Immigration policy and the status of immigrants have remained a daily front-page issue in the United States since the height of the 2024 presidential campaign. The Trump administration has pursued aggressive operations to repatriate immigrants who either have entered the U.S. unlawfully, or have committed crimes or (in the judgment of the administration) have jeopardized national security. Vice President JD Vance has opined about the theological concept of the “ordo amoris” — the concentric ordering of actions and policies according to the virtue of charity. The late Pope Francis indirectly reproved the vice president and U.S. immigration policy more generally.
Immigration and migration policy is a complicated and vexing issue, demanding the attention of world leaders as well as common citizens. We Catholics have a rich theological tradition that provides an abundance of resources related to the plight of the stranger and sojourner, whether distant or far. In contributing to the discussion, we must draw upon that tradition, rather than reducing the issue merely to the protection of borders, on the one hand, or indiscriminate open borders on the other. We Catholics must participate in the debate consistently with the demand of, and witness to, the Gospel.
The encounter between the risen Jesus and two strangers on the road to Emmaus (Lk 24:13-35) suggests a paradigm for thinking not merely about immigration, but hospitality generally. It teaches us that our relationship to the stranger is always and everywhere rooted in the Eucharist. Indeed, apart from a robust theology of the Eucharist, any discussion of immigration, or the demands of hospitality, is incomplete.
Welcoming the stranger
Filled with a profound sense of disappointment, two disillusioned disciples are walking home from Jerusalem to their home in Emmaus, about 7 miles distant. They had apparently come to Jerusalem to see Jesus overthrow the Roman government and to replace it with a different secular political order. Jesus approaches the men, but they do not recognize him. He is just some random stranger along the road.
When Jesus asks what they were discussing, they respond that Jesus, “a prophet mighty in deed and word,” had been handed over to the Roman authorities and crucified. They had heard rumors and stories about an empty tomb, and perhaps even saw the tomb themselves. But not having seen Jesus, and thinking that the revolution was dead, they are trudging despondently toward home. “We had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel,” the disciples lament. But the coup had apparently failed.
As they walk together, Jesus explains what had actually happened, using the Hebrew Bible as his authority. When they reach their house, the day is late, so the two disciples invite this mysterious but knowledgeable stranger to stay with them. This is where the story gets interesting.
The three men sit down for dinner. But before they eat, a prayer of thanksgiving (eucharistia in Greek) is offered. The prayer is not recited by one of the owners of the house and, thus, the hosts of the dinner. Rather, the sojourning guest commandeers the table and offers the prayer himself. This is somewhat scandalous: How can the guest — a complete stranger in the house no less — presume to offer the thanksgiving blessing and then distribute the meal?
Put another way, how can the guest make a claim upon the order of the household? The beginning of the answer, of course, is that this was not just any stranger. And it was not just any meal.
It is proper to note the hospitality of the two men whom Jesus met. Jesus was a stranger to the men. And while they were fascinated by his account of why the Messiah had to be killed and rise again, they were not yet fully convinced. For all they knew, he could have been some crackpot, making things up on the fly. As the narrative tells us, they did not recognize Jesus until after he had blessed and broken the bread. Yet, despite not yet knowing who he was, because the day was late and the journey long, they invited him into their home. This was most certainly a hospitable gesture.
The Eucharist is a sign of Christ’s hospitality
But the real story of hospitality comes through the hands and words of Jesus himself. Luke tells us that after Jesus “took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to” the men, “their eyes were opened and they recognized him.” Later, as they related the story back in Jerusalem, the men explained that Jesus became known to them in the “breaking of the bread.” This tells us that the Eucharist is inextricably intertwined with the virtue of hospitality. The stranger whom the men welcomed into their home turned out to be the savior they had been awaiting (albeit with a vague understanding of what that meant).
By taking the role of host and feeding the two men, Jesus validated their hospitality. But Jesus also demonstrated that the Eucharist itself is the sign and source of that hospitality. He transformed the bread given him by his hosts into what the early Church often called a “love feast.” When the stranger Jesus broke the bread, his hospitable guests knew he was the Messiah Jesus. Their hospitality was validated. In the telling of the story, St. Luke permanently unites Eucharist to hospitality. Welcoming the stranger leads to the breaking of the bread; the breaking of the bread reveals the Lord.
What has this to do with immigration policy? The story tells us that, while the issue is complex and difficult, the answer cannot be found outside what we might call the “hermeneutic of Emmaus.” The Emmaus narrative tells us that the default presumption for immigration policy is to be welcoming of the stranger. Of course, implications for human dignity, subsidiarity and the common good inform and qualify that presumption. People may have good-faith disagreements about the proper way to structure immigration policy — whom to permit, whom to invite, whom to expel. But the hermeneutic of Emmaus tells us that we start with a presumption to welcome the sojourner along the road.
Jesus ratifies that starting position “in the breaking of the bread,” where the true identity of the stranger is revealed, and the hospitality of their hosts is affirmed.
