Much is being said these days about refugees. Policy makers and courts are weighing in on government
positions and media outlets (both social and news sources) are filled with a
cacophony of voices making every seemingly imaginable argument letting refugees
in or keeping them out. There is no
shortage of commentary on the subject; I have written about it on a number of
occasions, including posts here
and here. The topical swirl of sense and nonsense can
easily drive us to cynical confusion, but perhaps a lens for seeing today’s displacement
crisis quietly sits a Middle Earth away.
My wife and I recently began reviewing Peter Jackson’s 3-part
film adaptation of J.R.R. Tolkien’s much-endeared fantasy novel The Hobbit. The story is simple: a homebody hobbit,
Bilbo, joins a wizard and a band of dwarves on a quest to reclaim their homeland. The heroines embark on a string of adventures
and face an onslaught of internal and external challenges, which the films
embellish to a highly entertaining effect.
The work is a piece of fantasy set in a time and place of pure fiction,
but the themes speak directly to the events of our modern age as we see the
depiction of a displaced people yearning for a place to belong. It is a theme that tragically dominates the
stories of countless individuals in our world today.
The films make a poignant portrayal of displacement’s pain. In one scene Bilbo, frustrated by the disdain
he receives from the rough and tumble dwarves, decides to sneak away in the
night and return to his home.
As he prepares to depart he is stopped by the dwarf Bofur, and they
share the following exchange:
Bilbo and Bofur hit the very nerve of displacement, and it
is truly pitiful. The underlining
tragedy facing refugees is the unrelenting tension of being in this world but
not belonging anywhere. Their existence
is one of being “unrooted;” they have fled their homes and strive to forge life
in the wilderness of exile. This is
existentially harrowing. The intention
of God is for all to experience the rootedness of implacement, the very antithesis is displacement. Our need for implacement is precisely why all
of us everywhere desire a place to call home, and it is why we all hurt when we
feel like we do not belong. Whether in a
refugee camp or a middle school cafeteria, a feeling of non-belonging
undermines our core senses of self and security.
The question remains, “how should we, the implaced people of
this world, form an attitude towards the displaced?” Like Bilbo, our nature is to opt for our own
comfort in familiar, safe places where we remain either ignorant or unmoved by
the suffering of others. This attitude
rarely causes displacement but it certainly contributes to its sting. However, there is another way. Our love for home can in fact lead us to a
concern far beyond it. If we truly
recognize and cherish the life-giving roots of our own implacement then we can turn our hearts compassionately to those
who suffer displacement. This is a posture we later see assumed by
Bilbo when he rejoins the band following a brief separation:
We can build an attitude towards refugees on any number of
pillars, such as security concerns, economic interests, nationalistic
sentiment, religion convictions and plain old fear. But I believe a simple formula for addressing
refugees is to be thankful for the
blessings we enjoy and to extend compassion to those who find themselves
less fortunate. It’s a formula built on
the very pillars of God’s ultimate law: to love God with all we have and to love
others as we love ourselves. It may be a
simple concept, but it requires a considerable amount of heroism to manifest it
into something practical and real.
I’m proud to be part of an organization and community that
has compassionately embraced the displaced for decades. Kids Alive Lebanon was started
as a response to the Palestinian refugee crisis of 1948 and has since spent nearly
70 years serving at-risk children of all backgrounds. New programs have been developed to
specifically respond to the intensifying refugee
and statelessness
crises in Lebanon. We may never be able
to help others take back their homeland but through God’s grace we can point them
to a different type of “homeland,” a firm reality of belonging in God’s
everlasting kingdom. It may not include settlement
on any earthly soil, but it can be a home more life-giving and secure than any space
this world has to offer. Let us never
grow cynical towards refugees and let us never be confused about the particular
mission God has given us: to settle the displaced in this world and in a
heavenly kingdom that is here and to come.
