For some reason, the plight of immigrants and refugees in the United States is very much on my mind these days.

It could be that, along with my brother priests and deacons, religious women and men, and many lay faithful, I reflect these days on the first selection in the Office of Readings in the Liturgy of the Hours, from the Book of Deuteronomy, on our duties to “aliens,” the biblical word for immigrants and refugees (as the people of Israel were reminded that they, too, were once “aliens.)”

Maybe it is because Jan. 22 annually inspires us to fight the “culture of death” as we promote the “culture of life,” which means striving to protect all human life, especially where most threatened, which these days certainly includes the lives of our immigrants and refugees. I think of the Hispanic woman I recently met, in the middle of a problem pregnancy, the life of her unborn baby in jeopardy, scared to go to the clinic for fear her illegal status here would be discovered and she’d be deported. Yes, it’s a “pro-life” issue.

Could be that I’m haunted by the worries of our immigrants and refugees because I have been reading the statements of concern about them from Pope Benedict XVI and so many of my brother bishops.

Then again, the issue is very much in the news, with proposed legislation in Congress to “reform” our immigration law, which has generated a lot of controversy and fear.

I am probably preoccupied with the vulnerability of our immigrants and refugees because I meet them everywhere I go throughout our archdiocese: men, women, and children so grateful to be in America, so searching to find a home here, so eager to work, settle down, and become part of a nation that has traditionally welcomed and embraced the immigrant.

But then they cry as they whisper to me, and even my primitive grasp of Spanish can pick-up their anguish as they tell me of their wives and babies still in Mexico, or their trepidation of being sent back, or their gratitude to Catholic Charities for helping them get their “green card,” or their love for the priests, sisters, lay pastoral workers, or brother and sister parishioners who have welcomed them and assisted them to get settled (all acts that could now be deemed criminal in some proposed legislation).

And I guess, deep down, I worry about them because my own great-great grandparents were “boat people.” They were refugees from hunger and poverty in Ireland, and they came here in hope. They, too, faced prejudice, bigotry, and harassment, but their hope in the promise of America never dimmed.

Southeastern Wisconsin and this archdiocese have been a sanctuary to searchers for decades — from Ireland, yes, but also from Germany, Slovakia, Poland, Italy, Lithuania, Croatia, Luxem-bourg, Bohemia — and today from Mexico, Vietnam, Laos, Indonesia, Central America, the Caribbean, South America, Asia — and we owe them a welcome, a chance, a fresh start, a new home. We owe them respect and love, as human beings, as Christians, as Americans.

Yes, I know we must protect our borders, especially at a time of legitimate threats to our security; yes, I realize that there must be laws to monitor the flow of immigrants to our country; yes, I admit there are some among the immigrants — very few though they may be — who are less than responsible neighbors; yes, I acknowledge we need immigration reform, and pray for our elected officials who must craft it.

But legislation that would make all undocumented immigrants criminals; would remove due process protection to refugees, including children; would mandate the detention of families along our borders; and would submit humanitarian workers — including church workers — to five years in prison simply for helping an undocumented immigrant, is simply inhuman, un-American, and immoral.

I am glad that our political leaders want to repair a broken immigration system, but we need reform, not just more drastic law enforcement. Promising reform — such as earned legalization, temporary worker programs, and reduction in family visa backlogs — would all be so beneficial.

Exclusion, nastiness, intoler-ance, and harshness have no place in a country where every citizen — unless a Native American — is an immigrant or a descendent of one.

As the Bible reminds us, “ … for you, too, were once an alien in the land of Egypt.”