TIO OP-ED
Lessons from Minneapolis: The Grace of Advocacy and Protest
by Rev. Justin Almeida
This last week I participated in the call by MARCH (Multifaith Antiracism Change & Health) for clergy around the United States to gather in support of the “ICE Out of Minnesota: Day of Truth and Freedom.”
A day of advocacy and public protest organized by over 100 groups across the Twin Cities in response to the escalating cruelty and violence perpetrated by ICE and Border Patrol agents. On January 23rd more than 600 clergy from across the country converged on Minneapolis to provide witness and care. Rabbis, Imams, Priests, Buddhists, Unitarian Universalists and others braved, along with tens of thousands of our Minnesota siblings, dangerously freezing temperatures (wind chill as low as -30F) to work in solidarity telling the Trump Administration that terror will not be tolerated any longer.
I am a Seattle-based Unitarian Universalist minister and board certified hospital chaplain. The theological basis for my answering this call was rooted in many spiritual traditions: the Buddhist desire for the relief of suffering. The Jewish prophetic words of Micah “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” The historical words of Unitarian minister Theodore Parker “the arc of the moral universe bends toward justice.” So many of our human religions have at their core a belief in doing unto others what I would have done to me.
My role was to provide spiritual care and support for activists and protesters. Gathering in Westminster Presbyterian Church we clergy learned from the Minneapolis community about their experience. Immigrants and neighbors being abducted and flown away. Families torn apart. Indigenous Americans and US citizens being detained and murdered. The reality being that no one; man or woman, queer or straight, immigrant or citizen, was safe. And that these agencies work above and outside the law with impunity. Which is morally and spiritually repugnant.
What I also experienced was an outpouring of charity, grace, and love of neighbor. The overarching theme was unity across diversity. Leaders, regardless of background and ideology and theology, were adamant that there was no purity test for solidarity. Only that we commit to one another. And that was realized in the sanctuary and in the streets. Minnesota became a shining beacon of what true ecumenical and interreligious cooperation looks like on the front lines of resistance to evil. The active call to dismiss dogma in light of a deeper spiritual truth that “we are all creations of God with inherent worth and dignity.”
An action I participated in was support for the immigrant church of Dios Habla Hoy. This was on the same day when 100 of my clergy siblings were arrested for protesting the role Minneapolis-Saint Paul International Airport plays in assisting ICE in flying detainees out of Minnesota. Dios Habla Hoy had been transformed from a non-denominational evangelical church into a food and support hub for the community. Pastor Sergio Amezcua, an immigrant from Mazatlán Mexico (where my grandfather was born), had seen his congregants disappear one by one. People in his community became afraid to go to the grocery store. Terrified to go to work. The church even caring for an infant because their parents had been taken with only the child left behind.
People began calling the church in search of food and resources because Dios Habla Hoy’s faith in action was to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and welcome the alien. In response, Amezcua reached out to other communities to meet the need. Soon hundreds and then thousands of pounds of food and resources began to arrive. The church organized drivers for delivery since people were afraid to leave their homes. They trained volunteers and drivers on how to spot and respond to armed enforcers. After weeks things began to slow down. And then Rene Good was murdered.
Once again there was a surge in donations and volunteers surpassing what came before. When my group of 25 clergy arrived in the morning of January 23rd, before the march, people were already packing boxes. We met with the community; heard their voices and their pain; and joined them for hours in moving over 10,000 pounds of food from the church into the community. We sang songs of liberation while we worked. We experienced common-union as we learned where we were from. My co-worker in building cardboard boxes was a UCC minister from Chicago. The minister next to me sorting diapers was a Lutheran priest from Florida. The Rabbi filling the boxes with rice and beans was from Maine. All while more than 100 other volunteers from the Minneapolis community showed up to take our places; as young as 14 and from as far away as India.
Later at the “ICE OUT” march from The Commons to the Target Center, a rainbow of stoles were scattered throughout the crowded streets. I’ve never experienced ice form on my eyelashes before, or feel my fingers and toes burn with cold. One after another people saw my yellow “Side With Love” stole and asked what church I was with. When I told them I was a UU hospital chaplain from Seattle, every single one broke into tears, thanking me for being there with them. One Minnesotan handing out hand-warmers was a fellow hospital chaplain. She gave me perhaps the strongest embrace I’ve ever felt while asking me to bring the story of Minneapolis back to Seattle. “Don’t forget that we are not alone!”
Along the route, businesses opened their doors to provide warmth. Individuals in trucks handed out Gatorade and water. A Somali family had made hundreds of sambuusa, piping hot from their restaurant, yelling out “THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! WE ARE WITH YOU! YOU ARE WITH US!” One sign in front of me read: “In Minnesota, we love snow, and we hate ICE!” A fellow protestor told me that in Minnesota, the phrase “ice out” is common in the springtime when the ice over the lakes melts and breaks apart, which signals the hope for the transformation of Spring and warmer, better days ahead.
I didn’t know this when I boarded my plane on the morning of January 24th, but Alex Pretti was murdered 8 minutes away from where I was staying and an hour after I left my room. When I landed in Seattle my phone blew up with the news of his death. Colleagues still on the ground immediately organizing in response. Minneapolis staying resilient and strong. I believe what I experienced in Minnesota was similar to what I experienced at Standing Rock in 2016 – our ancestors calling from creation to honor their lives by marching not against our siblings, but to remind them of our shared humanity.
That afternoon in solidarity with my colleagues and the community I had left only hours before, I and another UU chaplain who had joined me in Minneapolis led a prayer vigil in the Colombia City neighborhood. And we prayed; we cried; we said their names: Rene Good. Alex Pretti. And committed to one another to show up for our neighbors and community. Just like Minneapolis has shown.
Three lessons I bring back from the Land of a Thousand Lakes are these:
1: We need every single person in this. Which means we have an obligation to make sure we are engaging in care for ourselves in a way that allows up to show up when we need to. This means sleeping, eating, meaningful relationships, activities of joy and meaning, stress reduction, therapy, however we need. In the Abrahamic scriptures, even God rests – and so does creation.
2: Everybody has something to contribute. It doesn't have to be large. It does have to be intentional. As we're able, learn about what is going on. Connect with organizations and groups that need assistance and see what works. Don't reinvent the wheel. Don't overextend. Don’t let difference divide. Stay united! In Hindu philosophy, justice is deeply aligned with Dharma which includes social responsibilities of caring for our community.
3: Finally, we are not alone. What we are going through is understood by so many around the nation. It's easy to feel isolated and alone when experiencing fear and overwhelm. The truth is, we all have our shared experience from our perspectives. We can use our moral anger, fear, outrage, compassion, hope, and determination in service to each other. We people of good will and moral conscience outnumber those of malicious and misguided intent. In pagan traditions, all life is interconnected with a deep belief that what we put out into the world will return to us in abundance.
May we continue to grab ahold of the arc of history, lending our weight to holy gravity, and collectively bend it toward justice. For ourselves and for our future.
Peace always,
Rev. Justin Almeida