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Spirit of Ministry

The Spirit of Ministry feature celebrates the Ministry Renewal Program aimed at refreshing affiliates in their current ministry or stretching them to embark on new ones. This is the fifth story in the series, focused on ministries related to the immigrant population in the United States. The affiliates tell their stories in their own words.

Welcoming the aliens living among us

by Leigh Waggoner

When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.
(Lev.19:33-34, NRSV)

These words from the Hebrew Scriptures have served as an admonition for God’s people through the centuries. They are words that speak, as well, to us. If you are like me, you do not feel like an alien where you live. The land, the town or the city where you live feels like it is your home. You belong there. You understand the language and the customs. You have a good idea how to navigate the interlocking systems in which you function—work, education, economic, social and religious. If you are not part of the dominant culture, you at least have access to structures that can serve as interfaces with the world around you.

Leigh Waggoner

Now, take most, if not all of that away. Throw in a pervasive anxiety because everything is unknown, and that is the world my new neighbors live in. They are Hispanics from several regions in Mexico and Guatemala. They are here because, with the jobs we offer them, they believe that they will be able to help their families.

Like the alien in the Scripture passage, they now live with us. Some of my neighbors pay no attention to them one way or the other. Some wish them ill. And some are grateful for their enriching presence. Out of all of us, however, there is not one who measures up to the scriptural mandate about resident aliens. We are all part of a system into which an alien cannot simply arrive to live “with us.” Our modern nation has boundaries and quotas. We define as “illegal” anyone who crosses those boundaries without authorization or is not among the allowed quota. Even though they are here, as a nation we do not treat them as the citizens among us. Whether that is right or wrong, it is how it is.

In this context, to these people the Franciscan value of radical hospitality shines as a beacon of Christian love and hope. Along with many volunteers, St. John’s Episcopal Church, Sparta, Wis., where I am the priest, has decided to say “welcome” to our new neighbors.

We worship with them and most recently have secured a grant to open and staff a resource center that will be theirs. English classes with a language lab; women’s play group; clothes closet; tax help; interpretation and translation help, all formerly done at the church, will move to this center. With Viterbo University, The Family Resource Center, and other partners, Parenting in the American Culture classes and Tenant Training classes will be offered. Raising up and equipping Latino/a leaders will be an ongoing focus.

Because immigration is a very complex issue, we continue to educate ourselves, while never forgetting who our neighbors are. In October nine members of St. John’s will travel to two small villages in Oaxaca from which the majority of Sparta’s Latinos have come. We will stay in their homes and learn from them what their lives are like to better understand why so many of them have come to Sparta.

We will work alongside the Latinos living among us to address oppression and to advocate for them a complex system that has no interest in heeding the admonition from the Hebrew Scripture. It is our prayer that the love that grows among us will serve as leaven in our community and our new neighbors can finally be at home.

My experiences as a Hispanic in a Hispanic 'mission.'

by Edna Whalen

The fall of the year was hard on me. I was only 55. So, being a member of the Shared Horizons Committee, I decided to help in something I should be able to do: interpretation and translation.

Edna Whalen

What a contrast from teaching college students to dealing mostly with persons who had very limited formal education. My missions, all of them short-term, took me to North Carolina, Missouri and Iowa. One of my most memorable recollections is that of teaching a kindergarten religion class. I remember distinctly the look in the children’s eyes: “Lady, what are you talking about?” I had to come to their 5- or 6-year-old level. A hard lesson! And their attention span, their behavior! The class was bilingual. I had to say things first in Spanish, then in English, since some understood only one of the two languages.

I learned a lot about myself and the hardships of the Hispanics in the area. In my main job as an interpreter, I saw their conditions. There was no time to ask the reasons. The people were there, I had to interpret.

We use the word “translate” for the written and “interpret” for the instantaneous oral translation. This explanation takes me to a very interesting experience in Missouri. At a health clinic—I did all my work in that state at health clinics—there was a lady who spoke only an Indian dialect. She described her ailment to her son, he told me in Spanish what she had said and then I told the doctor. It took us a while to communicate. At that time we did learn to say “Hi” in her dialect.

While in Iowa, I did two things: taught English as a second language to a group of three or four women and helped with the preparation of one student for her first Communion. This time I did better in my communication skills.
There have been many interesting experiences in my missions, from sex education to religion classes, but all felt like putting a band-aid on the problem. When I walked away from this work, my mission was not over. The Hispanic came to my area. No more staying away from family. New Albin, Cresco, Postville—all in Iowa—needed my attention.
A local father helped organize a “church” in Postville. I tried to remain on the periphery, interpreting, but I have been able to learn to be present, to know some of the people. The decision to work with families only has been the right one for me. The work and the needs are overwhelming. It has taken time and experience to gain insights, to expand St. Francis’ vision of fraternity, to put a human face on the mission, a human face that has taught me humility and mutuality and to leave their salvation to God’s agenda. I do help to prepare a few children for baptism, for first Communion, but I do not push. I am present. Some call me abuela (grandma).

This makes the present immigration situation difficult. What if “J.A.” is deported? What will become of the wife and three children? Is prayer enough?

My Hispanic friends have faith, a basic trust in God. They have taught me the meaning of “change what you can, accept what you cannot . . . and pray, pray, pray . . .”

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