Show me the way to go home
Father Daniel Berrigan reflects on refugees, Christ, and the American Dream.
There isn’t much sense talking about “roots” unless you can also point to flowers, fruits, leaves, fronds, seeds.
Thus we point to what the poets call the human condition, borrowing from around us to look within us.
Refugees are uprooted.
You look into the eyes of boat children; they have the look of people torn out of their proper soil, their hair wild as roots, lives dangling in midair.
They’ve lost that look of flowers, that serene becalmed presence, an infinitely sweet persuasion and urging—“Be—like me!”