Bridging the Border with Pope Francis

Last week as I sat on the levee road along the US-Mexico border fence at Juárez waiting for Pope Francis to arrive, I kept thinking, “how did I get here?” How did I, a Latina who grew up in Idaho, daughter of a Mexican-American mother and Venezuelan father, get to witness our Holy Father pray for migrants at the border?

There are many twists and turns on my path to this riverbank. In some ways, it is circular, bringing me back to the river my maternal ancestors crossed more than two hundred years ago when they left central Mexico, likely traveling through El Paso del Norte in search of a better life. Another curve was added in the late 1970s, when my dad boarded a plane in Venezuela to study English in the United States and arrived in Pocatello, Idaho.

I set the course for myself as an advocate for my community, and immigrants, the day I overcame my quiet, reserved nature to passionately argue with my classmates over California ballot initiative Proposition 187 in my ninth grade current affairs class. Along the way to the levee, I have interviewed, researched, advocated alongside, trained, and even hiked and camped with Latino families and leaders across the country. I carry all of them in my heart, praying and working for the day our brothers and sisters who are considered “undocumented” in this country will be able to proudly call themselves citizens of this country.

Our nation’s journey to join Pope Francis’s prayer for migrants who have lost their lives trying to reach the American Dream has similarly taken many turns. Throughout our history, we have struggled with exploitation of the vulnerable and fully embracing immigrants. In recent months, we appear to be going backwards instead of progressing toward the inclusive, just society we aim to be and claim to be.

I feel angry, powerless, even frightened while witnessing the increasingly extreme anti-immigrant speech and policy proposals coming out of presidential campaigns. As people who walk the same path as my ancestors are called rapists and drug dealers that we must build a wall to keep out, I can’t recall a more intensely anti-immigrant moment in my lifetime.

Cruz del Encuentro at Mile Marker 18 facing Juárez at the levee in El Paso, TX.

As I waited for Pope Francis on the levee road, facing the humble altar at mile marker 18, I struggled with excitement, frustration, and fatigue from a long day. The celebration on the other side of the border looked so close, but we were actually far away, separated by three chain link fences, a wide concrete levee, and numerous Border Patrol agents. My hopes for what it means for the Pope to pray at the border were so high, but realistically I knew it was unlikely to make the kind of difference I wanted. Brenda, a lay leader sitting next to me under the hot sun, wisely observed that our distance, discomfort and disorientation put us — for just a moment — in the shoes of immigrants who live as perpetual outsiders.

View of Pope Francis praying for Migrants in Juárez from the levee road in the U.S.

Over the last two decades, the immigration reform and rights movement has struggled to bring the people at the margins to the forefront of our country’s conscience. But when I look back over this long road, I recognize the many gains that we have made. Our movement is like the crowd sitting at the levee, anticipating how close we are to achieving real change and also seeing the very real hurdles to overcome right in front of us.

At the levee, the sun began to set as we lined up to receive communion, and I finally got a clear view of the altar on the Mexican side of the border and the sea of people in Juárez. We were bridging our physical distance with the practice of our faith, one people in communion with each other. To live our faith at the margins, bearing witness to our belief in love and goodness through Christ, is our power, and what we will need to transform ourselves and our nation.

At the Levee Road: Sara Benitez, Latino Program Director, Faith in Public Life, Sr. Norma Pimentel, Executive Director, Catholic Charities of the Rio Grande Valley, who met Pope Francis last fall, and Brenda Riojas, Communications Dir. Diocese of Brownsville, TX

I walked away from the moment humbled, energized, and challenged to stay “uncomfortable,” to keep weeping and fighting for our brothers and sisters who are demonized by politicians and tormented by our broken immigration system.

Pope Francis’ prayer for migrants, the act of collective grieving, followed by celebrating our faith of hope and peace, was a recognition of the human dignity of migrants and a call to love our neighbors as ourselves.

Let’s build bridges together! Sign up to join Lampedusa USA, a network of people inspired by Pope Francis’ message and example to welcome immigrants.