Away in the desert no crib for his bed, the little boy Jesus lays down his sweet head. Maria, who cries, looks down where he lay, for Customs Enforcement has sent them away.
Growing up in Southern California just 100 miles north of the border where thousands of immigrants are deported each year, I often sang these words that reflected a modern-day version of Away in the Manger. As a child, the child Jesus represented neatly wrapped presents and familial celebrations, not the vulnerable migrant's plight: No room at the inn. "You're not welcomed here."
Christ's humble entrance into this world mirrors the often overlooked struggles of millions of immigrants continually turned away from every inn and "in" to acceptance and legal status (or at the very least, recognition of their human dignity). As the immigration debates rage, I find myself concerned with the humanitarian implications of choosing whether or not to recognize the "stranger's" infinite worth.
Working as Jesuit Refugee Service's outreach coordinator, I hear about families placed in Federal Immigration Detention Centers or dropped off at the Mexican border hundreds of miles from home. These realities have prompted concerned individuals and organizations like JRS to stop turning away from the "strangers'" struggles. At JRS's Kino Border Initiative in Nogales, Mexico we offer meals, clothing, spiritual support, and medical care for deported migrants. But more than that, our programs strive to accompany them in their time of need—to recognize and walk with the vulnerable migrant, Christ Himself, present in each of them.
Though the holiday season is months away, I find myself already humming that familiar Christmas tune, still excited for the jovial celebrations that lie ahead. But now more than ever, I am equally reminded of the young Jesuses and Marias seeking room in our Inns and in our hearts.