"Never forget that if wisdom is the patrimony of mankind, only those of great heart will inherit it."

A few weeks ago I was lying awake at three in the morning listening to people in my hall boisterously singing "God Bless the USA." That night there was something that irked me about the line "Yes, I'm proud to be an American, 'cause at least I know I'm free."

My feelings had a lot to do with news that I had received the day before. An email was sent out concerning a student at Transy who is a refugee from Sudan. When he was a child he had been kidnapped by a rebel militia. After a month of captivity he and his older brother escaped when they were sent to gather firewood. After learning that their father had been murdered, they were able to find their younger siblings and go to a refugee camp in Kenya. Since then, he has obtained refugee status, moved to the U.S. with his four younger siblings, completed high school and started at Transy. A few weeks ago he received notification that his application for permanent residency had been denied. In addition, he was under the immediate threat of deportation, all because during his time in captivity he had received "military-type training" despite the fact that he was never given a weapon and he risked his life to escape the militia. If he returns to Sudan, it is very likely that he will be executed by the government immediately. He was initially denied an appeal, but with his sponsor's support, his case is being reviewed.

My pride in being an American had always come from the assumption that we seek to make others being oppressed free. We take great pride in the fact that we have so many immigrants. On of our national monuments reads "Give me your tired, your poor// Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,// The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.// Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me.// I lift my lamp beside the golden door." I always wanted to believe those words were true and that our nation wanted to help people under duress. Now any illusion of that notion had evaporated in a day.

It is not only tradition that calls us to act on behalf of others. Micah 6:8 states "[God] has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?" We are called by God in many verses to act justly, and to love one another. So I asked myself "How can we be either just or loving and knowingly return them to a brutal regime and their deaths?" For that matter, how can we condemn people to a life of poverty and starvation? In Luke 14:13-14, Jesus tells the crowd that when they are preparing for a feast they should not invite their family, friends and rich neighbors, but rather they should invite the poor and the lame, the maimed and the blind. Who are we inviting to share in the blessings that we receive and who are we turning away at the door?

I am neither arguing that we do not need immigration laws, nor that they laws we have do not protect us from dangers. But when we are turning away those who have come seeking out help, those who fear for their lives, those that want a new life and those who must quest after freedom, should we not reexamine our actions?

I wish that I could end on a positive note, that the student has been granted a green card and that he will be able to stay in the land that he has adopted, but I can't. He still stands in a legal limbo, afraid that any day he will be sent back. We have rallied around him and made our voices heard, but we can only wait for the officials to make their decision. We have the ability to give hope and advance justice in the world. But we also have the ability to turn a blind eye and wish that the world's problems would solve themselves.