Over the past few weeks many have asked me about an aspect of our national life. What do you think about it? What should I do? Is it right or wrong? What’s the best way to understand this? What would Jesus do?

Over the years you have heard me say that I have chosen not to express myself about social concerns on social media. Those who are intimately involved in social media can easily come to believe that if they don’t see a person “speaking” on social media, they are silent. That is the lie that social media needs to survive. I’ve come to believe what others have studied, that the algorithms of social media (now more than ever) are actively working not merely to divide us but to cause rage among us. The stock price at social media companies grows when we are more enraged. I choose not to participate. There is so much more to be said about that. It’s worthy of a separate class for the faithful.

I am a parish priest. My first concern is members of my parish and because so many have asked I want to say a word concerning the many questions I’ve received on the immigration actions now taking place throughout the country. My maternal family hails from the Mayflower (more than one passenger) and my paternal grandparents immigrated to America from Portugal in the early 1900’s. No matter the location of our ancestors’ journey to this land, our nation was built entirely on immigration. Anyone who claims differently is ignoring the truth. We are all descendants of immigrants. To claim differently is simply to believe that some immigrants are more valuable than others for some other reason than their humanity, such as the continent they hail from or the color of their skin or the religion they profess. Yet we believe that Jesus died for all. We believe, as St. Paul teaches us, in Christ there is no male or female, Jew or Greek but all are one and worthy of the Cross of Christ.

As an Episcopal priest, I live in the tension between mercy and order every day. Our Anglican tradition calls us to hold differences together, not as a compromise of conviction but as a disciplined practice. One such truth is that nations rightly set and enforce borders, and determine the level of immigration best for its life. All nations do this. It’s not inherently unjust for nations to do this. Another truth is that every person who crosses a border—legally or not—bears the image of God. Christians may therefore, in good conscience, believe deportation is sometimes warranted, while refusing every form of contempt that treats migrants as less than human.

The bible guides us. St. Paul acknowledges the role of governing authorities in maintaining civil order. At the same time, the Law and the Prophets command, “You shall love the stranger,” and our Lord identifies himself with the hungry, the thirsty, and the stranger (Matthew 25). The Church’s Baptismal Covenant promises to “seek and serve Christ in all persons,” and, “respect the dignity of every human being,” not only in citizens we agree with or newcomers who follow the rules. So if deportation is pursued, it must be carried out with due process, humane conditions in detainment, access to family and counsel, without cruelty in language or practice. Christians may debate policy; we may not deny the truth that all are created in the image of God.

Pastorally, this means refusing to scapegoat immigrants for every social ill and calling out those who do. It means telling the truth: some systems are broken; some people do exploit them; and yet, most migrants carry stories of courage, grief, and hope that mirror our own. Our worship forms this belief: when we confess our sins, we renounce the easy comfort of blaming others. When we share the Peace, we partake in claiming the kingdom of God, where enemies become neighbors.

Personally, I am deeply concerned that the Federal government has deployed an enforcement agency on the streets of the nation that seems to have little accountability and with a growing neglect of human dignity. America has always been the highest example of enforcing laws with the most justice and dignity for the human beings that we can muster. I continue to demand it and every Christian should. When it comes to refugees, they belong to a distinct category. A refugee is one who flees persecution, violence, or credible threat— we think of the Holy Family’s flight to Egypt. To call someone “refugee” is not to grant a sentimental label but to recognize a claim upon our common humanity that is especially urgent. Across Christian traditions there is remarkable consensus here: whatever our political party, we are bound by the Gospel to respond to refugees with tangible care—shelter, sponsorship, advocacy for safe passage, and a bias toward protection when lives are at stake. My wife’s maternal family (both maternal and paternal) escaped the Armenian genocide and found refuge in America. This is personal. 

We can dispute quotas or procedures; we cannot evade responsibility. The scriptural command to welcome

the stranger is not a suggestion for stable times; it is the Church’s identity in all times. As a congregation, I respect that each approaches this issue from a different starting place. That’s okay. Yet all of us must respect and advocate for the dignity of every human being.

In the end, Christians need not choose between borders and compassion. We choose Christ—and because we do, we insist that any policy be measured by how it treats people for whom he died. The law can be administered with a human face. We demand it because the Cross of Jesus demands it. 

By grace,

Scott +