Christians and the plight of the 'border children': Robert Mann
In this photo taken July 1, 2014, two-year-old Adriana Ortez holds her stuffed animal, as she and her mother, Dayana Ortez, of El Salvador, wait to board a bus leaving the city bus station in McAllen, Texas. Ortez and her daughter, were released on their own recognizance by U.S. Customs and Border Protection Services after entering the illegally into the U.S. from Mexico. The mother and daughter were heading to Los Angles to reunite with family. (AP Photo/Austin American-Statesman, Rodolfo Gonzalez) (Rodolfo Gonzalez)
By on July 25, 2014
Pity the poor American Christian. From every side, he is persecuted, set upon by government bureaucrats, forced to do this, required to do that -- denied his God-given right to pay low taxes and live as he pleases.
If he is a business owner and wishes to refuse his services to gays and lesbians, he finds it an appalling violation of his "religious freedom" to be told that the Constitution's 14th amendment might render his actions not merely deplorable, but also illegal.
America's Christians, mostly those on the political right, certainly are a persecuted and angry lot. As soon as some crazy liberal questions the sanity of toting guns into churches, schools or grocery stores, they're itching to fight.
Politician preachers -- like Gov. Bobby Jindal, former Sen. Rick Santorum (R-Penn.) and Texas Gov. Rick Perry -- never tire of preaching to Christians about the crucifixion liberals have in mind for them. Like the political carnies they are, these charlatans treat their supporters like they're a horde of dupes, easily persuaded they are the most disadvantaged people on earth.
Indeed, listening to the politicians as they preach, someone from another planet might conclude that Christian churches are filled with pious, intolerant, gun-toting, angry white men. You know, just like Jesus and his disciples.
Which raises the question: Why do so many religious conservative leaders -- especially the political variety -- speak so much about their "rights," but so little about actual teachings of Jesus?
It turns out that Jesus spent most of this time talking about the plight of the poor and other of society's outcasts -- orphans, widows, the sick and those in prison. In fact, Jesus' last story before his death was about how he would one day judge his followers on how they treated "the least of these."
Busy preaching sermons of fear and grievance to their flocks, Jindal and his ilk rarely discuss the real, compassionate message of the gospels. They certainly don't seem to know that Jesus talked, not about his rights, but about his followers' sacred obligation to the wellbeing of others.
One parable of Jesus, in particular, has been on my mind the past week as I've watched so many pharisaic people of faith condemn the influx of pitiful children along the southwestern border, most of them escaping violence and persecution in Guatemala, El Salvador and Honduras.
I've been contemplating the parable of the Good Samaritan, in which Jesus tells the story of the priest and the Levite who ignore the plight of a man attacked by violent thieves and left for dead on the side of the Jericho road. Finally, a compassionate Samaritan rescues him.
It's significant for these times to remember that Jesus told this story in response to a simple-but-profound question: "Who is my neighbor?"
Sadly, too many Christians don't see these children as neighbors. Like the priest and the Levite, the suffering children provoke only anger and resentment, not compassion.
"Illegal immigration is the antithesis of Christianity," William Gheen, president of the Raleigh, N.C.-based Americans for Legal Immigration, has said. "It's a gross mischaracterization of Christianity to apply it to tolerating the mass lawlessness, death and damages involved in illegal immigration."
Gheen even doubts the children are victims of persecution. "The children are reciting lines," he insists. "This is being orchestrated."
Jindal has been strangely mute on this issue, but not four Republican Louisiana congressmen, including GOP U.S. Senate candidate Bill Cassidy. They recently sent a letter to the Obama administration, demanding that federal officials block the border children from entering Louisiana. I believe each of these men considers himself a Christian, although this letter betrays no Christ-like compassion.
Of course, there are many religious leaders, including Pope Francis, who have spoken forcefully about the church's obligation to these children. A group of evangelical leaders has also asked Congress not to repeal the 2008 law that makes it more difficult to deport these children. "As we pray for these children and also our nation," these leaders wrote, "we are reminded of Matthew 19:13-14 in which Jesus said, 'Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them.'"
I'd forgotten that on the night before he was killed, the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. preached a sermon in Memphis which took its theme from Jesus' "Good Samaritan" parable.
King noted that the first two men in the parable asked themselves, "If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?" (That, of course, is the question too many politicians on the religious right are posing.)
In his sermon, King wisely reversed the question, just as Jesus intended: "If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?"
Isn't that the question we should all be asking?
If he is a business owner and wishes to refuse his services to gays and lesbians, he finds it an appalling violation of his "religious freedom" to be told that the Constitution's 14th amendment might render his actions not merely deplorable, but also illegal.
America's Christians, mostly those on the political right, certainly are a persecuted and angry lot. As soon as some crazy liberal questions the sanity of toting guns into churches, schools or grocery stores, they're itching to fight.
Politician preachers -- like Gov. Bobby Jindal, former Sen. Rick Santorum (R-Penn.) and Texas Gov. Rick Perry -- never tire of preaching to Christians about the crucifixion liberals have in mind for them. Like the political carnies they are, these charlatans treat their supporters like they're a horde of dupes, easily persuaded they are the most disadvantaged people on earth.
Indeed, listening to the politicians as they preach, someone from another planet might conclude that Christian churches are filled with pious, intolerant, gun-toting, angry white men. You know, just like Jesus and his disciples.
Which raises the question: Why do so many religious conservative leaders -- especially the political variety -- speak so much about their "rights," but so little about actual teachings of Jesus?
It turns out that Jesus spent most of this time talking about the plight of the poor and other of society's outcasts -- orphans, widows, the sick and those in prison. In fact, Jesus' last story before his death was about how he would one day judge his followers on how they treated "the least of these."
Busy preaching sermons of fear and grievance to their flocks, Jindal and his ilk rarely discuss the real, compassionate message of the gospels. They certainly don't seem to know that Jesus talked, not about his rights, but about his followers' sacred obligation to the wellbeing of others.
One parable of Jesus, in particular, has been on my mind the past week as I've watched so many pharisaic people of faith condemn the influx of pitiful children along the southwestern border, most of them escaping violence and persecution in Guatemala, El Salvador and Honduras.
I've been contemplating the parable of the Good Samaritan, in which Jesus tells the story of the priest and the Levite who ignore the plight of a man attacked by violent thieves and left for dead on the side of the Jericho road. Finally, a compassionate Samaritan rescues him.
It's significant for these times to remember that Jesus told this story in response to a simple-but-profound question: "Who is my neighbor?"
Sadly, too many Christians don't see these children as neighbors. Like the priest and the Levite, the suffering children provoke only anger and resentment, not compassion.
"Illegal immigration is the antithesis of Christianity," William Gheen, president of the Raleigh, N.C.-based Americans for Legal Immigration, has said. "It's a gross mischaracterization of Christianity to apply it to tolerating the mass lawlessness, death and damages involved in illegal immigration."
Gheen even doubts the children are victims of persecution. "The children are reciting lines," he insists. "This is being orchestrated."
Jindal has been strangely mute on this issue, but not four Republican Louisiana congressmen, including GOP U.S. Senate candidate Bill Cassidy. They recently sent a letter to the Obama administration, demanding that federal officials block the border children from entering Louisiana. I believe each of these men considers himself a Christian, although this letter betrays no Christ-like compassion.
Of course, there are many religious leaders, including Pope Francis, who have spoken forcefully about the church's obligation to these children. A group of evangelical leaders has also asked Congress not to repeal the 2008 law that makes it more difficult to deport these children. "As we pray for these children and also our nation," these leaders wrote, "we are reminded of Matthew 19:13-14 in which Jesus said, 'Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them.'"
I'd forgotten that on the night before he was killed, the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. preached a sermon in Memphis which took its theme from Jesus' "Good Samaritan" parable.
King noted that the first two men in the parable asked themselves, "If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?" (That, of course, is the question too many politicians on the religious right are posing.)
In his sermon, King wisely reversed the question, just as Jesus intended: "If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?"
Isn't that the question we should all be asking?
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