I’m sitting on the shaded patio outside of my room this morning, enjoying the sight of a bird calling out to the sky from his perch at the top of a saguaro. This is a lush oasis tucked into a fold at the base of the mountains in Tucson. I just checked my email, where there was an urgent message from Clinique, inviting me to “meet the new skincare favorite.” A breathless testimonial told me that this kinda pricey skin tone corrector “really changed my life.”
Really?
Last night Bishop Minerva Carcano of the United Methodist Church (Phoenix Episcopal Area) preached at the opening worship service of the Grand Canyon Synod Assembly. Her visit was significant because last summer the Churchwide assembly approved full communion with the Methodists.
Bishop Carcano’s story begins with her father’s immigration to this country, and the experiences of new arrivals have been central in her life. Her faith formation took a serious turn in the early 1980′s when she worked with an ELCA mission group on the border, ministering to immigrants. Later, she was with an ELCA group in El Salvador, where she witnessed the courage of a Lutheran pastor and his church as they ministered to both sides during bloody civil strife.
The work of the Holy Spirit is done through you, through the Lutheran tradition, she said, gesturing toward our assemblage. “What I saw and learned at your feet transformed me.”
Bishop Carcano’s context was our new law — 1070 — and the questions it raises for Christians. She quoted from yesterday’s E.J. Montini column in the Republic, which talked about Arizona’s clergy. The first person arrested under the new law, Montini wrote, will likely be a pastor. Good column — but the story was written first in the Arizona Capitol Times by Luigi del Puerto (June 11). “When lawmakers were considering a measure that would require police to check the immigration status of people they contact and to arrest illegal immigrants under a trespassing statute, religious leaders representing a broad spectrum of faiths and denominations were disregarded as they pled for a more humane solution to Arizona’s border crises.”
Carcano told us about an experience she had as a young pastor, when she was gathering a congregation in an immigrant community. She was meeting with a group in a home, intent upon preaching at them about the Good Shepherd. “Do you know the Good Shepherd?” she asked. She was startled when a woman interrupted her to reply, and what she heard brought her to humility, and taught her about real wisdom and the value of listening. The hostess of her small group told her own story: about an abusive husband and her flight through the desert to find a safe home for her children — and about the unexplainable nudge that woke her from a sun-burned stupor in the desert to find a jug of life-saving, clean water. “Oh yes pastor. I know the Good Shepherd.”
Earlier in the day, our bishop, Stephen Talmage, spoke briefly about the ELCA missions in Senegal, where Christians are only 5 percent of the population. Instead of violence, however, this community lives in peace with the majority Muslim population. The bishop said their culture includes a concept called “cousinage,” which connects some ethnic groups as cousins – even across difficult religious lines. Cousins talk with each other. They listen.
So this morning I’m thinking about Bishop Carcano’s experiences with us — with Lutherans — in El Salvadore, in the midst of bitter conflict, where a small Lutheran church brought the message to all. I’m thinking about a about a woman saved by a jug of clean water. I’m thinking about the cousins in Senegal, living together in peace.
Can we be that church here, in the midst of incredible wealth, where skin tone correctors are lauded as life-changing? In our oasis, can we listen? Can we reach out in love to our cousins?
Never underestimate the Spirit.
