SAnctuary Everywhere
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Sanctuary Everywhere UU Congregation of the Catskills Rev Dr. Leonisa Ardizzone 24 - November - 2019 I imagine many of you, much like me, have been and remained horrified by how - over the past year, we - the United States - has treated strangers. The words of Emma Lazarus have popped into my mind dozens of times over the past two years…”give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free…” I have on more than one occasion thought about my great grandparents - Rocco on my dad’s side, and Raffaella - on my mom’s, who left poverty and feelings of hopelessness in southern Italy to come to these shores, dreaming of a better life. I think how Raffaella never learned a word of English, yet owned a small store in the South Bronx where fellow Italians would shop, and how she would bury her only son, killed in friendly fire in the Philippines in 1942, serving as a US soldier - a point of great pride for recent immigrants. I think how my grandfather (PopPop) Fred, worked three jobs - his whole life - to support his seven children, who were not allowed to speak Italian, because “they were Americans” and they had to be able to prove they were American by not slipping into the mother tongue. For Rocco, and Rafaella, and Carmine and Giuseppina and all my parenti, the United States was their refuge. They weren’t fleeing direct violence, and they probably could have figured out how to endure the rule of Vittorio Emannuelle III, and the fascist nightmare that was Benito Mussolini, but they still sought sanctuary, and their entry through Ellis Island give them that. I should also note, that one of my great-grandparents, Luigi Auriano was a ship builder from Vico Equense in Campania, and one day, he managed to sail over from Naples, jump ship, and slip into the crowds of New York City, never having been processed at Ellis Island. So, I am technically, a descendent of an “illegal” immigrant. Or what would be referred to as a WOP. Sanctuary - today’s theme, and the point of these stories - means simply, a place of refuge or safety, and it comes from the latin sanctus, meaning holy. When we offer sanctuary, we are doing the work of the holy. © Leonisa Ardizzone 2019 1 Of course, we can offer sanctuary on many levels. In 2018, we saw our government, imprison and torture children and their families who were seeking sanctuary from the violent conditions created by the American government in their home countries. We saw images of women and men, carrying their young children thousands of miles, to find safety, security, something better. And, instead of them being received the way my grandparents were - or the way, Jesus, might have greeted them - they were locked up, starved, abused, and quite a few of them - children, even - died in the process. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to live in a world, or even a country, that thinks it is okay to let children die. To let children be separated from their parents to suffer deeper trauma than they’ve already seen. When I was living in Guatemala in 1992, I saw first hand the conditions of life of the “regular” person, especially the indigenous people - of which my brother Angel is one - and saw that that devastation and the body count - 250,000 - were the direct result of American policy. I connect those dots - the image of women marching through the streets of Guatemala City looking for the desaparecido - to remember why people seek sanctuary. Also, as a parent, I know that I would go through great lengths to keep my child safe. And as Sea Prayer beautifully illustrated, when life at “home” gets so bad, you seek a new “home” for the sake of your children. Writer and poet JJ Bola says: “No one leaves home if the hurt that will come is greater than the hurt that they will leave behind. No one leaves if the ocean will swallow them up. No one leaves home, if there is peace. As a refugee there is only ever half of you in one place; because you have left part of you where you have come from, and half of you is rejected where you arrive.” In many cultures, sanctuary is a command. I think of my own Italian roots where hospitality is next to godliness. I have yet to pay for a meal when I visit my friend Paola in Rome. And my © Leonisa Ardizzone 2019 2 adopted Italian family in Forio d’Ischia, keeps me and Rafaella in mozzarella and pasta every time we are there. My parents, through the years, have opened their doors to everyone for meals, or a place to stay when things at their own homes were too hard, and they have fostered well over a dozen children from violence-ravaged Central American countries. Oddly enough though, my extended Italian family - the ones directly descended from the aforementioned WOP Luigi - embrace the term “illegals” while fully supporting the policies and politicians that put children in cages and work hard to make sure that those seeking sanctuary are turned away. It’s amazing how easily we can forget the blessings we were given when we sought refuge and a new start. How easily we forget the kindness of strangers... In an article in Yes Magazine in 2017, Ariel Sophia Bardi, wrote: “For much of human history, kindness to foreigners has been a cherished trait. ‘The stranger who sojourns with you shall be to you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself,’ commanded the Old Testament. In Homer’s epic, Odysseus traveled at the mercy of strangers, seeking out shelter in unknown lands. All throughout the ancient texts, divine beings masquerade as vagabonds, their disguises designed to test the mercy of their hosts. Graciousness is summarily rewarded, while hostility or indifference leads to carnage and despair. Hospitality narratives highlight the rules of etiquette that once bound host to guest. The beginnings of Western civilization were shaped by these same codes of conduct. But now, at least throughout much of the developed world, hospitality—that safe harbor for weary travelers—is in danger of disappearing.” Disappearing, indeed. But I want to find a way for us, as Unitarian Universalists, to create and offer sanctuary...to be the holy place. Because, let’s face it, while we are well aware of the horrors happening at the US/Mexico border, and thankfully UUs are taking a variety of actions to address it, many of us are less able and less interested in looking at how we are treating one another closer to home, how we - inside this sanctuary, inside this holy space can sometimes be hurtful to one another. We forget that this is a holy space. We forget that WE are a holy space. As JD Salinger said in Franny and Zooey, “But most of all, above everything else, who in the Bible besides Jesus knew–knew–that we’re carrying the kingdom of heaven around with us, © Leonisa Ardizzone 2019 3 inside, where we’re all too goddam stupid and sentimental and unimaginative to look?” WE carry the kingdom of heaven around with us, inside of us, all the time. If OUR heart is in a holy place, we are the omnipresent sanctuary so many people seek. And here’s the thing: those that want to take away sanctuary, to crush the lost, wounded and downtrodden, will always find a way to do so. They will use their power and their wealth and their greed and their hate to make a world that fits only their needs. They will have no regard for others and they will forsake the holy, the sacred, the sanctuary, again and again. So, we, we the believers, we who want so desperately to see a better world, who see and feel injustice, we will have to create and fight for sanctuary and be the bearers of the holy wherever we go. I found this passage by Parker Palmer: “When I was a kid, “sanctuary” meant only one thing. It was the big room with the stained-glass windows and hard wooden benches where my family worshipped every Sunday. Church attendance was not optional for my sisters and me, so that sanctuary was where I learned to pray — pray that the service would end, and God would release me back into the wild. I also learned that not all prayers are answered, no matter how ardent. Today, after 77 years of life in a world that’s both astonishingly beautiful and horrifically cruel, “sanctuary” is as vital as breathing to me. Sometimes I find it in churches, monasteries, and other sites designated as sacred. But more often I find it in places sacred to my soul: in the natural world, in the company of a trustworthy friend, in solitary or shared silence, in the ambience of a good poem or good music. Sanctuary is wherever I find safe space to regain my bearings, reclaim my soul, heal my wounds, and return to the world as a wounded healer. It’s not merely about finding shelter from the storm: it’s about spiritual survival. Today, seeking sanctuary is no more optional for me than church attendance was as a child.” We need sanctuary. We are the sanctuary. We are the sacred space. Your sacred space, according to Joseph Campbell, is where you can find yourself again and again. © Leonisa Ardizzone 2019 4 So, as we enter December - a time where the world seems to remember its sense of holiness, or tries to at least - how will we - each one of us - manifest the holy? We can offer holy resistance by calling, writing, marching, even rioting, to remind our elected leaders that borders are arbitrary, that suffering is universal, and that sanctuary is a right and a holy obligation.