give us your huddled masses
By now we've all seen the images of children crying for their parents, of fellow humans living in large cages as they await their fate. And many, many people, from various walks and ideologies have voiced their dismay at the situation on our southern border. Somehow we have gone from a nation which was once defined by the sentiment in Emma Lazarus' famous poem to a people willing to separate families in an attempt to keep our borders closed.
At some point over the past 135 years since Lazarus penned the words now mounted in the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty, there has been a shift in our focus. Where once we wished to welcome those that the rest of the world no longer desired, our chief concern now is to protect that which we have built.
We lock our doors, our windows too. Municipalities work to keep the homeless off the streets, not so that they have a home, but because they are undesirable. We protect the lifestyles to which we have become accustomed, working long hours, going into more debt. We dispose of anything unwanted...old buildings, last year's styles, pets that are no longer convenient or cute, unwanted pregnancies, terminal lives. If it makes us uncomfortable, if it threatens our plans, we get rid of it. Why wouldn't we do the same with those seeking to live within our borders?
We have become the ancient lands with storied pomp, so fixated on our greatness, on our wellbeing and comfort that we would tear children from their mothers to maintain the status quo. And I understand the need to protect the lives of our fellow Americans. I'll always remember the morning and afternoon spent trying to account for family members who lived near or regularly traveled to Manhattan, with no cell service and most of the TV channels down due to the attacks of 9/11. I have not forgotten. And I haven't forgotten the heaviness with which my grandmother spoke of World War II, how her brother could barely talk about it. I haven't forgotten stories of another grandmother home with her kids while her husband served in Vietnam. I don't believe as a nation that we have forgotten those times or the battles fought to protect the lives of people who lacked the means to protect themselves.
We stand, now, in the balance between protecting American lives and protecting the lives of others. We have to look at the threats to our own families versus the threats to other families. It's not an easy question, no matter what side of the immigration issue you stand on. And even in protecting American lives, we're putting American lives at risk. Border Patrol agents work under incredibly dangerous conditions, doing their best at the work they've been assigned. As a nation, we have a long and storied history of risking our lives to protect others. Year after year, we watch refugee crises unfold, always a sea away from us, sending relief, voicing our concern. But now, now the refugees are at our doorstep and the best we can do is take their children away, prosecute the adults and hope that it scares people away from our door. In place of a glowing beacon of world wide welcome, we've turned out our lights, locked our doors.
As a nation, we have made plenty of mistakes. We daily live with consequences of the sins of past generations, but we also live in the shadow of people who were willing to fight for what was right, to stand up for the marginalized and the persecuted.
As Christ followers, we know that there have been plenty of times that we and those who went before us got it wrong. And this is where I am so thankful for the Word of God that communicates His unchanging Father heart. And I am so thankful that when I sought asylum from this world in His Kingdom, he welcomed me with open arms, rejoicing over me.
“Religion that is pure and undefiled before God the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world. ”
What will you do? In your neighborhood, your community, for the refugees at our own border? Will you turn out the light? Will you look the other way? It's become our new way of life, hasn't it? When the doorbell rings we get quiet. When we see someone in need, we don't make eye contact. We have got to dig deeper, get back to a place of being more concerned for others than we are for ourselves and our comfort. Start where you are. Open your world to discomfort and upheaval and sacrifice. Answer your door, talk to the homeless person or the person who just makes you uncomfortable. Be a friend. Learn to really love people and value them, just because they are.
“Give justice to the weak and the fatherless; maintain the right of the afflicted and the destitute.”
