Visiting a Spanish-Language Church by Blake
Recently I attended a church service very different from our Quaker meeting. I sat in the back and understood only parts of the service, which was in Spanish. I was there to support my goddaughter Maria who had been asked to lead a “Know Your Rights” training after the service. Around me mothers swayed as they held their sleeping children, and older people smiled and nodded to everyone. Young children ran in quiet circles. The teenagers sat as a group.
When the praise-singing ended, Maria and I were introduced by the pastor. I moved to the front row with our box of “Know Your Rights” supplies.
Maria told the congregation what they could do if ICE came to their church. We turned to our left to look at the two entrances. We looked behind us to the pastor who could refuse entrance to the ICE agents if they did not have a judicial warrant. He nodded that he would do his best to protect his congregation.
A man asked, “Are we safe? Can we go to work?”
Maria took an audible breath. She does not often talk about her faith. But as she looked out at all of us, she said, “Yes, you should feel safe. Because now is a time for faith and now is a time for calm. They want us to be panicked. When we are panicked, we make mistakes. But we have rights. And we have faith.”
All around me people nodded in agreement.
When Maria was done, and after I had spoken to the group in my gringo Spanish, I thought the evening was finished. But the praise singers returned to the front of the sanctuary. This time, I was close enough to read the lyrics on the monitor. And though I did not know the tune and I sing like a seal, in my heart I sang with the congregation:
Cuando débil estoy,
él su mano me da.
Juntos vamos así,
su amor cantando.
When I am weak,
He gives his hand to me.
Together we go forward,
Singing of his love.
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