How We Treat the Stranger

Jesus could not have been clearer. In Matthew 25, he describes the final judgment—the separation of the sheep from the goats, the saved from the damned. The criterion? "I was a stranger and you welcomed me... I was a stranger and you did not welcome me." How we respond to the stranger, Jesus says, is how he will measure our souls.

As immigration debates continue to intensify nationally and locally, and as we are bombarded with the same scenes over and over, it is good for us to step back and remind ourselves of the witness of scripture and our tradition.

Care for the alien and stranger  isn't a minor theme. It runs through the entirety of scripture. In Exodus 22, God commands: "You shall not wrong or oppress a sojourner, for you were sojourners in the land of Egypt." The people of God are defined by their memory of being immigrants, of being refugees, of knowing what it means to be vulnerable and foreign.

Leviticus 19 goes further: "When a stranger sojourns with you in your land, you shall not do him wrong. You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself."

This is strong language. The text says love the stranger as yourself. Not tolerate. Not fear. Not detain. Love.

And of course we have all heard, especially because of the recent Christmas holiday, about Jesus and his family being immigrants in Egypt as they were running from Herod.

I am not naive. Immigration is complex and the government is not the church. Nations have borders and laws matter. People have legitimate concerns about security, economic impact, and the pace of cultural change. I respect that faithful people may disagree about specific policies.

But regardless of our politics, the church must speak with one voice: there is no amount of complexity that justifies cruelty. There is no border policy that requires us to treat human beings as less than human. There is no law that demands we separate families, deny food and medical care, or leave people in overcrowded detention facilities without adequate staffing or resources.

We can have borders and also have compassion. We can have laws and also have mercy. We can have security and also preserve our souls. This is not politics, this is about following the way of Jesus.

I know there is not much that any of us can do today about our national situation. But Jesus was clear about how his followers are to treat the stranger, the sojourner, the refugee. The question before us from Matthew 25 is simple: Will we be the sheep or the goats?

The gospel is not neutral. Jesus takes sides—consistently, persistently, relentlessly—with the poor, the marginalized, the powerless, the stranger.

Don't misunderstand me. I know that the current administration did not invent harsh detention. Our nation has a long history of getting this wrong—the internment of Japanese American civilians during World War II stands as one stark example—followed by occasional periods of welcome.

I also know that writing an article for the newsletter, or posting on social media is not going to change anything. But as your priest it is necessary for me to wade in at times, especially when the same images and stories hit us over and over, to remind us what Jesus might say or do about what is happening. I would love to be able to tell you what we could each do to help fix our nation's heart, but I don't know the answer.

Here is what I do know. Jesus said "do not be afraid" more than he said any other thing. Fear cannot be our motivator—as a parish, as a people, as a nation. As long as we are making decisions motivated by fear, we will be failing to follow the way of Jesus.

We may not be able to change national policy from our pews, but we can examine our own hearts. We can choose how we speak about immigrants in our homes and workplaces. We can support local organizations that serve refugees and asylum seekers. We can refuse to let fear harden us against the image of God in every person.

One day each of us will stand before God, and if the Gospel of Matthew is correct, Jesus could ask me, "I was a stranger—what did you do?" Let us make sure our answer reflects the love he commanded.

See you in church,

Tom +