A Mutual Ministry

At the time of the interview, Peggy Hutchison was a United Methodist, director of border ministry for the Tucson Metropolitan Ministry, a graduate student in Middle East Studies at the University of Arizona and married to Michael Eisner. —The Editors

Sojourners: What kind of experience has the trial been for you?

Peggy Hutchison: For me it's been like a tragedy and a comedy. There are times when I've laughed so hard I'd cry. And there are times when I have literally cried. Probably the most painful part has been sitting there silently while the refugees have to testify. They are robbed of all their emotions, all of their humanity. They aren't given any dignity and respect. And we had to just sit there silently and not say anything. That was very painful.

I don't like being there. I didn't choose it; none of us did. And though we're 11 defendants, we're very different—theologically and politically. The one thing we have in common is our concern about refugees. The government brought us together, and that's been difficult, to be honest with you. But it's been a blessing, and I think we've learned from it.

Some of the things that we've struggled with for many years working in sanctuary are the same things we continue to struggle with in the context of the courtroom. Through this trial experience, I've relearned the importance of interpersonal relationships. I think that those of us in sanctuary, as well as other movements of the church or of the religious community, have tried to be there with each other when one of us has fallen on the sidelines. We have tried to be present with each other along this struggle.

It's been very difficult for me to see the focus that's been on us defendants. I've always felt that too much energy and emphasis were put on the North Americans involved in sanctuary instead of the refugees.

I do a lot of speaking, mainly connected to the Methodist Church, and it's been painful for me to see people outraged about the FBI going into their church. Or they are outraged about how Phil and I, as Methodists, are being treated. It's like they aren't as outraged at the fact that men, women, and children in Central America are dying from napalm bombs and white phosphorous, that their homes and farms are being burned, that they're killed by fragmentation bombs. They aren't even outraged at how the refugees are treated here.

Do you see a way of getting those outraged about how you're being treated to move into the other awareness?

I finally accepted that I, among others, was the hook. I'm the closest they can come at this point in time to the issue of Central American refugees, which for me is the focus. If that is the case, I have a responsibility to meet them there and move on. I need to move them on with me, to make them feel it as much as I feel it.

I still have a hard time accepting the reality of life in Central America, but I believe the refugees. They are the witnesses. So I have a responsibility, as I become impassioned, to help other people become impassioned. That's been difficult, but it's been a challenge. And it's helped me to see my responsibility as a Christian.

What thoughts or concerns do you have about the sanctuary movement in light of the trial?

A concern for me is how the media portray the movement. They tend to go to the white male clergy to get the "experts." These represent an important point of view, but it's not reflective of the whole movement.

My experience has been that more women have been involved in sanctuary than men. I am a laywoman in the Methodist Church, and part of my job has included working with sanctuary, and that has been a tremendous opportunity. But there are women who don't have the connection that I have to the church—working women, women who have children, who have been taking incredible risks and have done incredible work, all across the country and at the border and in Mexico. These women quietly provide their home, quietly provide a meal, quietly provide health care and transportation. They quietly provide a presence—probably one of the most important things—simply being with the refugees. That's powerful.

Another of the concerns I have, that all of us have, is paternalism in the movement. I know I have experienced, and I think participated in, paternalism in the treatment of refugees. Some of the experiences I hear that refugees are going through in their communities, with churches or whatever, are incredible. For instance, refugees are often not included in the decision-making process on questions regarding their lives. Where are refugees going to live? Do they go out and get food themselves? Are they given money? Do they go out and get it? Does somebody else get it for them? Does somebody go with them? Part of it is the security issue and the fear of refugees getting picked up.

There is also the decision about whether the refugees are going to work outside the community they're in. I see them as our educators, but beyond that, many of them want to get jobs. For various reasons the church community very often doesn't want them to. How politically outspoken refugees become is threatening to some communities.

Refugees should be involved in the process about how we continue to educate North Americans. Instead of "doing to" or "doing for" ministries, we need to make it a more "with" ministry, a mutual ministry.

I'm not saying all this to criticize the movement; I'm apart of the movement. But I think we have great challenges ahead of us. And that doesn't mean that all communities are paternalistic; some do take refugees and make sure that they're an equal part of the process.

Has the experience of the trial changed your outlook on the movement?

It's hard to tell. I feel like it's had a great impact. I feel real stirrings within, but I can't identify it all yet.

One thing I know is I'm more impassioned than I used to be. So what do I do with that passion? Well, I think it will be much more difficult to be silent in the midst of injustice that I see or experience.

In terms of the movement, I think that as we begin to teach about sanctuary and what's happening in Central America, we have to be more willing to talk about the United States' involvement; we have to be much more analytical. And we have to be much more willing to talk about what's not comfortable to talk about.

If the government chose to bring this indictment, to bring in an undercover operation and go into churches to tape Bible studies, worship services, and meetings because church people were practicing their First Amendment rights—talking about the injustice and the violations of the INS, discussing U.S. foreign policy in Central America, giving refugees a platform from which to tell their story—if that's what is so threatening to the Reagan administration, then we have an even greater responsibility to make sure that we are not silent and that other people are not silent, including the refugees. We have a greater responsibility to learn what is going on, not just in El Salvador or Guatemala, but in Nicaragua and across the earth.

We need to make the connections. One of my concerns is the Middle East, which I am studying. People often say: "Well, I don't get it. You speak Spanish, and you're working with refugees. Why are you studying Arabic? Why are you in Middle East studies?" Well, there are connections, and we have to make some of those connections.

I've always felt like I am connected to the Salvadorans and Guatemalans. What they want is no different from what I want. We have a different culture and a different language for the most part, but we are connected. The God that is within the Salvadorans, Guatemalans, and Nicaraguans is the God that's within me. They tell me Jesus Christ is being crucified over and over and over again.

What has been your impression of the judge and the government's conduct during the trial?

I have no respect for the judge; I have no respect for [prosecutor] Don Reno. I don't care for them. And yet, if I'm a Christian I'm supposed to love them and treat them as I would want them to treat me.

The ultimate affront for me was when I saw how both of them treated the refugees. But what's my responsibility as a person of God in how I treat them? I don't have that resolved. I feel a lot of turmoil.

For a long time, I kept trying to give the judge the benefit of the doubt, to believe that he really doesn't think we're that bad, or that he really is trying to be fair. I just don't believe that anymore. What should I do with that feeling? How can I be a responsible Christian in how I treat him?

The trial is an important issue, and it's a big deal, but sometimes I think people are making it too big. I think what's happening in South Africa, in Central America, and elsewhere is much more outrageous than what's happening here. I'm not saying it's not an important issue, but the world is not going to come to an end, or continue, because of the sanctuary movement or the sanctuary trial.

What needs to happen in the sanctuary movement now?

In the future I think church people concerned with human rights need to get more involved in Central America. I think Witness for Peace [ the nonviolent, faith-based U.S. presence in Nicaragua] is a good model for the sanctuary movement. We need to move beyond just providing sanctuary and a platform for refugees here—because the issue is not that all Salvadorans and Guatemalans should come to the United States.

I also think that we as a church community, and a synagogue community, need to be much more concerned about government surveillance. Some in the sanctuary movement say, "Well, we've had a public, open movement all this time. The church must continue to be the church. We're not going to be clandestine about our activities."

On the other hand, I think we have a responsibility for the refugees' safety. Maybe we don't care about risking ourselves, but we have to be concerned about risking refugees. We need to be much more cautious. The church is cautious in Central America. We can learn from the refugees.

I think we need to develop a healthy paranoia that will not render us inactive and make us suspect and judge people unjustly, but that helps us to become much more cautious and much more concerned. There's no consensus in the movement about how you do that. The church needs to continue to be the church, but certainly we can learn from the experience of the church in Central America, South Africa, and the Philippines.

How has this trial experience affected your faith life?

Somebody asked me before the trial if I was scared going into it. I said no, and they asked why not. My response was that though I have made mistakes in my ministry to Central American refugees, as well as other parts of my life, it has been part of my faith journey. It's not an accident that I grew up in the United Methodist Church among "middle Americans," that this community helped form my faith and values, and that now I happen to be a Methodist working with Central American refugees and am on trial because of that. That's all been part of my faith journey.

There were times when I was working along the border or in Mexico with refugees that I was scared. And it took talking with the refugees; they were the ones that made me not scared. As they shared their story, they made their witness.

My sense is that the Spirit has been with me along that journey—when I've made mistakes, and when I haven't made mistakes. And why all of a sudden, while my faith has called me to respond, would God abandon me throughout this trial experience? It's not that I chose it or wanted to go through it—but it's part of my faith journey.

The last thing I want is to be made a martyr, to go to jail. I don't want any of that. But whatever the outcome, there's a reason for it. I'm here to learn from that, to grow from that, and to become a stronger, more caring person. It's part of the faith journey.

My faith has been impassioned. I don't know all that that means. I just know that I feel it.

This interview is one in a series of interviews with sanctuary trial defendants conducted in Tucson by Vicki Kemper two weeks before the verdict.