Pastor Bre Roberts
UNM Campus Ministry, Albuquerque, NM
It started out like my typical Wednesday as a
campus ministry practitioner at a large public university. Every week I drag my
cart across campus, set up a display table, and prepare to greet a few hundred
incoming freshman and their parents. At this so-called “Discovery Fair,” these
young adults navigate through a maze of tables for everything from the student
health center, the local credit union, nearby housing options, and even
Religious Row, our small collection of mostly Christian student organizations.
Luther House happens to be the only affirming and welcoming Christian ministry
for LGBTQI2S (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Questioning/Queer, Intersex,
and Two-Spirit) folks. Since we are easy to pick out, students can easily and
eagerly find us or avoid us like the plague. But this week, I managed to talk
to a few young adults who claimed the identity of atheist or agnostic or both.
I cheerfully handed them some Starburst and a flyer anyway and invited them to
join us, because free dinner once with us could actually not be awful, and at
worst they would have just gotten a free meal from some weird Christians. We
shall see if any of them appear once the semester starts in August!
Then later that day, I went to a press
conference at a neighboring congregation that the New Mexico Faith Coalition
for Immigrant Justice organized. You see, Kadhim is an Iraqi husband and father
who came to this country as a refugee and worked as a linguist for the US
military. In 2017, Iraq agreed to take back a small number of its citizens in
exchange for being removed from the list of countries named in the current
administration’s Muslim travel ban. Kadhim went into sanctuary then after being
followed by ICE so as to avoid being held in detention away from his family. He
lived in the church building for two years. On Wednesday, we gathered, clergy,
activists, church ladies, legal advocates, community leaders, camera folks, to
hear the news that Kadhim was free to leave sanctuary, that his removal order
had been vacated, and that his case would be heard. We celebrated with joy,
even as we remembered others still in sanctuary, countless other held in
detention or making their way across borders, and other members of our
community who are still in the struggle for finding home.
My next stop after a quick pizza dinner with
our Luther House community was only two doors down from our building at the UNM
Aquinas Newman Center, the university parish for our Roman Catholic siblings.
We went as guests to a special Mass of Healing that Archbishop John C. Wester
celebrated. The reason for this event was tragic: last Sunday, a bus with youth
and chaperones from this parish were headed home from a conference when their
bus crashed north of Pueblo, Colorado. Two people, the bus driver and a
seminarian, were killed in the collision and many were injured as well. I decided
we needed to go almost literally next door to support our neighbors as they
mourned the loss of so much and all the grief they face in the days ahead. We
sat there in Mass, clearly not Catholic, but joined in the unity that Christ
longs for in the whole church. With my pink hair, Chaco sandals, and two
slightly noisy pastors’ kids in tow, it was a holy moment when Archbishop
Wester mentioned our presence as Lutherans among the congregation and expressed
his gratitude for us.
This was not an ordinary campus ministry day,
but only because all those moments of meeting Christ in the face of a skeptical
young adult, a liberated father and husband, and a grieving congregation happened
to occur in one day on the calendar. Moments like these happen over and over,
and frankly the best parts of my job are when I am interrupted in these holy
and surprising moments. Whether these encounters with God are on campus, in the
house, at a local congregation, or somewhere on the road, they are possible
because campus ministry is valued and supported with time, energy, and
financial resources by our synod, our supporting congregations, and every donor
who mails a check or brings a meal. Thank you for allowing me to find these
holy encounters.
Then later that day, I went to a press
conference at a neighboring congregation that the New Mexico Faith Coalition
for Immigrant Justice organized. You see, Kadhim is an Iraqi husband and father
who came to this country as a refugee and worked as a linguist for the US
military. In 2017, Iraq agreed to take back a small number of its citizens in
exchange for being removed from the list of countries named in the current
administration’s Muslim travel ban. Kadhim went into sanctuary then after being
followed by ICE so as to avoid being held in detention away from his family. He
lived in the church building for two years. On Wednesday, we gathered, clergy,
activists, church ladies, legal advocates, community leaders, camera folks, to
hear the news that Kadhim was free to leave sanctuary, that his removal order
had been vacated, and that his case would be heard. We celebrated with joy,
even as we remembered others still in sanctuary, countless other held in
detention or making their way across borders, and other members of our
community who are still in the struggle for finding home.
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