I was a Stranger

Jesus' teaching has never been more important

Today is World Refugee Day. And, as of this day, there are more displaced people around the globe than ever before in human history.

According to the UN Refugee Agency:

As of the end of 2024, the most recent reporting period, 123.2 million people had been forced to flee their homes globally due to persecution, conflict, violence, human rights violations or events seriously disturbing public order.

Among them were nearly 42.7 million refugees. In addition, there were 73.5 million people displaced within the borders of their own countries (IDPs) and 8.4 million asylum-seekers.

There are also 4.4 million stateless people, who have been denied a nationality and lack access to basic rights such as education, health care, employment and freedom of movement.

….More than 1 in every 67 people on Earth has been forced to flee….

Let that sink in: 1 in every 67 people on Earth is a displaced person.

Despite the humanitarian crisis in our shared global family, developed nations — many (if not most) of which were historically Christian — are more reluctant than ever to support immigrants and refugees. Almost all wealthy countries are restricting refugee entry, deporting immigrants, and cutting services to newcomers. In many cases, anti-immigrant political parties have gained or are gaining power. And prejudice and violence against immigrants and refugees is increasing.

Yet, at the heart of Christianity is an ancient principle, one that Jesus embraced from Jewish theology and modified in his singular way:

For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.
— Matthew 25: 35–36

People of faith may, of course, disagree about policies regarding immigration. But we cannot avoid that the call for compassion, safety, and welcome for those who have left their homelands due to starvation, violence, deprivation, persecution, and war.

We humans have always fled and wandered. We have experienced exile and homelessness. Immigration has been central to the human story from its beginning. But the story is taking an evil turn right now, even as the problems associated with the movement of peoples are intensifying. But immigration is not going away. We can expect it will grow worse in coming decades, largely due to climate change.

How we deal with this is a measure of our moral health and our own souls.

It is incumbent upon us to resist the dehumanization and demonization of immigrants and refugees and refuse to participate in unjust deportations and campaigns of state terror against innocent people. We cannot give in to social and political movements that deny the humanity and dignity of immigrants and refugees.

We must not accept the wanton cruelty being perpetrated in our towns and cities right now. And we will not carry out orders from those who flagrantly deny the ethical imperative of Jesus himself.

I was a stranger and you invited me in.

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God never intended the resources of our planet to benefit only a few. That is not the will of the Lord. And yet, more and more, in many parts of the world, that is exactly what we find: a few who have far too much. And it is an attitude that can creep into our own hearts as well — this desire to hold on tightly to what is mine, to cling to possessions, to see them as exclusively ours. And this makes it so difficult to share.

But this difficulty in sharing becomes an obstacle to living a true experience of community — including with our migrant brothers and sisters. We are called to share. We are called to accompany them, to welcome, protect, and promote them — fostering a real experience of community that looks beyond nationality, beyond skin color, beyond religion and all the other distinctions that so often divide us.

— Pope Leo XIV (then Bishop Robert Prevost, 2020)

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An Alien’s Psalm
by Edward Hayes, Prayers for a Planetary Pilgrim

I wear the mark of your disapproval

and your often unspoken words

pierce straight to my soul,

“Why didn’t you stay where you belong?”

I feel the icy stare that says,

“Keep your distance, you foreigner,

with your different-colored skin

and your strange-sounding speech,

with your culture, food, religion, and clothing

that are inferior to my own.”

I’m an immigrant, a wetback, an alien,

an outsider operating a sweatshop sewing machine;

cheap labor: unwanted or dirty jobs

are mine for the taking;

I’m one of the countless invisible ones

who puts fresh vegetables on your plate

or stitches the fashion dresses and shirts

that you buy in your stylish stores.

As Moses of old once said,

“Remember, you were once aliens
in the land of Egypt,”

remember that your grandfathers and grandmothers

were immigrant-unwanteds,

were exploited cheap labor,

second-class citizens,

uneducated and poor,

used and abused,

ignored or looked down upon

for their foreign religion, speech, and food.

The White House,

first house of this great land,

says it well:

white is this land of promise;

no room for other colors or creeds.

Someday we’ll paint the first house

in rainbow colors —

someday, not long from now.

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At the Bulwark, Jonathan V. Last discusses the moral question, “Is it time to hide immigrants in our attics?”

I confess: I was thinking of this exact question during my recent visit to Amsterdam.

I highly recommend you read his piece HERE.

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A refugee is someone who survived and who can create the future.

– Amela Koluder

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Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.

— Martin Luther King Jr.

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We did, of course, recently “paint the first house in rainbow colors.” But that has come to a screeching halt. And we are WHITE once again.

Remember. Remember. Resist.

One day, we’ll repaint. Keep those brushes on hand.

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