“Any immigrant who lives with you must be treated as if they were one of your citizens. You must love them as yourself, because you were immigrants in the land of Egypt; I am the Lord your God.” (Leviticus 19:34)
“I was a stranger and you welcomed me.” (Jesus, Matthew 25:35)
Friends, words are coming hard these days. The volume and velocity of the chaos and cruelty being visited upon the American people (and the world) in this moment defydescription.
Some of you, I know, are feeling the pain in personal ways. Your jobs are in jeopardy.Your personhood is under threat. Your very existence is maligned. I am praying for you daily.
This afternoon, my heart and mind are with the thousands of immigrants and asylum seekers in our country. People who pay their taxes, contribute to our communities, strengthen our churches, enrich our schools and are some of the best neighbors imaginable are terrified right now.
A few weeks ago, while walking our dog Charlie around campus at Catholic University of America, we passed through CUA’s Welcome Plaza where Canadian artist Timothy Schmalz’s striking sculpture, “Angels Unawares,” was blanketed with snow.
The 3.5-ton bronze piece is the second casting; the original artwork was commissioned by the Vatican and unveiled by Pope Francis in September 2019 in St. Peter’s Square for the World Day of Migrants and Refugees.
The 20-foot sculpture depicts 140 diverse migrants and refugees from different countries and historical eras huddled together on a boat as if seeking a safe harbor.
The figures in the front of the boat include a Muslim woman fleeing Syria, a Jewish man holding suitcases while escaping Nazi Germany, a pregnant woman from Poland, and an Irish boy leaving home because of that country’s potato famine.
In the back of the boat is the figure of a Cherokee man clutching his face in grief as he is forced from his tribe’s lands during the “Trail of Tears.”
And in the boat with all the rest of the immigrants and refugees is the Holy Family, shown on their flight into Egypt with Joseph holding carpentry tools and Mary cradling the baby Jesus in her arms.
Rising from the middle of the figures standing shoulder-to-shoulder on the boat is a set of large angel wings. The sculpture includes the quote from Hebrews 13:2, “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”
As I stood there with Charlie, the freezing, gray day and stark snow seemed to amplify the desperation of those in the boat. Every immigration story carries with it anticipation and anguish, longing and fear.
“Don’t mistreat or oppress an immigrant, because you were once immigrants in the land of Egypt,” says God to the people. (Exodus 22:21) In other words—we are all in that boat.
Friends, if we want to follow in the footsteps of Jesus, who himself was a refugee, and to see Christ in all people, especially those who are vulnerable, then we need to understand that ours is a story of connectedness, not separateness.
When “Angels Unawares” was unveiled in St. Peter’s Square six years ago, Pope Francis said, “We have realized that we are on the same boat, all of us fragile and disoriented, but at the same time important and needed, all of us called to row together, each of us in need of comforting the other.”
May it be so in our time.
