By Becky Teiwes

Whatever is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, or praiseworthy – I’ve been mulling over these words found in Philippians 4:8 (NIV) the last few weeks.

Like many of us, I’m not a person who defaults to those qualities in conversation or personal interactions. My disposition is generally fun-loving and outgoing, but I tend to remember the negative, the shocking, the scary, and the not-so-lovely.

So maybe that’s why Paul is so specific. The verse reads, Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”

With that instruction in mind, I invite us to consider how we think and talk about immigrants.

My family and I moved to southern Texas in 2021 to work with organizations that focused on family reunification and immigration advocacy. We were inspired by incredible advocates, including attorney Efrén C. Olivares, who wrote the book My Boy Will Die of Sorrow. He writes about his experience practicing immigration law in southern Texas in 2018 as thousands of children were separated from their families by President Donald Trump’s Zero Tolerance policy.

My first job here in the Rio Grande Valley involved interviewing children who were awaiting reunification with their families in the U.S. I could write hundreds of pages about what those children taught me. One thing that I took away from that experience is that I have a visceral reaction when I hear people refer to another person as an “illegal.”

If you use that word regularly in conversation, it may just be that it is the word your friends and family use. Perhaps its use has become so normal, it goes unnoticed. I understand how that happens. However, I beg you to reflect on whether this word is true, noble and right for a person created by God.

In my current job, I work as the Borderlands program coordinator for Mennonite Central Committee (MCC) in the Rio Grande Valley near the Texas/Mexico border. In this role, I get to work alongside incredible advocates, organizations and churches. I have also witnessed horrific treatment of immigrants.

I remember an immigration judge verbally humiliating an asylum seeker for four hours, even though the immigrant was seeking safety from torture he experienced for protesting the repressive government in his country of origin. The man, who was bound and shackled, is an “illegal” in the eyes of many in the U.S. even though he hadn’t committed any crimes in this country.

I have also interviewed dozens of women who experienced unimaginable violence while being made to wait in dangerous border towns throughout South America and Central America. Wouldn’t you, too, do what it takes to be safe? Their decision to cross the U.S.-Mexico border was not made lightly.

People who cross into the U.S. to escape economic oppression also take on great risk. Wouldn’t you, as a parent, seek work to make sure your children can have food every day of the year, go to school and get medical care? Is moving to find money to care for one’s family so different from what many of our ancestors did?

One of the hardest parts of my work is to know how incredibly difficult it is to legally enter the U.S., while watching human beings suffer and make impossibly difficult safety calculations about whether to cross the U.S.-Mexico border. They get called “illegal” for making a decision that I, with 100% certainty, know I would also make.

I am so disheartened by the question that quickly pops up when I’m speaking to a group of Christians about the suffering of migrants. Frequently, the first question to me is, “Well, did they break a law?” I can’t help but feel that the question they are actually asking is, “Don’t they deserve to suffer?”

My follow-up questions to these groups are: “Why is there such a fixation on the law as the highest good? Why is a law more important than the dignity and humanity of another person?”

Could we as a faith community, particularly now during such politically divisive times, model what it is like to focus on what is merciful rather than always focusing on what is legal? Throughout history, people of faith have been morally compelled to resist or break laws. Many of our faith traditions began under intense persecution because the founders broke with the religious and political power structures.

It was illegal to get baptized as an adult in many places after the Protestant Reformation. It was illegal to harbor Jews during the Holocaust. What if, instead of calling people “illegal,” we ask: “How am I called to act, speak and think as a follower of Christ?” My hope is that we move from the question of legality to the mercy that Jesus showed even when laws were broken, or social norms disrupted.

Just now as I’m writing this, I’m struck by the images of Jesus at the well talking with the Samaritan woman, telling the parable of the Good Samaritan, healing the woman who couldn’t stop bleeding and the guard whose ear Peter cut off, healing the Roman Centurion’s servant and so many others.

I’m not comparing displaced people or asylum seekers to any of these people specifically, but I am calling attention to the reaction that Jesus had toward all groups, no matter their place in society. Did Jesus refer to the Roman Centurion as a “crucifier” or the sick woman as a “bleeder” or the man suffering on the side of the road as a “weakling?” What was Jesus’ posture towards all these people, and what lessons can we take from it?

I want to return to Philippians 4:8 for a minute and to this cry from my heart to stop calling human beings “illegal.” My prayer is that we can focus, as Paul’s words implore us and as Christ’s actions exemplify, on what is good and true about the human beings we encounter. Can we use words that are pure, lovely and admirable? I invite you to join me in my daily prayer based on Psalm 19:14 (KJV): Let the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

Becky Teiwes is the Borderlands Program Coordinator for Mennonite Central Committee (MCC). She is currently located in Edinburg, TX in the Rio Grande Valley area of the Texas/Mexico border and attends St. John’s Episcopal Church in McAllen. Growing up the child of Christian missionaries, she has lived all over the world and experienced hospitality and welcome at many pivotal points in her life. This fostered a deep interest in the Christian call to welcome the ‘stranger’ and to treat the ‘foreigner’ as yourself. She studied Politics and Spanish at Berry College in Rome, GA and earned a Masters in Teaching Spanish from Salem State University in Salem, MA. She loves to be with friends, travel, read, and hang out with her husband and two adorable children.