No one should be afraid to come to worship.

No child or teenager should be afraid of being bullied. No chronically ill person should worry that their congregation won’t help protect their immune system. No one should be afraid that their skin color will give them an outsider status or that holding the hand of someone they love will bring them scorn. No one should be afraid of violence.

More than that, no one should be afraid that when they come to church they won’t be allowed to go home again.

I’ve never considered myself a terribly political person, but I am loyal. Working for the South Carolina Synod (ELCA) connected me more with congregations across the synod. I got to know pastors, deacons, and congregations in new ways. God opened my eyes. No longer are my people just the ones I’ve personally pastored. They’re all my people now, even though I’m serving a congregation again.

This past week, when new Executive Orders from the President moved to allow ICE agents to enter churches, politics pushed into my domain. We have a sister congregation, Cristo Rey, in West Columbia. The services there are in Spanish and the worshipers are South Carolinians who have come from many and various countries to live and work here.

I’ve never checked the immigration status of any of my parishioners. I know that I have pastored felons, immigrants, and many people whose stories I don’t fully know. None of their qualities can separate them from the love of God and, unless they pose a danger to others who worship with us, I don’t worry about them. Generally, I’m a rule follower and believe in visas and green cards. The body of Christ doesn’t have those distinctions when we gather to pray and praise our God.

Pastor Jorge replied quickly to the email I sent asking what sort of support his congregation needs. Prayers, of course, are always welcome. What he asked for in particular was a visit. He asked me to come and bring greetings as a show of support. My friend Amanda, a pastor at another local congregation, came along with me and we arrived a few minutes before the service started.

We interrupted Pastor Jorge as he was taking pictures for unofficial IDs, recognizing worshipers as part of the Cristo Rey community in both English and Spanish. These cards have been helpful in the past to help the community know where pastoral care is needed. Pastor Mark was preparing for worship, but greeted us and welcomed us in.

We weren’t the only Anglo pastors there. Two other churches had come to show support, one with a check from their fund that supports mission congregations.

It was beautiful. Every seat was taken. The congregation was reverent. There were so many children. I’ve preached to congregations with fewer people. The people were chatty. They knew each other and loved each other. The passing of the peace took several joyful minutes. I don’t speak Spanish, but I speak church. This was a thriving congregation, providing home and family for each other. They shared the good news of Jesus with the Scriptures appointed for the day and communion.

In the bulletin, I didn’t know what to make of the Blessing “con agua”. Maybe it would be a sprinkling from a bowl, like high churches might do after confession and forgiveness? No, it was a joyous line up around the sanctuary. People came up, one by one, and were blessed by the pastors with a handful of water. Not everyone had come forward for holy communion, but it seemed that everyone wanted to hear God’s name spoken over them and feel the splash from the baptismal font.

We were welcomed to stay for dinner, but had to head back to our families. We weren’t allowed to leave, however, without a pastry and a cup of juice. While I drove, Amanda dug right into what looked like an apple tart. It wasn’t apple at all. It was full of chicken and delicious, as I confirmed as soon as I could.

I came to support to Cristo Rey. Cristo Rey fed me.

I don’t want special treatment for Cristo Rey. I don’t expect any more for them than we might give to any other mission congregation. I want for them what I want for my congregation. I want them to be able to gather with joy and reverence. I want them to continue to preach the good news. I want them to be the presence of God in the place where they’ve been planted.

No one should be afraid to come to worship.