Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German theologian who bravely stood against the Nazi regime, once argued that indifference to evil is a denial of the Incarnation of Yeshua. He believed that if we truly serve a G-d who entered into human suffering, then we cannot stand apart from the suffering of our neighbors.
Today, I find myself caught between my faith and a deeply personal nightmare. I fled Egypt as a Copt, one of the world’s ancient Christian communities, searching only for safety and the freedom to worship. Along the way, my spiritual journey led me to become Messianic, deepening my connection to the roots of my faith. Yet, with that came the heavy burden of feeling like a stranger in a strange land.
My own family has carried enough crosses. Persecution and discrimination in my homeland because of my faith. Moreover, my wife carries her own scars of the trauma she suffered in Egypt. We came here not to take or to invade, but to live in the light. Yet, the shadows have followed us.
Recently, I received a threat that chilled me to the bone. Someone (a neighbor in this land) told me they would call ICE to have me taken away and my family separated. This is the “wolf” that Bonhoeffer spoke of.
When a person uses the law not as a tool for justice, but as a weapon to tear a father from his children or a husband from his wife, they are acting out the very indifference Bonhoeffer warned against. To threaten a family with separation is to act as if the Messiah’s message of love and protection for the “stranger” is irrelevant. It is a denial that every human being is an image-bearer of G-d.
I will be honest: I am exhausted. The weight of severe depression and the constant hyper-vigilance of living under threat is a burden that feels impossible to carry. Like the sparrow in the rain, I am looking for a place of rest.
But Bonhoeffer’s life taught me that when the wolf threatens the flock, the believer’s duty is not to hide in cheap grace or silent prayer alone. The duty is to protect the victim and resist injustice.
To those who would use fear as a weapon: You may call the authorities, but you cannot take away the dignity that G-d gave us.
I am tired, but I am not alone. I am waiting for justice. Not just the justice of a courtroom, but the justice of a G-d who hears the cry of the oppressed.
Out of Egypt 