At a holiday dinner in 2016, I sat across from a man I had known and held in high esteem for many years.
He was smart, energetic and charismatic. He had worked hard to achieve lofty goals. He was a devoted son, husband and father. We both considered ourselves practicing Catholics. He knew that I had spent the bulk of my working life as a physician in rural Africa and that I was working now in the U.S. with newly arrived refugees from war-torn countries.
He disapproved of the latter — not, I think, that I was working with refugees, but that the U.S. was admitting them in the first place.
His reasoning was simple: “We can’t save them all.”
Before this moment it had not occurred to me that any American would object to our country accepting our share of the world’s tired, poor and huddled