Wednesday Witness: Borders and Boundaries

A few years ago, I worked for the Church of Saint Andrew in Elk River. The parish had a strong charism of service to those in need and a growing Hispanic community. I was able to get to know a few immigrant families through the Faith Formation and sacrament programs, as well as the parish’s Hispanic liaison. The experience gave my valuable perspective on the conditions that might cause someone to uproot their family and cross our southern border (whether legally or illegally) in search of a better life.

Saint Andrew also had an annual mission trip to Mexico. Invariably, the parishioners who traveled and served in the barrios south of the border came back with one overriding impression: Poverty there is often a deeper, darker thing than poverty here at home.

As a result of these encounters, I often found myself asking: What would I be willing to do to protect and provide for my family?

Border security is a major national issue these days, and rightly so. It seems to me that secure borders are a fundamental role of the federal government, and they need to get this right. On the other hand, the Catholic Church cares deeply about the plight of the poor and the oppressed, families and children—and we should, too. The failings of our political leaders must not harden our hearts, especially against parents who are risking their lives for their children. It doesn’t make illegal immigration right, but it certainly makes it human.

In fact, many of the issues underlying big problems like immigration, poverty, homelessness, and addiction, are profoundly human and understandable if we take the time. And as Christians, we’re called to take the time.

Think about the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:29-37). Jesus is asked,” Who is my neighbor?” He responds with the story of a man beaten and left for dead by robbers and the three men who encounter the victim. Two ignore him, but the third spends time, energy, and money to care for the man and to see that he is provided for until he has recovered.

The Lord ends the story with a new question: “Which of these, in your opinion, was neighbor to the robber’s victim?” Love of neighbor isn’t rooted in who the other person is—it’s rooted in us, as followers of Christ.

The debates and policy decisions happening at the national level matter, but they have little bearing on our own call to charity, which starts here at home. Whether federal programs are cut or not, we are responsible for our neighbors in need in this community. We are our brother’s keeper, and we should hear in our hearts Christ’s command to His disciples who wished to dismiss the hungry crowd: “Give them some food yourselves” (Luke 9:13).

This is not to imply that poverty is “solvable” or that you or I can salvage or save anyone from their circumstances or choices. We can only do what we can do. But we should not expect someone else to meet the needs here in our own community. We are given what we have in order to share it—and we cannot outsource our charity to the government, the archdiocese, or those specifically labeled missionaries.

The command to love our neighbor is the Lord’s. The choice to obey is ours.