Immigrants

 

I Pity the Poor Immigrant

Whose strength is spent in vain
Whose heaven is like Ironsides
Whose tears are like rain
Who eats but is not satisfied
Who hears but does not see
Who falls in love with wealth itself
And turns his back on me

I am the grandchild of immigrants.

My maternal grandparents were Wojceich Biernacki and Marjanna (Augustyn) Biernacki.  They immigrated from Poland and never learned to speak English.  My paternal grandparents were James Beagan and Margaret (Leonard) Beagan.  My paternal grandfather was born to Irish immigrants in Canada and was, I believe, an illegal immigrant to the US.  My paternal grandmother was born in the United States, but her mother and father were both born in Ireland.  Gaelic was not spoken at home. 

Florida Governor Ronald DeSantis apparently has forgotten that, like everyone in this county, he is a descendant of immigrants. To remind him, all his great grandparents were born in Italy. His maternal great-great grandfather, Salvatore Stori immigrated to the US in 1904.  His great‑great-grandmother, Luigia (Colucci) Stori and their children, his great grandparents, joined her husband in the US in 1917.  They of course were not flown to Martha’s Vineyard, but if they had I am sure that they would have been welcomed and treated kindly.

The Samaritans were the descendants of those Jews who were not taken into captivity in Babylon.  The returnees from the Babylonian Captivity, despised the Samaritans.  While the Samaritans were not immigrants, they were considered inferior to those who had immigrated (even if that immigration was in their eyes a return). The Levite and the priest in the Parable of the Good Samaritan were among those who had returned. From the gospel of Luke:

On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

“What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”

He answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”

 “You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”

But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’

 “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”

The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”

Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”

The lyrics quoted at the beginning of this post are by the Nobel Laureate, Bob Dylan. He also wrote

Well, I'm living' in a foreign country but I'm bound to cross the line
Beauty walks a razor's edge, someday I'll make it mine
If I could only turn back the clock to when God and her were born
Come in, she said
I'll give you shelter from the storm

To the residents of Martha’s Vineyard, thank you for giving those asylum seekers from Venezuela “Shelter from the Storm”.