The 28th annual Mass at the Border took place on November 1 in El Paso, Texas. This Eucharistic celebration brings together the communities of El Paso, Ciudad Juárez, Mexico, and Las Cruces, New Mexico, to pray for those who have lost their lives attempting to migrate into the United States from the southern border. The other intention of the Mass is for the continuing needs of the migrants.
An experience of juxtaposition
This was my fifth time participating in the Mass, and the experience of the Mass has reflected the signs of the times. The Mass usually takes place on the Rio Grande, with an altar built over the river the morning of the Mass. The Mass is an experience of juxtaposition—the Eucharist, a sacrament of healing and unification through the Body of Christ, being celebrated by the Body of Christ across a border where there is so much division, from the perspective of the U.S. and even within the U.S. around the issue of immigration.
Over the first three years, we would enter through a gate that let us on the other side of “the wall.” Nothing blocked our view of the altar and the Eucharistic celebration. Obviously, on the Mexico side, there is no wall. Last year, the only way to see the altar and celebrate Mass was to look through barbed wire. This was disconcerting, only being able to view the love of Christ as if I were in a war zone, when most people migrating are seeking asylum and safety for themselves and their children.
This year, the Border Mass was celebrated on the inside of “the wall,” not over the Rio Grande. The reason is that, as of April 2, 2025, the land on the other side of the wall along the Rio Grande in the El Paso area is a National Defense Area (NDA), a military installation governed by the Department of Defense. The people of Ciudad Juárez could not join us on the other side of the border. Yet, as Bishop Seitz of El Paso proclaimed at the beginning of Mass, “We will always gather! We will always gather! We will always gather! We will always bring God’s people together, celebrating our unity with our brothers and sisters across any border.” Just as some consider Jesus to be a peaceful rebel, this celebration was an act of peaceful rebellion.
Another juxtaposition between the celebration of the Eucharist and our current reality was during the sign of peace—a moment when we are meant reach out and embrace our sisters and brothers. During this Mass, we could only wave to our Mexican sisters and brothers across the border. The Eucharistic table levels the playing field, welcoming us regardless of our status, country of origin, language or wealth. And yet, we could not walk across the border to embrace or shake hands. In the unifying moment, the gift of the Eucharist clearly showcased the reality of the division caused by humans.
Encounters in the community
The Peace and Justice Office of the Archdiocese of St. Louis organizes this trip for high school students to learn about Catholic Social Teaching, listen to a variety of speakers talk about immigration firsthand, be immersed in the bi-national culture and encounter the beautiful community of El Paso.
On this trip, we heard from Heidi Cerneka, an immigration lawyer, Maryknoll Lay Missionary and an alumna of St. Joseph’s Academy in St. Louis. She gave an overview of immigration law’s history and explained how we end up in the situation we are in today. The Loretto Sisters and Daughters of Charity also joined us and shared how their ministry has changed from serving migrants in shelters to serving migrants in detention centers.
Ruben Garcia, who began Annunciation House, a place of safety and refuge for migrants, told us about Edward who risked his life as a kid to come to the U.S. to work so he could send money home to his family living in abject poverty and was recently deported. He reminded us that when we don’t provide opportunities for people to flourish, God reminds us, “Did you not hear that they were created in my image?”
One evening, we were able to witness Matachines—a traditional, religious dance born from the fusion of Indigenous and Spanish influences in the Americas. The dance is a prayer to God, through their devotion to the Virgin of Guadalupe. Many of the dancers’ movements and steps are in threes, representing the Trinity.
A young gentleman born and raised in El Paso shared his love for his culture and community. As a photographer, he gave us a view of El Paso and the people through a lens of creativity and love. At one point, he used the phrase “undocumented citizen.” I am not sure if that was intentional, and yet, it was perfect because that is what most of our immigrant sisters and brothers truly are.
We also met a local artist, Mask, who paints murals on the side of buildings. He does this as an act of resistance to prevent gentrification. There is a law stating that the artist owns a work of art in public space, so a building cannot be torn down without the artist’s approval.
We hiked up Mount Cristo Rey, owned by the Catholic Church, to the immense image of Christ the King, which faces Ciudad Juárez as an image of hope. We also celebrated Mass on the mountain, looking out over the vastness of God’s beautiful creation.
Encounters such as this provide me the opportunity to stand in solidarity, be present, witness and share the story through the lens of unifying love.
So glad you are representing us at this event! We are with you in prayer and unifying love.
I found Ann’s story of the progressively greater difficulty of neighbors touching neighbors very moving. I am so glad high school students are being encouraged to participate in this kind of event.
My questions to anyone who reads this are, ¿What can we do to make the tragedy of this more visible? ¿What concrete steps might we take now to undo some of this damage?
We are about to celebrate Thanksgiving – a feast that began when indigenous people of North America shared their food with potentially starving, uninvited, immigrant strangers. What about now???