I subscribe to Urbana.org and have found numerous articles on various topics that have really encouraged me. This one came today and it's about immigration, which as you all know by now, is a topic close to my heart for various reasons. Rather than including the link, I've copied and pasted it for you to read:
Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door.
(Words on the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty, from a poem by Emma Lazurus, The New Colossus)
That golden door! How should we make decisions about its opening and closing? The immigration debate is fierce and complicated. But it always has been.
Ellis Island, the companion tourist stop to Lady Liberty and the place where many early immigrants passed from one tempest to another, has some fine exhibits. One of them is of newspaper headlines and hate posters detailing the problems each immigrant pool encountered at the hands of the previous immigrant group.
When one-third of all of Ireland rolled up on these shores in the mid-1800s they were not well-received. They took the jobs no-one else wanted, lived in places no-one else would, and were mocked for their pronunciation of the English language. And then their Catholic faith was ridiculed. Ethnic jokes and epithets were hurled.
Just as the Irish began to build houses, marry off children and begin to see a new generation, the Italians and Portuguese arrived. And the Italians and Portuguese moved into their own slums, and took the jobs that the Irish had abandoned. And the Irish looked down on their inferior grasp of the English language. And then the poor from Eastern Europe arrived, and over three million from Poland arrived and the cycle continued through the decades with the waves of each new immigrant group being scorned and oppressed by the previous immigrant groups.
At the same time of the large influx of Irish, a large wave of Asians came to America, although of course, many had come previously. Their situation was quite different; many came as indentured servants, where they had to repay their debt for passage to the U.S. There was quite a furor raised at their presence and in the late 1800s-early 1900s laws were made banning Asians from becoming naturalized citizens and to prevent further immigration from Asian countries.
It all sounds eerily familiar. Perhaps the cards are stacked more highly against immigrants when Lady Liberty invites the “wretched refuse” along with the “huddled masses.” Of course, we can be compassionate to the “huddled masses.” But who wants to embrace or extend a hand to “wretched refuse”? This is especially the case, when our livelihoods are threatened, either economically or by terrorism.
In December, the US House of Representatives passed the Border Protection, Antiterrorism and Illegal Immigration Control Act of 2005 (H.R. 4437). The bill calls for tough treatment of illegal aliens, making it a felony, punishable by a year in jail. Humanitarian aid given to illegal immigrants can get you up to 5 years in prison. Along with other criminal penalties, the bill calls for a bolder, bigger, better fence to be constructed along the U.S. border with Mexico. This prompted people, immigrant and citizen alike, to gather in many cities around the country and voice their concern. Undocumented workers are getting fired for having skipped a day of work to participate in a rally.
But just at the end of March a Senate Judiciary Committee voted and passed a plan that is a vast improvement: it allows for pathways to citizenship for those already here, there would not be penalties for humanitarian and church groups helping undocumented workers, nor does it put the “criminal” label on immigrants here trying to better their lives. This plan is compassionate and breathes dignity into the debate.
But beyond bills and laws, what does the Bible say?
We are instructed in Scripture, time and again, to care for orphans, widows, the poor and aliens. The latter, as a reminder to Israel that they were, although God’s chosen people, once foreigners in a land not their own. In the Old Testament, Israel’s identity was wrapped up in the identity of their father, Abraham, who left his father, family and all that was familiar to sojourn in a place, a foreign place, God would show him. When they finally came into the promised land, God reminded the Hebrews that, like in the Garden, they were to till the land, take good care of it, steward it, for God owned the land, but they were merely sojourners. “For the land is mine; with me you are but, aliens and tenants.” (Lev. 25: 23)
In Lev 19: 34 we read, “The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt.” Christine Pohl in Making Room (Eerdman’s, 1999) writes of the plight of aliens during that time, “Their status was precarious and their well-being depended on the willingness of the community to welcome them into its life.” And so God gave instructions that when harvest time came, the edges of the field should be left for the poor and alien (Lev 19: 9-10).
When instructions are given regarding the first fruits of the land, the alien is included. In Deut. 26 when the first fruits are brought to the priest as an offering, aliens are invited to the celebration. The Lord commands that a portion of the bounty goes to aliens, orphans and widows, “so that they may eat their fill within their towns.” (11-13).
And in Lev 25:35 an interesting twist appears: when a kinsman falls into difficulty and must become dependent on another, God’s people are instructed, “you shall support them; they shall live with you as though a resident alien.” The word “alien” does not have a particularly positive ring. So, at first glance, we may read this as though we should be polite, but don’t let them take advantage. But this is clearly not God’s intention, as he seems to always be prompting us to care for aliens as if they were family.
And of course, Jesus, in his own words says, “I was a stranger and you welcomed me.” (Matt 25: 35)
After many of these decrees in the Torah, the phrase is written, “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt.” It is a reminder to Israel, “Remember where you were. Remember your plight. I acted because I love you. I brought you out for a purpose.”
Indeed, the current immigration debate is very political. And the role of the church is not always the same as the role of the state. It is difficult to know where to stand. But the Scripture seems to be clear on how we should treat the strangers who are among us. We too, are only sojourners in this world; we exist by the graciousness of a merciful God. How can we not be moved with compassion for the plight of those, who like our forefathers and mothers, seek only a better life for their families? For are they not like us: made in God’s own image? Welcoming immigrants, illegal or otherwise, is like welcoming Jesus. Do we not have something they need? Isn’t there enough to go around, really? Have we not ourselves been brought out of Egypt?
