on advent: king of kings or manger baby?

This week marks the beginning of an important season in the Christian calendar known as Advent.  For many who follow Christ, Advent is the name we give to the Christmas season.  Nine years ago, I was 8+ months pregnant during Advent, and as a follower of Christ, the season of Advent took on a new meaning for me that year.  It was relatively easy to connect with a woman who was nine months pregnant, scared and feeling unsure of herself, when I was also a woman nine months pregnant!  While I tried to identify with this mythical virgin Mary, I also realized that it was hard for me to relate to this story so pivotal to my faith.  I love the idea that God would choose a woman to bear His child, the Savior of the world who becomes a person to save His people.  It was much harder for me to get behind the kind of God who would chose to send His Messiah into a poor community, with simple parents, in an unimportant part of the world.  Isn’t the Messiah Everlasting God himself?  Is Christmas the celebration of the King of Kings, the Almighty, whose kingdom will never end, or is it a moment to mark a God who chose to be small, power made perfect in weakness, a Messiah who became nothing? 

God is not impressed with our achievement or perfection, but the season of Advent can serve as a reorientation for the Christian; a time and space to remember our own failings and attest our need not for more importance, money or position but for a Savior.

In the last few years I have learned that Christmas is both.  Advent, for me, is a reminder that the God I claim to love and the Christ I claim to follow are wholly uninterested in the power structures that control me.  The power that I find alluring, to which I try to conform, for which I perform my loyalty and pledge my energy and allegiance, is blasphemous. God is not impressed with our achievement or perfection, but the season of Advent can serve as a reorientation for the Christian; a time and space to remember our own failings and attest our need not for more importance, money or position but for a Savior.

My endorsement of the Christian faith is rooted in my knowledge that I am insufficient on my own, and that because I am selfish and needy I will make choices that hurt myself and others.  Simply put, I need rescuing.  Enter Christmas.  I believe I was created by a loving God who is committed to redeeming me, reconciling me to Himself, to myself and to others through His Son.  Advent is significant to Christians because it offers time and space to acknowledge we need redemption and to thank God for sending His Messiah to live among us.

The Latin roots of the word mean “to come toward” or “coming,” and in every sense, Advent is a season when we reflect on the coming of Christ, the coming of hope, the coming of joy, and the coming of Christmas.  Below this essay are readings I put together to help followers of Christ dwell on the coming of the Messiah.  These readings remind us of the context that the Messiah came out of and into; Christ is the fulfillment of God’s covenant with us; He is the manifestation of the Word—the prophecies and scriptures—that came before Him.  We begin at the beginning, and move toward the coming hope of the Messiah, waiting expectantly with creation for the final story that becomes our new beginning. 

As you approach Advent, can you first realize the places in your own heart, relationships, city and world that need the healing and wholeness Christ will bring? 

This year, I have been reminded again and again that healing comes when we expose pain.  That we become healers when we learn to see and hold our own vulnerabilities.  That part of waiting on God, part of actively hoping for Him, begins with my honest lament over all the brokenness in and around my life.  During Advent, we celebrate the One who “comes toward” us, not just as a baby—the Son of God—2000 years ago, but also as the redeeming One who will come to make “all things new”, and, importantly, as our hope for healing and wholeness right now. As you approach Advent, can you first realize the places in your own heart, relationships, city and world that need the healing and wholeness Christ will bring?  This Advent season, like Mary, patiently wait for God to bring new life into broken places.  Like the Wise Men, study the Scripture and learn to look for Christ, especially in unexpected spots in your family or town that have no hope.  Like the Shepherds, wait expectantly for the Glory of God to visit us in our ordinary lives, and then actively follow Christ in moving toward others.  Advent is a season to remember what it means to hope in our own hard places, and to expectantly wait for Immanuel to be “God with us.”  This month Expand Your Us will have essays that help us think about how we might celebrate Advent by reorienting our lives to this God who is glorious and was a poor man for all of His human life.

Below you will find daily readings from the Bible.  Each week has a prayer, optional readings, and a hymn that reinforces the Advent theme.  If you enjoy the tradition of an Advent wreath then each Sunday you can light the candle, sing/listen to the hymn, and read the scripture from the Saturday before.  Advent is a time set apart to reflect on all the ways that I do not emulate the counter cultural servanthood of Christ, even as I also anticipate and long for the Messiah to come and transform my life into meaning!  So yes, Christmas can be magical and glittery and excessive and beautiful and loud.  But it must also be silent and lowly and quiet and poor.  If we want to know Christ and Christmas, we must begin to expect both a King and a poor, overlooked man who serves others.  Perhaps we can find pieces of our story in the God who comes to powerfully redeem and in the God who comes to quietly sit beside us.  Our Messiah does both.

Advent is a season to remember what it means to hope in our own hard places, and to expectantly wait for Immanuel to be “God with us.”

If you would like to join me in Advent readings, the Scriptures, prayers and hymns are below.

Prayer for the First Week of Advent:

“Lord, may you now let us this year once more approach the light, celebration, and joy of Christmas Day that brings us face to face with the greatest thing there is: your love.  What could we possibly bring and give to you?  So much darkness in our human relationships and in our own hearts!...So much over which you cannot rejoice, that separates us from one another and certainly cannot help us!  So much that runs directly against the message of Christmas!  What should you possibly do with such gifts?  And what are you to do with such people as we all are?  But all of this is precisely what you want to receive from us and take from us at Christmas—the whole pile of rubbish and ourselves, just as we are—in order to give us in return Jesus, our Savior, and in him a new heaven and a new earth, new hearts and a new desire, new clarity and a new hope for us and for all people.  Be among us as we once again…prepare to receive him as your gift. Amen.”                                                                                                                          -Karl Barth, 1960s

Readings for the First Week:

“The blessedness of waiting is lost on those who cannot wait, and the fulfillment of promise is never theirs.  They want quick answers to the deepest questions of life and miss the value of those times of anxious waiting, seeking with patient uncertainties until the answers come…Not all can wait—certainly not those who are satisfied, contented, and feel that they live in the best of all possible worlds!  Those who learn to wait are uneasy about their way of life, but yet have seen a vision of greatness in the world of the future and are patiently expecting its fulfillment.  The celebration of Advent is possible only to those who are troubled in soul, who know themselves to be poor and imperfect, and who look forward to something greater to come.  For these, it is enough to wait in humble fear until the Holy One himself comes down to us, God the child in the manger.  God comes, the Lord Jesus comes, Christmas comes.”                                                                                                               -Dietrich Bonhoeffer

“In the biblical world, hope does not emerge from the self-aggrandizing act of recounting our successes. It is the desperate plea for God’s intervention that arises out of lament that reveals a flickering glimpse of hope.  What about us?  Even after tasting God’s fury and wrath, do we still have hope? Do we still have the ability to worship even as our faith is being tested?”                                                                                                                 -Soong-Chan Rah

“We are not elevated above God or even above God’s creation.  We do not stand in the place of Christ, able to incarnate ourselves into another community as if we could operate as the Messiah.  Our only hope for meaning and worth is in the fullness of Christ as God’s created beings.  Lament recognizes our frailty as created beings and the need to acknowledge this shortcoming before God.”                                                                                 -Soong-Chan Rah

Hymn of Prophecy:  “For unto us a child is born, unto us, a son is given, and the government shall be upon His shoulder; and His name shall be called, Wonderful, Counselor, the mighty God, Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace.  Hallelujah, for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth.  The kingdom of this world, is become.  The Kingdom of our Lord, and of His Christ, and He shall reign forever and ever.  King of kings, and Lord of Lords.  Hallelujah.”        -Handel’s Messiah

First Week Candle (12/3): Light the purple candle of Hope or Prophecy.  Christ is the Hoped For One, the fulfillment of prophecies and the law.

Nov 27 Deut 18:18; Psalm 45:6-7   Nov 28 Gen 3:19-21; 9:4-12

Nov 29 2 Sam 7:11-16                     Nov 30 Gen 15:1-6, 22:1-18

Dec 1 I Chron 17:11-14                     Dec 2 Isaiah 7:14, 9:6-7

Prayer for the Second Week of Advent:

“Lord Jesus, come yourself, and dwell with us, be human as we are, and overcome what overwhelms us.  Come into the midst of my evil, come close to my unfaithfulness.  Share my sin, which I hate and which I cannot leave.  Be my brother, Thou Holy God…Come with me in my death, come with me in my suffering, come with me as I struggle…make me holy and pure, despite my sin...”                                                                               -Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Readings for the Second Week:

“In the silence of the heart God speaks. If you face God in prayer and silence, God will speak to you. Then you will know that you are nothing.  It is only when you realize your nothingness, your emptiness, that God can fill you with Himself.”                                          -Mother Teresa

“It is impossible to meet God without abandon, without exposing yourself, being raw.”                                                                                                                                          –Bono

“The Good News of the gospel of grace cries out: We are all, equally, privileged but entitled beggars at the door of God’s mercy!”                     -Brennan Manning

“Confession propels the community to imagine a world beyond their current state of sinful existence.  Lament that recognizes the reality of brokenness allows the community to express confession in its proper context.  Confession acknowledges the need for God and opens the door for God’s intervention.  Confession in lament relies on God’s work for redemption.”                                                                                                                                      -Soong-Chan Rah

“Surrender your own poverty and acknowledge your nothingness to the Lord.  Whether you understand it or not, God loves you, is present in you, lives in you, dwells in you, calls you, saves you and offers you an understanding and compassion which are like nothing you have ever found in a book or heard in a sermon.”                                                       -Thomas Merton

Hymn of Bethlehem:  “Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright.  Round yon virgin, mother and child.  Holy infant so tender and mild, sleep in heavenly peace.  Silent night, holy night, shepherds quake at the sight.  Glories stream from heaven afar, heavenly hosts sing, “Alleluia!” Christ the Savior is born.  Silent night, holy night, Son of God, love’s pure light.  Radiant beams from thy holy face.  With the dawn of redeeming grace.  Jesus, Lord, at thy birth.”

Second Week Candle (12/10): Light the purple candle of Love or Bethlehem.  The Savior of the World is born in a Manger; love incarnate has come!

Dec 4  Matthew 1:18-25                      Dec 5  Exo 3:13-15; John 1:1-18

Dec 6  Luke 1:11-38                             Dec 7 Luke 1:39-56

Dec 8 Luke 1:57-79                            Dec 9 Luke 2:1-7

Prayer for the Third Week of Advent:

“Lord, our God and Father, give to many, to all, and to us as well, that we may celebrate Christmas like this: that in complete thankfulness, utter humility, and then complete joy and confidence we may come to the One whom you have sent, and in whom you yourself have come to us.  Clean out the many things in us that, now that the hour has come, have become impossible for us, can no longer belong to us, may, must, and will fall away from us, by virtue of your beloved Son, our Lord and Savior, entering into our midst and creating order.  We thank you that you have let your light rise, that it shines in the darkness, and that the darkness will not overcome it.  We thank you that you are our God, and that we may be your people. Amen.”                    -Karl Barth

Readings for the Third Week:

“Patience asks us to live the moment to the fullest, to be completely present to the moment, to taste the here and now, to be where we are.  When we are impatient, we try to get away from where we are.  We behave as if the real thing will happen tomorrow, later, and somewhere else.  Let’s be patient and trust that the treasure we look for is hidden in the ground on which we stand.”                                                                                              -Henri Nouwen

“But in our waiting there always lingers a certain amount of resignation.  Our fondest hopes, all that we wish for, are weakened by an inner feeling that they may not be fulfilled.  We don’t want to be foolish.  And it would be foolish to assume that the hopes for the future were already achieved; foolish to hold so firmly to our belief that our life would collapse if it were not to happen.  Our foolish waiting would then become an agonizing waiting, an unholy selfish grabbing from one another…And we know quite well that this is not the kind of waiting that Jesus speaks of.  Such waiting is not Advent waiting.”                                                 –Dietrich Bonhoeffer

“It is my belief, that we should not be too sure of having found Christ in ourselves until we have found him also in that part of humanity that is most remote from our own.”                                                                                                                                                       -Thomas Merton

“The kind of peace shalom represents is active and engaged…Shalom is communal, holistic and tangible.  There is no private or partial shalom.  The whole community must have shalom or no one has shalom…Shalom is not for the many, while a few suffer; nor is it for the few while many suffer.”                                                                                                -Randy Woodley

Hymn of Joy:  Hark the herald angels sing, “Glory to the newborn King.  Peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled.” Joyful, all ye nations rise, join the triumph of the skies.  With the angelic host proclaim: “Christ is born in Bethlehem.”  Hark! The herald angels sing, “Glory to the newborn King!”

Third Week Candle (12/17): Light the pink candle of Joy or Shepherds.  Christ brings remarkable joy into our everyday lives; every moment of your life can be transformed by wonder.

Dec 11 Matthew 2:1-15                Dec 12 Exo 15:11-14a; John 1:35-51

Dec 13 Isaiah 61:1-7                    Dec 14 Mark 1:9-11; John 15:8-17

Dec 15 Micah 5:2-5a                  Dec 16 Luke 2:8-18

Prayer for the Final Week of Advent:

“Lord our God, you wanted to live not only in heaven, but also with us, here on earth; not only to be high and great, but also to be small and lowly, as we are; not only to rule, but also to serve us; not only to be God in eternity, but also to be born as a person, to live, and to die.  In your dear Son, our Savior Jesus Christ, you have given us none other than yourself, that we may wholly belong to you.  This affects all of us, and none of us has deserved this.  What remains for us to do but to wonder, to rejoice, to be thankful, and to hold fast to what you have done for us?”                                                                                                                                      -Karl Barth

Readings for the Final Week:

“He who testifies to these things says, ‘Surely I am coming soon.’ Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!”                                                                                     -Revelation 2:20

“The birth, death and resurrection of Jesus means that one day everything sad will come untrue.”                                                                                                   -JRR Tolkien 

“Hope does not rely on human achievement or triumphalism, but instead on God’s grace…. However, the hope for restoration comes not from a distant God, but from Immanuel, ‘God is with us.’”                                                                                         -Soong-Chan Rah

“[In Advent waiting,] a longing emerges within us, which will not be silenced, a longing that all should be fulfilled amidst all the failures and against all the evidence, yet we protest its fulfillment all the stronger.  This is a waiting within us for nothing less than that this world will be redeemed through and through—not by this or that political means, but by God.  When God himself comes to, then Advent truly becomes real.”                                    -Dietrich Bonhoeffer

“The perception of the human body shapes the body of the city, then the way the church understands itself as the embodiment of Christ should transform our interaction with the body of the city.  Our understanding of the incarnation, therefore, takes on an added measure of importance.  In the incarnation, here is the full expression of God’s active love for humanity and the act of making his dwelling among us.  The incarnation, therefore, gives us the model of an active body of Christ confronting the passive body of the city…The church as the body of Christ embodies Christ in the world…The church is called to embody Christ in the city.”                                                                                                                              -Soong-Chan Rah

“Our identity rests in God’s relentless tenderness for us revealed in Jesus Christ.”                                                                                                    -Brennan Manning

 Hymn of Peace:  “O holy night! The stars are brightly shining, it is the night of the dear Savior’s birth.  Long lay the world, in sin and error pining, til He appeared, and the soul felt its worth.  A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.  Fall on your knees!  Oh, hear the angel voices! O night divine, the night when Christ was born.  O night, O holy night, O night divine!

Led by the light of faith serenely beaming, with glowing hearts by His cradle we stand.  O’er the world a star is sweetly gleaming, now come the wise men from out of Orient land.  The King of kings lay thus in lowly manger; in all our trials born to be our friends.  He knows our need, to our weakness is no stranger.  Behold your King!  Before him lowly bend.

Truly He taught us to love one another, His law is love and His gospel is peace.  Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother, and in his name all oppression shall cease.  Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we, with all our hearts we praise His holy name.  His power and glory ever more proclaim!”

Fourth Week Candle (12/24): Light the purple candle of Peace or Purity.  The baby who becomes a man brings his incredibly present Spirit to us; the Prince of Peace abides in us still.

Dec 18 Psalm 46:1-11                                         Dec 19 Isaiah 11:1-12

Dec 20 John 14:15-20; Psalm 78:4-8               Dec 21 Luke 2:19-40

Dec 22 Isaiah 9:6-7                                          Dec 23 Luke 2:1-20

Christmas Day, Dec 25 Light the white candle of Christ.  God with us, Immanuel has come.

Hymn of Birth: “Joy to the world, the Lord is come!  Let earth receive her King;  Let every heart prepare Him room, and Heaven and nature sing, and Heaven and nature sing, and Heaven, and Heaven, and nature sing."

on thanksgiving

It is strange to think Americans have a holiday set aside for gratitude, as if we accidently still believe that saying thank you is so important we need some time off to do it properly.  I love it.  I love the fact that it is a 4 day holiday for many people, a holiday in which the stressful part happens on the first day, leaving 3 days to just be.  The first time my husband and I decided not to do the Thanksgiving Dash, where we tried to see our two families in two different states in five days, we felt like we had discovered the country’s best-kept secret.  It was like a Christmas Miracle to spend a day watching parades while we cooked scrumptious food for friends, followed by a 3-day pajama/football/leftover fest.  If you have never not travelled, I highly recommend it!  For this week set aside to give thanks, I offer a few moments of gratitude….

In my life I have found that the degree to which I recognize my own vulnerability—confessing it to God and others—is the degree to which I am able to create space for others to recognize their vulnerabilities. 

I’m grateful to know my need.  This year has shown me that I am vulnerable, and that I am privileged to live a life in which my vulnerability is not evident to all.  But it’s there, and my efforts to conceal it or expose it deeply shape the way I engage with others.  In my life I have found that the degree to which I recognize my own vulnerability—confessing it to God and others—is the degree to which I am able to create space for others to recognize their vulnerabilities.  When I hold my own desperation loosely, allowing it to shape my identity, I am better able to see and interact with people who struggle with their own insecurities by offering them dignifying compassion and empathetic companionship.  I am thankful for an increasing awareness of my need.

I am grateful for the circle of failure I am in.  (Let’s be honest, most days I am NOT grateful for failure in myself or others.)  I can’t deny that this year I have had to work relentlessly to battle despair, anger and cynicism, and yet I have often fundamentally failed at basic civil relationships.  I have been profoundly lonely, alienated from the people I grew up around, from fellow citizens, and from many people who claim the same Christ I love.  Being ticked all the time doesn’t work though.  I am grateful for a growing awareness that I cannot live reacting with anger and judgment.  I am working to find another way to appreciate others, even when they baffle me.  I am working to replace judgment with curiosity, cynicism with hope, and apathy with constructive engagement.  This work is miraculously beginning to change my instincts: If I believe all people are created in the image of God then I cannot dismiss anyone as ridiculous, bigoted or unworthy.  This awareness is forcing me to lean on grace, to rely consistently on a force outside myself to care well for others.  It requires me to realize that ‘there but by the grace of God go I’ into grudge-holding and finger-pointing meanness too.  I am grateful that I am constantly aware that I have a huge capacity to dismiss and judge others, and that it takes miraculous intervention to live differently.

Protesting unjust systems is not bad manners, but an acknowledgement of entrenched injustice and a belief that we the people can form a more perfect union together.

Finally, I am thankful for discomfort.  Protests make me uncomfortable, because I instinctively think there must be another way.  A nicer way.  A less disruptive way.  A more mannerly way.  However, immediately questioning the motives or methods of every protest suggests that the status quo is always just.  The status quo is not just for all people.  I have discovered this year that my discomfort with protest is not about the disruption or the activism; I believe both are necessary when we live in a racial and socioeconomic hierarchy.  Our laws and habits and systems are wrong all the time, and we have to work together to improve them.  Protesting unjust systems is not bad manners, but an acknowledgement of entrenched injustice and a belief that we the people can form a more perfect union together.  My discomfort comes from the binary reaction to such protests.  If you support Black Lives Matter then you must loathe police.  If you kneel during the anthem then you have no respect for our military.  On the other hand, if you are pro law-and-order, you must be a bigot.  If you think it is disrespectful to kneel, then you are racist.  These reactions enflame our worst projections, and prevent nuanced conversation.  They are labels and positions that do not reflect the vast majority of us.  They ignore the possibility that we could listen to learn instead of blindly reacting to each other in anger.  They destroy the likely reality that most of us can find merit in the perspectives of both sides.  I am grateful this year for these lessons, lessons I only learned because so many brave officers, protestors, veterans and players decided to stand or kneel or march or listen or speak up for vulnerable others.  I am grateful to realize that each of these issues is not two-sided, but multifaceted and complicated, and require us to all work together.  I am thankful my discomfort with our reactions to protests taught me to find another way, to educate myself and others, and to get involved in legally changing unjust laws and practices. 

This awareness is forcing me to lean on grace, to rely consistently on a force outside myself to care well for others.

In short, need, failure and discomfort have been my greatest teachers this year, and I am profoundly thankful.  These experiences sometimes result in despair, blame and anger, but they are more often leading me to see how I have been part of the problem, and I can work to become a part of a way forward.  Perhaps we could all do well to shout fewer positions and instead ask more questions.  Maybe we could all do well to point fewer fingers and instead listen to our own unfair and angry inner voices?  Might we all do well to examine our need, our failure and our discomfort for the gifts hidden therein?

Happy Turkeys, all!  Next week, I will begin writing about Advent, a season of expectancy important to those in the Christian faith.

the danger of exceptional thinking: immigrants in America

Our country suffers from a crisis, and it is poisoning our communities, invading our border towns, altering our schools, frustrating our communication, and taking our jobs.  No, the root of this calamity is not immigration.  It is amnesia. 

The idea of “America” is defined in conflicting ways, and can represent a beacon of democratic hope or the epitome of neocolonialism to those who live within and outside our borders.  However we see ourselves, we certainly have dominant American values: Normative culture desires the right to worship and the right to improve our station in life with hard work; in short, and above all, we value independence, advancement and freedom.  Such narratives of the “American Way” dominate our thought lives; and yet, I would argue that these ideals are held and acted upon in incredibly thoughtless ways.  Many of us prize the liberties of religion, freedom of movement, and self-possession, and yet, the America that exists for many of our inhabitants is neither accessible nor free.  I do not attempt to write a nuanced approach to immigration policy here; instead, I offer crucial historical context that will hopefully encourage us to think again about the way we think about immigrants and their place among us.

We claim to have always belonged, and forget that all of us were once outsiders. 

Our country has well-documented waves of immigration, each of which were met with violence, accusations of ruining the country, and brandings of outsider status.  Indeed, since before the American Revolution, we have targeted and excluded Chinese, Germans, Jews, Irish, Italians, Japanese, Muslims and Mexicans in different decades.  We have a long history of blaming people from other countries for our own discomfort, documented by decades of legislation that prevent specific nationalities from entering the United States.  In American history, periods of stagnation and uncertainty have usually been manipulated to lead to periods of fear, fueling nativist impulses that inevitably exclude and scapegoat anyone who can easily be called an outsider.  Indulging our most basic instincts, we seem to believe blaming others will distract us from the causes of our uncertainty or loss.  Listed on paper, these laws, grouped chronologically by hatred and rejection of one country or another, seem rather silly, and quite bigoted.  The fact that this history is not referenced as appropriate context for our current immigration discussion stems from our collective amnesia.

I posit that amnesia is the root of the identity crisis currently portrayed as an immigration crisis because our country has only existed for 240 years.  This means that even the longest settled of our families have been “American” for less than 10 generations.  Among American power brokers (a group from which native peoples have been systematically excluded), immigration is therefore a part of every single American narrative.  Despite the fact that these migrating narratives are actually shared by every family, most of us whose families have been here for three generations or more instead use these narratives to create distance between “us” and “them.”  In my view, this distance, which leads to elitism, exclusivity, and possessiveness, stems from America’s favorite past time: Celebrating our own exceptionality. 

We claim to have always belonged, and forget that all of us were once outsiders. 

We reconcile our history as outsiders with our current orientation as insiders in one of two ways.  The first is outright, willful, amnesia.  We simply pretend we climbed out of Noah’s ark and onto American dry land.  We have always spoken English, loved white picket fences, baseball and church on Sundays.  We claim to have always belonged, and forget that all of us were once outsiders.  I think this commitment to telling our stories of hard work and belonging are actually the purest demonstration of American identity: We tell stories to help us articulate who we are and to whom we belong.  Most often, the narratives we tell ourselves about our histories are stories of ascension, proving that we were destined to belong.  American story-telling is crucial to our identity construction because stories help us create community.  Importantly though, the stories of our own belonging—in which we embody the essence of Americaness—purposely exclude others.  A collective amnesia allows us to embrace our legacy of belonging, even as we ignore others, denying them their stories of ascension.

The second avenue we take to reconcile our own migrating history with our now very settled selves is the doctrine of exceptionality.  Yes, my family immigrated here in the last century, but we were already basically Americans in our hearts, we simply had the misfortune of being born Irish, Italian, English, Canadian or German.  We loved church, and felt called by God to come here.  We already knew how to work hard, and we loved freedom.  We were not asking for a handout, just a chance to fulfill our own American Dream.  I guess you could call us immigrants, but we were different, exceptional, and not like those people creating today’s immigration crisis.

Instead of finding compassion for people experiencing the hardships our families once faced and overcame, we reject the noble effort required to uproot, work hard and create a new life one step at a time.  Connecting with others, finding empathy for their hopes and dreams, requires us to recognize the ways in which we are similar. 

This claim of exceptionality prevents relationships in several ways.  It destroys any chance of a shared history that connects people in real community.  It prevents empathy from shaping our connections with others.  Instead of finding points of similarity and compassion for people experiencing the hardships our families once faced and overcame, we reject the noble effort required to uproot, work hard and create a new life one step at a time.  Connecting with others, finding empathy for their hopes and dreams, would require us to recognize the ways in which we are similar.  Our commitment to exceptionality, to framing our journeys with idealistic terms of destiny, prevents us from recognizing the humanity in others. Finally, we support negative stereotypes of new immigrants and Americans in order to widen the space between us and them.  If we allow our collective amnesia to fuel our false narratives of exceptionality, then we can only think of immigrants as “them”, never “us.”

Our commitments to our amnesia and exceptionality are as strong as our commitment to preserving the American Dream and the American Way.  The great irony is that, because of American exceptionality, we are actively destroying the fabric of society made of the values we say we uphold.  As we look to pass lasting legislation regarding Dreamers and for immigrants living and working here below the radar, perhaps we should remember that many of our families came to America as outsiders who also dreamed.