Skip to main content

Refugees welcome??

I should be happy every time I open another church bulletin or see another facebook post that says a church is considering sponsoring a refugee family.

Instead, I’m disgusted.

Really, you're merely considering it? Only now?

Your congregation is so busy running your little affinity groups and holy huddles and going on your personal enrichment “mission” trips that it took the secular newsmedia’s outraged publication of a heart-rending photo of a dead child washed up on a beach to get you to even realize there's a refugee crisis out there?!

And, so moved, you still wonder not when and how to respond but whether?

When did the church stop believing itself in some way responsible to care for people outside our own doors?

Why is the church not ashamed that it took wider culture to wake us up to a tremendous need?

(It’s not that the news hasn’t been out there. For example, my church magazine has been running articles from MCC on the dire situation in Syria since 2012. And it’s not just Syria. Africans have been perishing in increasing numbers on the Mediterranean in unsuitable boats crammed with humanity. Some of these are economic migrants, not people fleeing war or political persecution, but this desperate flight from stark income inequality and lack of opportunity should also concern those who profess to believe we all have equal value in the eyes of God.) 

Why is it not a foregone conclusion that an organized group of people who believe in hope, reconciliation and service would be able to collectively offer hospitality for at least one year – financially and emotionally – to a family escaping crisis?!

And when we finally decide maybe we do have a responsibility to do something, why are we still so very stinting in our response? We’re actually reasonably willing to cough up some money; we’re certainly willing to find some cast-offs to donate to help a refugee set up a household (whew! de-cluttering and do-goodering in one fell swoop), but ourselves? Nope, not called to do that. Churn the group through the system and provide funds for one year, then sigh in relief at having discharged a responsibility. Don’t ask me to be friends, especially not over the long term. Does our perpetual invocation of “relationship” mean nothing?

It is with a tragically unrecognized irony that we whisper self-righteously about hidden terrorists and practitioners of Islam not integrating into Canada while we fail to invite them into our lives. What an opportunity we have to demonstrate our hope in the Prince of Peace and to be transformed by learning from those whose experiences and perspectives are different from ours.

Isn’t it time we shut up our indignant claims of having done enough, stop falling for – and spreading – the rhetoric of fear and entitlement, and start being the church Christ called us to be? Church, it’s time we remember that we are witnesses to hope, hospitality and wholeness, and start living like it.

Revised Nov. 27, 2015

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

My favourite nativity scene

“There’s no accounting for taste.” That’s my dad’s favourite way of explaining personal tastes that are incomprehensible to him, like living downtown, and riding bike in winter. The inexplicable factors which determine an individual’s likes or dislikes are probably the only way I can explain why my favourite nativity scene contains a horribly caricatured black magus, a random adoring child attired – to my fancy – like a Roma person, an old shepherd carrying some sort of blunderbuss. And a haloed holy family with an 18-month-old baby Jesus. This is the "Christmas Manger Set – the Christmas story in beautiful cut-out scenes and life-like figures." See how the 1940s-era family admires the realistic flourishes, like raw wood beams and straw protruding from the edge of the roofline; the rough, broken wood of the stalls; the tasselled camels; the richly dressed magi; the woolly sheep; the Bethlehemites on the path in the background, ostensibly out to get water, judging...

Upside down economics of Jesus: household action and global change

--Presented at a CAWG event in Altona -- In Living More with Less , Doris Janzen Longacre shares a story about envelopes from Marie Moyer, a missionary in India, who was studying Hindi with Panditji. Marie writes: “From his philosophic mind, which probed the meaning of events and circumstances, I learned more than Hindi.” Just before her teacher’s arrival one day before Christmas, she’d received and opened a pile of Christmas cards and discarded the envelopes as he walked in the room. She writes: “He sat down soberly and studied the situation, then he solemnly scolded me: ‘the reverberation of this wasteful act will be felt around the world’.” Marie was stunned. “What do you mean?” she asked him. “Those envelopes,” he said, pointing to the wastebasket. “You could write on the inside of them.” “Chagrined”, Marie apologized and rescued the envelopes with the help of Panditji, who “caressed each one” as he pulled it out of the garbage. This forever changed Marie’s relationship to p...

Broken people...

After reflecting with one coworker on how often churches in all their forms really mess up and hurt a whole bunch of people in the process -- and how "we gotta do better" -- I stumbled into another conversation with a coworker which highlighted our brokenness, and I suddenly realized what was wrong with my take in the first. I wanted the church to be better at fixing our mistakes, or better yet, at not making them in the first place. But maybe this "fix-it" attitude is partly the reason we keep blowing it again and again! My friend recollected an experience when a church community was in a terrible place: compounded mistakes, hurts, and frustrations had blown up, spewing pain all over all parties. (I'm sure anyone with a long history in the church can think of one, if not several, such occasions in their past.) A new Christian who observed all these goings on responded in an unexpected way. Instead of "you people are a bunch of screw-ups! How could this pos...