As we’ve been poignantly reminded in recent weeks how fragile and precarious the world can be, emotions seem to be running a little higher. And when emotions run high, it’s easy to become fixated on specific people. (With the unfortunate plethora of media bias and hence agenda, some seem especially fixated — lookin’ for blame in all the wrong places — dare I semi-humbly suggest.)
But if there was one person that would be wise for each of us to at some time focus on as countries continue to clash, in and out of cease fires, my sense is it would be the refugee… the one who has been forced to leave their home due to war, persecution or disaster.
The 1951 Refugee Convention specifically defines a refugee as “someone who is unable or unwilling to return to their country of origin owing to a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group, or political opinion.” They are protected by international law.
I’m grateful they are protected. But my goal today is to make this a little more personal.
According to the United Nation’s refugee agency (UNHCR) — and this number keeps changing — millions of Ukrainians have fled their home country and crossed over into Central Europe. Poland and Romania have each welcomed significant populations of displaced persons.
As the Polish border guard service tweeted, when their welcomed refugee count topped 1 million, “This is a million human tragedies, a million people banished from their homes by the war.”
A million human tragedies…
As has been noted here — Ukraine, Poland, Romania — they are some five, six thousand miles away. It’s easy to dismiss what’s far away. It’s easy to not dwell on what we don’t see. It’s easy to care lesser. We tend to care most about what’s most in front of us, issues and experiences in which we can more clearly envision and relate to an aspect of the overall impact.
I don’t want to do that with the Ukrainian people. If I’m honest, as someone who believes with my whole heart that all are created in the image of God and therefore we should be treating all as such, I don’t want to be dismissive of any.
And so my mind continues to contemplate the question of a wise friend…
“How am I actively sitting in the suffering of others?”
Is it out of sight/out of mind?
That doesn’t seem right.
Is it, “Well, it depends on who’s supporting that group of people politically. If _______ supports them, so will I.” Fill in the blank with whomever you wish; the reality is that such shows my compassion and care is selective.
That, too, doesn’t seem right.
Friends, I have no easy answer this day. I continue to hear selfless stories of volunteers and servant-hearted citizens assisting refugees at the border. It’s tireless work. How do we best help those who’ve been forced to flee?
How do care for those who’ve left family behind? … family they may never see again? How do we serve those caught up in this humanitarian crisis?
No answers. No simple solutions. Thankfully, no less, miles between are incapable of minimizing the power of prayer. I still question what more we can do… money, donations, care…
Today, though, I just didn’t want to ignore the perilous, heartbreaking plight of those on the other side of the planet. I didn’t want us to fail to focus on the refugee.
That doesn’t seem right either.
Respectfully…
AR