Finding Our Center At The Border

~ From the very beginning of His life, Jesus knew displacement. Fleeing violence, the Holy Family became immigrants, crossing borders in the dark, relying on the mercy of others, and trusting God to guide them to safety. When we speak about migration today, we are not encountering something foreign to our faith; we are encountering Christ’s own story.
This fall, three of our teens participated in a Solidarity at the Border Pilgrimage to El Paso, Texas with other archdiocesan high school students. The purpose of the pilgrimage was not to debate policy or offer easy answers, but to pray, learn, and encounter, to see the realities of immigration through the lens of Catholic social teaching and the lived experiences of those who call the border home.
During the trip, we hiked Mount Cristo Rey, a place where many migrants cross and a sacred landmark for Catholics in the Southwest. At the summit, we celebrated Mass and prayed words from the liturgy that resonated deeply: “Gather your scattered people.” From that height, the border came into view; two nations separated by steel and wire, yet filled with people whose lives, cultures, and faith looked strikingly familiar on both sides.
Receiving the Eucharist at the top of the mountain was a powerful reminder that we are one Body in Christ. The Eucharist gathers what the world divides. It unites what fear scatters. And yet, when the group descended the mountain, we encountered a stark contrast: railcars carrying tanks being ushered in to further militarize our border. That same militarization later prevented us from attending the Border Mass as originally planned, a Mass meant to unite communities from both sides in shared worship.
Over the course of the pilgrimage, the teens met with immigration attorneys, faith leaders, artists, business owners, and volunteers serving migrants. They listened to stories of families seeking safety, of communities practicing radical hospitality, and of lived faith despite dangerous uncertainties. We attended the Border Mass held as close as possible to the boundary, celebrated with resilience and hope, even when full unity was not allowed.
These experiences raised difficult and holy questions: How do we live as one people when our humanity feels fractured? Where do we place our trust; in force and fear, or in faith and mercy?
I am often heartened by the truth that while nations may claim borders, God claims people. We are a people gathered by God, nourished by the Eucharist, and sent to welcome the stranger. We are called to recognize that strength is not found in isolation, but in collective care.
Our response as Catholics to the immigrant at our door should be approached with grace, gentleness, and rooted in mercy; Spirit led rather than fear based. Our faith asks us not to harden our hearts, but to keep them open, acknowledging the innate human dignity we all possess regardless of our legal status.
As a parish, we are invited into this reflection together on what it means to follow a Savior who was once a refugee, to walk in the Spirit as the hands and feet of Christ with open hearts full of mercy, justice, and love, and stand in solidarity with those at our border.
Experience “Reflejos – El Paso” through January 18th, on display in the church hall. Featuring photographs and reflections from archdiocesan students and chaperones, the exhibit offers a prayerful invitation to encounter life at the U.S.–Mexico border through the eyes of young people who have walked it. On Sunday, January 11, 2026, following the 10:00 a.m. Mass, our teens will share reflections from their pilgrimage. Please join us for this brief program, informal discussion, and an opportunity to view the exhibit together.
May we continue to pray, as we did on the mountain: Lord, gather your scattered people. And may we have the courage to live as though we truly belong to one another.
Throughout the year, we present an article in the bulletin each week on a variety of topics, written by a member of our Parish staff or ministries on a rotating basis.




