From the Rector…
Years ago, I served as a deputy at General Convention in Austin. One morning, deputies and bishops gathered in a park to pray before boarding buses to an immigration detention center where women who had crossed into the country were being held. It was not a protest or a demonstration. Instead, upon arrival, Michael Curry led a prayer service outside the walls.
I don’t know that the women inside fully understood what was happening, or why so many Episcopalians had come to pray—much less what Episcopalians are. But I do remember the signs they held up in the windows—hand-lettered, pressed against the glass. Sadly, we were too far away to read them. Later, an immigration lawyer told us that many of the signs expressed hope, gratitude, and appreciation that someone knew they were there. Others listed the names of children and spouses from whom they had been separated, not knowing what had become of them.
The women believed they had been forgotten in a strange place, far from home. They did not know if they would ever be released—or if they might die there, alone, separated from their families. I must admit, my heart broke a little when I heard that.
Over Holy Week this year, the Episcopal Church’s Asiamerica Ministries issued a call for Episcopalians to make and send origami cranes to be hung outside a detention center in Tacoma, Washington where their annual retreat is being held. There, they will gather again for prayer and leave the cranes—strung together—as a visible reminder of peace and solidarity.
The cranes, known as tsuru in Japanese, symbolize transformation, healing, and nonviolence—fitting themes in the Easter season. The death and resurrection of Jesus Christ stand at the center of our life and belief as Christians. To offer this symbol to those who are imprisoned, afraid, and uncertain of what the future holds is especially poignant. Jesus faced the cross without violence or anger. Even to the end, he healed others. His resurrection is the most powerful sign of transformation we know. To hang these cranes outside a detention center is to do more than offer hope; it is to proclaim—to them and to ourselves—that the worst things are never the last things.
The cranes are said to embody a wish for the world’s healing and their wings are believed to provide protection. There is even a traditional prayer that mother’s who are concerned for their children offer:
O flock of heavenly cranes, cover my child with your wings.
At Women’s Bible Study last week, several women gathered to fold cranes and send them to the Episcopal Diocese of Olympia as part of this expression of hope—this witness to a future greater than the present. Their willingness was not without challenge; origami is not easy. Nor was this, in any way, a political statement. Instead, they embraced a simple and beautiful opportunity to remind others that they are seen and not forgotten.
I am thankful for Jenny Garrett, who led the group in learning to fold the cranes; Janan Hayden, who shipped them; Mary Ann Martin, for her encouragement and enthusiasm; and Palmer Smith and Babette Bartmettler, for their patience and dexterity. I am grateful for their quiet sharing of the Good News—the love and hope of Jesus Christ, who reminds us that we are never alone.
Light and Life,
Candice+