When immigrants live in your land with you, you must not cheat them. Any immigrant who lives with you must be treated as if they were one of your citizens. You must love them as yourself, because you were immigrants in the land of Egypt; I am the LORD your God. Leviticus 19: 33-34
Something that is
most certainly true about Christians everywhere is this: the stories of our
faith are filled with the experiences of immigrants and refugees, people like Abraham
and Sarah, Moses and Miriam, Ruth and Naomi, Joseph and Mary, and Paul, Peter,
and many other of Jesus’ early disciples. Oh, our translations might use a
different word, like “aliens” or “strangers” but they were immigrants. They
were people moving from one place to another in search of food or work or land.
Here is something
else that is most certainly true: The Lutheran church was carried to North
America by immigrants and refugees, starting during colonial times and accelerating
after the United States became a country. Some of those early founders of Lutheranism
in America were refugees, fleeing persecution, battlefields, and devastated
cities in Europe. But many others were economic migrants, like my three German
grandparents, hoping to build better lives for themselves and their families.
For the past few
years, as I’ve been listening to what many Lutherans in this synod and other
places say about migrants and refugees, it’s clear that this dual history has
either been forgotten or intentionally buried. This has happened despite the
fact that these are truths that have been part of our readings from scripture
and our commemoration of our own history. These truths are pointed out to us
over and over again nearly every time we worship.
Are the good
Lutherans in Wisconsin listening? Do we remember the stories of our own
heritage, both ethnically and spiritually? Do we find anything meaningful in
those stories of migration and flight from persecution, anything to hold on to
as lessons about how to treat strangers and choose our leaders now?
As a Lutheran who
recognizes these truths in the stories of the Bible and our own Reformation
history, and who also remembers the stories of his grandparents, I am asking
others to recognize and remember. And as a citizen of a country with a convoluted
immigration system that is currently broken, I’m especially concerned about an urgent
humanitarian issue affecting people living in many of our communities: the
recipients of Temporary Protected Status (TPS) and Deferred Action for
Childhood Arrivals (DACA).
What are they?
TPS provides legal status for about 400,000 people from seven different
countries. The reasons vary, but it’s usually because their original homeland
isn’t safe to return to because of war or natural disasters. DACA protects nearly
650,000 individuals, all of whom were children when they were brought to the
United States by their parents. Many of them were young enough when they
started living here that English is their native language. In their formal
education, life experience, and perspective on society, they are Americans, not
Mexicans or Sudanese or Vietnamese.
Technically, they
are still citizens of countries many have not seen for years, or have no memory
of, places where many would only be able to speak their “native” language as foreigners.
It’s a technicality, a matter of paperwork, not identity. But in the eyes of
many of us, the only thing that apparently matters is that paperwork. The only
thing that matters appears to be perfect compliance with rules, even if those
rules and regulations result in actions that are cruel and unfair.
If TPS and DACA
protections are taken away or ignored by government agencies like ICE, it will
affect not only the recipients, but also the more than two million family
members who live with them, including hundreds of thousands of children who are
US citizens. Deporting TPS and DACA recipients will have a negative impact in communities
where they are business owners, teachers, lawyers, office workers, essential workers,
and health care providers [including many working on the frontlines during this
epidemic].
As followers of Jesus and the children of Sarah and Abraham, we can take action
to show we care about what happens to TPS and DACA recipients, their families,
and our communities. As Lutheran Christians living out our faith, we can help
others understand that helping them is both a spiritual and a
humanitarian issue, that we are called to respond to the needs of TPS
and DACA families as a way of doing God's work. We can find allies in other faith
communities or outside the church to join us in taking action to support TPS
and DACA families and become advocates for compassion, not legalism.
Deacon
David Rask Behling, Hunger and Justice Advocate, NW Synod of Wisconsin
No comments:
Post a Comment