My Migration

It’s been a while since I last posted. Now that I’ve finished complaining about my adventures through the bowels of the NHS, I find that I have little to say that I’ve not already said. I’ve also had other things going on in my life that have left little time or energy for pontificating on the internet.

Unfortunately for you, however, there is now something I want to say.

I’ve spoken before on the subject of immigration, but I’d like to touch on it again. It’s still very much a subject in the news and the public consciousness, whether it be with regards to Brexit and the EU, or Donald Trump’s rhetoric, the ‘caravan of migrants’ heading through Central America or the tear-gassing of women and children at the US border.

Last time I discussed this, I mentioned that some people use their Christianity to justify the exclusion or rejection of immigrants. This is something that I think bears further examination, since it strikes me as so very wrong-headed.

“It is not my intention that this become a political blog”. I’ve said it so often now that I think we must assume that the lady doth protest too much. It is intended to be a blog of theology and writing, but any theology that doesn’t impinge on one’s political beliefs is not worthy of the name. If you think a person should keep their religion out of their politics, I would suggest that you understand neither. Immigration is, or has become, a political subject, and where you stand on it dictates and is dictated by your political affiliations.

I’d also like to touch on the distinction made between asylum seekers and economic migrants. It’s a legal distinction, but it’s also a label people use to determine whether a person deserves to be allowed into a country. There’s very much a sense that we’ll help asylum seekers because it’s the right thing to do (although often we seem to do so only very reluctantly), but economic migrants are just free-loaders coming to take advantage of our economy and culture, rather than staying at home and trying to make something of their own country. Even in the case of asylum seekers, you sometimes see comments to the effect that they should stay in their own lands and fight against whatever horrors they’re fleeing, rather than turn tail and head for safety. I think in this latter case at least, we can dismiss it as the unrealistic and inhumane nonsense that it usually is.

Within the discussions on immigration, the concept of some sort of points system is often mooted, like the one currently in place in Australia. ‘Migration isn’t bad as such,’ the thinking goes, ‘but we only want people who can be of use to us, who can contribute to us and our society’. This makes sense from a purely practical, economic point of view. What it has in pragmatism though, I can’t help but feel it lacks in simple compassion. It also feels rather short-termist. The person who lacks ‘useful’ skills now might very well have them before long, if given the chance to acquire them.

Throughout Christian history and Christian culture, the analogy of travel has been used to describe the individual’s journey through life. “One more step along the world I go”, “A Pilgrim’s Progress” etc.

However, it is not a pointless journey. It is not an aimless wandering in the wilderness. It is a journey with a destination in mind. It is, one might say, a migration. It has a goal, and that goal is a place and a Person. We are, all of us, travelling towards the Kingdom of God. Some more slowly than others, it is true, some unknowingly or unwillingly, but we’re all on the path, and we’re all facing in the same direction, with no ability to turn back.

The questions is; are we asylum seekers or economic migrants? On what basis do we expect to be accepted into our destination?

I cannot truly claim to be an asylum seeker. True the world is dark and full of terrors, bad enough to wish to flee from (although I’m well aware that I have been personally exposed to very few of them indeed). However, asylum implies some legal framework that identifies genuine refugees and imposes an obligation to take them in. I don’t believe that God is under any such obligation.

Why do I wish to enter the Kingdom of God? Why am I travelling there? Do I have any useful skills that the Kingdom lacks? Can I contribute in any meaningful way to God? Is there anything that He needs that I can provide? Of course not. On what basis then, do I expect to be allowed to enter the Kingdom? I am a freeloader, an economic migrant, expecting unearned rewards. I have nothing to give and Everything to gain. Why on Earth (or, rather, in Heaven) should I be given it, instead of being turned back at the border, if not tear-gassed or shot for my temerity?

Despite all this, I am instead taught that I will be granted a place, if I want it. I have not and cannot earn it. I do not deserve it. It is not in exchange for anything I can do or give. Nonetheless I will have it. I am currently stateless, a wanderer, but I have been promised a citizenship that cannot be revoked, only rejected. The way may be narrow, but I believe that Heaven has few walls and many bridges. The toll has already been paid, the entry fee covered. My papers are in order, but the handwriting isn’t mine.

I am a single member of a vast caravan of migrants travelling slowly but surely towards the border, with more joining all the time. Do I dare hope that I’ll be given admittance when I arrive? Barely, but I am told that nonetheless it’s true.

Knowing this then, how can I as a Christian ever consider turning away the traveller to my country? I discussed in that previous post the specific commandments regarding feeding the hungry, sheltering the homeless, welcoming the stranger, and doing to the least of these. That’s all true and well and good, but even if we had not been given those commands, how can we, knowing what we know and being what we are, turn our backs on the migrants of this world, regardless of their origins or reasons for coming?

Some time ago, I concluded that I was not Charlie. Now, I have to conclude that I am in fact a migrant. These are my people. I am one of them and so, whether you believe it or not, are you.