Christian Morality, Migration, And The Good Samaritan

Much has been made about Pope Francis’s recent comments criticizing the Trump Administration for opposing illegal immigration. He was not the only one, as UK commentator Rory Stewart also dueled with Vice-President JD Vance on X. The differing views on this issue can be explained as hierarchy versus universalism, a Christian debate that has its roots in St. Augustine. Understanding the doctrines reveals that Pope Francis, whether deliberately or accidentally, erred, while Vance got it right.

The hierarchical approach favors a more instinct-driven interpretation of the faith, whilst the latter relies on the tale of the Good Samaritan, emphasizing neighborly conduct. Yet what’s interesting is that these two versions of morality have not always been incompatible; it’s just that a recent misinterpretation of the universalist view has led to this being the case.

Some on the political right, especially nationalists, have strongly criticized Christianity for being too universalist and ignoring the necessity of tribal loyalties for a functioning society. That is too simplistic a view of both Christianity’s universality and the importance of a hierarchy.

St. Augustine lamented his selfish secular ways in his early years, which he outlines with great clarity in his masterwork Confessions. His conversion to Christianity then leads to his adopting a universalist morality to some degree, but not completely. Even after praising the tale of the Good Samaritan, he still believed in a hierarchy of priorities that shaped his conduct in daily life. (Indeed, this tale is actually a good allegory for merit-based immigration, which I will explain later.)

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St. Augustine acknowledged that worldly desires are secondary to the glory of God, which is known more commonly as the order of love (ordo amoris). But hierarchy also exists within what he describes as “temporal” things on earth, whether they be your spouse, pets, or even possessions.

In other words, love of God comes before earthly matters in order of importance, and those earthly matters also have a hierarchy of their own. This is why JD Vance responded to Rory Stewart on X by stating, “Does Rory really think his moral duties to his own children are the same as his duties to a stranger who lives thousands of miles away? Does anyone?”

Vance’s post is very important because it not only exposes the current unrestrained universalism for what it is—madness—but also because it demonstrates how misinterpreted the concept now is. Whether the Pope actually believes in open borders is hard to tell. A cynic would argue that a man who lives in a walled city-state probably does care about borders quite a lot, at least when it comes to his own.

Yet, what’s intriguing is Pope Francis’s interpretation of the Good Samaritan parable and how it relates to modern politics. As a quick reminder, the passage in the New Testament refers to a Jewish traveler who is beaten and robbed on the road. Neither a fellow Jew nor a Levite assists him, but a Samaritan eventually comes to his aid.

Considering the Jews and Samaritans were at loggerheads at the time, the story is designed to instruct Jesus’s followers to love those who show mercy, no matter what tribe they are from. Here, the outsider is the hero who is praised for helping somebody from another sect, whilst a man from the in-group sinned by ignoring his fellow Jewish brother on the roadside. However, the key point here is that while the outsider is praised for being good, it’s not an argument that all outsiders are good.

Thus, Pope Francis wrongly understood the story. In a recent letter to America’s Bishops, he referred to the Good Samaritan parable and stated that the true ordo amoris comes about by “meditating constantly on the parable of the Good Samaritan, that is, by meditating on the love that builds a fraternity open to all, without exception.”

The key phrase “open to all, without exception” betrays the Pope’s political beliefs and scriptural confusion. His version of ordo amoris seems to be that love is simply given in equal measure to everybody, whether they deserve it or not.

The problem with this version of morality is that, eventually, everybody comes into conflict with it, even its strongest adherents. For example, are you really going to continue loving the violent criminal who causes so much harm? In a more pertinent example, Vance’s critique can also be expanded. If your own child and a neighbor’s child both get top grades in their final exams, and they’re both equally good children, but there’s only one place at college left available, are you really going to be happy if the neighbor’s child gets the place? It’s obviously natural for an infinite number of reasons to hope that your child will get the place.

The Pope’s stance also fails to understand the problem of mass immigration. It’s quite obvious that many arriving in the West, whether legally or not, are not culturally compatible and have committed serious crimes. Thus, they do not deserve to remain in the country they have arrived in.

Even from the more universalist version of ordo amoris, this hierarchical limitation is acceptable because only those in the outgroups who deserve love (the merciful, the righteous) should be prioritized. Nevertheless, a significant number of the modern clergy, along with the political class, simply cannot accept the idea of the ‘bad migrant.’ Indeed, even if they recognize that migrants commit crimes, they argue that law enforcement still shouldn’t deport them.

In other words, the universalist spectrum has become so mindlessly expansive that even the story of the Good Samaritan is being misinterpreted—by the Pope!— to support a dangerous policy of mass and illegal immigration.

Again, the moral of the Good Samaritan is not that all outsiders are righteous and unselfish; it simply argues that outsiders can be righteous and unselfish. There is no explicit argument that every single Samaritan who walked down that road would have helped the injured Jew, and in terms of historical accuracy, this would have been highly unlikely.

Modern liberalism’s failure to view any outgroup or individual objectively, based on merit, is a great failure of our times. There are good and bad people in every group. You might be helped by somebody from an outgroup, and indeed, you might help somebody from an outgroup as well. This isn’t hard to understand, all of which makes the misinterpretation of the Good Samaritan parable so baffling.

The reality is that the two Christian beliefs—hierarchal and universal—must each have reasonable limits and, as limited, they are compatible with each other. It’s perfectly okay to prioritize your family over a stranger 3000 miles away, but it’s also perfectly fine to welcome a small number of talented migrants to plug an employment gap and to help a stranger in need if he’s drowning in a lake. Even Christianity has checks and balances. It’s just a shame the Vatican isn’t interested in them at the moment.

It’s a strange world when the Pope’s interpretation of ordo amoris is manifestly wrong while the American Vice President’s is correct. If anything, it proves that the taboo surrounding any criticism of migration is still strong among the clergy and will be difficult to change.

American Thinker

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