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When Do Immigrants Come Home? One of the earliest settlers of Manhattan Island wrote home, “We were much gratified on arriving in this country, here we found beautiful rivers, bubbling fountains flowing down into the valleys; basins of running waters in the flatlands, agreeable fruits in the woods, such as strawberries, pigeon berries, walnuts, and also wild grapes. There is considerable fish in the rivers, good tillage land, we are especially free coming and going, without fear of the naked natives of the country. Had we cows, hogs, and other cattle fit for food (which we daily expect in the first ships), we would not wish to return to Holland, for whatever we desire in the paradise of Holland is here to be found…” The letter concludes by saying “the grapes are of very good flavor but will henceforward be better when cultivated by our own people.” Why does this letter, printed on page 43 of Gotham: A History of New York to 1898,1 both trouble me and make me glad? Because it is like many letters home, in the way it smuggles in the truth. We love it here, except for the grapes which aren’t as good as those back home. We love it here, except for the way some of the people dress funny. Immigrants often have a hidden desperation for whence they came. Still, we leave. You should hear me wax eloquent about my farm in Amherst, which I have left three times―for Chicago, Miami, and lastly New York. My friends there don’t want to hear any more about New York either. Gotham, for those of you who haven’t read it, is not just full of great letters home. It is a book that says the virtue of these boroughs is in the idea of tolerance. “It remains the mortar of progressive society, showing how it could work, and was the genius of the first Manhattanites.”2 I particularly like the way Peter Stuyvesant conversed about this idea with Governor Winthrop. Of course there was bad blood between these two European nations, which showed up here. Our home is in ethnic conflict, not alongside of it. The title of one of many screeds published in England tells all: “The Dutch Men’s Pedigree, Or, A relation showing how they were first bred and descended from a horse turd which was enclosed in a butter box.” The 17th century developed many anti-Dutch terms indicating this English sneer, which finally lost the island, the way antipathy always does. Here the language, Dutch treat, Dutch courage, a Dutch bargain, going Dutch, Dutch comfort, all originally derogatory, but also finally victorious. Yes, Schaper is a Dutch name. And yes, inter-ethnic antipathy is our home. It is New York; there is no other home, just that one. This sermon has one point, based in this history, which is this: To have a home, make a home; to be at home, give a home to others. Tolerance is not only the political, social, and national victory of the Dutch in Manhattan; it is a spiritual value of high worth. Like the golden rule, which can be translated as “you can have all the love you want if you can give it away,” or “you can have anything you want that you can give away,” making a home for others is the way to have a home for yourself. Hoarding your home, trying to get others out, rather than bringing them in, is a dead sure route to spiritual homelessness, if not actual homelessness. I’ll make the actual argument quickly and first. If our strong nation does not find a way to share its strength, our civilization will decline and others will take away our power. The war in Iraq is exhibit number one. Instead of scaring terrorists, it has incited them. I want to give a little more attention to the spiritual argument in this brief message. The spiritual argument is not about a settled “Us” giving “Them” immigrants a home. That is paternalism and acts as though we have nothing to gain from welcoming immigrants. Again I am not that interested in the economic argument that in fact we have everything to gain from immigrants and almost nothing to lose. Indeed, immigrants pay more in taxes than they take. They constitute a quarter of the New York State economy. Instead, I am more dependent on the universalism of the writer of Ecclesiastes. There he says that we are all going to suffer one way or another at one time or another. In other words, the human condition is the human condition, and it doesn’t matter whether you are settled or immigrant. Trouble plans to knock on your door. Time and chance happen to us all. The text may sound depressing at first, but in fact it is not. It says that we are all part of one family and may as well act like it. When we get that idea into our heads and hearts―that time and chance happen to us all―we are less likely to privilege our privilege or to harden our hearts against someone we falsely think is different than we are. We are more likely to do what the Gotham authors think we have always done: “have a policy of tolerance but never adhere to it.” Are they being cynical here? No, I think they show that we are trying something but haven’t made it yet. That’s why I make the spiritual argument. We need to try not harder but deeper. We need to see how much we have to gain from tolerance, even love, of each other as our selves. Xenophobia will not stop under paternalistic self-protection. It will stop when pale faces understand how humanity really works―that we are, indeed, all alike. We are being hurt by our racism, our 21st century version of criticizing the naked among us, our pride about how our grapes are better than theirs. What is the price of our racism? The price is spiritual homelessness. The people needing shelter are us. Listen to Tillich again on just how strong the walls of estrangement are: “The walls of estrangement between heart and heart have been incredibly strengthened.” How do we become the great place some people imagine we are? Start spreading this news: loneliness is the human condition. You and I are terribly lonely for each other. We will remain lonely as long as the question is how do I get you to make me feel more at home. That is not the question. The question is how can I give you a home, make you feel comfortable, enjoy you in what I falsely think is my space. What we need is an Ice Melt, in ourselves, and also in Immigration Control and Enforcement. The very language is wrong. In the department of Homeland Insecurity what we really need is a welcome wagon in a dozen languages. Imagine Immigration Control and Enforcement becoming the Department of Generosity, Appreciation, and Welcome. How odd it is that we are giving Governor Winthrop’s monoculture a victory so late in the game. Early Manhattanites fought the monoculture of Governor Winthrop’s New England on behalf of the multiculture of New Amsterdam. We were America’s first mixed societies. When Peter Stuyvesant wasn’t playing with his parakeets, he was bragging about how New Amsterdam was composed of the “Scrapings” of all countries. Scrapings. Not a very elegant word, but one that has worked well for us for centuries. Home is what you have to scrape off yourself in order to get there. Safety is what you have to risk in order to get it. Money is what you have to give away in order to have it. If the second home insurance owns you, you are not insured. New immigrants can find a home here by giving it to others. No one is exempt from the golden rule about giving away what you want in order to get it. Would you like some of our grapes? They are quite good.
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