I am not typically a publicly religious man. That is a deliberate choice, rooted in respect for others and an understanding that faith, belief, and meaning take many forms. For me, religion is not a banner to wave or a justification for action. It is a private framework—one that helps me draw boundaries. It helps me understand what should never feel acceptable, even when it becomes normalized.Lately, I find myself closing my eyes—not to ignore what’s happening, but to feel it. To hear the anger.

The cruelty. The casual dismissal of human suffering. What we are experiencing today is not simply an immigration debate. It is something far more unsettling. It is a human issue, one that has become so toxic that many people are afraid to speak at all.

In that silence, something dangerous grows.

Yesterday I was reminded of a small detail from Christian tradition: before Jesus was a teacher or a public figure, he was a carpenter—a tekton, a builder. He worked with his hands. He lived among working people. Whether one is religious or not, the symbolism matters. It reminds us that dignity is not abstract. It is lived. It is physical. It is human.

That principle feels increasingly absent from today’s immigration debate.

What should be a serious, solutions-oriented discussion about labor, economics, and humanitarian responsibility has been politically stoked into fear and division. Immigration has been transformed from a policy challenge into a cultural weapon. The result is not clarity or order, but a manufactured humanitarian crisis—one that harms both residents and non-residents.

Migrants are left vulnerable by design. Communities are left strained by the absence of functional policy. Workers—many of whom sustain construction, agriculture, healthcare, and service industries—are reduced to caricatures rather than recognized as contributors. In this environment, discrimination becomes normalized, and dehumanization becomes easier.
As we approach the national holiday honoring Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., his words feel especially relevant: “We’ve got some difficult days ahead.” As we all know, Dr. King was a deeply religious man, but his faith was never about exclusion or moral superiority. It was about accountability—to conscience, to justice, and to the promise of a more perfect society.
Today, when people respond to criticism of our immigration system with, “If you don’t like it, you should leave,” they misunderstand what love of country actually means. You don’t leave something you love. You hold it accountable. Patriotism is not blind loyalty; it is the courage to demand better.
As we push into the new year, we should take stock and support people, organizations, and efforts that build, feed, and sustain the “shining city.”

“I’ve spoken of the shining city all my political life… In my mind it was a tall, proud city built on rocks stronger than oceans… and if there had to be city walls, the walls had doors and the doors were open to anyone with the will and the heart to get here.” — Ronald Reagan, Farewell Address to the Nation, January 11, 1989.