What would Jesus boycott?

It's fairly quiet here in Lettuceland, on this day devoted to shutting down the country's economy to show the flexed muscle of undocumented workers. The usual recess yells waft over from the charter school across the street. Underneath my lofty perch, a yellow Stanley Steemer van is pumping vacuum power to clean the apartment across the parking lot. The carpet cleaners are obviously Hispanic and obviously not taking the day off. Traffic seems normal; the difference is that the sirens which screech intermittently every other day are conspiculously absent. I've not noticed a swell of students from the high school two blocks away jubilantly cutting class and yelling "Mex-i-co! Mex-i-co!" as they did several weeks ago, but the day is still young. Haven't been down yet to see if the Mexican restaurant next door opened for the day. If it's closed, I might leave a note saying I'll never eat there again. (Then again, I haven't eaten there in five years because they have incredibly lousy service and I had Montezuma's Revenge for dessert last time.)

In our city, the demonstrations will take place in the almost-exclusively Hispanic east side. Talk about serenading the choir! That'll really get our attention! Since I'm miles from there, I won't be hearing a thing. Another case of the people agreeing with you already being there.

I am pondering what the Christian attitude and response to all this should be. So far I've not fully developed a personal theology on the balance between loving one's neighbor as oneself, and rendering unto Caeser the things that are Caeser's. The same Bible which admonishes the Israelites to be kind to the aliens among them, also called him who would enter the sheepfold another way aside from the gate a thief and robber. We must have law and secure borders. We also must be humane and kind. Mercy and truth must meet together; righteousness and justice must kiss each other.

Somehow.