Maryknoll immersion program takes participants to the U.S./Mexico border

When Border Patrol agents dropped off Miguel Soto and his family at a shelter in El Paso, Texas, the family had already spent all their money on their monthlong journey to the U.S. border. They had a contact in Utah, but no means to get there.

El Paso means “the pass-through” in Spanish — a name that defines the nature of the city for migrants on their way somewhere else.

“People are always coming and going,” says Deborah Northern, a Maryknoll lay missioner who volunteers at local shelters for asylum seekers. “That’s a real need. How do I help them wherever they go?”

Maryknoll has a long history of serving at the U.S./Mexico border. Currently, five lay missioners, three priests and two sisters work there in various ministries.

Left image: Miguel’s 13-year-old daughter and 4-year-old son belong to one of the many Venezuelan families who came to the U.S. border to request asylum. (Courtesy of Andrea Moreno-Diaz/U.S.); at Sacred Heart Church in El Paso, Texas, a shelter run by an ex-Border Patrol agent assists thousands of migrants. (OSV News Photo/Courtesy of Pax Christi Little Rock/U.S.) 

Northern also works with The Encuentro Project, coordinating immersion trips like the one organized by the Maryknoll Fathers and Brothers in July. The Encuentro program offers participants a comprehensive understanding of the reality of migration and the chance to interact with migrants such as Miguel.

Miguel says his family was forced to flee their home in Venezuela for having taken part in anti-government protests. After selling everything they owned, Miguel, his wife, their three children — ages 3, 8 and 13 — and his brother Jorge (not their real names) set out for the border between Colombia and Panama. The family joined the hundreds of thousands of migrants who in recent years have undertaken the treacherous trek through the jungle known as the Darién Gap.

Miguel had seen videos posted by other migrants on social media detailing the specifics of the journey, such as the cheapest routes and how to prepare. In some videos, people urged others not to start the journey at all.

En route to the Darién, in ports and encampments controlled by traffickers and cartels, migrants had to pay for passage with American dollars rather than local currency. There, Miguel says, he saw migrants from Haiti, Ecuador, Cuba and places as remote as China — all hoping to make it to the U.S. border.

Along with about 40 other migrants, the Sotos paid a per person fee for a guide to take them a portion of the way. Then the group was left on its own, trudging muddy paths and traversing steep cliffs and swollen rivers — all the while, at risk of getting lost in the jungle or being found by criminal gangs.

Maryknoll Lay Missioner Deborah Northern (far right) and a group of high school students talk to a Border Patrol agent during an immersion trip. (Courtesy of Deborah Northern/U.S.)

Whenever they could, the adults covered the children’s eyes from disturbing sights. “You see many bodies on the way … bodies being eaten by animals,” Miguel recalls. Although they did their best to react quickly, he says, once they were too late to shield their younger daughter from seeing the body of a woman already badly decomposed.

After three and a half days, Miguel says, the group came to a clearing in Panama. Then, the family traveled through Central America and Mexico, where they boarded the freight trains headed north known as La Bestia (The Beast). The dangerous trip, atop different trains, lasted two and a half days.

At the end of the train tracks was Ciudad Juárez and the United States border.

By the time the Soto family reached Juárez on July 18, 2023, a newly installed barrier of concertina razor wire glinted along the banks of the Rio Grande. But the Sotos had no intention of entering the States illegally. Like many other migrants escaping persecution, they planned to come into the United States through an official port of entry. The family was seeking asylum.

Beginning in March 2020, asylum was restricted under Title 42, which allowed for the expulsion of asylum seekers to prevent the spread of COVID-19. When the measure ended in May 2023, a new policy was instated. Migrants have to apply for asylum in other countries before doing so in the United States. (The Sotos requested asylum in Colombia but received only a temporary authorization.) Migrants also have to schedule an appointment through a phone app called CBP One. While they wait for the appointment — sometimes for weeks or months — migrants risk kidnapping, murder and rape in dangerous border towns.

“If you’re fleeing, you can’t hunker down for three months until the government says ‘come,’” says Heidi Cerneka, a Maryknoll lay missioner and immigration attorney serving migrants in El Paso. “The shelters in Mexico are overwhelmed because we blocked people at the gate.”

Deacon Bill Toller, Jeannine Clark and Guadalupe Jimenez (left to right) prepare a meal while visiting a migrant shelter during an immersion trip to El Paso, Texas. (Andrea Moreno-Diaz/U.S.)

On the streets of Juárez, a stranger approached the Soto family while they rested on a sidewalk. This older man sat close to their 13-year-old daughter. “He didn’t care that we were there,” Miguel says. The openly predatory attitude put the adults on high alert. “After that, another man passed by, speaking on his cellphone, watching us. He followed us for three blocks.” A third man then came and persisted in getting close to the children, offering to buy them soda and milk.

Other migrants at the border warned the family that these behaviors indicated they had been “marked.”

Miguel’s brother insisted that the couple and their children try to turn themselves in immediately at a port of entry, instead of waiting for an appointment. Fearing he could be subjected to expedited removal as a single adult, Jorge stayed behind to wait for an appointment through the app. The family members said a tearful goodbye.

“I just wish people would see these migrants not as a problem, but as human beings who are suffering,” Northern says. Having served in El Salvador for eight years, she’s aware of the myriad reasons people migrate. A mother she knew, Northern recalls, explained why she had her daughter leave. “I have to send her to the United States,” the mother said. “The gangs are starting to look at her.”

Fatigued migrants find respite in their journeys thanks to the indispensable work of volunteers and missioners who serve at shelters in El Paso.

“It’s a labor of love,” says Coralis Salvador who, like Northern, has been a Maryknoll lay missioner for nearly 25 years. Since coming to El Paso in 2019, Salvador has worked at various shelters for migrants. “It gives me so much joy,” she says. “They’re like my family. I cook breakfast and lunch for them.

“It’s menial work,” Salvador continues. However, she adds, so was Jesus’ act of washing his disciples’ feet.

The faith-based approach of the immersion trips sponsored on an ongoing basis by Maryknoll’s Mission Formation Program inspires participants to help those in need and to “share the gift of mission.” Participants on the most recent trip visited a Franciscan-run shelter for migrants in El Paso. There, they prepared dinner and heard the Sotos’ story. A good Samaritan in the Maryknoll group offered to pay for the family’s bus tickets.

Upon hearing the good news, Miguel broke down in bittersweet tears. “My brother is still on the other side,” he said between sobs.

Hours later, the family arrived safely at Salt Lake City. As if to mark the occasion, their youngest child turned 4 years old that same day.

The family has yet to be approved for asylum.

Featured image: A father and son traverse the perilous Darién Gap jungle. According to the U.N., a record number of migrants have crossed there in 2023. (OSV News photo/ Manuel Rueda/Global Sisters Report)