This sermon was preached at the invitation of Parkview United Church of Christ, Aurora, CO on February 14, 2010. Parkview's pastor, Rev. Steve Hoffman, asked Comunidad Liberación/Liberation Community members to participate in worship and for the sermon to address a pressing issue in the Aurora community: Immigration. My text was the Good Samaritan, Luke 10: 25-37, and attempts to connect what may at times seem to be an abstract and distant debate with the reality of suffering in Parkview's own neighborhood.

“And who is my neighbor?”

My friend Dan and I walked along Avenida Internacional, the four-lane highway that runs along the border between Tijuana and San Diego, on our way to get a view of the DHS border fence construction from the Tijuana side.

In January 2010, the board of the Christian Community Development Association (CCDA) and Neighborhood Ministries (AZ) took a trip from Phoenix to the Mexican border.

“John came from Acapulco, Mexico, three years ago. He was 15. He enrolled in high school and excelled. He learned English quickly and made his father proud.

In October of 2008, John saw his school friends from his living-room window. He went out to see them. They had stolen a gas can from the back of a pickup truck. The police came. They arrested John, despite his friends’ protests. Instead of attending high school, John sat in jail.

Erica grew up in San Salvador and had to work with her parents since the age of five to help earn an income to survive on. “It was very difficult for us to even make enough to buy bread for our family of five.” Having lived in poverty all of their lives, Erica’s parents decided to send her to the United States at the age of 16 to help financially support her family back home.

This week reports on the current immigration system border on Kafkaesque as the brokenness of the system continues to taunt our community, families and faith. However, hope perseveres through the work of unheralded heroes.

It’s after dinner at Casa del Migrante in Tijuana, Mexico. With so many people moving about, the shelter feels alive. The 150 or so beds are nearly full, but more and more men arrive each night. Most have been deported from the United States and know nothing about Tijuana. They come to Casa for free room and board for two weeks. Here they have a chance to save enough money to travel back home, whether home is across the border in the U.S., down in southern Mexico, or back in Honduras.

The window is closing on comprehensive immigration reform. At least that’s what the politicians in Washington are saying. They’re afraid of more demagoguery. They’re afraid of upcoming elections. They’re afraid of the politics of fear. But I am more and more troubled by how little they seem concerned about the worsening plight of many of America’s most vulnerable families — about how families are being broken up by the U.S. government, forcibly separating children from their parents.

Last week, the New York Times shone a light on the story of Qing Hong Wu, former juvenile delinquent, and Michael A. Corriero, retired federal judge. The gist of it is that almost fifteen years ago, Wu pled guilty to a string of muggings committed at age 15. At his hearing, Judge Corriero urged him to turn his life around.

This week’s entry is dedicated entirely to young people who dream of becoming United States citizens and the dignity, respect, and opportunities that come with citizenship.