Come all ye faithful, with or without documentation
By Alfred P. Doblin
On Christmas Eve 1914, in the early months of World War I, soldiers fighting on the Western Front temporarily put down their guns. The event is as close to a Christmas miracle as you can find in recent history.
Whether German soldiers in their trenches began singing Christmas carols first, or it were the English, French, and Belgian soldiers who began, the two opposing sides found comity in the songs of Christmas. For a moment, in what would be a long, horrible war, the fighting ceased.
The Christmas truce was organic, an example of the spirit of Christmas rising in the hearts of men above the militaristic ambitions of nations. It did not last long. Years of brutal combat followed, sowing the seeds for an even greater affront to humanity two decades later.
I am not so naïve to believe that there are peaceful resolutions to absolute evil. True evil has to be stopped, and sometimes the human cost is great. But there are times when “evil” is but a word, a dog whistle for political agendas and nothing else.
This Christmas, there was a chance for a much smaller Christmas miracle than the one on the Western Front in 1914. On Monday, the Florida Conference of Catholic Bishops issued a statement to President Trump and Florida Governor Ron DeSantis asking them “to pause immigration enforcement activities during the Christmas holidays.”
The bishops’ statement acknowledged the importance of protecting borders, while citing that U.S. borders have been secured, and that “the initial work of identifying and removing dangerous criminals has been accomplished to a great degree.”
The bishops went on to discuss the effects of the government’s current approach to removing undocumented immigrants – sweeping raids that remove people without any criminal histories, and as a result, instilling fear in immigrant communities across the nation.
“Since these effects are part of enforcement operations, we request that the government pause apprehension and round-up activities during the Christmas season. Such a pause would show a decent regard for the humanity of these families. Now is not the time to be callous toward the suffering caused by immigration enforcement.”
It is a powerful message. The bishops were not asking the president or the governor of Florida to permanently halt the raids – although they have been clear they would favor that – instead, this was a Christmas appeal to temporarily pause those efforts.
White House spokeswoman Abigail Jackson responded: “President Trump was elected based on his promise to the American people to deport criminal illegal aliens. And he’s keeping that promise.”
The advantage of a short statement is that it is not hard to read between the lines because there aren’t many. There was no attempt to address the core of the bishops’ statement: that in this season of peace and humility, a pause – just a pause – in sweeping immigration raids would allow people to heal, albeit briefly.
The Christmas story is a narrative of a poor, young couple, Mary and Joseph, seeking lodging before Mary delivers her child. It is a story about generosity without promise of repayment, it is a story about humility, it is a story about the wonder following the birth of a savior. Even if you do not believe it as truth, the story is a powerful one, or it would not have withstood in some form for more than 2,000 years.
But the Bible is also filled with Herods and Pilates who do little, do nothing, or just do not care about other people. And it is not just the Bible.
The soldiers who put down their guns on Christmas Eve 1914 were pawns in a sprawling conflict where the principals who ordered them to war were mostly related by blood. Ironic, because the men who died, were wounded, or were permanently damaged by the war, all became related by blood, the blood spilt across Europe from 1914 through 1918.
We are a nation ruled by laws. Our cities need to be safe. Dangerous people need to be held to account. Law enforcement is a 24/7 activity. All these things are true.
But we are a nation of people, not statutes. We live, breathe, make families, and form communities. We are – I believe at our core – people of good faith, not a specific faith, but of good faith.
We believe in decency. We believe in dignity. We believe there is always a higher version of ourselves within our reach.
As the Catholic bishops of Florida wrote, “Now is not the time to be callous toward the suffering caused by immigration enforcement.” Indeed.
The Christmas miracle of 1914 was merely a blip in a horrible conflict – but it proved that goodness resides in all of us, even in the worst of situations.
Evil is denying the equal humanity all people possess. We hold individuals accountable for actions against the state, but we cannot diminish their humanity. They are people. For a moment in 1914, soldiers fighting one another saw that. Today, we are not faced with anything as morally challenging. But we seem incapable of seeing what those soldiers saw on that Christmas Eve.
Agree or disagree. Believe or do not believe. But we can be better versions of who we are – at Christmas and in the days that follow.
“Do not be afraid, for see, I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.” Luke 2:10-11
Until next time, Alfred with P