Today is Sunday
by Melissa Salguero

Hoy es Domingo,
And in my house that means it is the holiest of days. 
Because today es el PARTIDO.
The Futbol game.

Today, 
El campo is our cathedral,
Jesus is not only our savior but he is also the center forward,
And he is joined by 11 other apostles
In this neighborhood battle of biblical proportions.

Juan is the smallest of them and a crowd favorite.
Watch him run.
He is as fast as lighting,
The son of thunder.
He is glory in shining gym shorts.

Simon is the striker,
El guerrillero.
He is the offensive line of defense,
bold, brash, and ready for a fight.

Santiago y Andres 
are Jesus’ right hand followers.
Playing midfield,
They stop all who wish to advance on their holy ground.

Pedro is sometimes called Peter at school,
But here he is the gatekeeper,
A faithful goalie deflects and strikes down every unworthy thing
from entering the plastic pearly kingdom.

All of them are team players,

Except Judas

who received a red card in the first half
and has been benched until further notice.

Hoy es Domingo,
And today everyone I know is here to  
In the only way I know how,
By raising their voices and shouting and stomping,
We have so much faith it can not be confined within wooden walls,
Instead it is left to flower outside beneath the sun.

So we sit on the grass and eat and drink and cheer and cry.

See the people that make up the congregation of El campo
have so much pride and love it spans the lengths that they traveled to be here.

Their joy is holier than anything I have ever experienced,
They are men and women who believe so hard
I swear they can invoke divinity with their own hands,

& I have seen it. 

I have seen Maria break enough pan dulce to feed hundreds,
Because, she tells me,
“we all have nothing, so there is always enough to share.”

I have seen abuelitas
Absolve everyone around them with a bendicion.

I have seen Josue call everyone around him his paisano,
and treat every man like a brother no matter where they come from.

I have been surrounded by a hundred bodies that all look like mine and have felt
Nothing but safety and security.

At el campo,
There is no shame in being a carpenter.
There is no shame in running.
Here it is glory.
Here we have hope. 

And isn’t that what God is anyway?