Across The Border

“Hospitality means primarily the creation of free space where the stranger can enter and become a friend instead of an enemy.” —Henri Nouwen

In the waning years of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th, waves of immigrants came to the United States to flee a war-torn Europe, famine, and persecution.  

They were filled with hopes and dreams for a better life, and believed the words of the poem on the Statue of Liberty which 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-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

They endured racism, bigotry, and hatred once they arrived.  They were taken advantage of and often reviled by so-called "native born" Americans. 

Politicians railed against them; newspapers printed hateful columns about them.  

Neighbors treated them with fear and suspicion; some even relocated so they wouldn't live near them.  

Not much has changed in the last 150 years, it seems.  People still yearn to breathe free and want to find a better life in America.  

They come from different places now, and they are predominantly brown and black, but they long for the same things as those immigrants of yesteryear.  

And they still meet the same resistance, suspicion, and fear.  

Immigration is complicated.

Countries have borders. Governments make laws. Communities have legitimate questions about security, resources, employment, enforcement, and responsibility.  

There are also serious questions about the millions of undocumented immigrants in our midst.  

So when we ask, "What Would Jesus Do?" about the complicated issue of immigration, it's hard to know how to approach it.  

Jesus doesn't give us an immigration policy.

But Jesus does give us a way of seeing immigrants.

He begins, interestingly enough, as one.  More specifically, as a refugee. 

Matthew tells us that shortly after Jesus' birth, Joseph learns that Herod wants to kill the child. So Joseph takes Mary and Jesus and flees to Egypt.

The Holy Family becomes a family escaping violence in a foreign land.

Years later, Jesus encounters a Samaritan woman beside a well. 

Jews and Samaritans carried generations of religious, ethnic, and political hostility.

Yet Jesus speaks to her.

Listens to her.

Takes her questions seriously.

Jesus sees a person where others might first have seen a category.

That offers us a different starting place for conversations about immigration.

We can disagree about policy while refusing to dehumanize people.

Behind words like immigrant, migrant, refugee, undocumented, and foreigner are human beings.

Mothers.

Fathers.

Children.

Workers.

Families.

People afraid for their futures.

People searching for safety or opportunity.

People made in the image of God.

Asking “What would Jesus do?” doesn't magically resolve every difficult policy question.

It does, however, change how we approach the question.

Jesus would listen to stories.

Jesus would recognize dignity.

Jesus would resist language that reduces human beings to threats, statistics, or political tools.

Jesus would remind us that how we treat strangers reveals something about our hearts.

Perhaps Christians can help change this conversation—not because we all agree on immigration policy, but because we insist upon beginning somewhere deeper than politics.

Before we debate an issue, we have a neighbor to love.

(Scripture: Matthew 2:13–15; John 4:4–30)

Prayer

Jesus, teach me to see strangers as you see them. Give wisdom to those responsible for difficult decisions and compassion to all of us. Guard my heart against fear, stereotypes, and dehumanizing language. Help me recognize your image in every person. Amen.

Reflection Questions

1. What assumptions do I make when I hear words like “immigrant,” “refugee,” or “undocumented”?
2. How might hearing someone's personal story change the way I think about immigration?
3. How can I practice hospitality toward someone whose background is different from mine?