For several years, the topic of immigration has reigned in the forefront of national dialogue. Our society struggles to weigh the merits of a search for a better life (coupled with the fear of returning home) against a dilatory legal framework ill-prepared to handle the enormity of its task. Every minor decision in the secular fields of policy and law enforcement wield broad consequences for the many hopeful families seeking access across the southern border, not to mention the dense communities that lie on each side.
We perceive too often, however, that most decisions regarding the future of these families spring only from Washington, D.C. or state capitals. In this way, we rob migrants of their individual agency in seeking a better life, and ignore the responsibilities their resident communities assume in absorbing and providing for so many people in need.
Migration critics and proponents alike tend to characterize the issue in stark terms of black and white, right and wrong—forgetting the individuals and communities at stake. It is also important to understand the distinct cultural landscape of the American Southwest, the historical presence of the Church, and the ever-looming specter of separation that only sometimes manifests itself in the form of physical barriers.
I felt the urge to experience the border myself this past August, driving to the cities of Tucson and Nogales in Southern Arizona to witness the efforts of Catholic relief groups. These workers try to ease the journeys of families as they seek asylum and chart paths after deportation.
First on my itinerary was Casa Alitas, a Tucson shelter for asylum-seekers recently released from Immigrations Immigration and Customs Enforcement detention. Secondly was the Kino Border Initiative, a binational advocacy organization that provides regular meals for recent deportees and asylum-seekers in Nogales, Sonora.
These two Catholic organizations exemplify the different approaches employed by the Church in order to serve migrants. Staffed almost entirely by volunteers, the Casa Alitas shelter is a truly communitarian solution. As the de-facto migrant shelter for the city of Tucson, its facilities also ensure that families can access needed communications services and plan trips to meet sponsors around the country.
The Kino Border Initiative is situated on the border between Nogales, Arizona and Nogales, Sonora, and functions more as an advocacy group. It is operated by a professional, binational staff, as well as the Nogales Jesuit Community. I was able to spend a day at their comedor, where recent deportees and asylum-claimants are served breakfast daily. Working in this kitchen is only one component of the experience for many who visit Kino; the initiative organizes a weeks-long immersive program in which these visitors, often students, hear from all sides regarding immigration in the area—including ranchers and Border Patrol agents.
If asked for advice, I would first recommend that Boston College immediately send contingents of students for one of Kino’s immersion experiences, but there are more ways in which all of us can better live out our faith with consideration of events at the border. Firstly, it is important to understand that not all migrants face the same circumstances. Recent deportees, especially those who had lived well-established lives in the United States, face a very different future than, say, Central American asylum-seekers fleeing violence and intimidation at home. With different problems come different needs, and the Church has adapted so as to tailor solutions to serve each.
A truly immersive experience remains the best avenue to attaining a true understanding of the spirit of the Church’s responses to migration. To comprehend the deeply-held respect for binational and bicultural lifestyles in the American Southwest, it helps to visit the region. Just as every community must care for its less unfortunate, those along the border recognize their heritage as a cultural crossroads, and they stand prepared to handle the burdens associated with that ancestral status.
Just as the Catholic faith arrived in the area, hundreds of years ago, from the south, the Church continues to look beyond borders. In lighting the way, feeding the hungry, sheltering the weary, the Church finds its mission here. Here we find the pilgrim Church, visible in every footstep trod, every care given, and, perhaps most of all, in every need met.
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