Marginalization, Part 3

Marginalization, Part 3

…the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have good news brought to them. Luke 7:22

In 1886, France gifted the United States of America the Statue of Liberty for its newly won freedom. The American poet, Emma Lazarus, wrote a sonnet, The New Colossus[1], to raise money for the pedestal onto which it would be installed. The statue represents and the sonnet captures the vision from which the United States was birthed –not as a gun-toting warrior staunchly defending its borders, but a strong, single-minded Mother standing tall with a beacon, an invitation to come home.

As I write this, the United States prepares to celebrate the 248^th anniversary of its declared independence from Great Britain. Consistent with my current theme of marginalization, it is telling to review the nature of the liberty projected to its citizens and the world by and memorialized in this most recognized symbol of freedom. And it seems an apt time to reassess our actions at home and abroad accordingly.

A colossus is something or someone of great size, influence, or ability. But The New Colossus does not only refer to a huge statue and a large nation, but to an audacious experiment in democracy – a government of, by, and for the people – built not by brute strength but by welcoming all, including the outcast, and becoming an indispensable refuge. From its beginnings, however, our nation has too quickly turned its copious resources to violent, oppressive acts that belie the standard Lady Liberty sets. Her name is Mother of Exiles. Her lamp is held high, sending its beacon of hope to those in need, wherever they may be. There is no time for “storied pomp,” she declares, for there is work to be done. “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free…” she cries. She welcomes “the wretched refuse…the homeless, the tempest-tost (those suffering storms of adversity)” for her home is spacious, her resources plentiful, and there is food enough for those who hunger – for nourishment and for freedom.

Lady Liberty’s vision is strongly reminiscent of that of Jesus of Nazareth, is it not? He describes the kingdom of God as welcoming the stranger, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and healing the sick. He equates the way we treat those in dire circumstances with the way we treat him: “…just as you did…to one of the least of these…you did to me.”[2] Lady Liberty says, “Send these…to me.” Our founding vision, as with Christianity, is based on maternal nurturance, not paternal domination. Its lasting success will come through love and generosity, not violence and exclusion. It seeks peace by establishing bonds of interdependence among peoples, not by the threat of military destruction.

The original American Dream was to welcome and provide for the exiles, immigrants, the poor and homeless: the marginalized. Today, some label these instead as criminals, job-stealers, murderers, rapists, terrorists, societal moochers, and other descriptors no loving mother would use for one in crisis. Yes, there are bad actors among them, as there are here, but they are a small element. The rest are simply seeking a better life, as was the case for our ancestors. Of course, the sheer number of immigrants seeking refuge taxes our resources. But the problem is not a shortage of resources but poor prioritization and distribution of the abundance we have available. When we spend excessively on objectives that exclude and oppress others, we are unable to attend adequately to the tired, poor, and those yearning to breathe free, both within and outside our borders. Many seeking entry look, act, and believe differently than we do – just as our ancestors did to those on this land before them. It is time to reestablish our internal and external relationships based on nurturing others, building reconciling bridges, and assuring everyone access to basic human needs. No military power can provide or prevail over that sort of strength. That is the path laid out by Lady Liberty, and it remains the sole path to freedom and justice for all.

This is the 22^ndin a series titled The New-Old Social Pandemic. The opinions expressed here are mine. To engage with me or to explore contemplative spiritual direction, contact me at ghildenbrand@sunflower.com.

Pierre Teilhard de Chardin’s

Mass on the World

A Contemplative Audio-visual Experience

View at: https://youtu.be/m2EzRmZzCe0

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[1] The New Colossus, a poem by Emma Lazarus, written in 1883 and installed on the Statue of Liberty in 1903.

[2] Matthew 25:40