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Letter: The language of hate

Of the many horrific images we’ve come to expect in the news media lately, there is one image that hurts my heart more than any. It is the image of “ordinary” citizens gathered together to blockade routes into their towns.

From the faces contorted in anger and fear, one would think the buses they were blocking were filled with zombies or test tubes of the ebola virus. But no. These buses hold children whose parents sent them on an unimaginable journey to a place they thought would protect them from the horrors of their Central American homes. Children. You remember, the same ones Jesus is said to have welcomed.

How many of the screaming citizens of Murietta, Calif., and other communities since, do you think call themselves Christians? How many might themselves be one or two generations away from being immigrants to this country? How many of them would you see on picket lines in front of abortion clinics, declaring that it’s murder to abort a pregnancy, and tantamount to killing a child?

They crowd around those buses filled with frightened children, wielding signs in a language many of these children don’t even understand. What they must understand is that they are not welcome.

“Not our children. Not our problem.” Among the many hateful signs held by these ordinary citizens, that one brought a chill to my soul. Where is the compassion?



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