For Whom the Law Tolls…

In the ongoing debate about illegal immigration, a major concern expressed by some American Christians is that allowing illegal entrants to stay in the country is a slap in the face for Rule of Law. Related discussions involve whether or not our immigration laws are just, and what should be done if they are unjust.

But before argument ensues regarding specific laws, one must consider what law is for. Jesus addresses this when he says that “the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.” God’s laws are not just the whimseys of a despotic overlord — they are intended for the good of the world He created. If humans would observe all His laws perfectly, their lives would be much better.

One must also consider who the law is for. In the Ten Commandments, the law regarding the Sabbath requires that not only Jewish people, but also “aliens,” be allowed a day of rest (in fact, even farm animals were included). In fact, nearly all of the laws given to the people of Israel applied to aliens as well. In addition, there are frequent exhortations to show kindness and mercy to the stranger.

Laws created by humans, even with the best intentions, are only poor reflections of God’s law. National laws should reflect and respect God’s law, but often they do not.  If a law oppresses people rather than liberates them, it is an unjust law. Where a law favors the wealthy, the educated, the people with connections, it is unjust.

Which is just what current U.S. immigration policy does. It’s easy for a multi-millionaire to immigrate to the U.S. It’s easy for someone with advanced education in medicine, engineering, or other scientific/technical fields to get a visa. It’s easy for someone who already has family residing legally in the U.S. to get in, too. But for a poor farmer with an 8th grade education it’s very difficult, unless one has the good fortune to be a refugee… Never mind that the nation’s desire for cheap food creates the demand for people who are willing to risk a lifetime of back pain to pick strawberries or dig potatoes day after day, month after month.

When Evil is an Evil Word

The words we use when speaking of another person or another nation must be chosen carefully, especially when we consider that entity our “enemy.”  In many instances, words which may accurately describe the other side are also words that escalate hostility, and therefore are ineffective at bringing about a resolution to, or reduction of, the problem. 

Such is true of the word evil.  Several years ago, President Bush named Iran and North Korea among the nations which formed the “Axis of Evil.”  We are told that these two countries have a hostile agenda, and therefore they must be prevented from acquiring technology which could lead to the development of nuclear weapons.   

While this may very well be true, it is not effective diplomatic language because it demands not just that we believe they are evil – they have to believe it, too.  Otherwise, how can they accept that the United States (or
Israel) has a legitimate right to possess weapons of mass destruction and they do not? 

Humans don’t like being told they are wicked.  I had an American literature professor in college who began the two courses I took from him with a lecture on American Puritanism, which he referred to as the Age of Hypocrisy.   I’ll never forget his contempt for one of the precepts of Calvinism – total depravity.  “Are you totally depraved?” he would ask students.  His tone of voice confirmed that this description of human nature offended him.   

Perhaps even those of us who accept Reformed theology cringe at the words like evil and depraved when we hear them in the Sunday morning liturgy.  Sometimes I do. However much I may believe “I am evil, born in sin,” in a culture which emphasizes a positive self-image acknowledging this truth can feel like self-betrayal.   

On the other hand, we would pity the child whose parents were constantly telling him, “you are evil.”  Why?  Because by themselves, the words are hurtful.  To talk about the evil nature of humanity without talking about the completely holy yet completely good nature of God and the sacrifice of Christ would be telling only half the story and leaving out the best parts.  We only accept that we are evil when we also know there is forgiveness and redemption.  Without Part II of the story, our responses are depression and despair or bitterness and defiance. 

What also makes us willing to say, “I am evil” is the understanding that everyone else is, too.  Authenticity comes when we recognize that we are all equal in our need for salvation.  The poor thief or the unwed mother is not more sinful than the man who boasts in his riches or the woman who worships her family rather than God.  When we confront one another, it should be in humility; we say, “yes, you are evil, but so am I.” 

So let’s come back to foreign policy.  When we approach the enemy from a position of superiority, when we claim innocence for ourselves, labeling our enemies as evil will likely only provoke bitter defiance.  Are we prepared to acknowledge our own wrong?  Are we able and willing to offer forgiveness and redemption?  If not, how should we expect the enemy to respond?

Whatever Happened to (Physical) Community?

At the ripe old age of 20, after two confusing years of college, I moved to St. Louis and joined the community of Grace and Peace Fellowship.  In many ways, I think of those early years at G&P as the “golden age” of my church experience.  What made G&P different from any other church I’ve been a part of was community.  Actual, physical community.

At that time, the church met in a store front and a substantial percentage of the congregation lived in the church’s narrowly defined neighborhood — Skinker-DeBaliviere, in the west end of St. Louis.  My understanding is that the location of the church, in what was then a low-income neighborhood, was intentionally chosen so that all members of the congregation could afford to live close to one another.  In fact, many church members even lived in the same buildings.

It was certainly a rough neighborhood — in the early years a number of church members became crime victims.  I doubt the church member who was raped in the early 80s remembers those days as a “golden age.”  And yet, the fact that when it happened she was able to call friends who lived across the street is a testament to the value of community.  Personally, I never felt insecure in the G&P neighborhood, despite the crime statistics.  That’s because I knew so many people I knew lived nearby.  I never felt afraid to walk, after dark, to church events or Wednesday prayer group meetings, because there would always be people I knew out on the same sidewalks.

G&P was active in the neighborhood.  It was easy to get excited about the various ministries because it was my neighborhood, too. 

I haven’t been to G&P for quite a few years, so I can’t speak to where that congregation is today.  But during my time there, things began to change.  For one thing, the neighborhood began to gentrify (many of the apartment buildings are now Washington University student housing), and housing costs began to rise so that it no longer was an affordable neighborhood for someone on a moderate income.  For another thing, G&P bought its current building, located outside the original neighborhood boundaries, and on the edge of a area that is even more expensive.

But perhaps one of the biggest blows came from cultural, and perhaps political, shifts.  G&P was strongly affected by 60s counterculture.  It was a time when people were willing to take risks in order to live in community.  People were more laid back, less concerned about career than about relationships.

I’ve heard it said that community such as I experienced at G&P is impossible now.  Today people, including Christians, are too individualistic, preoccupied with their own interests.  But I wonder if that’s true.  The New Towne development, in St. Charles, has become a success; other secular community-oriented developments are sprouting up around the country.  It’s hard to believe that there aren’t at least some Christians interested in living in community as well.

This has been a bit of a preoccupation with me lately, because I’ve been looking at housing prices with the hopes of purchasing a home in the next year or so.  Unfortunately, the only places I can afford are in high-crime communities.  As a middle-aged, single woman, is it wise to move alone into such a neighborhood?  If there were neighbors I knew and felt I could call on in an emergency, I would certainly feel more secure.

A Parable for Patrick Buchanan

 A wealthy man was driving from Los Angeles to Phoenix when he came upon a Mexican immigrant, bloody and bruised, lying by the side of the road.“Help me, please,” he cried.

“First, let me see your immigration papers,” said the wealthy man, “and if you are legal, I will help you.”

“But I was robbed of everything — including my papers,” replied the injured man.

“Sorry, but I will only help you if you can prove that you are in the U.S. legally.” He got back in his car and drove away.

A couple of hours later, the wealthy man came upon a car which had broken down along a stretch of highway in the desert. An Asian-looking woman waved to him desperately. He stopped his car, got out, and walked over. “Can you speak English?” he asked.

“Dui bu qi. Wo bu hui shuo Yingyu.”

“Well, if you can’t take the time to learn English, I don’t have the time to help you,” the man replied, then he got back in his car and drove away.

A little bit later, the man came upon an automobile accident. A car was upside down in a ditch, and inside the vehicle was an unconscious man dressed in middle-eastern clothing. “He looks like a terrorist,” the man thought, and drove on without stopping.

Later that evening, news reports told of three unfortunate deaths: a Latino man who had been robbed, beaten, and left beside the highway to die; a Chinese woman who had died of thirst after her car broke down in the desert; and an Iraqi immigrant whose car had overturned by the side of the highway.

That night, the man had a dream in which Christ appeared to him. “How can I know you love me?” asked Christ.

“Well, I go to church every Sunday, I pray before every meal, I support six missionaries, and I am faithful to my wife,” the man replied confidently.

But Christ answered,

“Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of wickedness,
to undo the straps of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?

Is it not to share your bread with the hungry
And bring the homeless into your house;
When you see the naked, to cover him,
And not to hide yourself from your own flesh?”

“Truly I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.”

(Scripture references: Isaiah 58:6,7; Matthew 25:45, English Standard Version)