Immigration and the missionary calling

When I was a little girl, my grandmother 'abuela' told me that although we were not (yet) citizens of this great country, we were still American -- for America was the soil, and this was where God planted us. So we grew up, certainly as different plants than all the others, but loving the same soil.

I remember her words as I wait with excitement for the upcoming national mission congress, "God's Mission, Many Faces." It will be a celebration of our diversity as a Church in mission. So here we are ... many different plants, loving the same soil. If mission is about crossing boundaries, becoming vulnerable, accompanying the vulnerable, seeking conversion, and proclaiming the truth, then immigration is a missionary opportunity.

In south Florida, the ocean is our border, crossed by thousands of immigrants each year in overloaded boats, rafts or via smugglers in fast boats. They come with barely their lives, from Haiti, Dominican Republic, Cuba, and other places. I am constantly aware that they, too, have a mission and are bearers of the Good News, portadores de la Buena Nueva. How much Good News has drowned already in the Florida Straits? The Christian mission is to welcome life in all of its forms, and when we embrace the other, we are inevitably imbued with hope.

We cannot disengage the immigration issue from our faith journey. Jesus himself was born to a migrant family, with issues of "paperwork". People have been moving since the beginning of time, so it is no accident that Christ Himself is born to such a story. He told us clearly to give to God what is God's and to Caesar what is Caesar's. Humanity has developed laws to better navigate its relationship with life. These laws are often inspired by our belief in a loving God, but at times they are dictated by our fears. The Arizona law is evidence of such a reaction to fear, a reaction that impedes our embrace of God's goodness in life. Immigration reform cannot be achieved in ways that lead to oppression and marginalization.

At the root of the immigration conversation is anxiety over what new people, new customs and new ideas will do to us. Perhaps it is a question of seeing. Do we see with our fear? Or with the eyes of a loving God? Can we handle the change that comes from openness to life? Can we see the tapestry of humanity that God has given us, or do we pull out one thread or another to fit our own limited vision? We need first to admit this weakness to ourselves, before we can ever think clearly or approach with justice the children, women and men whose hopeful journeys wind up in our jurisdiction.

As members of one body in Christ, we were all migrants once. Whether linked by a distant history or personal experience, all of us can trace our coming here to someone's courageous journey -- a journey that laid this soil at our feet. We cannot live believing that our migration story is somehow better or more privileged, for as a people of faith, our stories only make sense when linked to the redemptive story of the suffering and resurrection of Christ. A loving God is our compass, and our stories live best in kinship and solidarity with others who also suffer.

Our Catholic Church has served as a clear and powerful guide for us and as a prophetic voice for urging unity. Our Mission Congress in October will highlight the joy of mission that comes when we bloom where we are planted. We can be missionary in our time and place. We can reclaim our Christian mission in defense of the vulnerable by calling upon our leaders to see with new eyes, and develop a policy based on life, not fear. Tell them that compassion and justice for our brothers and sisters is overdue. A courageous journey has brought us all together, and is calling us to action.

Teresita Gonzalez writes for the Archdiocese of Miami.