Conclusion

You know, those of us who leave our homes in the morning and expect to find them there when we go back – it’s hard for us to understand what the experience of a refugee might be like.

Naomi Shihab Nye, poet, songwriter and novelist[1]

In casually reviewing the popular literature on why Christians should help refugees, the most commonly stated reason is because Jesus was a refugee. While that is a statement of fact, it does not provide the reasons why God is concerned for the well-being of foreigners and strangers who have no family or community to support them. God commanded the ancient Israelites to show compassion to the foreigner, and Jesus repeatedly taught about responding to the needs of the poor, especially those who are strangers who do not belong to our own community. But why is God so concerned for refugees and the displaced?

There are numerous recent books that focus on the details of how to help refugees, whether the refugees are being sponsored or are displaced and desperate for assistance. This book has instead sought to answer the question of whether as Christians we have a responsibility to assist the displaced. We have sought to explore the biblical, theological, and missiological foundations for any ministry to the displaced.

We have focused on those who have been forcibly displaced while acknowledging that voluntary migration can be a blessing to the church, to the places where the migrants live, and to the individual migrants themselves. Yet displacement of any kind is deeply destructive to individuals as they are threatened with losing their identity and sense of who they are as a result of being uprooted from their home and all that is familiar. Their marginalization undermines the important sense of personal value and hinders opportunities to be meaningful contributors to the society around them. This destruction of identity and worth is offensive to God; it attacks the image of God in the person. Timothy Laniak explains that because human beings everywhere bear God’s image and likeness, he has a stake in how humans are treated and what happens to them.[2] The distortion of the image of God caused by displacement and the severity of its consequences means that believers must be concerned about the crises facing refugees, migrants, and the stateless, and this concern must lead to an active compassion.

Much humanitarian assistance has focused on meeting the immediate needs of the displaced – needs such as shelter, food, access to health care, re-establishing livelihoods, accessing jobs, and educating children. What has not been understood are the emotional and psychological needs of the displaced and their loss of identity and belonging. While many of the forcibly displaced have experienced horrific traumas from the conflicts they have escaped from, the deeper and longer term trauma is the loss of roots. They become listless and paralyzed because they do not know what to do. They no longer have the skills, the networks, nor the resources to provide for themselves and be contributing members of society. They face the humiliation of being dependent on others; they feel they have been reduced to being beggars. In the process, they lose their culture and traditions which used to help them celebrate the passing of the seasons, enjoy special occasions, and cope with tragedy. They no longer have a place they can call home and are unable to see how life should continue.

So how should communities of faith and the people of God respond?

The key is to recognize refugees, migrants, and the stateless as human beings of worth, value, and meaning. They are not problems to be solved but are persons who need help. In ministering to the vulnerable and marginalized, we minister to God directly. Jesus, while teaching about the behaviour and attitudes his followers should have, said,

For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me. . . . “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” (Matt 25:35–36, 40)

Mother Teresa often said that she saw God in those who had been abandoned in spite of their dirt, filth, brokenness, and poverty.[3] She was able to see them as body, soul, and spirit, reflecting the mystery of the Trinity. Like every other human being, they are someone of value whom God had created as the pinnacle of creation. In the person’s suffering, one sees what the suffering of Christ would have looked like – Christ who is Creator, the God who is the source of life, who took on human form and experienced the suffering and pain of the world. Mother Teresa then wrote what our response should be.

We make ourselves live the love of God in prayer and in our work, through a life characterized by the simplicity and humility of the Gospel. We do this by . . . loving and serving [Jesus] hidden under the painful guise of the poorest of the poor, whether their poverty is a material poverty or a spiritual one. We do this by recognizing in them (and giving back to them) the image and likeness of God.[4]

Mary Jo Leddy, a refugee advocate and founder of Romero House in Toronto, Canada, refers to a longitudinal study (the Refugee Resettlement Project) done by Morton Beiser at Ryerson University in Toronto. In that study he had asked refugees, mostly Vietnamese boat people, what had helped them the most to integrate into their new society. Their answer was “warmth of welcome.” Mary Jo Leddy writes, “Isn’t that interesting? Employment, housing, English classes – those things are important, but it was a personal, caring connection that was the key to successful integration.”[5]

This “warmth of welcome” is the hospitality and embrace that Miroslav Volf writes about. It is not just about providing for the physical needs of those who have been displaced. It is about valuing them as human beings. As the displaced experience being valued, they can start making their places into homes and claim a sense of belonging in this world.