By Therese Fink Meyerhoff
What would it take for you to leave your country of origin? To flee your home on a moment’s notice with only the possessions you can carry. Uproot your family. Leave your job and possibly your profession. Depart without knowing where you would end up. Travel to a country where you don’t know the language, the currency or the customs.
Can you even imagine a situation like that?
For the thousands of people who come to the United States each year, this impossible-to-imagine scenario is real. They do not want to leave their homeland. They flee because of violence or threats of violence. Or they reluctantly conclude they cannot feed, clothe or house their children because the economy of their home country is too unstable. They are desperate.
Journeying hundreds of miles through jungles and deserts is not anyone’s first choice. It is an act of desperation – and of hope. The hope of finding freedom and safety in the United States. The same hope that has always brought immigrants to this land.
Ministry on the Border
I recently visited the Jesuits of Del Camino Jesuit Border Ministries, based in Brownsville, Texas, whose mission is to provide pastoral and sacramental care to migrants on both sides of the U.S.-Mexico border. The community of five includes three priests and a Jesuit regent, plus a novice missioned for a three-month apostolic assignment. Their weekly schedule includes visits to migrant camps and shelters in Reynosa and Matamoros, Mexico, as well as in McAllen and Brownsville, Texas.
The Jesuits work closely with other religious and non-governmental organizations who help meet other needs of this vulnerable group of people. It is a ministry of accompaniment. This work has always been challenging, but it has grown ever more difficult since January 20, 2025, Inauguration Day.
Since January 2023, migrants wanting to enter the United States were required to apply for appointments using the CBP One app. So, northern Mexico became the penultimate stop for people journeying from throughout Central and South America. Many stayed in shelters and camps, some for months on end. They were following U.S. legal requirements.
On January 20, the presidential administration shut down the CBP One app process. All appointments for the ensuing days were summarily canceled and no new appointments were offered, effectively locking down access to the country.
“Currently, there is no legal entry point at the southern border for migrants. Everyone is being turned away,” said Fr. Brian Strassburger, SJ, who has been in Brownsville since shortly after his ordination in June 2021. “There is no way to approach a port of entry to claim asylum without a U.S. visa or passport.”
Asylum, a right protected by United States law since at least 1948, has effectively been eliminated.
By executive order, the nation built by immigrants has closed its doors to the tired, the poor, the “huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”
What have we become?
Migrants who were in shelters awaiting interviews now must decide what to do. Most cannot return to their home countries; life was intolerable there. Many have lost everything to kidnappers or thieves along the way. They don’t have two pairs of shoes, let alone essential documents like a birth certificate or passport. Few countries in the world welcome immigrants, so it is not a simple matter of remaining in Mexico or moving to a Central or South American country.
What are they to do? What would you do?
“It is very hard,” says Fr. Flavio Bravo, SJ, one of the four Jesuits assigned to Del Camino Jesuit Border Ministries. “The situation is changing every day. The mood in the camps has changed; people are losing hope, the one thing they still had left.”
Father Robensen Siquitte, SJ, agreed. “People are losing hope,” he said. “They look to us for help. We can’t help them get into the United States, but we can be with them.”
Originally from Haiti, Fr. Siquitte is a member of the Jesuits Canada Province. He joined the Jesuit community in Brownsville this year to help minister especially to Haitians fleeing the violence in that country, but his proficiency in multiple languages enables him to connect with migrants from around the world.
It is not only asylum that has been eliminated under the new presidential administration. Federal funding for aid programs has been cut, funding that other organizations on the border depend on to provide food and shelter to people who have nothing. Many have had to discontinue services.
“More than ever, we continue to stay focused on sacramental and pastoral accompaniment,” Fr. Bravo said. “The fact that there are five of us assigned to this ministry says a lot about our work. There is a need for our ministry. If we were an aid organization, we’d be scrambling,”
Sheltering the Least of Our Brothers
Casa del Migrante, operated by the Daughters of Charity in Reynosa, is one organization impacted by the funding cuts. The shelter is on the losing end of a domino effect: As the nonprofits that support the shelter lose federal funding, they can no longer continue their support for the shelter.
Casa del Migrante is in the “safer” part of Reynosa – a relative term, since the U.S. State Department advises against travel to Reynosa because of crime and the threat of kidnapping by cartels. Casa del Migrante is surrounded by a fence and is among the most comfortable of the migrant shelters on the border. Intended primarily for families, it has a dormitory for men and a separate one for women and children. There are bathroom facilities, showers and a laundry area. The shelter provides meals, and there is a donations closet with diapers and clothing. Children can attend classes when volunteer teachers come to the shelter. The migrants who stay are expected to help with the cleaning and cooking. On the day I visited, there were 47 men, 24 women and lots of children.
The Jesuits of Del Camino Jesuit Border Ministries visit the shelter twice a week to celebrate Mass and console the people staying there.
Faces light up when the Jesuits arrive at the shelter. Otherwise shy children scramble for attention. Father Bravo makes a circuit of the shelter greeting everyone, listening to what they want to share and calling out a cheery “Ven a misa!” – “Come to Mass!” And come they do! People of all ages – and all faith traditions – enthusiastically participate in the Catholic Mass. When the children are invited to offer their petitions, they jostle in line as kids do everywhere. Then every one of them asks for prayers for “mi familia” – “my family.”
Please pray for these families.
“They teach us a lot about faith,” Fr. Bravo says. “For many, it is their faith that gets them through each day.”
The Jesuits of Del Camino Jesuit Border Ministries have a tradition of doing a roll call of sorts before Mass, calling out the names of countries to see which are represented by the people in the camp that day. People from Venezuela, Honduras, El Salvador and Haiti were there in January, but migrants from Mexico, Guatemala, Ecuador and Colombia are also common.
While Frs. Siquitte and Bravo and Regent Joe Nolla remained at Casa del Migrante, Fr. Strassburger and Novice Jackson Graham journeyed to Senda 2, a more remote camp consisting of a concrete wall surrounding old baseball fields. The migrants inside the camp live in one of the basic four-wall dorms with tin roofs, or inside camping tents exposed to the elements. Migrants at Senda 2 don’t leave the shelter because they don’t want to risk being kidnapped by the local cartels. They look forward to the Jesuits’ arrival twice a week to bring humanitarian aid and celebrate the Mass.
“Who is my neighbor?”
After a morning in Reynosa, the five Jesuits visited the Humanitarian Respite Center (HRC), operated by Catholic Charities Rio Grande Valley in McAllen, Texas. The HRC provides transitional shelter and food for migrants who arrive after being processed and released by U.S. Customs and Border Protection. They stay at the HRC as they arrange transportation to other parts of the country, typically to join family.
Throughout the past year, the HRC was serving 200-300 men, women and children each day. On the day we visited, there were nine, evidence of the total closure of the U.S. border. Somewhat incongruously, given what I witnessed in Reynosa that morning, among the nine were women from the Congo and England, and an Indian family who had entered the United States from Canada and were flown to south Texas by U.S. Customs and Border Protection.
Are only strangers from select backgrounds welcome in our country?
The following day, we visited the Pumarejo Shelter in Matamoros, Mexico, just across the border from Brownsville. The morning unfolded in a similar manner, with jubilant greetings for the Jesuits and a joyful celebration of the Eucharist.
In each shelter, the migrants were thrilled and grateful to receive the rosaries, blankets and other items we brought, even the stocking caps, despite the 80+ degree temperatures. For those who have nothing, any gift is precious.
Another precious gift: “When we come, they gather,” Fr. Bravo says. “We help create community; that is something we can do for them.”
I visited the camps as an observer rather than a minister but was touched by the kind welcome I received. There are few times in a lay Catholic’s life when they are applauded during the Mass! Everyone wanted to wish me la paz during the sign of peace. I find it hard to imagine how my own prayer for peace for them will be answered in the current environment, but I persist.
I was struck by the incredible vulnerability of these people. They have so little in terms of possessions. Many have lost their homes and their families. They survive on rice and beans and the kindness of strangers. (On the day we visited the Matamoros shelter, there wasn’t even any drinking water. A temporary situation, we hope.)
They cling to their faith. They trust in God. And they hope. And now, with the border closed, they are losing even their hope.
These strangers are our brothers and sisters. They have dignity and value. They are poor and victimized. They are not criminals; seeking a better life is not a crime. And our country responds to their desperation by locking the doors and turning a blind eye to their needs.
It is shameful.
How do we respond?
The Jesuits of Del Camino Jesuit Border Ministries persevere in their challenging ministry. They will continue to accompany the least of our brothers, offering the Word and the Bread of Life. They will go wherever the migrants gather in order to meet their spiritual needs.
“What we are doing still matters,” said Nolla, who is in his second year of ministry on the border. “What is happening right now hurts. It hurts a lot. But we are here to accompany them. There is value in bearing witness.”
If you feel called to help these most vulnerable of our brothers and sisters, we encourage you to learn more about Del Camino Jesuit Border Ministries at delcamino.org. Get regular updates on their work and hear the stories of migrants by subscribing to The Jesuit Border Podcast.
Donate to support Del Camino Jesuit Border Ministries at bit.ly/support-migrants.
