Dear Westwood Family,
I love and enjoy the parts of Thanksgiving celebrations that center on gratitude and generosity. But I also hope to be a part of growing Jesus’ Beloved Community, and I know that enjoying the kind of community of shalom that God envisions also requires that I continue to work through the stories and legacies that undergird our national celebration of Thanksgiving. There is work to do to unpack and untangle harmful histories and structures; we cannot hope to experience the fullness of God’s promise until we do that hard work.
Also: Today, as I write this, I have just come back from a prayer vigil hosted outside the federal detention center, where ICE agents often bring our neighbors–the ones who’ve been apprehended in our streets, schools, workplaces and communities. Our Bishop Dottie Escobedo-Frank let us in prayer, as we sang songs and offered flowers as a visible sign of remembrance and hope. Our Lay Leader, Jenniffer Duran-West joined me–in prayer, we placed the flowers at the new metal fence that’s been erected around the detention center’s loading dock.
These two painful realities: the ongoing legacy of harm against indigenous peoples, and the present hostility and apprehension of immigrants, are strange, brutal companions in my mind and heart this week.
Los Angeles is a long way from Plymouth Rock, but our city’s story is similarly problematic; here, too, Christian settlers displaced indigenous inhabitants, not only in the first immigrant settlements, but through generations of oppressive actions and policies.
I’m moved by the Land Acknowledgement statement adopted in recent years by our County government. It says, in part, that “we occupy land originally and still inhabited and cared for by the Tongva, Tataviam, Serrano, Kizh, and Chumash Peoples. We honor and pay respect to their elders and descendants past, present, and emerging as they continue their stewardship of these lands and waters. We acknowledge that settler colonization resulted in land seizure, disease, subjugation, slavery, relocation, broken promises, genocide, and multigenerational trauma. This acknowledgment demonstrates our responsibility and commitment to truth, healing, and reconciliation and to elevating the stories, culture, and community of the original inhabitants of Los Angeles County. We are grateful to have the opportunity to live and work on these ancestral lands. We are dedicated to growing and sustaining relationships with Native peoples and local tribal governments…”
We cannot ignore or forget the lives and stories of the people who have been and are now being harmed and displaced by our arrogance, domination, and fear.
The stories of Thanksgiving that move me most are the ones that point us toward greater belonging, connection, and mutuality. This week, as we gather around tables to share rich food, I encourage you to take time to listen to the stories of those in your own family and neighborhood. What might happen if we asked to hear about the experiences of others? How might we be changed? What would it look like to make space to “elevate the stories, culture, and community” of our indigenous neighbors, or our immigrant neighbors?
In the benediction she offered at our prayer vigil today, Bishop Dottie invited us to set an extra place at our dinner tables this Thanksgiving weekend–to let that empty chair be a visible reminder of the people missing from our communities because they have been detained or deported. I am moved by this invitation. I love that it is a visible way to remember and hold compassion for others in the midst of our own gratitude and joy. It could serve as a reminder that our celebrations cannot be complete while anyone is missing from our table.
Last Sunday was full of rich blessings for me; there was such joy in worshiping together as Westwood UMC, and in sharing a meal together in the Loft. I was especially grateful to see folks making new friends during sanctuary conversations and around the lunch table. I believe that these connections are important openings to something more beautiful and more difficult: the righteous work of identifying and dismantling racism and sexism, privilege and power.
At our dinner tables, in our church life, and all throughout our lives, may we have the courage and strength to receive and understand others in all their fullness.
grace and peace,
Pastor Molly
