Wednesday, June 18, 2025

6/18/2025

 Wednesday, June 18, 2025

D+203/136/1312

Sick day #5 (last?)  

1815 Napoleon Bonaparte and France were defeated at Waterloo

1963 3,000 blacks boycotted Boston public schools to protest de facto segregation

1968 Supreme Court banned racial discrimination in the sale and rental of housing

1982 Voting Rights Act of 1965 was extended by the US Senate by an 85-8 vote

2020 US Supreme Court ruled that the Obama-era Dreamers Program (DACA), enabling undocumented migrant children to study and work, can stay

In bed at 8, up at 7:45, 7 pit stops.   68°, high of 71°, drizzle, cloudy

Kevzara, day 8/14; Trulicity, day 6/7; morning meds at 12:30 p.m.; Blink pill at 12:30 p.m.; Eye wipes at 9 a.m. and   p.m.; Eye mask at 1:30 p.m. and p.m.;  Eye ointment at bedtime.   

Janice Jenkins Anderson's FB post

Janice Jenkins Anderson shared

Benjamin Cremer 

One of the most commonly misused and harmful terms I see in conversations around immigration is the word “illegal.” It gets applied to people as a label: “illegal immigrant,” “illegal alien,” or even just “illegals.” But here's the truth—both legally and theologically—people are not illegal. Actions can be unlawful. Statuses can be undocumented. But a human being, made in the image of God, cannot be illegal.

First, let’s look at the facts. U.S. immigration law is enormously complex, inconsistent, and often inaccessible. People may fall out of legal status for many reasons: bureaucratic backlogs, visa expirations, changes in law, or fleeing violence seeking to apply for asylum.

For just one example, the backlog in immigration court is over 3 million cases (per TRAC at Syracuse University), but this is due to under-resourced courts, not because all those people are “breaking the law.” Many are waiting years for legal hearings. (Link to source in comments).

These are civil, not criminal, violations. Entering the U.S. without documentation or overstaying a visa is not a felony—it’s a civil matter, not unlike a traffic violation in many cases. To reduce the fullness of someone’s story down to “illegal” not only distorts the legal reality, it dehumanizes the person.

But even more important for us as followers of Christ is this: what does Scripture call us to?

Throughout the Bible, God repeatedly calls His people to see and care for the sojourner—the foreigner, the refugee, the stranger—not with suspicion, but with compassion. Leviticus 19:33–34 says: "When a foreigner resides among you in your land, do not mistreat them. The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt."

That’s not a call to categorize or criminalize. That’s a call to remember. To empathize. To love.

The Bible itself was largely written by immigrants, refugees, and those living under occupied rule. Abraham left his homeland in obedience to God’s call. Joseph was trafficked into Egypt and rose to power as a foreigner. Moses fled his home as a fugitive, then returned to lead a people in exile. Ruth was a Moabite migrant who crossed borders for survival and family. Much of the Old Testament was written in exile—during or after the Babylonian captivity. And the New Testament was written under Roman occupation by people who knew the pain of being conquered, displaced, and oppressed. These aren’t footnotes—they are the core context of our faith story.

When we label someone “illegal,” we strip them of that dignity. We reduce their image-bearing identity to a legal infraction. And that’s something we are never called to do.

And it’s not just inaccurate—it’s dangerous. History has shown us over and over again that when those in power begin to apply dehumanizing terms to entire groups of people—be it immigrants, refugees, or communities of color—it paves the way for mistreatment, exclusion, violence, and even atrocity.

When a human being becomes “an illegal,” or “a problem,” or “an invasion,” it becomes easier to justify policies that separate families, detain children, deny asylum, or look away from abuse. It becomes easier to ignore the cries of the oppressed, because we’ve convinced ourselves they are somehow less deserving of compassion.

And here’s the deep hypocrisy: Many of the same people who loudly label vulnerable immigrants as “illegals” have no problem excusing or even celebrating political leaders who have been credibly accused, indicted, or convicted of serious crimes. We must ask: Why is the language of “law and order” only weaponized against the powerless, while the powerful are treated as above the law? That kind of selective moral outrage isn’t rooted in justice—it’s rooted in fear, bias, and often idolatry.

The gospel of Jesus calls us in the exact opposite direction.

Laws matter. But Scripture also teaches that not all laws are just, and justice always involves more than rigid rule enforcement. The religious leaders of Jesus’ time were also obsessed with legal definitions— while Jesus reminded them that "mercy, not sacrifice" is the heart of God's law (Matthew 9:13).

Throwing around phrases like "illegal is illegal" without context only fuels fear and misinformation. A just society must enforce laws fairly, compassionately, and truthfully-not by dehumanizing people or distorting reality.

As a pastor, I want us to reclaim our words and reflect the heart of Christ. Let us speak truthfully and humanely. Instead of “illegal,” let’s say “undocumented.” Let’s speak of “asylum seekers,” “refugees,” “immigrants,” “neighbors,” “families.” Because that’s who they are.

And ultimately, may our language always be shaped not by fear or politics, but by the One who called blessed not the powerful, but the poor… not the insiders, but the strangers.

Let us never forget: God is always on the side of the displaced, the disowned, and the dismissed. And if our words don’t reflect that truth, then they do not reflect the heart of the gospel.

. . . . . . 

Charles D. Clausen

Thank you for sharing Pastor Cremers' reminder of the most basic teachings of both the Old and the New Testament. We could add Matt. 25; 31-46 where Jesus told his followers precisely how to get to Heaven, including "I was a stranger and you invited me in." etc. Reinhold Niebuhr published "An Interpretation of Christian Ethics" in 1935 and acknowledged that in Man's fallen state, the Christian ethical ideal (preferential love of others including enemies, forgiveness, judge not, turn the other cheek, etc.) is impossible to fulfill but is relevant aspirationally as guideposts for imperfect conduct. "The real crux of the issue between essential Christianity and modern culture lies at this point. The conflict is between those who have a confidence in human virtue which human nature cannot suppprt and those who have looked too deeply into life and their own souls to place their trust in so broken a reed." The problem seems to be not that we can't satisfy Jesus' standards, but that so often we don't even try.

. . . . . . 
Looking through An Interpretation of Christian Ethics again, I wonder when, where, and especially why I bought the book.  Why did I spend so much time reading it, and thinking about it?  That I did so is clear from all my marginal notes, highlighting, underlining, and circling.  Where was I in my religous wanderings in those days?  Was I attending church at St. Francis then?  Where was I in living with myself, in my life of examining my conscience?  ' . . . not a day / But something is recalled,  / My conscience or my vanity appalled.'

 

Who Shall Deliver Me?

God strengthen me to bear myself;
That heaviest weight of all to bear,
Inalienable weight of care.

All others are outside myself;
I lock my door and bar them out,
The turmoil, tedium, gad-about.

I lock my door upon myself,
And bar them out; but who shall wall
Self from myself, most loathed of all?

If I could once lay down myself,
And start self-purged upon the race
That all must run! Death runs apace.

If I could set aside myself,
And start with lightened heart upon
The road by all men overgone!

God harden me against myself,
This coward with pathetic voice
Who craves for ease and rest and joys:

Myself, arch-traitor to myself;
My hollowest friend, my deadliest foe,
My clog whatever road I go.

Yet One there is can curb myself,
Can roll the strangling load from me.
Break off the yoke and set me free.


Christina Rossetti

"I may do it.  I may not do it."  Trump responding to a reporter asking whether he is close to a decision on whether to drop a bunker buster, 30,000-pound bomb on Iran's underground uranium enrichment facility, which is to say, whether he is about to commit an act of war against another sovereign nation.  I, I, I.  No mention of Congress.  No mention of the gravity of such a decision.  I, I, I.  Iran's foreign minister says that if such an act occurs, Iran would be 'obliged' to retaliate 'wherever we find the targets.'.  Imagine that Iran has drones already secreted in the continental United States, like Ukraine had in Russia before destroying much of Russia's strategic air force, or like Israel had in Iran, before last week's attacks destroyed vital strategic targets.  Imagine those drones are targeted at the White House, the Capitol, the Pentagon, the CIA headquarters, etc.  Impossible?  Does Mr. I, I, I think so?

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