Imagine, if you will, that you work for the Immigration and Naturalization Service of the United States of America. Your job, until a few
months ago, was to deal with immigrants who have come to our country illegally
and were caught by your coworkers in the process. You have been expertly
trained to deal with the exhausted men, women and children who made the
difficult decision to leave everything they know, spend all of their savings,
expose themselves to unspeakable danger at the hands of ruthless criminals who
would think nothing of robbing, raping, or murdering them, trek through
blistering heat and bone-chilling cold, and arrive at our border - hoping
against hope that by some, miraculous occurrence they might gain entry into a
country that they saw as a beacon of light; a place where humanitarian values
held sway; a place where they would be able to work very hard and, in the
process gain a foothold for a better life - far from the desperation and
desolation they left behind. Every day, you see the fear in their eyes and
understand their hopelessness, frustration and determination, even though you
also were sworn to do your job. You may have children at home whose
dependence and trust are the reason you go to work every day- they are the foundation
of your gratitude, hope and love.
While you were sworn to defend our borders and prevent unlawful
entry, you also have a sense of compassion for your charges’ plight. As a
patriot and a loyal American, you can understand why those with nothing left to
lose would want to enter into our beautiful nation. Nonetheless, you are also proud
of your ability to serve your country and provide a legal, consistent and fair
process of law.
Now, I want you to imagine how you might have felt when you
learned that the focus of your job had changed overnight. Instead of merely
processing these families and ensuring that justice would be served in an
orderly fashion, you were now also tasked with being an agent of disruption -
ripping children away from anguished mothers and fathers and sending them away
to hastily constructed “holding” camps where, after having enduring the
unthinkable together, they would now be confronted with cruel separation behind
wire fences and armed guards.
You hear their cries:
A dónde llevarás a mis hijos? (Where are you taking my children?)
And you cannot answer. You hear the desperation of young children
calling for their parents. You feel the paralyzing fear of mothers and fathers who cannot help their little ones. You sense their despair and you are sickened and
ashamed. You cannot sleep. You look at your own children and cannot avoid
seeing their faces superimposed on upon the faces of the little ones whose
lives you had just upended earlier in the day.
Suddenly, the job that had given you so much pride just a few
days ago has become a nightmare. Instead of being a symbol of hope and promise,
you have become an agent of brutality. This is not the America you knew and
loved. This is not what you signed up for.
In last week’s Torah portion, Korach, we learn of how a small
band of rebels used demagogic rhetoric to attempt a coup against Moses and
Aaron. “Is it a small thing that you have taken us out from a land flowing with
milk and honey so to kill us here in the wilderness….?” (Numbers 16:13) Korach had the audacity to take the description of the promised land and superimpose it on the bondage of Egypt.
Korach and his minions were adept manipulators. They used hatred,
fear and uncertainty to disrupt the people and justify their lust for power. By
creating a false sense of nostalgia for a non-existent past, by “making slavery
great again” they were guilty of forsaking values for power lust.
This past week, when I heard members of the administration
attempt to justify their policy of disruption and cruelty towards immigrants by
quoting the Bible, my stomach turned. We have seen this before. Slave owners and
Nazis used the exact same verses to justify their evil.
I would recommend that those who seek to find Divine acceptance
by cherry-picking from sacred scripture also turn to the words: “You shall not
oppress the stranger, for you know the heart of the stranger, having yourselves
been strangers in the land of Egypt...” which appears no less than 36 times in
the Bible.
I understand that illegal immigration is an important issue.
Nonetheless, as a Jew, a patriotic American and as the child of an immigrant
who fled from Hitler’s evil, I am repulsed by what our nation is becoming.
I feel for the souls of those tasked with carrying out an inhumane and brutal
policy. Their pain, however, is nothing compared to the damage that our
government is inflicting on the thousands of traumatized asylum seekers and
immigrants – men, women and children - languishing in camps and tent cities
established in the name of “safe” borders.
I cannot be silent when I see all that I love about our country
being trampled by demagogues whose immoral policies are antithetical to all
that I hold dear.
Can you?
