The radical commitment to showing hope, not hate

Given my recent participation in nonviolent protests at the Broadview Detention Center in suburban Chicago, it has been frustrating to see how we have been depicted by ICE and the Department of Homeland Security.

Clearly for political benefit, we are labeled as “radical leftists,” as “a violent mob,” as “angry rioters,” and as “paid professional agitators” — suggesting we are brought in from somewhere else. This is the language of hate and fear and division — the kind of either-or thinking that is increasingly encouraged as part of a wider political strategy.

I wonder if DHS Secretary Kristi Noem or Border Patrol Commander Greg Bovino realize that the Friday prayerful protests at Broadview were initiated in 2007 by two nuns: Sr. Pat Murphy and Sr. Joann Pesch. Every Friday, a small group has gathered with the two Sisters for the vigil — every Friday, in bitter cold and scorching heat. The vigil included interfaith prayers: for the safety and well-being of the detainees, for the mercy and consideration of the ICE officers and to awaken the conscience of political leaders who had/have the power to change policy.

If the ICE officers considered this history, and paid attention to who the protesters are, and what they are actually doing — singing and praying and taking communion——perhaps they would not have shot rubber bullets and tear gas canisters at us. And perhaps the Illinois State Police would not have struck numerous protesters with their wooden batons. The prayerful vigils at Broadview are the antithesis of such violence——not driven by hate, but by hope. And this is the nonviolent message that the protests deliver: hope — not hate — is the muscle that we now need to flex in the body politic.

Compassion — for the immigrants trapped inside Broadview, and for those who have been unjustly detained around the city — would seem a central motive for the Broadview protests. Compassion — to suffer with — is also a basic moral tenet common to many religions: love your neighbor, welcome the stranger, provide for the poor and vulnerable, offer care and comfort to the sick and equal opportunity to people regardless of their background.

Three of the last four protests I’ve attended at Broadview have included communion services and were led by various pastors from a variety of faiths and denominations. The largest of these was a “eucharistic procession” from a Catholic church in Maywood through the streets to the Broadview gates. We were led by several priests who sought to gain entrance to the detention center to give communion to the detainees.

There were nearly a thousand of us marching through Maywood that day. Most wore the free yellow tee shirts that were handed out to us at the church. “God has cast down the mighty from their thrones,” the shirts proclaimed, “and has lifted up the lowly.” As we marched, we sang various hymns and recited prayers for the detainees. In spite of the size of the march, people were remarkably kind and respectful — of each other, and of the people in the neighborhood.

When we finally arrived at the Broadview Detention Center gates, and encountered a line of state troopers, the priests asked them if they could go inside and give communion to the detainees. The troopers behaved with respect, and promptly called inside to the ICE officers, who rejected the request. No, they could not come inside. We continued to sing and pray at the gate for awhile and then slowly dispersed.

Please note: there were 1,000 protesters there, but there was no violence or riots. This was not an “angry mob” but just a bunch of regular people who have jobs and families and busy lives. I think they showed up for a simple reason — out of a growing concern about the war being waged by our government (DHS and ICE) against the immigrant community, who are simply trying to go about their daily lives without being arrested and/or assaulted.

Is that such a radical idea?

• Tom Montgomery Fate is a professor emeritus at College of DuPage. His most recent book is The Long Way Home, a travel memoir.