When Faithful Witness Requires Difficult Choices: The Refugee Resettlement Dilemma
How can churches maintain Gospel integrity when refugee resettlement systems create racial preferences?
"I was a stranger and you welcomed me." - Matthew 25:35
Two notifications lit up my iPhone yesterday. First, a message from a Presbyterian colleague who asked with genuine concern, "Does the biblical command to welcome the stranger allow you to be selective?" Later, a Facebook alert appeared – a treasured Annapolis classmate, whose friendship I deeply value despite our occasional profound disagreements, had posted: "The anti-Christian Episcopal Church has ZERO interest in settling REAL refugees, and colludes with Democrats to settle FAKE ones."
Two voices from people I respect represent the chasm in our national conversation about refugees—one seeking theological understanding, one expressing passionate political conviction.
As I've prayed over Presiding Bishop Rowe's difficult decision to end our church's federal refugee resettlement partnership, I'm drawn to reflect on what happens when following Christ requires stepping away from systems that no longer align with the fullness of Gospel values.
The Biblical Foundation of Refugee Ministry
Our tradition of welcoming the stranger is not peripheral to our faith, but central to it. Throughout Scripture, God's people are repeatedly commanded to care for the alien, the sojourner, and the refugee. Moses reminded the Israelites, "You shall not oppress a resident alien; for you were aliens in the land of Egypt" (Exodus 22:21). The Levitical code is even more explicit: "The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt" (Leviticus 19:34).
This requirement to welcome the stranger continues in our Lord's own teachings. When Jesus describes the final judgment in Matthew 25, he explicitly identifies himself with the stranger: "I was a stranger and you welcomed me." Care for refugees is not an optional add-on to Christian discipleship but a defining characteristic of following Christ.
This welcome reflects the very nature of the triune God, whose divine life is eternal mutual indwelling without absorption or domination. When we welcome the stranger, we participate in God's own hospitable life where difference is celebrated rather than erased.
The Question of Selective Welcome
My Presbyterian colleague asks, "Does the command to take in and protect the alien allow you to be selective?" This is the crux of the theological question before us.
Biblical hospitality is indeed universal in its scope. No passage in Scripture suggests we should welcome only certain types of strangers based on their ethnicity, language, or country of origin. The parable of the Good Samaritan challenges us to expand, not contract, our understanding of neighbor.
However, the present situation is not simply about individual acts of welcome, but about institutional participation in a system that has been fundamentally altered to provide preferential treatment for one group while actively excluding all others. Presiding Bishop Rowe notes that "virtually no new refugees have arrived" under the current administration's policies, while simultaneously white Afrikaners have been fast-tracked for resettlement under special classification.
The Ethics of Complicity
What makes this decision so theologically complex is not the question of whether to welcome white South Africans in need—the Church would certainly welcome any refugees in our midst. Rather, it's about whether to become complicit in a system that presents a profound moral distortion of refugee protection by selecting beneficiaries primarily on racial grounds while shutting the door to thousands of others in desperate circumstances.
Anglican theological ethics has long recognized that sometimes we face situations where all available choices are imperfect. In such cases, we must discern which action best upholds the Kingdom values of justice, compassion, and human dignity. Bonhoeffer called this "responsible action"—making difficult choices that one must bear before God when no path forward is without cost.
In navigating these complex waters, we must check our bearings against the fixed stars of Gospel values. When currents of political expediency or nationalism threaten to drive us off course, we must set our compass by Christ's boundless compassion rather than the shifting winds of political advantage.
Our Anglican Ecclesiology
As Anglicans, our ecclesiology includes both autonomy and interindependence. We are not a church of isolated congregations but a communion bound together by common prayer, shared history, and mutual responsibility. Our decision reflects essential theological principles and our concrete relationships with the worldwide Anglican Communion, including the Anglican Church of Southern Africa.
When Bishop Rowe mentions our "historic ties with the Anglican Church of Southern Africa," he reminds us that we stand in communion with the church that, under Archbishop Desmond Tutu's leadership, helped dismantle apartheid. That same church today has rejected claims of systemic anti-white discrimination in South Africa. Our decision honors this relationship and the witness of our Anglican siblings who know their context best.
Beyond False Binaries
My Annapolis classmate characterizes our church as having "ZERO interest in settling REAL refugees." This rhetoric of "real" versus "fake" refugees creates a false binary that distorts the complexity of forced migration. The Episcopal Church has resettled nearly 110,000 refugees over four decades, demonstrating an enduring commitment to this ministry. The current decision to end our federal partnership does not diminish this commitment but redirects it through other channels that do not require us to participate in preferential treatment based on race.
Bishop Rowe affirms that we will continue to stand with the world's most vulnerable people through diocesan partnerships, global connections, and ongoing support for refugees already here. This is not abandonment of refugee ministry but a recommitment to it in ways that better align with our Gospel values.
A Matter of Prophetic Witness
In the Hebrew prophetic tradition, speaking truth to power sometimes required painful separations and difficult stands. Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Amos all confronted systems that privileged some while oppressing others. Following in this tradition, our church has made a decision that carries financial and institutional costs but maintains our integrity as witnesses to Christ's impartial love.
Like Mary who laid our Lord in a feeding trough rather than seeking entry to Herod's palace, our church has chosen the path of humble solidarity over powerful alliance. The divine preference for the margins challenges systems that privilege some while excluding others.
We can disagree about policy approaches to refugee resettlement while still honoring the theological imperative to welcome the stranger. But that welcome must reflect the expansive, boundary-crossing love of Christ, not narrow preferences that betray our baptismal covenant to "respect the dignity of every human being."
A Path Forward
Looking ahead, I pray that Christians across theological and political divides can find common ground in our shared commitment to the vulnerable. We need not agree on every aspect of immigration policy to affirm that each migrant bears the image of God and deserves to be treated with dignity.
For Episcopalians, this moment calls us to deeper engagement with refugee ministry at the local level. While our formal partnership with the federal government will end, our baptismal ministry of reconciliation and welcome continues. Indeed, it may become more authentic when freed from constraints that would have us participate in systems of preferential treatment.
As a eucharistic people formed around Christ's table where all are invited regardless of status, our refugee ministry must embody this same radical welcome. At the Lord's table, we learn that true communion preserves difference while enabling belonging—a lesson that should shape our approach to national borders and policies.
True freedom emerges not through establishing stronger barriers between "us" and "them," but through creating communities where all can flourish without domination. Our refugee ministry must embody this participatory freedom that enables mutual flourishing rather than reinforcing systems of exclusion.
In closing, I remain convinced that our response to the stranger remains a defining mark of Christian faithfulness. May we continue to see the face of Christ in all who seek refuge, and may our welcome reflect not the narrow tribalism of our fallen world, but the expansive hospitality of God's coming Kingdom.
What are your thoughts on this difficult decision? I'd love to hear your perspective in the comments. How might we continue to support refugees in our local communities as the church transitions away from federal partnership?
In Christ's peace, Craig
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For more resources on refugee and immigration ministry, visit Episcopal Migration Ministries.