To the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers who’ve entered my wonderful city of Chicago, who share my Christian faith: I plead with you to lay down your tasers and flash-bang grenades, take off your masks, remove the badges representing the federal government, and return to your homes, families, and churches.
You began arriving in Chicago last month with a mission to “target the worst of the worst criminal illegal aliens.” But rather than bringing peace, your operations and tactics are instilling fear. A member of our church texted me last week to say that the past few weeks have felt like COVID all over again; he’s afraid to leave his home for fear of being detained.
A friend who pastors in a largely Latino neighborhood laments that his congregation has rapidly shrunk from 300 Sunday worshipers to around 30. Yesterday morning, a high school counselor texted a small group from our church asking for immediate prayer. Some of your fellow agents had pulled up to his school as classes were about to begin, and the teachers were scrambling to protect the frightened students as they entered the building.
Did you take your job with Homeland Security because you wanted to protect our country from those who enter it illegally? Then why have you been deployed here, in Chicago, more than 1,000 miles from the southern border? Is it a commitment to justice which motivates your participation in the raids now terrifying our region? Then why does your commander admit to racially profiling those his officers detained? Why are American citizens being harassed, intimidated, and detained during your operations?
Maybe it was the federal government’s promise to arrest “gang members, rapists, kidnappers, and drug traffickers” which attracted you to this work. Then why was a family detained in a downtown park while enjoying a weekend outing, a 3-year-old and 8-year-old held with their mother and separated from their father?
“Following Jesus has always included more than personal beliefs; it impacts how we live, including the work we do.”
Our congregation sent a few members to worship with the family’s congregation the Sunday after the mother and children were released. During the service they witnessed the pastor’s grief about the terror being experienced by the congregation, they saw the family’s tears as they stood before the church without their husband and father, and they joined other Christians from around the city who were present that morning in praying over this beautiful family who has suffered such ugliness. How many other families and their churches are experiencing similar grief in the wake of your operations?
Whatever your motivations were for choosing this work, surely you can recognize its impact. As Christians who honor Holy Scripture, we recognize the implications of a verse like James 1:22 which commands us to “be doers of the word and not merely hearers who deceive themselves.” And what, in the work you’ve chosen, would it mean to be a doer of the word?
Followers of Jesus are to “pursue hospitality to strangers,” understanding that when we do we welcome Christ himself (Rom. 12:13; Matt. 25:40). We are to live peaceably with our neighbors, knowing that Jesus calls peacemakers “children of God” (Rom. 12:18; Matt. 5:9). We are to recognize when the government has abdicated its God-given authority to do good and has, instead, become “a terror to good” (Rom. 13:3).
These days, certain politicians and pundits appeal to the country’s outdated immigration system as a reason for mistreating immigrants, migrants, and refugees. While we have long needed immigration reform, the question facing you is whether your actions reflect the teachings of Jesus. After all, only the shallowest reading of the Bible could provide justification for the grief, fear, and trauma left in your wake.
Only the most distorted reading of Jesus’ instructions could rationalize how the orders you’ve been given violate so many biblical commands, such as loving the foreigner (Deut. 10:19), blessing the children (Mark 10:14), and protecting the vulnerable (Deut. 24:17).
Following Jesus has always included more than personal beliefs; it impacts how we live, including the work we do. To the 1st-century soldiers and tax collectors who came to be baptized in the Jordan River, John the Baptist was clear. While their peers carried out their duties unjustly, the newly baptized were held to a higher standard; the theft and extortion common to these careers had to be renounced. Can you fulfill your responsibilities without violating Jesus’ teachings? If not, could it be that your loyalty to Jesus calls you to walk away?
Having been deployed onto our streets, you’ve discovered that we Chicagoans love our city. The ongoing protests downtown and at the ICE Broadview facility prove we will stand up for one another. It’s true that some of these protests have treated you as an enemy. But what Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said about the nonviolent Civil Rights Movement remains true for Christians today – our goal is not to defeat people, but to confront evil and injustice. It’s not enemies we want, but beloved community.
To build this kind of community, though, we need you to lay down your tools of terror and intimidation. Walk away from an agency that, despite its stated mission, is neither protecting our country nor preserving public safety in our city. Distance yourself from the tactics which have separated families, frightened your fellow citizens, and bound terrified children with zip ties in the middle of the night.
It won’t be easy to walk away from the security provided by your government work. Following Jesus, though, has never been easy.
As I pray for my neighbors who are living in fear, who have been torn from family members, who feel trapped in their homes, and who wonder whether their citizenship is enough to protect them from a midnight raid or a midday traffic stop, I am also praying for you.
I pray that you will see the humanity in those you’ve been asked to chase, that you would remember the kinship you share with your sisters and brothers in Christ, and that you would remember that our treasure in heaven is beyond comparison with whatever promises our government has made to you.
Please, then, walk away from this terrible and terrifying work and take your place among the beloved community. If you do, I will be the first to embrace you in the love, mercy, and grace of our Savior.
Rev. David Swanson is the pastor of New Community Covenant Church on the South Side of Chicago and the author of Rediscipling the White Church and Plundered: The Tangled Roots of Racial and Environmental Injustice.
