A Theological Response to the 2018 State of the Union

From January 20-22, the United States government closed (some of) its doors, as Democrats and Republicans were unable to reach a bargain that would protect the "Dreamers," a group of approximately 800,000 immigrants who were brought to the country as young children. Hoping to avoid another shutdown, many pundits and politicians from across the spectrum were hoping and anticipating a bipartisan, conciliatory message from President Donald Trump's 2018 State of the Union Address. 

What they heard instead was a hardline message, presenting congress with what many see as an untenable and unworkable series of nativist demands

While the President's speech addressed many topics, from gun ownership to patriotism to infrastructure, his State of the Union will rightly be heard by many as a staunch right-wing policy address on immigration.

Immigration is a serious and pressing concern. Ultimately, it is the immigration issue alone that threatens to once again shutter the federal government, if a bargain cannot be reached by February 8th. With this looming deadline, immediate analysis of the State of the Union should rightly focus on immigration issues. But what would one expect within a theological response to the President's comments on immigration? 

Structurally, a theological response to a policy on immigration must include the doctrine of Imago Dei, the ecumenically-accepted idea that all are created in the image of God: the sovereign, transcendent creator. Imago Dei is a theological concept that is always in tension with immigration policy. Ethnicity and immigration status are human constructions, and a theological response to immigration policy ought to contrast these constructions against the unity, equality, and servant-orientation of all people. But as a political issue, a theological response to the President's 2018 State of the Union must also reflect on that which is politically pragmatic.

In Our Image

Imago Dei is central to the Biblical narrative. It has its roots in the first chapter Genesis, when God resolves to "make humankind in our image" (Genesis 1:26).

We see Imago Dei again in the Gospels, particularly John 1:3-4: "All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people."

And we repeatedly see it in the epistles, particularly Galatians 3:28: "There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus."

And yet, our immigration policy does not reflect Imago Dei, and it never has. We live in a world of nation-states, of geopolitical boundaries, of economic borders that were created in order to demarcate and stratify those who were created equally before God. If anyone is to accept the reality of the Imago Dei, they must accept it as theological ideal, and not [yet] as a concrete historical or political reality.

Imagining Imago

Idealistically, all immigration policy is antithetical to this doctrine. But theologically, we must find a way to live within the tension between God's image and our boundary-driven existence, while imagining both incremental and transformational changes that drive towards a resolution of this tension.

Empathy and compassion must be the center of a theologically imagined immigration policy.  Inherently, that means rejecting outright any proposal that builds a wall. A wall is poorly suited to provide a cup of water to the thirsty, to give food to the starving, and to welcome the stranger.

More pragmatically, a wall has no eyes and it has no ears. It is a poor substitute for a well-funded and agile border patrol service, as a wall cannot observe nor can it hear the stories and the questions of those crossing a border. Similarly, it cannot know when "border security" is threatened. A wall cannot serve, nor can it prevent, deescalate, or outright stop violent confrontation along our perimeter. President Trump wants eighteen billion dollars for his wall. Let that money go instead to hiring compassionate, resilient Americans willing to serve along our border. Let that money go towards training border patrol agents in deescalation, resiliency, and servant leadership. And let that money go towards studying people-first program models.

Similarly, proposals that advocate "merit-based" immigration systems ought to be heavily scrutinized, if not completely dismissed. The very subjectivity of the word "merit" leaves open tremendous possibility for racial and ethnic bias. Moreover, "merit" stands against the innate equality of the Imago. This doctrine suggests that all are created equally by a transcendent deity, and that such equality calls us into service towards our neighbor. Such service is never "merit based" but is instead predicated on the likeness of God being one of service for and service amongst equals.

And then there are the 800,000 Dreamers who face deportation come March. A theologically-driven immigration policy would never subject these innocent residents, who have lived and served amongst the American people for much of their lives, to the indignity of isolation, exclusion, and exile to lands many of them do not know. Such maltreatment would patently contradict the radical equality and service orientation of the Imago Dei. 

A theologically imagined immigration policy is not an open border policy, but it is a policy that seeks to work towards empathy, compassion, and even hospitality, all while pursuing peace and deescalating conflict. Perhaps another Republican was once closer to such a balanced policy, a policy that affirms the tension between the theological ideal and the political reality. George W. Bush remarked in his 2007 State of the Union that immigration must be solved "without animosity and without amnesty." Once the wall is rejected, once the Dreamers are given a path to citizenship, and the border patrol is fully funded, maybe this is the moderate approach that will incrementally transform our immigration policy.

Ryan Panzer is a theological thinker, coffee drinker, corporate trainer, and Badger football fan. Comments, questions, criticisms, and vinyl record suggestions can be sent via Twitter to @ryanpanzer. The photos from this blogpost come from the Grand Canyon and Sedona, Arizona.











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