A nation that cannot control its borders is not a nation. That statement should not be controversial for Catholics. It is not a partisan slogan; it is a basic moral premise of political community. And yet, for years, many faithful Catholics have been left with the impression that the Church’s teaching on immigration begins and ends with a single imperative: “Welcome the stranger,” full stop.
Now, as the temperature drops in places like Minneapolis and the national conversation becomes less apocalyptic and more concrete, there is a window for real catechesis. This is precisely when our bishops should step forward and offer what the country badly needs: a better understanding of Catholic Social Teaching on immigration, with its full architecture intact.
Catholic teaching does affirm that people often have powerful reasons to leave their homeland—violence, corruption, persecution, economic collapse, family obligation. The Church has always insisted on the dignity of the person, including the migrant.
But Catholic teaching also insists on something else that is routinely minimized in ecclesial messaging: Political authorities have the right and duty to regulate migration for the sake of the common good. That is not a loophole; it is part of the moral structure of social life. The state is not an enemy of charity. It is a real moral actor charged with order, justice, peace, and the protection of its people, including the protection of the vulnerable from exploitation by criminals who thrive on chaos.
When bishops speak as if the only settled teaching is the migrant’s right to leave and the Christian’s duty to assist, while treating enforcement as morally suspect by default, confusion is guaranteed. It leaves many Catholics thinking they must choose between fidelity to the Church and the basic belief that laws matter. That is a catechetical failure.
The bishops can fix it by stating plainly what Catholic doctrine actually allows and requires, namely that nations may say “yes” and nations may say “no,” and those decisions can be morally serious when they are ordered to the common good, proportional to capacity, and attentive to justice.
None of this means enforcement methods are above moral evaluation. The bishops should keep their freedom and moral authority to question the “how.” If enforcement actions are reckless, humiliating, indiscriminate, or unnecessarily destructive to families and communities, the Church has every right to say so. And when mistakes happen—because mistakes will happen—the Church should insist on transparency, remedies, and higher standards.
Two things are essential if the bishops are going to speak credibly and fruitfully.
First, criticism of the “how” cannot become a backdoor denial of the “why.” If every instrument of enforcement is portrayed as inherently cruel, then the only practical outcome is open borders by moral intimidation. That is not Catholic teaching; it is an ideological posture.
Second, criticism must avoid demonizing legitimate government tools that are necessary to enforce the law. A serious society cannot enforce immigration law with vibes and press releases. It requires investigations, detention capacity, adjudication, removals, and cooperation between agencies.
Catholics can debate the prudence and safeguards of particular policies. But if Catholic leaders talk as if the mere existence of enforcement infrastructure is immoral, they aren’t defending human dignity: They are denying the state’s ability to do what the Church says it may and must do.
There is a difference between condemning abuses and condemning enforcement as such. The bishops should make that difference unmistakable.
This is why strident, mostly performative criticism—especially when it is issued impulsively, without broad episcopal consultation, and without an evident grasp of facts—does not “speak truth to power.” It confuses the faithful, hardens political tribes, and substitutes posture for pastoral clarity.
A remarkable address delivered in 2000 by Cardinal Giacomo Biffi, then archbishop of Bologna, does something too many Church statements avoid: It treats immigration as a complex social fact requiring realism, prudence, and planning—not sentimental improvisation. He refused both extremes: alarmism that turns immigrants into threats, and naive idealism that pretends mass migration can be absorbed without consequences.
But the most important part of Biffi’s address may be his internal critique of the Church’s own temptations. The Church must practice concrete charity toward anyone in need—regardless of legal status—but she is not the all-purpose manager of every social crisis. Evangelization cannot be replaced by social service.
That is the kind of voice the American bishops should become right now—not to baptize any party, politician, or policy package, but to restore Catholic teaching to its full depth. The goal is neither cruelty nor chaos. The goal is ordered compassion: a system that protects the dignity of migrants while respecting the moral reality that a nation has the right and duty to regulate who enters, under what conditions, and in what numbers.
If the bishops reclaim that full teaching, they will help Catholics act like Catholics again: neither captive to ideological panic nor anesthetized by sentiment, but guided by reason, revelation, and the hard wisdom of the Church.
