.

An hour earlier I had arrived, late – thanks, Green Line – to join the service, hundreds already there, much more punctual than me. It was a collaborative event convened by faith-based organizations and several churches. They called it: Good Friday Public Worship & Action for Immigration Justice, Solidarity is Sacred. And it was all of that. There were readings and words of hope and inspiration as we considered the stations of the cross. There were songs of justice and solidarity. There was joy and urgency. It began in front of the JFK Federal Building where UCSIS and ICE ply their trade and ended, after the aforementioned walk up Tremont St, in front of the statehouse.

Quick aside: my familiarity with the JFK Federal building goes back to my days as an immigration attorney and most of my memories within are good. The majority of the time when I found myself at JFK I was accompanying clients for an interview which was the last step in obtaining permanent residency (getting a “green card”). As immigration policy has become more racist, cruel, arbitrary and authoritarian I wonder what it is like in those tiny cubicles where we used to sit across from various immigration officials leafing through a large file and asking questions with differing levels of interest, compassion and investment. Or in the waiting rooms where families sat nervously waiting to be called or the hallways where building security, ICE officials, immigrants, lawyers and translators mingled about.

I thought about this, about my time inside the building and what might be happening in there lately, as I listened to the Bible verses and words of wisdom and inspiration from different speakers claiming our faith’s commitment to the oppressed and our call to stand with the suffering.

We held signs that declared and demanded:

End State Violence

Dignity Not Deportation

Love Our Neighbor

God Will Make a Way From No Way

The sign I chose:

As I walked among this crowd of witnesses declaring with our voices and our bodies that we were present with love and hope I saw people on the sidewalks watching us - it is no wonder we were in the middle of the road, 300 strong, walking behind a giant cross waving signs and chanting/singing as we went. But it was here when I saw people begin to stop and watch that the tears sprang to my eyes.

Perhaps it is unfair but if I was out and about and I saw a large procession following a giant cross my first assumption about the people and the reason they gathered might not be kind or charitable. I would wonder, before I could resist that first thought, what or who they were condemning, I would cringe in fearful anticipation before leaning in to hear the song they sung or see the words on their signs.

Knowing that along the sidewalks the people who saw us were reading signs and hearing songs of love, of hope and of solidarity I felt closer to God and a deeper connection to my faith than I had in some time. My brokenness was being stitched together by the sometimes off-key voices chanting love and togetherness, by the steady march of so many fellow followers of Jesus giving presence and voice to his call to love our neighbors.

For anyone who is paying attention this is a hard moment to be living through. The cruelty, injustice and disdain for human dignity and well-being are overwhelming. I doubt even those of us who have been screaming warnings as loud and as often as we could manage these past 10 years imagined this reality.

But I am once again reminded that I am part of a faith tradition that demands I stand in the gap for those being oppressed, being marginalized, being persecuted. And there are many who share my faith that have done just that throughout history and are doing just that today. Not only in this important moment of Good Friday, but every day and in so many ways.

I am thankful for this reminder of what Jesus asks of us (love) and who he would have us stand for and with (the “least of these”).