In 2004 the Catholic Church published
an Instruction entitled The Love of Christ Towards Migrants (Erga Migrantes
Caritas Christi, EMCC). It received Papal Authority on the Feast of St. Joseph
the Worker:
In
migrants the Church has always contemplated the image of Christ who said, “I
was a stranger and you made me welcome.” Their condition is, therefore, a
challenge to the faith and love of believers, who are called on to heal the
evils caused by migration and discover the plan God pursues through it even
when caused by obvious injustices.
Mary, the
Mother of Jesus, can be well contemplated as a symbol of the woman emigrant.
She gave birth to her Son away from home and was compelled to flee to Egypt.
Popular devotion is right to consider Mary as the Madonna of the Way. (EMCC)
From the day Abraham left Ur to the
night the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) and his followers began the Hijrah from Mecca
to Medina migration has been front and center as an image of spiritual growth,
from dead ends to new beginnings, moving out of the darkness into the light. Holy
Scripture is full of believers who became migrants for a number of reasons.
Hagar and her son Ishmael were banished, thus beginning their migration. Israel
was forced to take up residence in Egypt when faced with starvation, and then
four hundred years later, they were homeless strangers again wayfaring through
Canaan. In fact the Hebrew Law reflects a firsthand sympathy for refugees and
sojourners and directs the faithful to feed, clothe, and help them, remembering
how we are all the descendants of such brave, sturdy stock. Sometimes people
became migrants because their lives were in danger. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph fell
into this category when they fled to Egypt rather than face the wrath of
jealous power.
I am related to migrants on both sides
of my family. The ones on my Mother’s side were refugees. They were the
Acadians of whom Longfellow wrote, driven away from their home in “the forest
primeval.” Exiled from the only life
they knew, those poor souls wandered “in
want and cheerless discomfort, bleeding, barefooted, over the shards and thorns
of existence.” (Evangeline) I can
see them even now; the women with their heads covered in imitation of Mary,
favoring blue, our Lady’s color. So many places refused to allow the Acadians
to take up residence. They were the despised outcasts of their day; the objects
of hate, ridicule, fear, and loathing.
The term ‘refugee’ is derived from the
concept of refuge. Among the ancient Hebrews certain priestly cities were
appointed as ‘Cities of Refuge’. Someone responsible for taking a life but who
did so unintentionally could flee to such a city. The wrathful cry of blood for
blood could not reach you in a City of Refuge. That this pertained to priestly
cities where worship was offered speaks to the connection between mercy and
sacrifice. To this day churches still act as houses of refuge. It is why many
of them paint their doors red.
The ancient Hebrews understood the
connection between clemency and community. It’s not for nothing that Cain, the
builder of the first city, was a murderer against whom vengeance was forbidden.
From the beginning there was the recognition that there can be no living
together without prevenient mercy seasoning our friendships and agreements. We
cannot find our way together when each of us demands our pound of flesh, or as
Gandhi put it, “an eye for an eye ends up making the whole world blind.”
Though justice be thy plea, consider
this;
That, in the course of justice, none of
us
Should see salvation: we do pray for
mercy;
And that same prayer doth teach us all
to render
The deeds of mercy.
(The
Merchant of Venice, Act IV, Scene 1)
