Head and Heart: The Dreamers and September 11th

photo by jphillipobrien / flickr

The Sunday following the day the Towers fell I was preaching in Huntsville, Alabama. After the sermon an Usher came and said, “There’s a young man back here that would like to speak to you.” He was dark-skinned. Obviously from some middle-eastern country. The first thing he said was, “I hope you don’t hate all of us.” Strange way to open a conversation. And then he poured out his pain. He was from Iraq. He was a student far from home. A Muslim. He was so embarrassed at what had happened. He told me that in that long week since the towers fell some people had been ugly to him. Some said little but they just looked like they hated him. I still remember his words, “I hope you don’t hate all of us.” I tried to

photo by Marion Doss / flickr

assure him that I didn’t hate him and neither did many others. I said that we did not hold him responsible for had happened. I said we were glad he was in our country and hoped things would go well for him. He shook my hand and left. I have often wondered where he is today.

His haunting question comes back to me today. “I hope you don’t hate us.” The Dreamers are asking that same question sixteen years later. There are 800,000 young people working, studying and longing for a better life. They have won scholarships. Some have worked three jobs and are still in school. Their parents fled poverty and fear just to come to a place that was safe and they could start over. They came with little sacks and bundles. They brought with them two, five and seven year olds. They found work and a life of safety. Most of them have worked hard and are proud that their little ones grew up and have had chances they never had.

DACA—Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals—opened their doors to the future. After paying a hefty fee every two years, those qualified for this program could receive Social Security cards, get a driver’s license, pay taxes and be admitted to many of our colleges. There are over 7,000 South Carolina Dreamers.

photo by Susan Melkisethian / flickr

In Greenville and all over this country they and their supporters have taken to the streets. Ana Tepio was brought here when she was six year’s old. She says, “I have never been outside of Greenville. I’ve studied here, I’ve graduated from here…I’ve been here forever. It’s the only place I know as home.” Her story could be duplicated many times. America is the only home many of them know. Many can only speak English.

Dismantling this program will leave these 800,000 young people in limbo. Will we send them back to places they do not even know? Some have bought homes. As students they will just be forced to leave schools and suspend their educations. They will lose jobs, driver’s licenses and the opportunities that America provides for our young.

The Attorney General of the United States, speaking for the President says this program will be dismantled if nothing is done in six months. He has joined with some State Attorney Generals saying that DACA is unconstitutional and that we must stand by the rule of law. Our South Carolina Attorney General has joined this group. This “rule of law” has a strange familiar ring. We heard these words in a time of slavery. We heard the same words when women did not have the right to vote. We heard the words as we struggled to desegregate our schools. We even heard the words when your football teams would only admit white players. Gays heard “the rule of law” as they came out of the shadows simply to be who they were. We cannot hide behind the rule of law when people’s dreams are dismantled. When the twin towers came down 327 people from foreign nations were killed that day. They were Americans too.

Our President has sent mixed signals on this important matter. He has said he cannot support the Dreamer’s. He has also said that he loves them. Strange logic. Instead of making a firm decision to stand up for these 800,000—he has abdicated his responsibility and pushed this matter over to the Congress. These young people must wait six months to find out their status and their futures. This is a terrible place to be.

What kind of a people are we? Cruel. Mean-spirited. Rigid and heartless. I think not. On this day when we remember that terrible time when America was turned inside out—we came together as one people. Labels did not matter. We dug through the debris. We found bodies. We had funerals. We wept over and over. It hardly mattered what color we were or what we believed.

This is the America I still long for. What would I tell the young man today who asked me years ago if we hated him. And what shall we tell all these frightened young people who look to us for an answer. Love is not what we say. Love is what we do. And hate is not an American value.