The Traditions of Man ~ Marie Meyer

Most days on our BWAP trip began with a devotional from the gospel of Mark, shared with members of Frontera de Cristo and our delegation from Pres House, and this particular day was no different. Our devotional came from Mark 7, where Jesus becomes frustrated with the Pharisees and the scribes for clinging to the traditions of man rather than fully committing to the commandments of God. In light of the sickening current events unfolding across the United States as a result of policies from the Trump administration, I often find myself feeling angry at those who uphold and outwardly support them. Because of this, before we even met with a former Border Patrol agent, I was already inclined to write off his perspective as invalid.

This quick-to-judge mentality toward differing viewpoints is something that has been present in my life since the 2016 election. It’s also something I imagine many people, both conservatives and liberals alike, continue to wrestle with.

Much of my college career has been spent trying to understand different perspectives, particularly through my religious studies major and my role as an interfaith fellow. Slowly, through these experiences, I have come to understand that holding onto anger so tightly that it prevents us from sitting in communion with those who hold different political views is itself a tradition of man. Keeping this realization at the forefront of my mind was something I consciously tried to do throughout the day we met with the retired Border Patrol agent—and, honestly, I’m really glad I did.

As a Minnesotan from the Twin Cities area, most of the images of Border Patrol agents I see portrayed in my community feel aggressive and unkind. However, the agent we met could not have been further from that description. Our group’s first interaction with him took place at Whitewater Draw, where he enthusiastically taught us about the birds and even helped coax them out of the swamp so we could see them more clearly. That gentleness and patience carried over when we sat together in his living room a few days later, listening to him share stories from his time working in Border Patrol.

He spoke honestly about his career, repeatedly emphasizing how deeply he tried to bring honor, compassion, and humanity into his work—qualities that are rarely associated with ICE or border enforcement in mainstream narratives. He also shared that he regularly speaks to visiting delegations about his past, many of which come from progressive churches like Pres House. I can only imagine how difficult that must be, knowing the skepticism he likely faces before he even begins to speak.

Meeting him did not suddenly change my views on border policy, nor did it erase the very real harm caused by the system he was once a part of. But it did challenge my tendency to flatten people into symbols of institutions I oppose. If more people within Border Patrol embodied the care, humility, and self-reflection that he demonstrated, I believe the conversation around immigration, and perhaps even the system itself, could begin to look very different.

More importantly, this encounter reminded me that following the commandments of God sometimes means resisting the comfort of anger and choosing instead to listen, even when it feels uncomfortable. And that, for me, may be one of the hardest and most necessary lessons of faith.

Marie Meyer (she/her) is a senior studying Russian and religious studies.

Photo: A scenic view of Whitewater Draw.