immigration

Giving Up for Lent

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

Recently I read, “This Lent I’m just going to give up.” It was written tongue in cheek and intended to be humorous, but it struck a different chord in me.

Some Catholics feel tremendous pressure to “give up” something to honor Jesus’ ultimate sacrifice. Or to “do something” honorable or charitable or extra-holy. It doesn’t do me much good to have ashes smeared on my forehead and then turn a blind eye to the mistreatment and suffering of so many in our nation.

Most of us needn’t go back more than a few generations to find ancestors who immigrated to the United States. In my own family we are descendants of fur traders who journeyed from France to Canada and ultimately to the Midwest around the time of the Revolutionary War, as well as Germans seeking political refuge in the 19th century. Some came seeking fortune and wealth. Some were fleeing poverty, political injustice, or religious persecution.

In November 2000 the U.S. Catholic bishops published “Welcoming the Stranger Among Us: Unity in Diversity”.  The document states, “The presence of so many people of so many different cultures and religions in so many different parts of the United States has challenged us as a Church to a profound conversion so that we can become truly a sacrament of unity. We reject the anti-immigrant stance that has become popular in different parts of our country, and the nativism, ethnocentricity, and racism that continue to reassert themselves in our communities.”

That was over 25 years ago and still many in my parish community consider immigrants as dangerous and undeserving and unwanted. Seldom, if ever, does any message come from the pulpit in regard to welcoming the stranger among us. Rarely is there any acknowledgment of the brutal treatment by our government of immigrants and our responsibility as Catholic Christians to open our hearts and minds to our sisters and brothers. Our clergy often preach that we should be pro-life but usually that seems to only mean pro-birth. Welcoming those fleeing for their very lives is apparently too messy to deal with, let alone to preach about. Our congressman, a Roman Catholic, has built his career on hateful misogynic rhetoric and our local Church leaders remain silent.

Fortunately, I have great friends and spiritual advisers who understand that God’s love for us is indeed for ALL OF US. They are examples of unconditional love. They are models of true Christianity. I find hope and strength in their presence. Their actions speak louder than words. And their songs fill my heart.

Often the work of true Christians is done quietly; humbly, with little fanfare. We can continue to pray, but it’s time to make some noise. We need to put our words into action. We need to care for the poor and welcome strangers. We need to put those in power on notice. We need to comfort those wounded by their draconian policies. We must remember that all life is precious.

Speaking up and speaking out might be risky and more of a sacrifice than giving up chocolate or alcohol or saying extra prayers this Lenten Season, but I refuse to give up, and I refuse to be silent.

Peace,

Denis

Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or ill or in prison, and not minister to your needs? Matthew 25:44

Fragile

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

In 2023 I spent last week in McAllen, Texas at our southern border. I volunteered at the Humanitarian Respite Center which is affiliated with Catholic Charities of the Rio Grande Valley. Staffed by dedicated personnel as well as volunteers and supported by donations, the center provided a place for the countless refugees and asylum seekers, who entered our country legally, to rest, have a meal, a change of clothes, and receive medicine and other supplies. Most families were at the center only 24 hours before continuing on their journey into the United States.

On the third day I met a young girl from Honduras who captured my heart. She was likely not aware of the gravity of her situation. I suspect that she didn’t realize that they were literally running for their lives. She was traveling with her mother who was fleeing violence and death threats in her native country. They didn’t want to leave their home but felt they had no choice. The mother was fiercely protective of her daughter and was willing to leave everything she knew behind to provide a safe home for her daughter. Who amongst us wouldn’t sacrifice all we have for our children? Still, this sweet girl seemed undaunted by the circumstances in which she and her mother found themselves. Did she not understand that her life was about to be profoundly changed? Did she know that she would possibly never return to her home? I suppose her mother had explained in a child’s understanding what was happening. They would be struggling to make a new home in a foreign place with likely unfriendly people, but the little girl seemed as if she was on a pleasant journey to a magical place. I learned her name was Ana which further tugged at my heart because my own beautiful granddaughter is named Anna.

Ana tried to teach me Spanish while I attempted to teach her some English. She was the better teacher. Her joy was contagious, and she had no trace of sadness in her little being. Her mother was being brave for her daughter and held back tears when I spoke with her privately about their ordeal. Her only concern was Ana. “Mi preciosa hija” she said over and over again. And she was precious indeed. She wanted nothing other than to be with her mother and share her love with those of us around her. The name Ana means “grace” and she certainly graced us all with her presence.

I often wonder what has happened to the people that I briefly served in McAllen. Did they make it to their host families? Have they found sustainable employment? Have they navigated the immigration courts successfully? Have been treated with compassion or dealt with cruelly? Have they missed a step in the immigrations process due to misunderstanding or miscommunication? Are they languishing in some detention center?

I pray that they have found safety, security and peace. I pray that Ana is thriving. And that she is still laughing, singing and teaching some old guy a few words of Spanish. God, please watch over her!

Peace,

Denis

Bienvenido

/ Denis Wilhelm / 3 Comments

I spent last week in McAllen, Texas at our southern border. I volunteered at the Humanitarian Respite Center which is affiliated with Catholic Charities of the Rio Grande Valley. Staffed by dedicated personnel as well as volunteers and supported by donations, the center provides a place for the countless refugees and asylum seekers, who have entered our country legally, to rest, have a meal, a change of clothes, and receive medicine and other supplies. Most families are at the center only 24 hours before continuing on their journey into the United States. They travel by plane or bus to their host family destinations.

There is so much reported on cable news shows about the “crisis” at the border that I wanted to see it for myself. I did and I am changed. The people that we served were refugees seeking asylum. The United Nations 1951 Convention and 1967 Protocol define a refugee as a person who is unable or unwilling to return to his or her home country, and cannot obtain protection in that country, due to past persecution or a well-founded fear of being persecuted in the future “on account of race, religion, nationality, membership in a particular social group, or political opinion.” I was overwhelmed by the need, but even more so by the gratitude and love shared from those we served. Each small act of kindness was followed by countless “gracias”.

I traveled with my friend Bob, who is veteran of service at the Respite Center. I’m certain I would not have survived without Bob’s tutelage. We stayed at a hotel in San Juan, Texas which is next door to a beautiful Basilica which reminded me of The Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City and provided meditation, prayer and worship with a mariachi band thrown in for good measure. I was feeling anxious about my poor Spanish skills and reached out to my friend Alberto in Mexico. He assured that if I just said “bienvenido” my actions would speak the rest. He was right! (Alberto mi hermano te amo)

Sometimes you just have to jump into the deep end headfirst. And I did. On Day One we served lunch to about 75 persons. The Haitians would thank us with “gracias” although clearly not their native tongue. There was one little girl about 2 or 3 who would shyly smile at me every time we met. I wanted to squeeze her and tell her that all would be alright but who knows? Walking a man to the bus station, he thanked me for my kindness and then he put his arm around me and took a selfie of us. Smiles all around! I was touched by an angel.

On Day Two we met a young man (probably a teenager) who needed his knees bandaged and was all alone. We learned that he had been abducted by a gang and had somehow escaped. No way to know what he had endured. A little boy named David about 6 years old asked me to throw a paper airplane. We played for at least 30 minutes. His joy was contagious. It was like playing whiffle ball with my grandson Noah. He asked my name and thanked me. His grin was from ear to ear.

Day Three was much busier. 300+ people served. We served families from Cuba, Guatemala, Ecuador, Venezuela, Haiti, China, Colombia, El Salvador, Honduras, and Chile. “Mucho gracias” from every smiling face. Parents looked exhausted. Kids were always ready to play. Highlight of the day was meeting Sr. Norma Pimentel. She is the Executive Director of Catholic Charities in the Rio Grande Valley and the founder of the HRC. She was named one of Time’s Most Influential People in 2020. She was so down-to-earth and so welcoming. Later that day, I attempted to help a man from China get cash for his taxi ride to the airport. We tried several things but to no avail. I was relieved to learn the following morning that somehow, he was successful.

Day Four was another very busy start to the day. We ran out of Pedialyte and baby bottles but a volunteer family from Kansas went and bought some more. Often as supplies are depleted, they miraculously reappear. I filled two emergency clothing orders. One was a family with a 2-year-old boy and a 3 three-year-old girl. I found a brand-new outfit for the girl. The mother couldn’t stop thanking me. Another mother had an 18-month-old who was completely naked. I gave him more than I was supposed to. This one brought me to tears. A woman prayed for the longest time at the image of Our Lady of Guadeloupe. Perhaps she was praying for a better life or thanking God for getting her this far.

On Day Five a little girl from Honduras tried to teach me Spanish while I tried to teach her English. She was the better student. We had some late arrivals that day. Managed to get them settled in and served a late lunch. A little girl who suffered a seizure was taken to the hospital as we were leaving that night.

On my last day we delivered 35 meals to the Siesta Inn, a hotel that is housing men traveling alone and anyone who had tested positive for Covid-19 (yes, it’s still out there for the unvaccinated). I put together care packages of toiletries and I packed lunches for air or bus travel.

Each day as the immigrants arrived, I remembered my “Bienvenido” and each day as they departed, I offered a “Via con Dios.” I prayed every night their journeys might bring them safely to a new life. I will continue to pray for each of them as I see their faces in my mind. I wonder if they are well and welcomed.

During each day there were plenty of “Que necesitas?” And as I struggled with each request, I was supported by some of the most amazing volunteers that I have ever met. Of course, I am blessed to know my good friend (and traveling companion) Bob. Also blessed by, Lara, Philip, Cecilia, Pat and Mary: all local volunteers, Joe from Notre Dame, Nick from D.C, Julie from Kansas, and Dan from Colorado, Father Patrick Russell, the students and administrators from Saint Dominic High School in my hometown, the Jesuits who said mass on Tuesday and Thursday at the Center, and countless others. They gave of themselves effortlessly, with compassion and joy. They were truly the hands and feet of Christ. I am humbled by their witness.

I pray that these weary travelers we served were offered a glimmer of hope and a glimpse of heaven.

Bienvenido – thanks for the advice, Alberto! It served me well.

Peace,

Denis

O Come O Come Emmanuel

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

Tomorrow is the first Sunday of Advent; the beginning of our preparation for the Christ-Child. Last night, my wife was playing ‘O Come, O Come Emmanuel’ on the piano. That beautiful, haunting and hopeful hymn that has always been part of my life touched my heart again this year.

O come, O come Emmanuel and ransom captive Israel; that mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appear

Lonely exile. These two words keep playing in head. I can’t help but think of the immigrants and asylum seekers that Deb served at our southern border earlier this year. I’m sure many of them felt lonely during their exile. The stories that she has shared of her experience are heart breaking and yet somehow still hopeful. Our hymn, though mournful, reminds us that God is coming to set us free. In our longing and waiting we have hope. These desperate souls, that were welcomed in McAllen, Texas had hope: Hope of a better life; hope of safety; home of a new home. What my wife and the other volunteers offered was kindness and dignity.

Make safe the way that leads on high; And close the path to misery.

I pray that these less fortunate souls have found their respite. I pray that they have continued to be welcomed by strangers and have found HOME. The people that my wife served didn’t want to leave their homelands but had no choice. The violence and persecution they endured was unimaginable. And still they endured. They needed an end to their misery. Hope was all many of them had left.

To us the path of knowledge show; And teach us in her ways to go

It’s easy for me to turn a blind eye to the suffering in our world. I cozy up to my comforts and toss a few coins in the Salvation Army can at my local grocery store. I pray for those less fortunate because I know that there is immense suffering in our world, our nation, our state, our community but I fail to take the time learn the systemic causes of this injustice. I make a few donations and I shed a tear for the atrocities I see on the television or read about in the news but that isn’t enough. During Advent I will recommit myself to knowledge. As someone living with privilege because of my race and gender I must recommit myself to social justice for all.

O come, Desire of nations, bind in one the hearts of all humankind; Bid thou our sad divisions cease, And be thyself our Prince of Peace.

The problems in our world can feel overwhelming at times, but the words of this hymn give me hope. During this busy holiday season, when I feel overwrought, I can slow down and listen and re-listen to ‘O Come, O Come Emmanuel’. Our salvation is at hand. Rejoice! Rejoice! All humankind can be changed. All humankind can find peace. I’m going to begin with me. It may not be easy but most things worth having are not easily obtained. I must fight for justice, pray for wisdom, work for peace, and love beyond measure.

And cheer us by your drawing nigh; disperse the gloomy clouds of night; And death’s dark shadows put to flight.

May you find love, joy, comfort, but mostly peace in this Advent season.

Peace,

Denis

Silence Isn’t Always Golden

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

In November 2000 the U.S. Catholic bishops published “Welcoming the Stranger Among Us: Unity in Diversity”  The document states, “The presence of so many people of so many different cultures and religions in so many different parts of the United States has challenged us as a Church to a profound conversion so that we can become truly a sacrament of unity. We reject the anti-immigrant stance that has become popular in different parts of our country, and the nativism, ethnocentricity, and racism that continue to reassert themselves in our communities.”

two-parties-still-not-attempting-real-immigration-reform-90054-560x315That was nearly nineteen years ago and still many in my parish community consider immigrants as dangerous and undeserving and unwanted. Seldom, if ever, does any message come from the pulpit in regards to welcoming the stranger among us. Rarely is there any acknowledgment of the crisis at our southern border and our responsibility as Catholic Christians to open our hearts and minds to our sisters and brothers. Our clergy often preaches that we should be pro-life but usually that only means pro-birth. Caring for those already born seems to be less important. Welcoming those fleeing for their very lives is apparently too messy to deal with, let alone to even preach about.

Of course, some in our Church have taken a stance against the immigration policies of the current administration. In January of this year Cardinal Tobin stated,“These men, women and children are neither numbers, nor criminal statistics, but flesh and blood people with their own stories and histories. Most are fleeing human misery and brutal violence that threatens their lives. False and fear-filled caricatures seek to provoke a sort of amnesia that would have this great nation deny our roots in immigrants and refugees.” 

And much good has come from the service of religious and lay volunteers at our southern border; offering respite and hope to those fleeing violence and persecution.

Still my parish priests remain mostly silent on this issue. This past weekend at Mass the silence was nearly deafening. The shooting and killing of innocent people in El Paso, Texas was not even mentioned. The hate and fear espoused by our current administration and echoed in the manifesto written by the domestic terrorist seems to be conveniently ignored by the politically conservative in our clergy. No prayers were offered for the victims of the mass shootings or their families. Instead we heard a homily about vanity and curbing our social media usage. Hollow words in light of the horrific events in Gilroy, El Paso and Dayton.

Fortunately, I have great friends and spiritual advisers who understand that God’s love for us is indeed for ALL OF US. They are examples of unconditional love. They are models of true Christianity. I find hope and strength in their presence. Their actions speak louder than words. And their songs fill my heart.

In his book “Eight Whopping Lies” Brian Doyle writes, “There are two Catholic Churches, one a noun the other a verb, one a corporation and the other a wild idea held in the hearts of millions of people who are utterly disinterested in authority and rules and regulations, and very interested indeed in finding ways to walk through the bruises of life with grace and humility.”

I belong to the “verb” Church. It’s time to make some noise; to demand realistic gun control legislation; to welcome strangers. And to comfort those wounded by the words and actions of those in power.

Peace,

Denis

Love in Action

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

My wife Debbie, encouraged by our friend Bob, recently spent 10 days at the Mexican border serving immigrants and asylum seekers. When Bob returned to The Humanitarian Respite Center in McAllen, Texas, after having been there in December, she joined him. The Center is supported by Catholic Charities of The Rio Grande Valley. She wasn’t there to make a political statement or to judge – only to serve.

The Center offers legal refugees an opportunity to bathe, get clean clothes, a quick meal and to contact their sponsors in the U.S. after being processed through Border Patrol. Many of these people have traveled great distances and under extreme conditions to arrive safely in the United States. Deb had no idea what she would be doing when she got there, but on day two she was put in charge of the kitchen.

Kitchen PrayerIt turns out that as she was feeding their bodies, they were feeding her soul. She spent most days chopping potatoes, carrots, onions, or whatever was donated. She made soups or stews to feed the families. The first day she was making fruit salad and serving it in tiny Dixie cups. One of the regular volunteers told her that she was filling the cups too full and there wouldn’t be enough for everyone. It brought her to tears as these people were starving and she was only able to serve a very small portion. When she cried, the other volunteer also cried. Deb says they held on to one another for the longest time and sobbed. She also tells me that because they served several hundred people each day they would nearly run out of water, bread, vegetables or fruit, but then there would be a knock at the door and whatever was needed would appear – truly God’s blessings.

She says, “Overwhelming is an understatement. These are beautiful people and grateful for the smallest thing. Each day I was bone-tired and an emotional wreck but couldn’t wait to return the next day.”

Some of her stories from her time at The Center are heartbreaking: the child separated from her parents; the young pregnant woman so exhausted and yet so grateful for a late-night meal; the old man who said that he cried himself to sleep while in detention; the mother who considered the “coyote” she paid to help her on her journey, a good man because he hadn’t raped her or her daughter.

But every day was also filled with joyful moments: the many ‘gracias’ she received for the simplest gift of food or drink; the little boy who ran to Deb and hugged her; the other volunteers who welcomed her; the man who told her that she had a loving heart and beautiful soul and that he would remember her forever; the reunion of the little girl who had been separated from her parents; our dear friend Bob who “carried her” through each day.

Every evening Deb left the Center exhausted and yet thankful for being given an opportunity to serve; to be able to put her love into action. At night she would often lie in bed praying for the asylum seekers and hoping they found their way “home” and she would recall the words from a ‘Kitchen Prayer’ that her grandmother gave her many years ago: “…Make me a saint by getting meals and washing up the plates. Although I must have Martha’s hands, I have a Mary mind. And when I black the boots and shoes, Thy sandals Lord I find…”

We all need heroes in our lives. I’m blessed to be married to mine.

Peace,

Denis

A Nation of Immigrants

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

For most of us we needn’t go back more than a few generations to find ancestors who immigrated to the United States.

In my own family we are descendants of fur traders who journeyed from France to Canada and ultimately to the Midwest around the time of the Revolutionary War, as well as Germans seeking political refuge and Welsh miners and laborers escaping possible starvation in the 19th century. Some came seeking fortune and wealth. Some were fleeing poverty, political injustice, or religious persecution. All came hoping for a better life.

In the 18th and 19th centuries when our nation’s economy needed foreign labor, my great-grandparents and great-great grandparents (and many other immigrants) provided it. Most of them suffered great hardships yet they built lives and in turn they served their new homeland. They worked hard. They built homes. They built churches. They raised families. They built our nation. They built a better life for the generations who followed.

Today our nation’s economy still demands foreign labor, yet there are insufficient visas to meet this demand and a political climate that denigrates immigrants. Close family members of U.S. citizens and lawful permanent residents face unreasonably long separations, due to backlogs of available visas. U.S. immigration laws and policies need to be changed. Today’s immigrants are also hoping for that better life that we take for granted.

immigrant familyWhy do we often label those who are seeking asylum as villainous? Why do we disregard the humanity at our borders as pawns in some political game?  Why do we only see danger, terror, and suspicion in those searching for a better life?

There may have been some who were frightened by my 13 year-old great-grandmother when she immigrated to the U.S. alone in the late 1800’s. She spoke no English. She had no marketable skills. She had nothing to offer. Nevertheless, she persisted. She found a better life for my grandfather, my father and ultimately me.

The next time we think of immigrants as non-persons or some problem that we wish would go away, we should remember that for most of us it was only a generation or so ago that we were in their shoes. And how much better is our nation because our forebears crossed that border?

Let’s be a nation that welcomes our sisters and brothers.

Peace,

Denis

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Will I Know Him When He Comes?

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

“If Jesus visited me, what would I be able to give Him?” That was the question of the old shoemaker in Tolstoy’s story. The response came back to him from a voice not present, “Dear old shoemaker, tonight I am going to visit your village. Look for Me.”

Of course as the story goes on we learn that the shoemaker is visited by orphans and widows looking for shelter and food. The shoemaker gives to each who approach him. He even shares the soup he has prepared for Jesus. He goes even further by making shoes for children in the orphanage. But ultimately he is disappointed because Jesus does not come.

When he questions God, he is told “I visited you last night and you gave me warmth. I was thirsty and you gave me a drink. I was hungry and you fed me, and I was in the orphanage and you came to visit me. Whatever you did for all these people, you also did for me.”

I wonder, do I serve others as would choose to serve my Lord? Do I have the same spirit of generosity and love for those whom I don’t know? Do I fail to recognize Christ in my fellow humans?

adventcandlesAdvent is a good time for me to stop and listen to what Jesus is asking of me. I try to quiet myself and listen to what is truly important. Mostly I fail. But sometimes Jesus shines through. Sometimes my heart is broken open enough to allow the love of God to fill my soul. The love is always there but often it takes a smile or a kind word or a song or a warm embrace to help me let down my defenses. Last weekend my granddaughter gently put her arm around me and told me (again) that she loved me. Christ came to me at that moment. I didn’t even ask for God’s love and there it was!

I have a dear friend who is volunteering at a Humanitarian Center serving immigrants from Central America as I write this. I can’t help but believe that he has been visited by Jesus countless times. And he has been Christ to those families who are in such desperate need of love and care. He is an inspiration to me.

O come, O come Emmanuel. This year when I hear this ancient and beautiful song, my heart is with those immigrant families mourning in lonely exile until the Son of God appears.

Peace,

Denis

 

Hope Is Still Alive!

/ Denis Wilhelm / 3 Comments

Last week my 8 year-old granddaughter said, “My friends at school say that President Trump is going to build a wall around Mexico.” “Pawpaw, does that mean you can’t go to your office in Mexico City anymore?” “Or if you go there, you won’t be able to come home?”

anna-meNot exactly sure how to explain the situation to her, I said, “No Anna, it means something different.” I told her that I would be fine and my friends and work-mates from Mexico could still visit here. My words seemed hollow and I could see the fear in her eyes and felt certain that my explanation fell short of reassuring her.

Fear. What an ugly experience. And now, so many are living in fear. Fear of deportation. Fear of being denied immigration. Fear of separation from loved ones. Fear of banishment. Fear of death.

What about the fear of terrorism? Fear of unknown or unwanted persons who could do harm to our nation; our cities; our homes. Do we build walls and create borders and more restrictions to keep out anyone who is deemed a threat? And what is the criteria for exclusion? Religion? Skin color? Language? Dress? Who decides?

I think of my own great-grandmother who made the perilous journey alone from her homeland, at only thirteen years of age, to build a better life for herself. My very existence depended on her acceptance into this great nation. Today because of her lack of education and inability to prove herself worthy of finding gainful employment, she would doubtless be denied access.

How can I have hope for a future that seems so dismal? How do I tell my beautiful granddaughter that her unbridled love and pureness of heart may not be enough to cure the evils of this world? I can’t. I won’t.

I need her to believe that good conquers evil; that justice is for all; that hope is still alive. And I will follow her example by loving without question and always looking for good in everyone. I will pray, not just for my friends but for my enemies as well. I will stand up for those who can no longer stand. I will speak for those who no longer have a voice. I will fight racism and sexism at every opportunity. I will respect ALL life.

And I will face another day. A better day. Hope is still alive. I know this because Anna tells me so, without ever speaking a word.

Peace,

Denis