Epiphany is the revelation of hope embodied in One who came to live and serve among us so that we may be one. (John 17: 18-21)

How ironic it is that on this same date in 2021, our democracy was once again challenged by some who profess Christianity and yet fear the very coming together of diverse cultures and faiths across imposed geographical boundaries that our celebration of Epiphany represents. On the grounds of our Capitol, some citizens stormed the seat of our government, waving American and confederate and Nazi flags alongside “Christian” banners conflating God and government, in a failed attempt to thwart the peaceful transition of power for which our democracy is known.

Many watched in horror and disbelief as white vigilantes, spurred on by the inflammatory lies of our former president and the politicians, public figures and preachers who have chosen to follow him, stormed gates, scaled walls, built gallows, and ultimately caused the death of others. They believed they had just cause. That 19 states have passed 34 laws restricting voting rights, and impeding equal representation, reveals they are not alone.

Such efforts will always ultimately fail, not because God is on the side of one or the other, but, rather, because God is not the Government and the Government is not God. And there is still a light shining in the darkest of moments guiding us toward the pathway to love.

READ: The Heresy of Christian Nationalism

We must always remember the travesty of the violent insurrection that we witnessed during Epiphany last year. It was an attack on us all. As we mourn anew, let us do so with our hearts turned toward the revelatory light of Epiphany. Let us celebrate Epiphany knowing that, while many supported the insurrection, so many more did not. Let us do so remembering that although 19 states have enacted restrictive voting rights laws, 25 states have enacted 54 laws with provisions to expand voting access. Let us do so knowing that on January 6, 2022, tens of thousands of people from all walks a life gathered in more than 350 vigils all across the U.S. to remember and renew together.

Let us also know that our elected leaders can show moral courage by passing democracy protections for all of us: the Protecting Our Democracy Act provides historic reforms that will restore fundamental checks and balances and provide guardrails against future abuses of presidential power; the Freedom to Vote: John R. Lewis Act will establish national standards that protect voting rights, and will require federal review of any state law that attempts to discriminate against voters.

Let us celebrate Epiphany not made bitter, but better, by the challenge of so many who lost their way to love. Let us remember the words of poet Lucille Clifton in her poem, won’t you celebrate with me, that “everyday something has tried to kill me and failed.” This Epiphany, let us be reminded to look toward that light and choose rebirth and redemption — over and over again — and let us remember that redemption is possible when we live out love.

Let us learn from the tragedies of our past and move toward the light within each of us fueled by the everlasting power of love, knowing that love is the only thing that never dies. It is toward this light that we are called, and it is only in this light we are all warmed.

We see the destructive results in cities and towns across the United States, as immigrant families who have built their lives here and become valued members of our communities live in terror that a knock on the door will upend their lives in an instant. The level of fear and anxiety felt by our immigrant families around the imminent threat of separation has taken a toll on their physical, emotional and spiritual health.

More and more, to meet arbitrary quotas that will ensnare an anticipated 400,000 immigrants this year in the detention and deportation machinery, our immigration enforcement agencies are becoming agents of family separation. Recently, a longtime synagogue employee in Mount Kisco, N.Y., was deported to Mexico after living in the United States for decades. Similar situations are playing out, often very quickly and outside of the public eye, all over our country. This drastic situation demands a proactive response.

Communities of faith are answering the call. In Springfield, Mass., Gisella Collazo has taken refuge with her two sons in a church to avoid a deportation that would return her to Peru and separate her from her husband and children, ages 10 and 4. As she and her family considered her options before seeking sanctuary, she said, “they all ended in sadness.” Collazo’s husband and children are all American citizens. She has lived in this country for 17 years. Deporting her will serve no national purpose. It will only disrupt and divide an American family.

Since 2011, the Department of Homeland Security has had guidance in place that discourages immigration agencies from entering houses of worship and other “sensitive locations” to conduct enforcement actions. Responding to growing fears of deportation, many synagogues, churches and other houses of worship across the country have declared themselves sanctuary congregations, offering support and shelter to those who need it most.

Despite having no jurisdiction when it comes to immigration law, Springfield Mayor Domenic Sarno has decided to target Collazo’s family and the congregation providing sanctuary by ordering code enforcement inspectors to go into the building to search for violations. He is also challenging the church’s tax-exempt status. These coercive actions by a local official are stunning, and a sad attempt to intimidate those who stand with immigrants.

As faith leaders, we feel called to condemn the specific actions of Mayor Sarno in Springfield and the broader movement to marginalize immigrants and separate families in communities across our nation. The recent celebrations of Easter and Passover are times when Christian and Jewish Americans celebrate renewal, hope and the promise of a better future. As we transition from these holidays, may we reflect together on human dignity and compassion and resist the criminalization of immigrants. Our faith traditions are clear: Welcoming the stranger and treating immigrants fairly are at the center of our sense of justice and morality.

People of faith, and communities of faith, united have a responsibility to protect the most vulnerable among us. For Collazo, her family and the immigrants across our country seeking sanctuary, or fearing the next knock upon the door, the spring holidays offered no justice.

This article originally appeared at RNS.

At his pre-inaugural prayer service, the President heard the Rev. Robert Jeffress preach from Nehemiah, declaring that building walls for security is a God-ordained task. But as any preacher knows, choosing the right text for any particular moment is a matter of discernment.

As I read the signs of the times we now face, I sense the Spirit leading us to hear the words of Deuteronomy 26, beginning with the fifth verse:

Then, standing there in front of the place of worship, you must pray: My ancestor was a wandering Aramean who went to live in Egypt. There were only a few in his family then, but they became great and powerful, a nation of many people.

Of all the descriptors God could have chosen for Abraham and his descendants, why did God choose refugee? Abraham’s homeland—the place God commanded him to leave—is the region now identified as Syria. Why was it important for the Hebrews to remember that their story began with immigration?

The descendants of Abraham, the father of faith for all Jews, Christians, and Muslims, were once Syrian refugees in Egypt. Why did they flee to Egypt? For many of the same reasons people from all over the world have fled to America. Facing dire consequences in their homeland, they sought a better life.

Throughout the history of this nation, millions of people have left their homelands and come to America. Over the past 400 years, people have come for many reasons. Some came because of economic forces so inhumane that their consequences still manifest in policies and practices today. The evil reality of slavery reminds us that not all came voluntarily. Many African people were brutally transported here against their will for the exploitation of their labor without pay. Others came to escape the ravages of war in their native lands. Still others have come in search of freedom from religious, ethnic, gender, and sexual persecution. And some came seeking opportunities to escape poverty and make a better life for themselves and their families.

Yet no matter why or how we came to America, any greatness realized within our borders is because we are all here.

The words of President Barack Obama ring resoundingly in my heart today, “We were strangers once, too, ” he said. “And whether our forebears were strangers who crossed the Atlantic, or the Pacific, or the Rio Grande, we are here only because this country welcomed them in, and taught them that to be an American is about something more than what we look like, or what our last names are, or how we worship.”

Hebrew scripture reminds us that the Egyptians grew in their disdain for the refugees in their midst. They treated them poorly and subjected them to unfair labor laws. The Egyptian Empire unfairly targeted the Hebrew refugees with propaganda campaigns designed to turn the Egyptian people against them by portraying the Hebrews as evil and a threat. Such narratives are always necessary to move the masses to act inhumanely. It is difficult to consciously oppress people we do not first detest.

So God cautioned those preparing to come and offer the first fruits of their bounty to God in worship to always remember: though they became a powerful nation, their ancestor was a homeless Aramean who sought refuge in a foreign land.

We, too, must remember the words inscribed on the Statue of Liberty:

Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:

I lift my lamp beside the golden door.

God is calling us to remember where we’ve come from and to become what we’ve not yet been: a diverse nation of committed in our policy to liberty and justice for all.

My prayer today and always: “He who has ears, let him hear.”