Rev. Matthew Best
When I walk the streets of Allison Hill, I don’t see abstract issues of immigration, housing, addiction, victims of crime, etc. I say hello to people I know. I call them by name. I know their stories. And they know me.
As people of faith, we are called to reflect the love, justice, and mercy of God in how we treat one another—especially the most vulnerable among us. At the heart of the Christian tradition is a consistent, unwavering command: welcome the stranger. That is why faith, community and immigrant leaders have been calling on the Dauphin County commissioners to pass a Welcoming County policy, one that ensures our local county employees and resources are not spent on immigration enforcement.
Jesus himself was a refugee, fleeing with his family to Egypt to escape violence in Matthew 2:13-23. Throughout Scripture, we are reminded again and again of our responsibility to the foreigner, the outsider, the marginalized. Leviticus 19:34 states, “The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt.” And in Matthew 25, Jesus makes it plain: “I was a stranger, and you welcomed me.”
The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, of which I am an ordained pastor, has a social statement on immigration that offers guidance to the church. It states, “Immigration, refugee, and asylum policies express who we are as a nation, influence the nation’s future character, and affect the lives of millions of people. We encourage our members, in light of our history and our ministry with newcomers, to join with other citizens in our democratic society to support just laws that serve the common good.”
That is why, as a pastor, I believe our county should adopt a “Welcoming County” resolution—our local government should not spend our limited resources to enforce federal immigration law. This includes prohibiting local staff from sharing data, coordinating, or providing space to immigration enforcement agencies like ICE. Having our municipal governments do this makes as much sense as our federal government using its resources to hash out local public works contracts.
To be clear: this resolution would not prevent federal authorities from doing their job. It simply ensures that our local government and staff are not compelled to be part of a system that has consistently led to racial profiling, family separation, and fear in our immigrant communities.
Why is this important?
Because we have seen what happens when local governments collaborate with federal immigration enforcement. Parents disappear while picking their children up from school. Workers are arrested during routine traffic stops. People are afraid to call the police when they’re in danger, to take their kids to the doctor, or to report crimes—because doing so could lead to detention or deportation. These are not abstractions; they are the lived experiences of our neighbors, many of whom worship beside us in church pews every Sunday.
Our immigrant siblings are not abstract political problems. They are children of God with names, families, and real lives.
When we build systems that value human dignity, we reflect the kingdom of God. A Welcoming County resolution sends a clear message: in this community, we care more about compassion than fear. We believe in due process, not profiling. We see immigrants not as a threat, but as a blessing—a reflection of the beautiful diversity of God’s creation. We see the humanity of people, rather than seeing people as problems. And when we see the humanity of others, we can then see it in ourselves as well.
When local governments entangle themselves in immigration enforcement, it breaks down the fragile trust that exists between communities and public institutions. People begin to avoid schools, hospitals and even churches. Public safety suffers. Public health suffers. But when local governments step back from immigration enforcement, communities begin to heal.
There is a higher law to which we are called to answer: the law of love. When laws are used to dehumanize, to divide families, and to sow fear, we are not obligated to support them blindly. As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. once reminded us, “An unjust law is no law at all.”
We are all tasked to create a community where everyone—regardless of where they were born—can live without fear. A place where children can grow up knowing they are safe. A county where the stranger is truly welcomed in.
The Gospel calls us to radical hospitality, to stand with the marginalized, and to love without condition. This resolution is a small, but meaningful, way for our county to live out that call. Let us not forget: we, too, were once strangers. Let us now be the welcome that we once longed for.
Rev. Matthew Best is pastor and executive director of Christ Lutheran Church in Harrisburg and executive director of Christ Lutheran Health Ministries.
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