We Carry the Earth: A Poem for Lights for Liberty/Families Belong Together Vigil in New Jersey, 7/12/19

As a response to the torturing of children/families who are seeking asylum in the United States, via the for-profit concentration camps placed at the U.S.-Mexico border and throughout the U.S., over 600 cities throughout the world will hold a vigil on Friday, July 12, 2019. I am proud to be part of the movement, thanks to Leah Fowler, Laura Gonzalez, and the Leonia Action Alliance in New Jersey. I've posted the flyers below, both in English and Spanish, for the particular vigil I plan to attend. I've also included the poem that I'll be reading at the event, before the moment of silence. I consider it an honor to have written it specifically for the vigil. As I mentioned, there are events all over the country and planet. Please find your local Lights for Liberty/Families Belong Together Vigil and attend!

We Carry the Earth

by Dr. Grisel Y. Acosta

for Lights for Liberty/Families Belong Together Vigil protesting U.S. concentration camps

We bring the harvest and lay it at an altar

of bread crust, pierced gold earrings, and the bones of our first born

Banana leaves halo the foundation of her body,

we salt the sand she rests upon, sprinkling the mineral from seashells

We pick translucent grapes and squeeze the juice into our downturned

mouths, lay gardenias to frame her death, perfume the pain within our muscles

You see a carcass of stone, barren of life, bleached ossein,

we see the child that ran between the Saguaros and wore red Matucana’s in her hair

*

Cognac woven leather wrapped her brave feet as her toes tipped

sharp rock, skipped over puddles bordering the desert on lucky rain days

White sun burned through camisas de primos, sent to us del Norte,

worn threads unraveling with each day of wear, cada dia without descanso or certainty

Black hair flying like whipping palms, set aflight from much needed breezes

cooled café skin burning cedar brown with each step on the red tawny dirt taking us closer

Cyan sky hovered over our contorted path, twisted like a sapphire river

pooling into a sea of compadres singing the blues at the frontera, asking, “¿Y de donde tu vienes?”

*

It must have been the cold

concrete holding her like iron gate

choking her lungs into frozen

prayer, holding her breath

tight within grey mucus and swollen sacs

bubbles of air that stopped

circulating, like language

words that fall dead on icy ears.

*

mihcacocone

tlahquilli

tlamiz †

*

Se murio de neumonía.

There was no water.

There was no soap.

I was taken away from her.

Lloró en la mañana.

She called to me at 3 am.

I was not there.

You were not there.

We were not there.

We still are not there.

She will continue to cry her song in wind until we are there.

A shriek in the current is free to move, cross, fly beyond the flimsy delusion of barriers.

*

Her body will dust your land which is my land which is our land

We do not carry danger to your door

There is no door

There is no danger

There is only land

There is only earth

We carry this Earth on our skin

We carry it in our lungs

We carry it as our body which holds all bodies

Dirt from many tierras that are one tierra

We set it at an altar

We set you at the altar

We set ourselves at the altar

We set our firstborn at the altar

See the altar

See the Earth

Come carry it with us

Carry the child

Carry the family

Carry the people who are your people who are yourselves

You have been invited.

*

† The words at the center of the poem are in the Nahuatl language. They mean “dead children,” “tomb,” and “this will end.”

Rev. Dr. Samuel Acosta Eulogy 5-5-19

Dad's ashes, the Colombian hat he always wore, his Princeton diploma. 

Thank you so much for being here today with us. It means so much to the whole Acosta-Toro family that all of you carry my father in your heart. I know that he was the kind of man that left an impression on people because of his kindness, his child-like love of life, family, and friends, and his dedication to serving others. I cannot list the acts of generosity that my father shared with the world, or the ways in which he demonstrated his loyal friendship or commitment to family. We wouldn’t just be here all night; it would take another lifetime to recount his diligence towards others, because every single day of his life was dedicated towards others. So, today, I’ll focus on a few key memories that I want to share, ones that exemplify Papi’s love of life, his faith, and his family.

                The reason Papi was so special is because he made everyone feel the joy he always carried in his heart. This was a man who woke up happy to be alive because God gave him another day of life. There is no one I know who loved, and appreciated, life more than him. He found joy wherever he went. When I was a child, we visited a beautiful place in Michigan called Tower Hill, which was a property owned by the United Church of Christ, along Lake Michigan. It was full of pine trees, rustic cabins, and there was a short walk to a very real beach with enormous sand dunes. We often spent all day at the beach and, after dinner, Papi would invite everyone for ice cream at the beach with a view of the gorgeous sunset dipping into what seemed like our own Midwestern ocean. The afterglow was every shade of orange, pink, purple, gold, and green, and we often just sat next to each other, quiet, looking at the sky change its kaleidoscope before us. One time, when I was not yet 10, he looked at the sky and then at me and told me, “That there is proof that God exists.” I looked at him with a curious face, not understanding quite what he meant. Then he explained, “If there were no God, then why create something so beautiful that all of us can enjoy?” I don’t think I’ve ever forgotten that moment because it explained to me that God was not something that was necessarily trapped in words or acts, but it was something that you chose to see in the world and, ultimately, in other people. At that moment, for me, my dad taught me that one could find God in a moment with one’s father, having ice cream, enjoying the beauty of nature.

                In practice, Papi’s faith had many branches. He was not only a minister, but also a licensed psychologist, and a community leader. It could be easy to take oneself too seriously with that combination of professions, but Papi had a wonderful sense of humor that was a huge part of his discipline. After a trip to Hawaii, for a United Church of Christ conference, he decided that at his next service back home, everyone would wear leis and for some bizarre reason, he kept doing this every year. There was always at least one service where we all wore leis. He also became obsessed with outlandish summer outfits and he would often wear shirts and shorts with mismatched prints during summer outings with the church, causing everyone to wonder, “What will Pastor Acosta wear this time??” It was also common for him to reveal his most vulnerable moments in his sermons, if only to reassure other men in the congregation that such vulnerability was okay, even if it made everyone giggle nervously. For example, he was happy to share how violated he felt during his first prostate exam, at the pulpit during Sunday service, just so other men would know that they needed to get one too, and that they could live through it. When the church celebrated his 50^th birthday with banners that said, “Over the Hill,” he was screaming, “Over the Hill” and cracking up for years after that—any time it hurt to bend down, “Over the Hill!” Anytime he forgot something, “Over the Hill!” I want to say, Papi was an excellent writer; his sermons used examples from his own life, from popular films and songs that the congregation could relate to, and they always showed a great compassion for fears that folks might have. He used his sermons to reassure everyone. He knew humor was the greatest tool, in this respect, so if he could make them laugh, he knew they’d be less afraid. After every service, Papi could be heard laughing the loudest with fellow church-goers, who were cracking Catskill-type jokes over afternoon café.

                 I believe that this may be one of the reasons my very different parents found a connection, for as a child and as I grew up, I heard Papi laughing with my mother about something every day. Their relationship was exemplary for me. When he and I would pick her up from work, when she got out of her Michigan Avenue building and walked towards the car, he would say, “Look, look at her, look at how she walks,” and he’d giggle in anticipation of having his love near again. He did this all the time. It never grew old for him. Papi probably struggled with raising us kids more than anything else in his life. He was a dedicated father that told each one of us that he loved us every time we saw him. He married all of us to our respective spouses. When Vincent told Papi, secretly, that he wanted to marry me, Papi leaped with joy and squealed so loud, he almost spoiled the surprise, as I was only upstairs from where they were. Papi shared all his children’s joys. And he cried and prayed for all of us when we needed strength. He was always there for us, no matter what. His favorite phrase was, “I’m going to run the second mile with you.” I spent my life wondering when the second mile ended, because there seemed to be an endless second mile. It was endless, like his love. He was not one to say, “I’ve given everything I can give.”

Papi felt that love, like God, is an eternal well, and we always have more to give if we have life. I want to extend that: Papi’s love, like God, is truly an eternal well, because we still have his love here today, even though his body is no longer with us. His love was so strong, so big, that we can still feel it even though he is gone. Papi taught me to see that, over a simple, sweet moment, in front of the sun.

NOTE: We will have a Chicago memorial for my dad on 6/14/19, at Ravenswood Presbyterian Church, 4300 Hermitage Avenue, Chicago, IL 60613, at 6 p.m. Anyone and everyone is welcome at the memorial. The eulogy that day will be completely different from this one. 

Rev. Dr. Samuel Acosta Obituary: January 19,1937 - April 28, 2019

Rev. Dr. Samuel Acosta believed in the transformative
 power of education and love. 

A Joyful Leader Leaves a Legacy of Hope

The Bible says, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Romans 12:2). This is the doctrine that Rev. Dr. Samuel Acosta lived by as a servant of God, by which I mean a servant of his community, mainly in Chicago’s Logan Square. Instead of being rigid in his ideas about community, Sam always listened to what his community needed and responded accordingly. When helping young men in prison, for example, he was known to say things like, “They don’t need Bibles; they need jobs.” His flexibility and cheerful disposition earned him the trust of many in the Chicago Latino community, where he came to be known simply as “El Reverendo.” We would often hear this called out to him when walking around the city, as he could not walk a block without someone who he helped running toward him to say, “Hola.” The congregations that he led were extremely diverse, representing Latinos from an array of countries of origin and varying beliefs, which underscores his ability to bring different minds together. He earned countless accolades for his community service through the church, though he never boasted about any of them. In fact, he worked 80 hour weeks, as a minister and psychologist specializing in pastoral family counseling, rarely charging his clients or parishioners for his dedicated care. El Reverendo helped LGBTQ folks face coming out to homophobic parents and friends, he helped Latino refugees who had been tortured by dictators in Latin America, he helped families struggling with abuse, and he encouraged women in the neighborhood to learn to drive and earn their degrees so as to be more independent. This work earned him a commendation by Mayor Richard M. Daley and a Celeste Peña Community Service Award from the Illinois Department of Children and Family Services. Even though it may sound like it, his work in Chicago was not a singular experience. When he moved to San Marcos, Texas, he had a similar effect, participating in events like San Marcos Chamber of Commerce’s Navidad Para Los Niños fundraising event. Such work earned him the San Marcos Key to the City. Somehow, he always renewed his spirit and determined what the will of God was wherever he went. This man, who has people who love him all over the U.S., will be greatly missed. His brief and incredibly incomplete bio follows.

Rev. Dr. Samuel Acosta died at age 82, in North Bergen, New Jersey, on April 28, 2019, at 10:30 p.m. He struggled with complications from Alzheimer’s disease and Parkinson’s disease for about 10 years before passing. He was born in Barranquilla, Colombia, in 1937, to Luis and Justicia Acosta, and had three sisters, Nohemi, Dorcas, and Mariela, all of whom are still alive. Sam and Yolanda met and married in Matanzas, Cuba, in 1961, where he earned his Bachelor’s Degree in Theology. They then moved to Sam’s hometown to be with his family. There, he fathered his first two children with Yolanda, sons Luis (his father’s namesake) and Carlos. Sam continued his education at Princeton Theological Seminary, where he earned a Master’s in Theology in 1967. He and Yolanda eventually moved to Chicago in 1969, to start his ministry at First Spanish United Church of Christ in the Logan Square neighborhood of Chicago, where he worked for over 20 years. Daughter Grisel was born in Chicago in 1971, and during this time he earned multiple degrees from Loyola University and The University of Chicago Theological Seminary, including his Doctorate in Theology. Sam continued his practice at Ravenswood Presbyterian Church for his remaining days in Chicago. Eventually, he and Yolanda moved to San Marcos, Texas, where he semi-retired, devoting his last working days to Memorial Presbyterian Church. Upon facing his debilitating illness, Sam and Yolanda finally retired in Florida, where they lived near Luis, his wife Susie, and their daughters Michelle and Madeline. However, as the disease progressed, Sam and Yolanda decided to move to New Jersey to be with Grisel, who could devote more time to their care in their elder years. Sam was happily married to his wife, Yolanda, for 58 years. He also leaves behind Elizabeth, Carlos and Lori’s daughter, and Sam and Yolanda’s first grandchild.

SERVICES

We will have a gathering in our home in New Jersey to commemorate the life of Rev. Dr. Samuel Acosta. 

Please join us for a small ceremony and time for contemplation on Sunday, May 5, 2019, at 3 p.m.

We will say a few words about Sam starting at 3:30 p.m. Please feel free to stop by any time between 3-7 p.m.

We will have light refreshments, but if you are inclined to bring something, we are eternally grateful (by no means is this required). 

Please email me at acostagrisel@hotmail.com for our address. 

*For those of you who cannot attend this event, there will be a larger church ceremony in Chicago during the summer of 2019. 

SPANISH TRANSLATION:
Tendremos una reunión en nuestra casa en New Jersey para conmemorar la vida de mi padre, el Rev. Dr. Samuel Acosta, esposo de la Sra. Yolanda Acosta y padre de Luis y Carlos.

Por favor, estan invitados para una pequeña ceremonia y tiempo para la contemplación en dominigo, 5 de Mayo, 2019, a las tres de la tarde. 

Diremos algunas palabras sobre Sam a partir de las 3:30 p.m. Por favor, siéntase libre de pasar por cualquier momento entre las 3 y las 7 p.m.

Tendremos cositas pequeñas para comer, pero si están dispuestos a traer algo, estamos eternamente agradecidos.

* Para aquellos de ustedes que no pueden asistir a este evento, habrá una ceremonia religiosa en una iglesia en Chicago durante el verano de 2019.