A young member of Maryknoll’s Mission Formation Ministry recounts joining vigils to support migrants in Chicago.
By Fernanda Balderrama Chavarria
While I was completing my master’s degree, a classmate opened her heart to share her feelings as a recently arrived immigrant. News stories and videos of arrests were making her feel isolated and fearful.
“Living with that kind of anxiety had a profound impact on my mental health and a ripple effect on my family,” she confided. “The spaces that were once safe are no longer safe. Being on high alert all the time is exhausting,” she said, adding that she has lost the “joy” of community gatherings and events.
Seeing how family and close friends were suffering encouraged me to join more than 1,000 lay people, priests and sisters outside St. Eulalia Church in Maywood, Illinois, to express solidarity with migrants last October.
Chicago and its surrounding areas have been targeted in raids by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). In response, the Coalition for Spiritual and Public Leadership (CSPL), a grassroots faith-based nonprofit organization, holds events such as processions and “People’s Masses.” The coalition unites organizations, congregations, universities and parishes throughout Chicago and its suburbs.
At the first procession I attended, participants received yellow shirts with an image of the Blessed Mother along with a phrase in Spanish and English from the Magnificat: “God has cast down the mighty from their thrones and has lifted up the lowly.” We walked for a mile in a Eucharistic procession to the Broadview Processing Center, operated by ICE. While walking, we recited the rosary, pausing after each mystery to pray for suffering immigrants, especially those who are detained.
Arriving at the Broadview detention center, religious leaders asked ICE agents for permission to enter the facility to provide pastoral care. Sadly, the request was refused. We began singing Catholic hymns, hoping those inside could hear.
On All Saints Day, CSPL organized a Mass outside Broadview. Again, thousands of people gathered. Once more, ministers were not allowed to enter the detention center. Later that month, the coalition and clergy members filed a lawsuit arguing they were unlawfully prevented from administering sacraments and offering pastoral care to detainees.
In February, a federal judge had ruled in the coalition’s favor, and on Ash Wednesday, religious leaders were allowed into the Broadview detention center to distribute ashes and celebrate a religious service.
On that same day in Melrose Park, a Chicago suburb that is primarily Hispanic, approximately 3,000 community members attended a bilingual Mass and procession, including family members of those detained or deported. Cardinal Blase Joseph Cupich, archbishop of Chicago, presided at the Mass held in the parking lot of Our Lady of Mount Carmel parish.
“God does not need papers to know who or where you are,” Bishop Cupich said in his homily. “When you cry in secret, he sees you. When you work hard for your children while no one is watching, he sees you. When you sacrifice your own comfort to send money back home, you sacrifice to give alms in secret, he sees you. The world may look at your legal status, but God looks at your heart.”
For the procession, we carried small devotional candles with paper drip protectors bearing the message, “You are not alone.”
While we walked in procession, our candles would go out in the wind. When my candle lost its flame, my friends lit it with theirs. It was a beautiful metaphor for how we can ignite one another, giving each other hope in these dark times.
I was born in Phoenix, Arizona. My parents migrated to the United States from Mexico over 30 years ago, bringing my two older brothers. My father worked multiple jobs to ensure a better life for us. I vividly recall, and still feel, the fear that my parents and brothers could be deported at any moment. Despite being documented, they could be stopped and detained. Many Latinos share this fear and frustration, feeling that federal agents racially profile Hispanics.
As for my classmate, I reassure her that she is not alone. She says, “Seeing that people were showing up did not take away from the heaviness and realness of things, but it did provide a reminder of our humanity.”
As we witness the ongoing suffering of our vulnerable immigrant community, Christ urges us to recognize others as our neighbors and to uphold the dignity of every individual. We are all part of the Body of Christ, and are both capable and called to collaborate in making a positive change.
Featured image: Fernanda Balderrama Chavarria (wearing glasses) joins clergy, religious and other laypeople in a procession and vigil outside Broadview Processing Center, an immigration detention facility, in Chicago. (Courtesy of Fernanda Balderrama Chavarria/U.S.)
