Thawing the ICE

Dear Church:

Grace, peace, and WARMTH to you on the frozen tundra of Northeast Ohio. On Monday, I left Hollywood Beach, Florida, and its 84-degree temperature for this frigid landscape. Brrrrr. I’m eager for us to get above freezing, for the snow to melt, and for ICE to thaw.

While on tour with The Cleveland Orchestra and Chorus, you were heavily on my mind. I missed you and was eager to be with you especially as news of Alex Pretti’s death at the hands of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) reached the world on Saturday. Wasn’t it on January 7, the day after the Epiphany, that we learned of Renee Good being killed by ICE? It’s (past) time for ICE to thaw.

During the weekend that ICE agents killed Mr. Pretti, numerous clergy marched in crowds of 50,000 in negative degree temperatures in Minneapolis. Rev. Dr. Brian Henderson, Executive Director of the Association of Welcoming and Affirming Baptists who filled the pulpit at WACC on January 11, texted me and said, “I had ICE guns pointed at me.” ICE isn’t thawing; it’s staying, freezing, and ending lives; ICE is threatening people we know and love.

Many of us struggle to discern how faithfulness and public life intersect, and that struggle itself can be a sign of sincerity. As a faith leader and your pastor, I’ve wrestled with how to name—again—what’s happening in our country when there’s already plenty of polarization.

And yet, our faith has something to teach us. In Revelation (a book most of us, me included, prefer to skip), God addresses the church through the author in chapter 3, saying, “I see right through your work. You have a reputation for vigor and zest, but you’re dead, stone-dead. Up on your feet! Take a deep breath! Maybe there’s life in you yet. But I wouldn’t know it by looking at your busywork; nothing of God’s work has been completed. Your condition is desperate. Think of the gift you once had in your hands, the Message you heard with your ears—grasp it again and turn back to God” (3:1-4). and later “I know you inside and out, and find little to my liking. You’re not cold, you’re not hot—far better to be either cold or hot! You’re stale. You’re stagnant. You make me want to vomit (vv. 15-17). Vibrant worship on Sunday is not enough if we aren’t creating good trouble the remainder of the week. Stale faith abides by a mantra of “both sides.” For far too long, the Church has chosen not to say something biblical for the fear of being political. Perhaps it’s the Church that most needs to thaw from its inertia because the future God wants and ultimately will have requires us to do so.

This Sunday, we’ll gather for worship and we’ll hear an excerpt from Jesus’ most famous teaching, The Sermon on the Mount. Jesus says, “Favored by God are those who hunger and thirst for justice, for they will be satisfied.” That’s a scandalous claim, dear church. The favor of God rests not upon those who uphold the agenda of the empire but those who seek justice in the streets. These justice-seekers will be filled by God, Jesus says.

It’s still bitterly cold outside. Snow has fallen today, and there are layers of ice underneath the white powder. However, if we choose to take seriously the worship, work, and witness God is calling us to at this hour, we’ll discern together what thawing looks like for us. If we do this work faithfully and with good courage, the ICE outside doesn’t stand a chance; it will thaw.

Shalom, dear friends,