A Homily to get me in trouble

In some ways I am glad that I will not be preaching in the US this weekend. 

The first reading, Exodus 11: 20-26, is so strong that I fear that some people would walk out – if they took it seriously. 

“You shall not molest or oppress an alien, for you were once aliens yourselves in the land of Egypt. You shall not wrong any widow or orphan. If ever you wrong them and they cry out to me, I will surely hear their cry. My wrath will flare up, and I will kill you with the sword; then your own wives will be widows, and your children orphans.” 

From what I can see from a distance, this passage is an indictment of current US policy toward the migrant and the poor. (Note: when the scriptures speak of “the widow and the orphan” they are referring to those who are without support and who therefore are poor and marginalized.) 

Combine this passage with paragraph 39 of Pope Francis’ recent encyclical Fratelli Tutti, and we’ve got a real problem. 

Then too, “in some host countries, migration causes fear and alarm, often fomented and exploited for political purposes. This can lead to a xenophobic mentality, as people close in on themselves, and it needs to be addressed decisively”. Migrants are not seen as entitled like others to participate in the life of society, and it is forgotten that they possess the same intrinsic dignity as any person. Hence, they ought to be “agents in their own redemption”. No one will ever openly deny that they are human beings, yet in practice, by our decisions and the way we treat them, we can show that we consider them less worthy, less important, less human. For Christians, this way of thinking and acting is unacceptable, since it sets certain political preferences above deep convictions of our faith: the inalienable dignity of each human person regardless of origin, race or religion, and the supreme law of fraternal love.

Scapegoating migrants, treating them as less than human, characterizing their homelands as “shit-hole countries,” speaking about immigrants fleeing violence and poverty as an invasion, calling them animals, speaking of a political opponent as having a “plan to inundate your state with a historic flood of refugees,” seriously restricting the number of refugee admissions – neither Isaiah nor Pope Francis would tolerate these actions.  

These are appeals to our worse nature, to our fears, to our sinful selfishness. They are not the ways of God or of followers of Christ. 

I speak from Honduras. Hundreds of thousands have fled from here for many years – seeking refuge from the violence, seeking a way out of poverty (as my Irish ancestors did in the 1840s), fleeing a government (financially supported by the US) rife with corruption and probable connections to drug trafficking. 

I know some from our parish, some from the village where I live who have left and are living decent lives in the US, trying to support their families. They are real people whose names I know. 

But I am not just concerned about them. I am concerned about people in the US who support these xenophobic policies. 

What has become of their souls? What sort of fear has overcome them and silenced their better part? What sense of isolation has led them to look down on others? What spiritual pandemic has infected them? 

I grieve for them. I pray that they may find a wholeness of spirit to welcome the stranger. I pray that whatever has led them to this will be purged from the US culture. 

And I have a dream that migrants and the opponents of migrants may sit down at table, share their joys and hopes, their fears and anxieties, so that God can heal the US of the anger and fear, the anxiety and uncertainties and make of them a people who can be healed by the power of a loving God who loves all, especially those who are or feel themselves marginalized. 

May God heal us all.