What would Jesus not do?

I don’t know what to do about Syrian refugees. Are most of them truly “refugees”? Are most of them “Syrian”? The civil war in Syria has been going on for four years—why has it become such an explosive issue in the last two months? I’ve heard that anywhere from 70 to 80 percent are young single men—not the usual composition of a refugee population. Is this true, and if so, what does it mean? I’ve heard that the vetting process to get into the United States is rigorous. I’ve also heard the director of the FBI admit that there’s no way to screen out every refugee who might be a jihadist.

And here’s something else I’ve heard: Liberal moralizers, Christians of every stripe, and the president of the United States painting reluctant Americans as fearful and pitiless. No doubt, many Americans are fearful and pitiless. But many others may simply be prudent.

In spite of mixed motives, outbreaks of xenophobia, and occasional exploitation, the United States has been the most welcoming country in the world, and the best at assimilating foreigners (much better than Europe, which is why Europe’s refugee crisis is worse than ours). The United States is a big country, still generally prosperous and open-minded. More than a quarter of a million Vietnamese and Cambodians settled here successfully in the 1970s, and half that many Syrians may be able to do the same. Just don’t tell me this is what we must do because it’s what Jesus would do.

Jesus calls individuals, not nations. And yes, nations are made up of individuals, but it’s at least ironic that the very voices who remind us that America is not a Christian nation, when the discussion is about sexual ethics or multiculturalism, are the first to chide Americans for not acting like Christians when homelessness or immigration is the issue. They’ll quote Jesus on loving your enemies, but not His appeals to Old Testament law or His claim to be the only way to God. They insist on charity to strangers, but exercise no charity to fellow citizens who don’t agree with them.

Jesus embodied sacrificial love, and expects the same of His followers. If a Syrian family moves into my neighborhood, I am obliged to reach out to them, just as I do what I can for the local hungry and homeless. But does Jesus expect my self-sacrifice to endanger others? If, say, 10,000 refugees came to America from Syria, and if a small percentage, perhaps .5 percent, were violent jihadists (a speculation that doesn’t seem too far-fetched), that’s 50 living time bombs set loose on our nation. It took only eight to wreak havoc in Paris. The law of averages says I’m not likely to be a victim, nor are any of the scolds currently holding up Jesus as our national example. But do any of us have a right to insist on a policy that could put other hapless Americans at risk?

Both sides of this discussion have arguments worth hearing, and I’m willing to listen once we can lay aside the over-simplification and name-calling.