Back to Decorah, Iowa

Monday, August 24, 2009

Pastor Ruth Drews from New Heaven, Connecticut stayed with us last night. She drove two students from her town (one from her congregation, one that she met through her work as a college advocate in the local schools) here to Luther. One of them is coming back for her junior year already; the other is a first-year student. Each of these two students has an incredible story to share: migration, living in a refugee camp, major financial struggles, bright students, commitment to family, great hopes for the future… Ruth and I talked for a couple of hours last night and then again for about an hour this morning. She’s an incredible pastor, activist, person.

In the last year or so Ruth has moved to working part time in the parish and part time as a college advocate in the schools. Her work in schools has stirred a number of reflections for her, particularly about vocation. She said, “I have been working for years trying to convince people of the value of what the church has to offer and have often felt people do not see or pursue that need. To be working now, offering something that people clearly need and are lining up – like people coming off airplanes in O’Hare – to receive.” Her words articulated some of my own struggle over the last year and a half since the Postville situation, where the need is so clear and the purpose so urgent. I hear echoes of Jesus’ own disappointment – I imagine – as he moved from offering people actual food (which about 5,000 needed and wanted) and then the “hard teaching” that he wanted to give them – the food that brings abundant life, his body and blood.

I haven’t had a chance to write in a number of days on the last part of our trip back, so I will just summarize some things I thought about over the last couple of days:

•    LIRS contacted me as we were driving back to ask if I would provide a short statement to be included in a press release following a meeting Secretary Napolitano had called to discuss immigration reform with advocates and others. I found myself reflecting on the fact that much of our trip had followed the Lewis and Clark expedition, which was central to an earlier migration West. In our own trip west, we saw echoes of that earlier migration in today’s immigrants, who – like those of earlier generations – are building the infrastructure of the West: setting up businesses, working the land, providing services…

•    As we drove into Sioux Falls, South Dakota, we looked up restaurants on the phone and found Lalibela Restaurant, which we immediately knew was Ethiopian (because that’s the name of an important town in Ethiopia). We went there for a great dinner. We were kind of surprised when we pulled into the little shopping center where the restaurant was to see a huge sign on the window inviting people to an “African Celebration” being held there; the interesting part is that the sign was in Spanish! A similar sign advertised the event in English and Amharic. Inside we also found a sign that advertised, also in Spanish, a weekly Latin dance held in the restaurant. That’s immigration for you!

•    Pastor Drews told me about the prom for the student she brought here for her first year. The student is originally from Guinea but lived part of her life elsewhere before coming to the U.S. about two years ago. She went to prom with a guy who is originally from Rwanda but lived in a refugee camp in Kenya before coming to the U.S. The kid bought a white tux to take her to the prom. Someone pitched in for them to be able to ride in a limo. What a great image…

•    The international student orientation started yesterday at Luther. Along with the internationals, students in sports teams, residence hall staff, new staff and professors are also “migrating” into town. This is just the harbinger of our main annual migration, as 2,500 students come to Decorah. With them comes new life, energy, struggles, resources, histories and incredible gifts. It takes quite a bit of planning and intentional work to transform this group into a community. Oh that we would have those kinds of resources to integrate into our communities those who come from other countries bringing so much with them.

•    I spoke with Pastor Drews this morning also about the image of undocumented workers as people engaged in civil disobedience. I have wondered more and more about how it is that people – who are (for the most part) very pious, law abiding and would never break a law or a cultural norm – make a decision that translates into breaking the law by migrating here without documents. This single action places them in such a difficult situation and often becomes the reason that many other faithful, religious people struggle to support them. Is it too much to think of them as breaking the law as an act of civil disobedience? It is not a clear parallel that they are not, of course, intentionally breaking the law? They do not set out consciously to make a statement, but rather follow that basic need to provide for their families, pursue a better future or escape an impossible situation in their countries of origin. The “civil disobedience” part happens in the process…

Insights from Worship & Bible Study

Monday, August 10, 2009

Sunday night worship


Musicians worked hard through the day to prepare and had great music, drawing songs from a wide variety of countries and musical gifts from staff. During the day we coordinated to have a processional at the beginning with some streamers and the kids that do the traditional dancing using their dresses. That turned out to be great fun at the beginning and end of the service. It was perfectly appropriate to see the image of the little girls in their flowing dresses, flapping them back and forth, as we sang “Come, Holy Spirit, Come!” I was struck again, as I preached, by the similarity of the Biblical text with immigrants’ lived experience. This was particularly the case when I re-read the beginning part of the Kings reading, where it describes Elijah running out of water and wishing to die, and the story I told of “Martin Lopez,” an immigrant who – like many – miraculously survived his desert crossing. As I went back and forth between English and Spanish in preaching, I also noticed the difference in how it feels to preach in each language, and even something as basic as the fact that in the text the word “desert” is used in Spanish, but “wilderness” in English. The latter makes the connection between those Biblical stories and today’s immigrant stories a bit less obvious!

Bible Study on Moses (Exodus 1-2)

Solid participation – about 30 or so people; a good mix of male and female. People jumped right in and participated.

Some of the insights:

• We talked about stories and the importance of them for us to know who we are, and that the Bible is a book of stories – stories meant to be told, shared, discussed and connected to our own stories. I highlighted in that first paragraph the importance of knowing who all the names in that list were, even though it can be easy to want to ignore it (in the way that we get tired of hearing grandma tell her stories!).
• The fact that the Bible is a story of immigrants was already in the room. A woman from Puerto Rico, who turned out to have much insight and much to say, started us off in the right direction.
• People connected immediately with the idea of fear of the immigrant and the concern that there are too many of them. People offered a few examples of things they had heard in the radio: “Go back to eat nopales en México” to white flight when “Hispanics” begin to move into the neighborhood to people avoiding the streets or making faces at immigrants in stores.
• I emphasized the generational change and the fact that the new Pharaoh didn’t know Joseph. People also connected immediately to having their stories and contributions ignored. I emphasized the importance of countering the society’s narrative, and the importance of telling our own story to be more complete, to recognize the contributions and the need to do so in supportive communities and out loud.
• It is out of fear that Pharoah acts and begins to rewrite the law, forcing people into hard labor. “They ask us for social security, and either for being immigrants or being women, they close certain jobs to us.” The laws must be adjusted, for those who can’t be trusted! There are systemic things in place meant to force them into specific types of labor.
• Chapter 1 verse 12 talks about the way that the people of Israel actually “flourished” under oppression. One participant pointed out that the hard work immigrants are forced to do actually makes them stronger and more determined – hence backfiring in its attempt to exclude/drive them away, same as it did for Pharaoh. In his attempt to get rid of the people, he actually made them stronger.
• Another participant, however, pointed out that this “flourishing” is not automatic. That if people accept only work – what the Pharaoh wants to dish them – then they can be eliminated. Instead, the participant called for people to go beyond work, and spend time with their kids: guiding them, nurturing their own lives, educating themselves and finding their way forward. At the end of the day, I said, after spending all day baking bricks in the hot sun, they went home and gathered their kids around the fire to tell them the stories of who they are and feed them that alternative narrative.
• The alternative narrative is hugely needed, against what people hear in the radio, from others, in school, on television and sometimes even from one another.

Contemplating fruit crops & labor markets in Washington State's Yakima Valley

Wednesday, July 15, 2009


So much happens each day, it is hard to keep up with writing. I need to come up with a daily pattern for my days, so that the sabbatical “works.” I really need a sabbatical routine that includes time for study, reflection and rest. A rather contrary need is also to let go. To let go of my own anxieties and needs to perform, and to know that this will be a time where I do what I can – and may not be able to do all that I want.



Moving in

First there are the on-going, needed basics. Finding a barber. Figuring out the grocery stores, including the discount “club” card, and restocking on groceries, as we don’t have everything that is on our shelves at home. Schedule at the pool. Adjusting to the higher prices and working out a budget. Finding the right pots, pans, dishes and utensils, and adjusting to other aspects of a new place to live. Our arrival has been significantly cushioned by those who have welcomed us here – folks at La Casa Hogar who have helped to make so many arrangements, Bill and Betty who have graciously let us walk into their house – with no more instructions than the code for the alarm system!


What is this transition like for those who come without the language? Who live in fear because of their immigration status? Who come without resources? Doña Maria, 9 months pregnant and left in California with $2 in her pocket… It reminded me of my mom’s own feelings early on when she came to visit and felt trapped in our apartment… I haven’t even been able to find work picking yet. I have followed up on contacts that I know and certainly have approached it differently because my subsistence doesn’t depend on it. Still, after three days here, I am not all that clear about how the labor market works. I have become more aware of the complexities and unreliability of available work.

The best fruit growing land in the world

I spoke with Mr. Ingham the other night, a local small cherry grower who I was told may have some work available. He is about to do two additional days of picking starting today (Wednesday). He depends primarily on a single family that has worked for him for quite some time (the oldest of the siblings in the family began working for him just over 10 years ago in 1998). He was kind enough to spend quite a bit of time on the phone with me talking about the process. He talked about the fact that this section of the country (the “inside” part of the West Coast of the U.S.) is the best place in the world to raise certain fruit crops – particularly, of course, apples, cherries and grapes. The dry air prevents disease, the stable temperatures and plenty of sun aid the growth, water is readily available, etc. The northern part of the region—Oregon and Washington—is particularly appropriate for “deciduous” trees that must “rest” for part of the year in order to be able to produce each season. When I suggested that some apple crops are moving south to places like Mexico, he balked at the idea, saying that areas to the south cannot produce the same quantity and quality of fruit because of the lack of a seasonal change. “Even in parts of southern California, they have to chemically “slap” the trees to sleep for part of the year, because it stays too warm. The advantage for them on cherries is that they will have an earlier crop, so it doesn’t matter as much that the fruit is not the same quality.” He went on to say that in the Midwest—places like Michigan—they face a different problem with too much rain, resulting in a number of diseases on the trees.

Until I went to Holden Village for the first time about six years ago, I really didn’t realize how large the Hispanic population was in this area. The fact that this region is so well suited to growing fruit has everything to do with it. As highlighted in a presentation at a congressional hearing a few months back, which was looking at the possibility and need for immigration reform, Congresswoman Feinstein (I believe) pointed out that the U.S. is loosing much of its fruit and vegetable production because they require such high manual labor. Unlike crops that have become common in much of the country – like corn and soy beans – the planting and harvesting of fruits and vegetables cannot be so fully mechanized. They require lots of manual labor. As farmers struggle to find or afford the necessary labor, they either turn to more mechanized crops—and try to compete in an ever increasingly competitive market, needing to become larger and larger—or they simply turn to other professions.

A complex labor market
I am really interested in understanding more about how people make the decision to migrate, but also about the “demand” side. How does the labor market in an area like this one here in Yakima work? Some elements were revealed in my conversation with one of the growers here in this area. When I asked him about the need for migrant labor, he made a distinction between the “locals” and the “migrants.” He defined migrants as those—an increasingly shrinking pool—who actually migrate with the season and are here in the valley only temporarily. He talked about them as the H2H group, referring to the immigration visa designation for temporary farm workers. That number of visas is minute compared to the need, of course, so in that group I am assuming are many who are here without any documentation, but who still move with the crops. His sense is that as one moves away from the larger towns and cities, the need for that kind of labor is greater. His own farm is right in town here in Yakima, so he feels he has plenty of “local” labor. By local he means people who have settled into the area. Interestingly, he makes no distinctions about their immigration status, and is either unaware or it doesn’t really matter to him. He seems to prefer working with the same people year after year, and through various stages of the process. In fact, he expressed frustration—even anger—at the fact that some of these “locals” can get ideas and play growers one against the other for wages. “They have no loyalty,” he said with disgust in his voice when I interpreted this as a normal process as people became more aware of options and tried to exercise some bargaining power.

Then there is the fickleness of the crops. As I have been trying to find work here this week, a variety of factors limit opportunities. When I called last week, for example, I was told the “packing” warehouses, who purchase the crop in bulk and package it for distribution, were not taking product.  “The pipeline filled up,” said one of the growers. It has been a plentiful crop in some of the cherry varieties (Right now it is cherries that are being harvested.). The trouble is that many of the cherries are smaller. Cherries are traditionally measured by how many of them fill a row in a standard carton that they are sold on—the most desirable seems to be “9 row cherries.” That means the cherries are large enough that nine of them fill a row. The current crop produced a lot of cherries, but they tended to be smaller. In the case of the person I was talking to, he has ended up with a lot of 11 and 11 ½ row cherries, which are not as easy to sell and the market seems to be full right now. “It depends on what the market will bear,” said the grower, who like farmers in all other crops around the country are everything from engineers to mechanics to economists in order to get their product to market in an increasingly complicated economy. Of course, they don’t have much wiggle room in participating in this technologically advanced economy, when the fruit still grows on very “traditional,” nature bound trees! Cherries in particular have a very small window. When they are ready, they are ready and must be harvested. If you wait too long, they over ripen and don’t last well when packed. “People will remember a bad cherry,” he said indicating the high expectations consumers have and the little understanding for the vagaries of producing that perfect cherry.

In season and out of season
In the middle of all this are migrant workers, who must quickly learn about these things and figure out a way to make a living in a very unreliable labor market. During the cherry season, the one family that works for the grower I spoke with can make upwards of $20 to $25 an hour because they are experienced pickers. They will work starting at 5:00 a.m. (the cooler part of the day) and must pick for as long as possible. If the day is cool, that could mean going quite late and having a 12-hour day. If it is hot, however, they must stop before the fruit holds so much heat that it will be damaged when packed. So a more “traditional” day runs from 5:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. What happens in the off-season? I know in places like Florida, some farm workers – like restaurant workers – go on unemployment for part of the year. You don’t have that kind of “benefit” when you are undocumented and have no labor protections. What happens when the crop you were scheduled to pick ends up not being picked because – like it happened just two days ago with another small local grower – the company who was going to buy it decided the crop was “too damaged” and won’t buy it? So the crop must sit on the trees and wait to mature further to see if it can be sold in the wine market, which evidently needs more mature, sweeter fruit and is likely not as picky about what it looks like…

So you have a region that is geographically perfect for growing fruit, but then demands large labor during parts of the year and not during other times. How has the increase in immigration enforcement shaped this market? In my mind, I have the “ideal” of migrant workers that came in generations past, “only when needed’ and then either followed crops further north into Canada or went “home” to Mexico during the off-season. It is my understanding that that long-standing pattern has been disrupted by the border enforcement efforts. I have much yet to read about this, as well as doing some anecdotal research with folks who have lived in this area either as growers or workers for long periods of time.

I think I still hold on to the naïve hope that people who depend heavily on immigrant labor would hold a particularly open view on immigration reform. I am not sure that is the case. While personal contact and stories do make a difference in people’s attitudes, there is a way in which we are quite capable of viewing those we know as “exceptions.” So the people who work “for me” I designate as locals, and see the labor coming to work for others – especially those who continue to migrate – as more suspect… In that view, those to whom I have granted the privilege of acceptance had better behave. I will be quite angry if they get ideas and decide not to be loyal….

Considering migration in a "Western" town

Saturday, July 11, 2009

We’ve seen some incredible sites. Yesterday we drove into Medora, North Dakota, at sunset (at about 9:00 p.m.). We got to see the sun setting over the Badlands at the Theodore Roosevelt National Park. It was stunning.


This morning we had breakfast at the Elkhorn Café – named after one of Roosevelt’s ranches in the area.  They make a big deal out of him there! We walked around the town for a bit. Most things were closed since it was still early, but the kids got to get the feel of the “Western” looking little town. They’ve really done an incredible job reinventing the town. The place made me think so much of migration and movement. In a way, I guess the West is all about that. People’s roots are a bit more recent and more visible here, and the scale and nature of the region resists “settling” too much. 
I saw a poster for an immigration-related exhibit sponsored by the Smithsonian that is coming to the area. It was called Journey Stories, I believe. I’ll have to check it out. The tag line was something about exploring the way that changes in mobility have shaped the nation and the world, and it was based on individual people’s stories, inviting anyone who would attend to tell their story as well. As if a confirmation of this, the Maltese Cross Café (named after Roosevelt’s other ranch in the area!) was run by an Asian family – the chef making the omelets, the cashier and one of the guys coming in who seemed to run the place were all of Asian descent. Of course, there’s also the ever-present railroad, which parallels most of the highway we have been traveling – a clear reminder of the contributions of Asian Americans to the formation of the West and the history of their exploitation. I also saw a historical sign in town – which now I wish I had taken a picture of – that started with some reference to how Custer had come through town with his army to deal with a native group’s “aggression.” Oh, the way we write history…

A sermon that missed the mark

Monday, July 6, 2009


This is what the lake should be about. It is weird… I just read the New York Times on my phone sitting here in the cabin overlooking the lake. It is indeed an odd world. I am waiting on a call from someone in Mexico City. Cell phones and their use has become so commonplace that it’s easy to minimize the significance – the way that technology has made location less significant in some ways and our ability to be “on the move” much more possible. 

We went to church yesterday morning. I left feeling tired and drained. I just tried to explain to Aaron why, and I am not sure that I totally could. The “points” of the sermon maybe were OK; it’s just the delivery and the shallowness of it. The world matters so much, and we’re talking about being motivated by guilt to do what we are told. Maybe part of my disappointment is the difference in the way I hear the text and the way it gets preached. The reference in the intro to the Gospel to Jesus going abroad and at home. The rejection he experienced in Nazareth, that talks about this painful reality of being drained of power. He could do nothing there but heal a few, and he was astonished at their unbelief. How can we read that and not comment on it? The pastor focused on the sending out. With nothing but the clothes on their backs. No extra shoes, money or weapons. To go out trusting in the hospitality of strangers, in the welcome in a foreign community. Is it too much of a stretch to talk about migration when people are just going around various communities? What were the boundaries then? With the limitations of movement, political boundaries, limited transportation – what is the equivalent to the kind of movement we can make today? We have traveled farther over this weekend than what Jesus ever traveled in his life. And yet he acknowledges some difference, some openness, to those who come from outside, to those who migrate. Part of the disappointment with the sermon on Sunday maybe was the fact that the pastor began the service by asking visitors to identify where they were coming from, and as – one by one – most of the people in the sanctuary indicated they were from elsewhere, he jokingly asked if anyone was from Calvary (the name of the church). Then he preached as if everyone lived a block away and ignored the fact that this was a migrant community for that Sunday.