Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet and Orange, justice promoters from both congregations and the Federation, associates and partners in mission journeyed to Calexico, California, on Friday, October 30.
We stopped to pray for and honor unidentified migrants who died while crossing the desert and are buried in a section of Terrace Park Cemetery, also known as El Panteón de Los No Olvidados (The Cemetery of the Not Forgotten). The graves are marked with Jane Doe, John Doe, or Baby Doe on simple red bricks.
Sister Angela Faustina, CSJ led us in song as we processed to the cemetery’s fenced-off section. In solidarity and remembrance, we silently placed marigolds and other flowers on the fence. Even in death, a fence once again separated us from our immigrant neighbors. Sister Jan Husung, CSJ shared that she experienced the fence as protecting the deceased immigrants and their gravesites.
On Friday, before we left the hotel, we gathered, and Sister Suzanne Jabro, CSJ invited each of us to share what we hoped to experience for ourselves, our intention for the day. We then crossed the border into Mexicali, Mexico, to spend the day with our neighbors who have been deported, can no longer migrate to the United States and cannot safely return to their home country. Each of us crossed with a suitcase of donations—including clothes for men, women and children, toiletries, games and candy—for a total of more than 25 suitcases. The donations came from across the United States, a true expression of loving our neighbors without distinction.
The day was filled with the encounter Pope Francis continually invited us to: a day of true relationship, sharing conversations, laughter, and vulnerability as personal experiences were shared. We prayerfully participated in a Día de los Muertos ritual led by Sister Sue Dunning, CSJ where we each named aloud our friends and family who have died and then placed marigolds on the ofrenda. This was followed by a blessing and an anointing of each member of Cobina Posada Del Migrante and of those from the neighborhood who participated. Just as Jesus often did with his friends, we shared a simple meal. Just before we departed, we joyfully watched the children take turns breaking open a piñata.
Throughout the day, as I gazed upon the many encounters, including those I experienced firsthand, especially as I handed out candy to the myriad of children, every exchange was an encounter of love. The love was palpable and overwhelming, a glimpse of heaven at its best. Yet the reality is that this oppressive system of deporting our community members from across the United States, separating them from their families and taking away the life they created for themselves is a systemic structure created out of hate and a disregard for human dignity. A systemic structure that should not exist. I also saw our neighbors share hope and resilience, allowing them to rise above the oppression. As we stand in solidarity against this oppression, may we continue our prayer, advocacy and sharing the positive immigration narratives so that we can give life to their hope and resilience. In the end, hope and resilience will have the final word, just like the resurrection.