Springfield, I’m speaking directly to you now.
Your city stands at a crossroads, and how you choose to walk this path will define not just your future, but your soul. The question is simple: will you be a city that loves its neighbor, or one that crucifies them?
I know what’s been happening here. I know about the growth, the new faces, the struggles. And I know about the hate. I’ve seen it before. I’ve heard it in the ugly mutterings about “those people” taking jobs and resources, in the whispers blaming them for every pothole and every lost opportunity. It’s the same old song, just with a new verse: this time, the target is your Haitian neighbors.
Let’s not dance around the truth. When your city began to thrive again, it wasn’t by accident. It was because of those neighbors, hardworking people who came to Springfield looking for safety and opportunity, just like so many others before them. They filled jobs that had sat empty after the factories closed. They brought energy and life to a city that was dying on the vine. They helped make Springfield better.
And what was their reward? Lies. Cruel, vicious lies that started small and spread like wildfire. But the worst came when the President of the United States stood on a debate stage in front of the entire nation and called your neighbors thieves and savages. He said they were stealing and butchering pets for food. You all know that’s not true. You know it’s an old racist trope dressed up in new clothes, designed to stoke fear and hate.
But what did Springfield do? It handed that man 63% of its vote. It told the world that his lies were fine, that his hate was excusable, that his cruelty didn’t matter. And now your neighbors, your Haitian neighbors, are fleeing. Not because they want to, but because they feel unwelcome. Because they feel unsafe. Because they know the place they tried to call home has turned its back on them.
This is where the church comes in. This is where you come in.
Jesus said, “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” He didn’t say, “as long as they look like you.” He didn’t say, “as long as they speak your language.” He didn’t say, “as long as they don’t make you uncomfortable.” He said, the least of these.
And right now, the least of these are your Haitian neighbors, the ones being driven out by lies and hate, the ones being scapegoated for problems they didn’t cause, the ones who came here legally and worked hard only to find themselves vilified.
If you claim to follow Christ, you can’t stay silent about this. You can’t sit in your pews and sing your hymns while your city chooses hate over love, fear over truth. You can’t call yourselves Christians if you’re too scared to stand up for your neighbors when they’re under attack.
This isn’t some abstract theological debate. This is the Gospel in action. This is the parable of the Good Samaritan, except this time, the Samaritan is Haitian, and half of you are walking by on the other side of the road.
It’s time for the church in Springfield to wake up. To speak out. To tell the truth. Call out the lies. Condemn the hate. Tell your congregations that it is not Christlike to stand by while your neighbors are demonized. Tell them that the only way to follow Jesus is to stand with the oppressed, not the oppressor.
And for the love of God, stop worrying about whether this will upset the people in your pews who voted for the man spreading the lies. Stop worrying about your tax-exempt status or your reputation or your tithes. If you’re not willing to risk something for what’s right, what’s the point of calling yourself a Christian?
This is your moment, Springfield. This is your test. You can either choose to love your neighbor, as Christ commanded, or you can choose to bow to the same fear and hate that nailed Him to a cross. But don’t pretend you can sit on the fence. You’re already making a choice, whether you admit it or not.
And let me tell you something: the world is watching. Your Haitian neighbors are watching. And so is God.
Choose wisely.
“Sa m’ap di nou la a, se vre wi:
tou sa nou te fè pou youn nan pi piti nan frè ak sè m yo, se pou mwen nou te fè.”
R.L. Lawrence