SPIRITOFST.FRANCIS | FAITH UNPACKED My God, My Rock of Refugee
By David Dault, PhD
David Dault, PhD
David hosts the weekly radio show Things Not Seen: Conversations about Culture and Faith. He also cohosts the Francis Effect podcast with Father Dan Horan, OFM. He lives with his family on the South Side of Chicago. Want a certain topic covered? Send us your request. E-MAIL:
FaithUnpacked@ FranciscanMedia.org MAIL:
Faith Unpacked 28 W. Liberty St. Cincinnati, OH 45202 PODCAST:
The Francis Effect podcast can be streamed live at FrancisFXPod.com.
ne Sunday each month, our parish sets aside the early service as a family Mass, which is hosted and led by groups of children from the parish elementary school. Throughout the school year, children from a variety of grades bring their voices to the Lectionary readings and the prayers of the people. It is always a delightful process, especially when the very young grades are featured. Some are shy and struggle with the words, while others surprise us with their precocious boldness. We are especially blessed when the Holy Spirit works through these children to bring the congregation a special kind of message. We had a moment like that a few weeks ago. A girl from the second grade stepped to the lectern and began to read from Psalm 18. She read it in a clear and confident voice—and got it wrong in the most magnificent and insightful way possible. If you know the psalm, you may recall it sings praises of God’s deliverance: “My God, my rock of refuge, my shield, my saving horn, my stronghold! Praised be the Lord, I exclaim! I have been delivered from my enemies.” However, on the lips of this young lady, the line became instead, “My God, my rock of refugee, my shield.” My God, my rock of refugee. When I think about coming to God, I imagine a warm and cozy place, set aside just for me. My vision of the promise in this psalm is very self-centered. It is about my comfort, because I live a life that is comfortable. The words of the young woman put a different image in my head. I come to the rock, and it is already occupied, like a lifeboat is occupied. There are bodies all around, and they are shouting with joy because they are finally safe from the violence and the attacks that drove them here. God is not just a rock for my refuge; God is literally a rock of refugees. That is to say, if we go seeking God, we will find God among a crowd of asylum seekers. When this young lady spoke those words, we were in the midst of a sort of national panic about a migrant caravan, made up of
thousands of South and Central Americans, on the road to our country’s southern borders. The migrants were coming for many reasons. Some said they wanted to apply for jobs, but many said they were coming to apply for asylum. In the national conversations leading up to last November’s election, all manner of fearsome intentions were attributed to this caravan by some members of our media and our government. They were called freeloaders, terrorists, or worse. But the young second grader named them best: They are refugees. They are seeking what all refugees want. They are seeking a shield, a stronghold, salvation. They want to know they are safe from their enemies. In our zeal for comfort, we might mistake the rock as something intended only for us and for our comfort. It is not. The rock is for them. Jesus told us as much in the Gospel of Matthew: “Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you? “And the king will say to them in reply, ‘Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’” If we come to the rock and find it crowded, that is not an occasion for us to weep or bar the gates. Rather, let us sing and rejoice, as the psalmist did, to the God of refugees.
TOP LEFT: PHOTO COURTESY OF CHICAGO SUNDAY EVENING CLUB/KHIEM TRAN; TOP RIGHT: ANDY LO
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