As if to illustrate a point made in my last Providence article, that theologians rarely do political thought well, noted theologian Russell Moore recently wrote in Christianity Today to remind readers that Jesus was a refugee. That’s it. Moore made this observation in the current moment of aggressive moves by the Trump administration to identify, arrest and deport illegal immigrants, and cut federal funding to refugee resettlement programs. Moore does acknowledge that Christians can still have good-faith disagreement over immigration policy, but…you know… Jesus was a refugee.
Moore’s implied argument, that Jesus’ refugee status renders the Trump administration’s policies (and those who support them) unchristian, illustrates the platitudinous, vapid moralizing that often passes for serious political thought in evangelical circles. Moore inaccurately reads the UN’s definition of “refugee” back into a Scriptural context with none of the categories of nation-states and international law that inform the UN’s definition. For example, Jesus would likely be considered an internally displaced person (IDP) by UN standards as opposed to a refugee since he fled from one place to another within the Roman Empire. Moore’s further attempt to define Old Testament figures like Ruth, Naomi, or Rahab as refugees stretches the term past the point of credulity. Such sloppy thinking doesn’t assist believers in developing or exercising biblical wisdom. Instead of the “Jesus as refugee” trope and overburdened analogies about Old Testament characters, a closer analysis of who our neighbor is and what it means to love them would be a better place to start.
The Levitical command to “love your neighbor as yourself” (Leviticus 19:18) forms something of a touchstone in Jesus’ teaching that he refers to at several points, explicitly and implicitly. The first such instance comes sometime before the parable of the Samaritan in the Sermon on the Mount:
“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect. (Matthew 5:43-48, ESV)
Jesus starts his teaching on the second greatest commandment by correcting an apparent misinterpretation. Unlike with the Good Samaritan, no one needs to ask Jesus who their enemy is. In a society that apparently had trouble defining a neighbor, I suspect defining an enemy was much easier. Jesus even provides some helpful descriptors: “those who persecute you,” “evil,” “unjust,” “tax collectors,” “Gentiles.” Jesus provides a broad definition of enemies as those in direct relationship with the disciple (those who persecute you), the oppressive sociocultural-political “other” (tax collectors and Gentiles), and the morally wicked (evil and unjust). A Christian’s enemy may occupy any one of these positions, but the call is the same: Love them. Here, somewhat surprisingly perhaps, Jesus indicates some basic categories of that love: prayer and greeting, both an extension of goodwill, but no more. Paul will echo this normative posture of goodwill in Romans 12:18: “If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.”
Both Jesus and Paul are articulating that Christians are universally called to extend love to all, but not in an open-ended, nebulous sense. It’s without limits in the sense that we’re called to extend that love to all people – enemy, neighbor, or neighbor-enemy – but it is very focused in terms of specific actions.
So, bottom line: An enemy is knowable and identifiable, and there are means of loving them whether they’re near or far through greeting and prayer. The parable of the Good Samaritan develops this teaching by merging the categories of “neighbor” and “enemy” and expanding acts of love to involve temporary material care to one in need.
But greeting, prayer, and temporary care are a guide to neither immigration policy nor refugee resettlement. Like much of the New Testament’s discussion of Christians in civil society, the specifics of loving an enemy and/or neighbor are focused on interpersonal relations. Whether it’s the call to extend goodwill to an enemy, or more actively love a neighbor (even a neighbor-enemy) by providing material care, at the level of national policy, these teachings necessarily go from being specific commands to points of general moral orientation to which specific (and debatable) policies can be attached.
But there’s still more to mine from the great parable of the Samaritan. The principle of neighbor love mandates that no one can be dehumanized to a point where they are beyond helping. The Levite and the priest who pass the suffering Jewish man on the road to Jericho are so concerned with their need for ritual purity, since to touch a dead or soon-to-be dead body would pollute them, that they cannot practically love their neighbor. Theirs is a disordered love founded on a self-righteous belief that one can love God without loving neighbor. After all, Jesus noted in his teaching on love that even Gentiles love their own. Followers of Christ are called to a higher standard.
For Trump supporters, there’s no getting around the idea that, even if illegal immigrants have broken the law, they must still be understood as bearers of the image of God. Even in the process of deportation, treating detainees and deportees humanely, praying for them in their suffering, praying for the salvation of the lost, extending a helping hand and goodwill as opportunity arises are all well within the bounds of Christ’s teaching.
For Trump opponents, the limited nature and duration of the aid rendered (caring for the wounded man only until he was well enough to be on his way), the transactional nature of the exchange between the Samaritan and the innkeeper to allow for such care, the temptation to replace one “other” with another other (i.e. love the immigrant “other,” but despise the MAGA “other”) all must be acknowledged. Loving the abstract “other” immigrant or refugee that you have no contact with while maligning Trump-supporting Christians is exactly the hypocrisy of the Levite and priest that Jesus exposes in the parable. It is a disordered love, which, incidentally, is a critically overlooked element of the “Christian idea” Vice President Vance was referring to.
Suffice to say, if we’re going to develop serious Christian thinking on policies related to immigration, we must start by going deeper in our theology than Moore appears willing to go.