As You Would Have Done Unto You

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles.  From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she

With silent lips.  "Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, the tempest-tossed, to me:

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Emma Lazarus, 1883

This poem, written to raise funds to build the pedestal beneath the Statue of Liberty has eight lines that are little known and five and a half that are iconic, enshrined as part of the immigrant narrative in the early 20th century.  

Not that those immigrants were all welcomed with open arms.  Equally as well-known are the signs hung in storefront windows saying that bore the following message:

America's history of racism and xenophobia isn't something we're taught in grade school.  The genocidal acts committed against Native Americans are covered over by brown paper bag teepees and talk of the first Thanksgiving.  Also ignored is the isolationist policy that let World War I rage for three years as we ignored it.  Add onto that the refusal to admit Jewish refugees as World War II was boiling to eruption two decades later.

The pattern is very evident.  It takes different forms.  Once, it was Catholics that were undesirable.  Now it's Muslims.  Once, there was a quota on how many Asians were allowed admission.  Now it's a total ban on people from majority-Islamic countries that the current President just co-incidentally doesn't have business ties to.

The Book of Luke, chapter six, verse thirty-one reminds us to "Do unto others as you would have done unto you."

But Mister Trump doesn't consider anyone above him.  People don't do unto Trump.  He does unto them.

I've spent a lot of time in the past twenty-four hours wondering who would stand up to his hatred.  It turns out that it was a federal judge, Ann Donnelly, who was able to place a temporary injunction against this blanket ban.  One woman was able to re-open the borders and reunite families.  One woman, walking the walk and talking the talk.  As she would have done unto her, she has done for others.

This is faith in action.  Perhaps not religious faith, but faith in the United States, its Constitution laws, and the moral imperative it seeks to uphold.  It seems to me that Judge Donnelly understands the simple lessons taught by the Beatitudes.  Obviously, they are ones lost on the man inhabiting the highest office in the land.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven.

We can only hope that these divine lessons carry some weight today.  It's obvious that there are good and righteous people judging by the photos of lawyers setting up shop in airports around the country to fight - pro bono, mind you - for the detained immigrants.  The tens of thousands who appeared at LAX, Kennedy, Dulles, O'Hare, Logan, and other major airports are living their truth.

Whether or not they're religious, they are undertaking the work of faith.  They are the beacon of welcome.  They are the home for these exiles.

They are America and what it should stand for in 2017.