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Dutch Category 1: The Divine Command for Justice and Hospitality
These verses establish the non-negotiable moral foundation for how a community of faith must treat the stranger. It is not a suggestion, but a core tenet of divine law, rooted in memory and empathy.
Leviticus 19:33-34
“When a foreigner resides among you in your land, do not mistreat them. The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt. I am the LORD your God.”
Reflexion: This is a command that guts our instinct to form in-groups and out-groups. It calls not just for tolerance, but for a radical empathy born from memory. The instruction to “love them as yourself” is grounded in the Israelites’ own trauma of being outsiders in Egypt. This isn’t just a law; it’s a therapeutic directive. It asks us to connect with our own past vulnerability to heal our present tendency to ‘other’ those who seem different, reminding us that our security is found not in exclusion, but in theexpansive compassion of God.
Exodus 22:21
„Behandeln oder unterdrücken Sie einen Ausländer nicht, denn Sie waren Ausländer in Ägypten.“
Reflexion: This is a direct prohibition against leveraging power over the vulnerable. The psychological weight here is profound. It serves as a constant check against the amnesia of privilege. To oppress the foreigner is to commit a kind of moral self-harm, betraying the memory of one’s own salvation and suffering. It’s a reminder that a secure identity is not threatened by the newcomer, but a fragile identity will always seek to bolster itself by diminishing another.
Deuteronomium 27:19
“‘Cursed is anyone who withholds justice from the foreigner, the fatherless or the widow.’ Then all the people shall say, ‘Amen!’”
Reflexion: This verse frames injustice not as a simple mistake, but as a spiritual and moral blight upon the community. The communal response, “Amen!”, is a powerful act of collective accountability. It ingrains in the public consciousness a deep awareness that the health of the entire society is measured by how it treats its most exposed members. Withholding justice creates a kind of soul-sickness, a corruption that affects everyone, not just the immediate victim.
Sacharja 7:9-10
“This is what the LORD Almighty said: ‘Administer true justice; show mercy and compassion to one another. Do not oppress the widow or the fatherless, the foreigner or the poor. Do not plot evil against each other.’”
Reflexion: Here, justice for the foreigner is placed alongside mercy and compassion as the key indicators of a heart aligned with God. It connects our external actions—how we structure our society—with our internal state—the plotting of our hearts. The verse diagnoses a spiritual sickness where a lack of compassion for the outsider is a symptom of a deeper malice that will inevitably turn inward and rot the community from within.
Jeremia 22:3
„So spricht der Herr: Tun Sie, was richtig und richtig ist. Rette den Beraubten aus der Hand des Unterdrückers. Tue dem Ausländer, dem Waisen oder der Witwe weder Unrecht noch Gewalt an und vergieße an diesem Ort kein unschuldiges Blut.“
Reflexion: This is not a passive command to simply “do no harm.” It is an active, courageous call to “rescue.” It confronts the passivity that so often enables oppression. It challenges the human tendency toward bystander apathy, urging us to step into the chaos and risk of another’s suffering. To fail to act is not a neutral position; it is to allow violence and injustice to take root in our shared space, polluting the very ground on which we stand.
Hebräer 13:2
„Vergessen Sie nicht, Fremden Gastfreundschaft zu erweisen, denn dadurch haben einige Menschen Engel unterhalten, ohne es zu wissen.“
Reflexion: This verse introduces a sense of wonder and divine possibility into the act of hospitality. It shifts the dynamic from one of charity (the powerful giving to the weak) to one of potential revelation. The stranger is not just a person in need, but a possible conduit of the sacred. This fosters a posture of humble and curious expectation rather than one of condescending pity, reminding us that in welcoming the other, we may be the ones who receive the greater gift.
Category 2: The Heart of God for the Vulnerable
These verses move beyond command to reveal the very character and motivation of God. Care for the refugee is not just a rule to be followed, but an imitation of God’s own nature.
Deuteronomy 10:17-19
“For the LORD your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who shows no partiality and accepts no bribes. He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the foreigner residing among you, giving them food and clothing. And you are to love those who are foreigners, for you yourselves were foreigners in Egypt.”
Reflexion: This passage is a stunning portrait of divine integrity. God’s greatness isn’t demonstrated through raw, detached power, but through a specific, tender bias toward the powerless. He “loves the foreigner.” This isn’t just about justice; it’s about affection. We are called to embody this same divine love, rooting our actions not in a grudging sense of duty, but in a deep, affective resonance with the heart of a God who actively seeks out and cares for the displaced.
Psalm 146:7-9
“He upholds the cause of the oppressed and gives food to the hungry. The LORD sets prisoners free, the LORD gives sight to the blind, the LORD lifts up those who are bowed down, the LORD loves the righteous. The LORD watches over the foreigner and sustains the fatherless and the widow, but he frustrates the ways of the wicked.”
Reflexion: This is a song of hope for those who feel utterly abandoned. It paints a picture of a God who is actively at work in the world, intervening on behalf of those whose lives have been shattered. For a refugee, who has lost everything, this verse is a lifeline. It asserts that their life is “watched over” by the Creator of the universe. It provides a profound sense of mattering in a world that has treated them as if they do not matter at all.
Jesaja 58:6-7
„Ist dies nicht die Art von Fasten, die ich gewählt habe: die Fesseln der Ungerechtigkeit zu lösen und die Fesseln des Jochs zu lösen, die Unterdrückten zu befreien und jedes Joch zu brechen? Geht es nicht darum, das Essen mit den Hungrigen zu teilen und den armen Wanderer zu beschützen, wenn man die Nackten sieht, sie zu kleiden und sich nicht von seinem eigenen Fleisch und Blut abzuwenden?
Reflexion: This passage redefines authentic spirituality. It exposes a hollow religiosity that is detached from the suffering of others. True connection with God is found in tangible acts of solidarity with the “poor wanderer.” The phrase “your own flesh and blood” is a stunning psychological reframe, collapsing the distance between “us” and “them.” It commands us to see the refugee not as a stranger, but as family from whom we cannot turn away without damaging our own souls.
Malachi 3:5
“So I will come to put you on trial. I will be quick to testify against sorcerers, adulterers and perjurers, against those who defraud laborers of their wages, who oppress the widows and the fatherless, and deprive the foreigners among you of justice, but do not fear me,” says the LORD Almighty.”
Reflexion: This is a terrifying and clarifying verse. It places the act of depriving a foreigner of justice on the same level as occult practices, marital unfaithfulness, and perjury. God himself becomes the star witness for the prosecution against those who exploit the vulnerable. It reveals that this is not a minor social issue but a matter of ultimate, cosmic justice. It evokes a healthy fear, a moral awakening to the grave seriousness of how we structure our societies and treat the voiceless.
Psalm 68:5-6
“A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling. God sets the lonely in families, he leads out the prisoners with singing; but the rebellious live in a sun-scorched land.”
Reflexion: For the refugee, who has been ripped from family and home, this verse speaks to the deepest human longings for kinship and belonging. The image of God setting the lonely in families is a powerful balm for the trauma of displacement. It promises that the ache of isolation is not the final word. It offers a profound hope for a new community, a new sense of place, curated by a God who acts as a loving parent to those who have lost everything.
Sprüche 31:8-9
„Sprechen Sie für diejenigen, die nicht für sich selbst sprechen können, für die Rechte aller Bedürftigen. Reden Sie und beurteilen Sie fair; die Rechte der Armen und Bedürftigen zu verteidigen.“
Reflexion: This is a mandate for advocacy. It recognizes that powerlessness often includes voicelessness. It calls for those with standing and security to lend their voice and influence to protect the rights of the destitute. It is a moral imperative to use one’s privilege not for personal gain, but to amplify the cause of those who are systematically silenced, ensuring their inherent dignity is legally and socially recognized.
Category 3: The Lived Experience of Displacement
These passages are not abstract laws, but stories and reflections from the perspective of the displaced. They invite us into the emotional and spiritual reality of being a refugee.
Matthew 2:13-15
“When they had gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. ‘Get up,’ he said, ‘take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him.’ So he got up, took the child and his mother during the night and left for Egypt, where he stayed until the death of Herod.”
Reflexion: The story of our faith begins with a family fleeing political violence as refugees. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph were forced to escape in the dead of night, seeking asylum in a foreign land to survive a murderous tyrant. This places the refugee experience at the very heart of the Incarnation. To follow Christ is to be in solidarity with a savior who knew the terror of displacement, the uncertainty of exile, and the reliance on the hospitality of strangers.
Rut 1:16
“But Ruth replied, ‘Don’t urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God, my God.’”
Reflexion: Ruth, a Moabite woman, is a portrait of the refugee who finds a new home through radical commitment and love. This declaration is the cry of a heart seeking attachment and belonging after devastating loss. It’s a beautiful expression of weaving one’s own identity into a new community, a new family, and a new faith. It shows that the “foreigner” is not a passive recipient of aid, but an active agent of love and loyalty who enriches the community that welcomes her.
Klagelieder 5:1-3
„Denkt daran, Herr, was mit uns geschehen ist; Schau, und sieh unsere Schande. Unser Erbe wurde an Fremde übergeben, unsere Häuser an Ausländer. Wir sind vaterlos geworden, unsere Mütter sind wie Witwen.“
Reflexion: This is the raw cry of a displaced people. It captures the profound sense of shame, loss, and disorientation that comes with being violently uprooted. The grief is not just for a physical home, but for a lost inheritance—a lost identity, history, and future. It is a prayer that gives voice to the deepest anguish of the refugee experience, a desperate plea to be seen and remembered by God when the world has forgotten.
1. Petrus 2:11
„Liebe Freunde, ich fordere Sie als Ausländer und Exilanten auf, sich von sündigen Wünschen zu enthalten, die Krieg gegen Ihre Seele führen.“
Reflexion: Here, the identity of “foreigner and exile” is given to all Christians. This is a profound reorientation. It suggests that a feeling of not-quite-belonging in the world’s power structures is a normal part of the faithful life. It creates a deep, intrinsic solidarity with earthly refugees, because it reminds us that, on a spiritual level, we all share in a state of sojourning. Our ultimate citizenship is in heaven, making us all, in a sense, strangers on earth.
Psalm 137:1
“By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept when we remembered Zion.”
Reflexion: This verse is a visceral depiction of the grief and trauma of forced exile. It captures the specific pain of memory—how the beauty of what was lost makes the present reality even more unbearable. The act of sitting and weeping by the waters of a foreign land is a portrait of profound depression and homesickness. It gives sacred legitimacy to the tears of refugees everywhere, acknowledging the deep psychological wound of being torn from one’s homeland.
Lukas 10:33-34
“But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he was moved to pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him.”
Reflexion: In this parable, the hero is a member of a despised, outcast group—a “foreigner” in the eyes of the story’s primary audience. He, not the religious elites, is the one who truly sees and acts with compassion. It challenges our assumptions about who holds moral authority and who is capable of profound goodness. The Samaritan’s own experience of being an outsider may have sensitized him to the suffering of another, allowing him to respond with a gut-level pity that transcended social boundaries.
Category 4: The New Identity in the Kingdom of God
These final verses point to the ultimate hope offered in Christ, where earthly distinctions of “stranger” and “citizen” are challenged and ultimately overcome in a new, unified family of God.
Matthew 25:35, 40
“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in… The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’”
Reflexion: This is perhaps the most humbling and challenging teaching on the subject. Christ completely identifies himself with the stranger. He does not say, “It was wie you did it for me”; He says, “You did it für mich.” Welcoming the refugee is a direct encounter with Jesus himself. This elevates hospitality from a good deed to a sacramental act. To turn away a stranger is to turn Christ away from our door, a choice with staggering eternal and psychological consequences for our own soul.
Epheser 2:19
„Daher sind Sie nicht mehr Ausländer und Fremde, sondern Mitbürger des Volkes Gottes und auch Mitglieder seines Haushalts.“
Reflexion: This is the ultimate promise of the Gospel for anyone who has ever felt like an outsider. In Christ, the fundamental human wound of not belonging is healed. The categories of “foreigner” and “stranger” are abolished within the family of God. This verse offers a new, unshakable identity that is not dependent on a passport, a nation, or a piece of land, but on being a beloved member of God’s own household. It is the final homecoming for every wandering heart.
Galater 3:28
„Es gibt weder Juden noch Heiden, weder Sklaven noch Freie, noch Männer und Frauen, denn ihr seid alle eins in Christus Jesus.“
Reflexion: This is a revolutionary declaration of a new humanity. It dismantles the primary social, ethnic, and economic divisions that human societies use to create hierarchies and justify oppression. While these categories still exist on earth, their power to define our ultimate worth and divide us from one another is nullified in Christ. For the refugee who has been “othered” based on their ethnicity or national origin, this verse declares their full and equal status in the community that matters most.
Kolosser 3:11
„Hier gibt es keine Heiden oder Juden, beschnitten oder unbeschnitten, Barbaren, Skythen, Sklaven oder Freie, sondern Christus ist alles und ist in allem.“
Reflexion: This verse goes even further, including the “barbarian” and “Scythian”—terms for the most feared and uncivilized outsiders of the ancient world. It courageously asserts that even those we consider the most culturally alien or threatening are brought into the unifying reality of Christ. It challenges us to look at any refugee, no matter how different their culture or background, and see them not as a threat, but as a person in whom Christ dwells.
Offenbarung 7:9
„Danach sah ich, und vor mir stand eine große Menge, die niemand zählen konnte, aus allen Nationen, Stämmen, Völkern und Sprachen, die vor dem Thron und vor dem Lamm standen.“
Reflexion: This is the eschatological vision, the final portrait of God’s redeemed community. It is not a homogenous, assimilated mass. It is a vibrant, “great multitude” defined by its beautiful diversity of “every nation, tribe, people and language.” This is a profound comfort and hope. It shows that God does not erase our unique origins but celebrates them in a unified chorus of worship. The refugee’s earthly identity is not lost, but finds its ultimate, honored place in the eternal kingdom.
Philipper 3:20
„Aber unsere Staatsbürgerschaft ist im Himmel. Und von dort aus erwarten wir sehnsüchtig einen Erlöser, den Herrn Jesus Christus.“
Reflexion: This verse gives a final, ultimate perspective. It reminds the person of faith that any earthly citizenship is temporary and secondary. Our truest passport, our deepest sense of belonging, is held in a spiritual reality. This creates a powerful sense of empathy for those who have lost their earthly citizenship, because it reminds us that we are all, in a sense, just passing through. Our shared, heavenly citizenship should compel us to treat our fellow sojourners on earth with extraordinary grace and generosity.
