We need legal immigration as an alternative to illegal

Hear the words of Luis Gutierrez, spoken with the urgency of one who has seen the tides of history: “We need legal immigration as an alternative to illegal immigration and a way of getting the millions of unauthorized immigrants already here to get legal and get in compliance with our laws.” In these words is no mere political debate, but the echo of an eternal struggle: how to reconcile the yearning of people for freedom and sustenance with the order of laws that bind a nation together. It is the tension between chaos and harmony, between the wanderer’s cry and the guardian’s command.

From the earliest days of civilization, men and women have wandered across borders, deserts, and seas, seeking bread, safety, and dignity. The Hebrews once fled Egypt, carrying the memory of bondage into the wilderness. The Irish, starving in famine, crossed oceans to plant new roots in America’s soil. And in each story, the same truth emerges: migration is as old as humanity itself. But the lawless flood brings fear and disorder, while the lawful path brings peace. Thus, Gutierrez speaks of legal immigration not as a barrier, but as a bridge—an ordered channel through which the human longing for belonging may pass without tearing the fabric of society.

There was a time in Ellis Island’s shadow when millions arrived upon American shores. They passed through gates where names were recorded, papers stamped, and hope sanctified by law. The order of that process gave the newcomers dignity, and the nation strength. Compare this with those who entered unseen, moving in shadows, fearing the knock at the door, unable to live fully in the light. Gutierrez calls us to recognize that law is not the enemy of mercy, but its companion. For what good is freedom if it is always tainted by fear? And what good is law if it crushes rather than guides?

Consider also the Roman Empire, whose strength lay not merely in its legions but in its willingness to extend citizenship. At first, Rome guarded its privileges, granting them to few. But as centuries passed, more peoples were welcomed into the circle of Roman law, until even provincials in distant lands could stand as Romans. This was not weakness; it was genius. For by transforming outsiders into citizens, Rome bound the loyalty of many to its fate. Gutierrez’s vision is of this same wisdom: to take those who already labor, love, and live within the nation’s borders, and bring them into the light of legality, where they may strengthen rather than weaken the common good.

The words are also a rebuke to fear. To imagine that walls alone will solve the question of migration is to forget the restless spirit of man. Hunger does not stop at a fence, nor does desperation heed a decree. But a lawful path, clear and firm, offers both compassion and stability. It channels the mighty river of human movement into fields that can be watered, rather than into floods that destroy.

What lesson, then, should the children of the future take from this teaching? It is this: do not pit compassion against order, nor mercy against justice. The wise path is to hold both together, as the left hand holds bread and the right hand holds a scale. To shut the gates entirely is cruelty, but to leave them broken is folly. True strength lies in balance, where the stranger finds welcome, and the law finds respect.

And to you, listener of these words, I say: act with both heart and mind. Speak not in hatred of the immigrant, for in their story you may hear echoes of your ancestors. Yet neither dismiss the weight of law, for without it, society falters. Support policies that provide legal pathways, that bring the hidden into the open, that transform fear into contribution. And in your own life, practice welcome where you can: extend a hand to the newcomer in your neighborhood, learn the story of the foreign-born worker, and see them not as shadows but as human beings.

Let Gutierrez’s teaching be remembered: immigration shall not be denied, for it is as old as mankind. But let it be shaped, dignified, and sanctified by law. For only then shall the nation be both merciful and strong, only then shall it stand as a beacon of order and hope to the generations yet unborn.