Immigrant Posadas

Advent here on the border means a time to celebrate Las Posadas. The Posadas commemorate divinely pregnant Mary and her escort Joseph in search of Posada, meaning "inn" or "lodging" as Mary comes due to give birth to the Christ child. The usual Posada celebration includes people dressed as the nativity characters, who search for shelter, travelling from building to building, home to home, or, in our case since it was cold outside, from one group of people to another group within the sanctuary. Through song, the humble family requests to be let in--to be given posada as the birth draws near--and we witness a back-and-forth dialogue with the holy family and the innkeeper(s). With their first three requests, they are denied:

En el nombre del cielo os pido posada pues no puede andar mi esposa amada.	In the name of Heaven I ask of you shelter, For my beloved wife Can go no farther.
Aquí no es mesón, sigan adelante Yo no debo abrir, no sea algún tunante.	There's no inn here, Go on with you, I can't open up You might be a rogue.
Venimos rendidos desde Nazaret. Yo soy carpintero de nombre José.	We're weary from traveling from Nazareth. I am a carpenter by the name of Joseph.
No me importa el nombre, déjenme dormir, pues que yo les digo que nos hemos de abrir.	I don't care who you are, Let me sleep. I already told you we're not going to open.
Posada te pide, amado casero, por sólo una noche la Reina del Cielo.	I ask you for lodging dear man of the house. Just for one night for the Queen of Heaven.
Pues si es una reina quien lo solicita, ¿cómo es que de noche anda tan solita?	Well, if it's a queen who's asking us for it, why does she travel all alone and in the night?

The holy travelers go unrecognized, and are a burden to the innkeeper, who doubts that they are more than just a begging humbug family, undeserving of shelter. But at the last stop, the innkeeper has sort of an epiphany, and the pilgrims are welcomed in. And the Christmas story continues.

Mi esposa es María, es Reina del Cielo y madre va a ser del Divino Verbo.

My wife is Mary She's the Queen of Heaven who is going to be the mother of the Divine Word.

¿Eres tú José? ¿Tu esposa es María? Entren, peregrinos, no los conocía.

Are you Joseph? Your wife is Mary? Enter, pilgrims; I did not recognize you.

Entren, Santos Peregrinos, Peregrinos, reciban este rincón. No de esta pobre morada Sino de mi corazón.

Enter, Holy Pilgrims Receive this corner Not of this poor dwelling, but of my heart.

A couple days ago, I attended a Posada celebration that took a more modern spin to the traditional story: one entitled "Posada del Barrio," given the English name of "Immigrant Posada." After being a part of this particular Posada re-enactment, there is no doubt in my mind that the biblically-based Posada celebration is relevant to this border community. As one of the speakers at the service shared, we often think of the Mary and Joseph's journey as a 2000-year-old story, and oftentimes neglect to remember its relevance still today - its aliveness still today. The intensity and reality of the words of the refined Immigrant Posada lyrics speared into me in a way that will never allow me to forget the relevance of the holy family's journey to our community today. Joseph, Mary, and baby Jesus take the form of a foreign traveling family with no proper documentation. The Posada song begins with the innkeeper taking the form of an already-migrated US citizen, responding the requests of a border-crossing migrant:

En nombre de la justicia Pido apoyo solidario Cruce la línea de noche Vengo de indocumentado	In the name of justice I ask for support and solidarity I crossed the border at night I came without papers
No vengas con tu miseria Ni vengas a molestar Te voy a echar la migra Pa que te mande a volar	Don’t come with your misery And don’t come to bother us I’m going to report you to immigration So they can send you packing
Paisano soy de tu tierra Como tu vine a buscar Con mi familia un trabajo Mira mi necesidad	Countryman, I’m from your land Like you I came with my family In search of work Look at my need
No me interesa quien sea Deja ya de mendigar Yo ya soy ciudadano Y te voy a reportar	I’m not interested in who you are Forget about begging I’m already a citizen And I’m going to report you
Ya va a nacer mi criatura No tengo a donde llegar Al brincar la muralla Mi esposa quedo muy mal	My child is about to be born I have nowhere to stay When we crossed over the wall My wife got very hurt
Si me sigues molestando La migra te voy a echar Vete mojado a tu tierra Aqui no tienes lugar	If you keep bothering me I’m going to call immigration Go back home, Wetback There’s no place for you here.

Harshly realistic. Uncomfortable. Depressing. Comparable to the innkeeper of the Christmas story.

Then, similarly to the innkeeper's epiphany at the end of the traditional song, the US citizen has a change of heart. The community that had been rejecting the migrant, now undergoes a sort of conversion, and their rejection turns into a different response:

Peregrinos de mi tierra Venga a la comunidad Aqui nos organizamos Por justicia y dignidad	Pilgrims of my land Come join our community Here we organize For justice and dignity
Gracias les damos hermanos Dios en ustedes esta Gracia por darnos posada Mil bendiciones tendrán	We give you thanks, brothers and sisters May God be with you Thank you for giving us a place to stay You will receive a thousand blessings

Vamos juntos como Pueblo, como hermanos,  como hermanas a sembrar La justicia que en el barrio, que en el barrio,  como estrella brillara

Let us go together as a people, like brothers,  like sisters to plant The seed of justice that will shine like a bright star in our community

For me the most amazing thing about the traditional Posada song is the innkeeper's transformation. After being annoyed and doubtful for three stanzas, the man's eyes are opened: This is the family he had heard about! The mother of Emmanuel - the Most High evolving within her. No way would he turn away the one carrying the promised Holy One. When his eyes recognized their holy identity, when his heart was open to the Divine, then he opened his arms and his home.

I don't think the Immigrant Posada is much different. Although we get less of a transition into the converted community who welcomes the migrant family, I can't help but to wonder if the transformation of attitude could occur because of a recognition of the Divine within the migrant.

When our eyes recognize God within our migrant brothers and sisters, will we be more motivated to open our arms and our home to them?

When our hearts are open to the Divine - when we are genuinely convicted of God's omnipresence, which includes humanity beyond our borders - will our attitude towards the migrant change?

Will we leave bitterness in the dust, and demonstrate compassion? Will we give traveling families hospitality instead of fear or separation?

Like the innkeeper's recognition of Mary, will we recognize the Holy One living within our migrant brothers and sisters?

The migrant shepherd, remembrance cross and water jug in hand.