One of our core LDS beliefs that seems to further complicate the immigration debate is our belief that all of humanity are, in actuality, spiritual sons and daughters of our Father in Heaven. By extension, that means that every living soul on this earth is my brother or my sister, including the undocumented immigrant.
What does that belief really mean to me? What responsibility do I carry toward my fellowmen if I claim they are all my brothers and sisters? In answering this question of responsibility, perhaps a temporal analogy to this spiritual dilemma would be illustrative.
I have a couple of sisters who live within a few miles of me with their families. Currently, one sister has a husband and a couple of children at home. They live in a nice home and seem to have all of their needs taken care of. My brother-in-law is employed, as is my sister part-time. Her children have the opportunity to go to fine schools and are receiving a first-rate education. Their neighborhood is peaceful and quiet where seldom is there more crime than mischievous youthful pranks. They worship as they please and feel comfortable and safe seeing a police officer drive through their neighborhood. By most any measure they have a good life. My family is just as blessed. I am gainfully employed as is my wife part-time. Like my sister, by most any measure I believe we would be judged to have “sufficient for our needs” and more.
Now let’s look at the above scenario from a few alternate realities, my situation remains the same but my sister’s does not.
Scenario 1
Suppose that my brother-in-law lost his job and has been months without any stable employment. My sister’s part-time job provides some help but not nearly enough. They have liquidated everything they have of any cash value to try and keep the mortgage paid and the lights on. The kids do odd jobs here and there to also add a little cash to the family income, yet they have still only gotten further and further behind. They are at the point of losing their home and being on the street. My brother-in-law goes to the bishop to ask for help and is told—what? “Have you sought help from your family members?” They had not. The bishop instructs them that according to the handbook, Providing in the Lord’s Way, those in need should first do all they can to provide for themselves, then turn to their family for help, then the Church. They come to me for help.
Scenario 2
Suppose that due to circumstances beyond their control, and, some within their control, my sister’s family has always struggled to get by. Because of a lack of education and opportunity, my brother-in-law has always struggled to find and maintain stable work. Consequently they live in a housing project in the roughest part of Chicago. Unemployment in their area is incredibly high. They are in near- abject poverty. Drugs and other crime are rampant all around them. Things are so bad the police seldom venture into their neighborhood and the ones who do are in league with the drug peddlers. My nieces fear for their safety to go outside at night alone. Rape and murder are common place. The educational system in their area is among the worst in the nation, less than half of the youth in the area even graduate from high school, and my nieces are also struggling in school. They are close to becoming homeless.
Scenario 3
This scenario is similar in most every way to scenario number 2 except this time my sister and her family live in Juarez, Mexico, or any number of other Latin American cities and countries. Unlike the Chicago scenario, where my sister may be able to receive assistance through various social services provided by the government, in most of Latin America, such services do not exist.
Now, here come the tough questions that my conscience forces me to ask myself. What is my responsibility in each of those scenarios? Am I my sisters’ keeper? How much more damning would these scenarios be to me if I was fully aware of my sister’s plight and chose to do nothing to help her? Am I justified in sitting idly by and doing nothing as long as she doesn’t ask? What if she does ask? What is the proper level of personal sacrifice required of me to help, if any?
These questions and more I will endeavor to answer in my next blog. How would you answer them?
