Whatever else one might say about the early days of Donald Trump’s second stint in the Oval Office, one cannot deny that it has been eventful. Unless perpetually glued to a screen (or, realistically, multiple screens), the average person has probably found it impossible to track all the executive orders, the shifts in federal policy, or even which federal departments continue to operate. In a situation of information overload, one can do little more than grasp overarching patterns, discerning within the news cycle broad themes rather than discrete events. There have been several of these themes, from the various moves to eliminate DEI programs and the “eliminate first, ask questions later” approach to government waste of the Department of Government Efficiency to the great reversal of foreign policy in relation to the war in Ukraine. One of the foremost themes of the past weeks, however, has been immigration policy.
The Trump administration has taken an approach that has seemingly featured disruption as one of its goals. In the first several days, the administration cancelled travel authorization for vetted and approved refugees, potentially separating families who have already walked a years-long (or even decades-long) process to start a new life in American the “right” way. In a similar move, funding for resettling refugees already admitted to the US has been suspended, potentially leaving newly arrived refugees without the support and guidance that had been promised them. As a result, not a single refugee was resettled in the US in the month of February. The ICE policy establishing a practice of avoiding enforcement activity in “sensitive” locations (except in unusual circumstances) has been rescinded. There is talk of ending birthright citizenship, massively increased ICE raids, and the use of military resources for immigration enforcement. Even non-citizens who are in the habit of complying with ICE requirements (mandatory check-ins and court appearances, for instance) while pursuing various legal options (asylum claims, legal appeals, etc.) have been targeted for deportation, allegedly dishonestly. The dust has yet to settle, so I don’t pretend this is an exhaustive list; rumored actions may never eventuate and many of these orders have been challenged in the courts, so the future of American immigration policy is far from clear.
While supporters of the administration probably need little by way of explanation or justification for these policy moves, and detractors of the President and his team are unlikely to accept one, the rationale seems to be rooted in the conviction that the country is currently experiencing an immigration “crisis.” The situation surrounding immigration is so dire, the borders of the nation so porous, and the number of undocumented immigrants in the country is so high, that nothing matters more than getting this situation under control. The border must be secured, law breakers (including of civil immigration law) must not go unpunished, and unauthorized residents must be removed, first, before any other consideration can be addressed. The presence of undocumented immigrants (and even some documented immigrants) constitutes a crisis because, as Vice President J.D. Vance argued in an interview and subsequent tweet, America has limited resources, and immigrants stretch that capacity to its breaking point. Moreover, our moral obligations to family, immediate neighbor, and countryman supersede any moral obligation to those further afield.
The Vice President’s remarks sparked a furor, revealing the deep divide running through Christian churches on immigration and related moral commitments. I have found myself, as a theologian, college professor, and former Department of Justice accredited immigration legal representative, pondering this divide over these past several weeks. What is the “Christian” view on these matters? Are there certain immigration policies that Christians ought to support? Does the command to love neighbor as one’s self admit of a hierarchical ordering as the Vice President has suggested? I am unlikely to settle these issues once and for all, so instead, borrowing from perhaps the greatest (and certainly my favorite) theologian America has ever produced, Robert W. Jenson, I want to offer not definitive answers but a few perspectival points that I believe Christians ought to occupy as we discuss these matters.
First Perspectival Point: Christians are called to love all people equally AND show that love by starting with those closest to us.
I am not breaking new ground here, but Vice President Vance’s comments made reference to a Christian principle, taken in part from St. Augustine: “All people should be loved equally. But you cannot do good to all people equally, so you should take particular thought for those who, as if by lot, happen to be particularly close to you in terms of place, time, or any other circumstances.” This should not shock the reader, coming as it does in a publication dedicated in part to localism, but it seems to me good and necessary to acknowledge the finite capacity each of us has to do good in the world. Recognizing that one cannot do good to all people everywhere, one can and should rightly choose to engage with those God has entrusted to your care, with whom God has seen fit to place you in relationship. The ordo amoris is not an invitation to love some and not love others: Augustine makes this clear in the first sentence quoted above. It is, however, a recognition of human finitude that pushes us to be rooted more deeply in those places and communities which are constitutive of our finite lives.
In a slightly different idiom, Wendell Berry makes a similar point in The Unsettling of America: “One cannot live in the world; that is, one cannot become, in the easy, generalizing sense with which the phrase is commonly used, a ‘world citizen.’ There can be no such thing as a ‘global village.’ No matter how much one may love the world as a whole, one can live fully in it only by living responsibly in some small part of it.” The local, the proximate, is the only means by which any finite creature can live out their love of all people and all the world.
I am skeptical, however, of the way this principle has been applied by the current administration to immigration policies. Augustine makes clear the circumstances in which this principle is to be applied: “Suppose that you had plenty of something which had to be given to someone in need of it but could not be given to two people, and you met two people, neither of whom had a greater need or a closer relationship to you than the other: You could do nothing more just than to choose by lot the person to whom you should give what could not be given to both.” One is morally justified, according to Augustine, in honoring one’s commitments to family and community, perhaps to the exclusion of others if resources are limited. If one has resources to give, however, then one should give first to those God has determined, as though by lot, to live closest to you.
If the United States were in a qualitatively similar situation to this example, in which we, societally, did not have plenty, then perhaps we would be justified in denying aid to foreign nations in order to aid those nearest to us. Personally, though, I am inclined to view America (collectively, not individually) as having plenty to give. Our national debt may indeed be increasing at a rather alarming rate, but the primary causes are not profligate generosity to distant people. We spend far too much on our own comfort and in pursuit of our own interests to claim that our purported love must select those nearby. That is, however, a prudential judgment and others may well judge differently.
The real difference between Augustine’s hypothetical and America’s situation, in my view, is that immigrants are already our neighbors. Augustine’s suggestion is that we allow God to direct our finite love by bringing certain people into our orbit. By his providential hand, God has done exactly that; many of our current neighbors and friends, those nearest to us, are those most affected by these shifts in immigration policy. Precisely according to Augustine’s ordo amoris, we are called to act with love toward our immigrant neighbors, not to differentiate who among our neighbors is deserving of our love and aid.
Second Perspectival Point: Christians may well disagree on policy but should agree on the telos of those policies.
If Christians are called to love our neighbors (and we are), and some of those neighbors are immigrants (and they are), then we are to seek their flourishing. Immigration policy in this country is complicated, and currently the system is broken; most anyone who has any connection to the system would readily admit this. It is perfectly reasonable for people to disagree over policy solutions. How many refugees should America accept annually? What should qualify someone for admittance as an immigrant? Should they have a relationship with a current permanent resident? Should they have some sort of skill or education? Should they demonstrate need? Could recipients of immigration status could be selected by chance, through a diversity lottery? (All of these are current pathways, as it happens.) How many agricultural workers should be admitted and under what conditions? These are questions I’m not really equipped to answer. The pursuit of a regulated means of entering this country, limits on the number of refugees and immigrants that get admitted each year, and the just punishment of those who violate our laws might all be pursued as a means of establishing and enabling human flourishing. What dismays me, though, is that many Christians seem to be engaging these fraught questions without any underlying commitment to the difficult, arduous work of loving our neighbors.
God’s concern for the vulnerable in society, and the command that God’s people share that concern, is one of the most persistent themes of the canon of Scripture. Immigrants, or “the foreigner residing among you,” are repeatedly identified as among those for whom God’s people should provide special care.
For the Lord your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who shows no partiality and accepts no bribes. He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the foreigner residing among you, giving them food and clothing. -Deuteronomy 10:17-18 When a foreigner resides among you in your land, do not mistreat them. The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt. I am the Lord your God. -Leviticus 19:33-34 When you reap the harvest of your land, do not reap to the very edges of your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest. Leave them for the poor and for the foreigner residing among you. I am the Lord your God. -Leviticus 23:22
None of this is necessarily determinative for immigration policy in present-day America, but it should be determinative for the disposition of Christians. To be clear, American immigration policy and Christian love are not inherently synonymous. Christian love of our immigrant neighbors should primarily take the form of tangible action, not wonkish policy arguments. Furthermore, from the point of view of American politics, it is not clear that policy should be driven by Christian commitments and some Christians argue for exactly that sort of division. My own view, though, is that while distinguishing between the Two Kingdoms or distinct sovereign spheres is possible, Christians can never support actions on the part of the State that run directly counter to God’s intentions for human life and flourishing.
The current tone and direction of US policy in relationship to immigrants, undocumented or otherwise, seems irreconcilable with God’s love for them. Take as an example the recent decision to rescind Temporary Protected Status for Haitian immigrants. TPS is a program designed to avoid sending immigrants into patently unsafe conditions through deportation, even when the person in question is not entitled to permanent legal status in this country. The administration’s own statement on the decision references only the increasing number of Haitian immigrants (with the implication that there are too many) and that the decision to extend TPS was made by a political rival. There is no reasonable argument to be made that the humanitarian situation in Haiti has substantially improved; to deport as many as 500,000 Haitian immigrants who currently depend on the program is to likely put many of them in harm’s way. Given this reality, the decision to rescind TPS does not seem to have been made with the good of our Haitian immigrant neighbors in mind. Likewise, loving immigrants and deriving pleasure at their incarceration and the attendant devastation to lives and families seem incompatible.
Christians must resist the temptation to take care of our own needs first, to protect our own jobs and livelihoods at the expense of others, to protect ourselves against any possibility of harm. “Make sure you get yours first” is a profoundly human impulse; it just isn’t the heart of Christ.
Third Perspectival Point: Policy and practice should flow from relationships with our neighbors.
While the ordo amoris can be twisted to justify a lack of love for our neighbors, understood rightly it might also lead us out of the current political impasse. Again, the ordo amoris is not an invitation to love only those you deem worthy; instead, it is an invitation to invest your life more deeply in those with whom God has brought you into contact. If you feel concerned about the current state of affairs as it relates to immigration, do not spend your time doom-scrolling the latest immigration political news online. Go and love your neighbor, the one God has placed in your orbit already, the only kind of neighbor you can really, tangibly love. Find a local organization that serves immigrants and volunteer. Take one of your neighbors to coffee and learn their story. Let your connection to real, human people inform your policy positions and show love to the people around you whatever the current policy prescriptions might be. If each of us would follow Augustine in loving those around us more deeply, perhaps we would see the truth in Berry’s suggestion that “it is impossible, for instance, to conceive that a man could … love his own place in the world and yet deal destructively with other places.”
Image Via: Wikimedia Commons
