A TRIBUTE TO JIM CORBETT: continued

Part II

     It was Corbett's intimate familiarity with the Arizona-Mexico border country that made him invaluable in the early days of what was to become the Sanctuary movement. Indeed, it made him the movement's founder, as much as anyone. And it was the religious encounters he had then, while working to help Salvadoran and Guatemalan refugees crossing the Arizona border to escape from the bloody wars raging there in those years which brought about another major personal turnaround for him.

    Fleeing imprisonment, torture and death in their homelands, the refugees all too often faced imprisonment, torture and death in the Mexican underworld, or prisons there and in the U.S.–not to mention the prospect of deportation back into the hands of bloodthirsty military governments from which they had fled.

    As the refugees kept coming, Corbett kept working with them. Soon he traveled anonymously through Mexico and into Guatemala, tracking hunted exiles. More than once he narrowly escaped capture by hostile authorities. In these journeys he came to know not only the victims, but also people from many different churches who were dedicated to aiding them.

    Once he joined a priest in a visit to refugees in a filthy Mexican prison. The priest introduced Corbett as "Padre Jaime," and explained that the gringo's non-clerical language and gestures were characteristic of his peculiar order, La Sociedad de los Amigos. Later the priest even introduced him to an archbishop as un quákero muy católico–a description which Robert Barclay would likely have approved.

    It was among such people of faith within outwardly quite different sects that Corbett began to sense the presence of something beyond the visible denominational structures–what he called "the church." And not just any church, but the "Catholic" church:

    "During recent weeks," he wrote in a letter to friends in mid-1981, "I've been discovering this catholic church that is a people rather than creed or rite, a living church of many cultures that must be met to be known.
    "I've been discovering the Catholic Church, not by studying Catholicism but by meeting Catholics. Whatever our creedal differences, we meet as one people by virtue of our allegiance to one kingdom. And my discovery is that the church is truly catholic, a people of peoples that incorporates not only a multiplicity of nations and cultures but also divergent beliefs, rites and perspectives...."

    Still, one outcome of this discovery, he noted, was that "After having been Quaker for almost two decades, I decided to seek formal membership in my meeting, in order to join the church....Until I began discovering the church, I had no intention of becoming a member, because I thought of denominational membership as separative rather than unitive.... [But] Just as there's no generic form of marriage that transcends and precludes marriage to someone in particular, there's no generic form of membership in the church I'd come to know."

    His experience of the Church both resembled and differed from that laid out in Robert Barclay's classic Quaker theological treatise, The Apology. It is similar in its indifference to institutional boundaries, and the shift from capital to small "C". For Barclay, the church

    "is nothing other than the society, gathering, or company of those whom God has called out of the world and the worldly spirit, to walk in his light and life ....There may be members of this catholic church ot only among all the several sorts of Christians, but also among pagans, Turks [Muslims], and Jews."

     Corbett differed from Barclay on one major point, in that for him the church is not primarily a collection of individuals, but rather "a people of peoples." It is an organic network of persons working from within traditional structures that are meaningful to them, with people in other faith groups, for common purposes, or in a common pilgrimage in response to a common call. Perhaps a useful metaphor for this might be a patch of wildflowers, variegated in color and form, yet all leaning parallel under the breath of the same invisible wind.

    Corbett doubted that this notion of church can be adequately expressed intellectually: "This is the kind of meaning one discovers only in meeting those who share it, much the way a language lives among a people rather than in a dictionary's afterthoughts."

    Many another eminent Friend would have understood what he was driving at, I think. And as to what or who it is that animates and moves them, what lies behind the word "God," Corbett paraphrased Job (38:2), "This is where words darken counsel and all names are blasphemy."

    Yet if words are hazardous, we are not without images. The model for this process also comes from the Bible, in the molding of the heterogenous Hebrew tribes into the people Israel at Sinai by their response to the divine calling mediated by Moses. This models the committed community, cutting across lines of culture, denomination and philosophy, which constitutes "the church," Corbett concluded.

    Furthermore, his explorations in the Bible, particularly in the prophets and the Book of Job, began to make plain to him that the experience and community of the Church, as reflected there, was one which could "bridge differences of creed, rite and culture. It even transcends the division between believers and unbelievers."
    
    Unbelievers, he added, like himself.

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