How Can We Turn Away?

August 28, 2019

How can we turn away from the faces of the children, faces bearing hunger, faces bearing pain?
Who will feed their hungers and comfort all their pain?
Tell me, is it you? Is it I? And when will we?

Lyrics: Faces of the Children by Sister Kathy Sherman, CSJ

by Sister Donna Gunn

It was this headline that caught my attention: “Massive Raids of Immigrants in Mississippi.” Since I spent 18 wonderful years ministering with the people there as Director of Parish Social Ministry for the Jackson diocese, anything Mississippi would catch my eye. I worked in all those towns, in all those parishes with all those lovely people who are now being separated from their families.

I lived in Canton, one of the towns that was raided. There is a chicken plant on the edge of town. Have you ever toured a chicken plant? The first thing you do is put on boots because you will be wading through so much blood. I won’t get more descriptive—just know that the good people who worked there were doing a job few Americans would do. They did it because it was the promise of a better life. Now separated from their families, who knows what will happen?

How can we turn away from the faces of the children…

In my years there, I was witness to racial profiling. Arbitrary road blocks were set up. Police yanked immigrants from their cars, patting down both men and women in intrusive ways. Children would be crying hysterically because they were so frightened by the sudden invasion into their family’s life. Some of these raids resulted in the arrest of the family bread winner, leaving behind wives and mothers -- many unable to speak English. Incapable of entering the job market and unable to feed their children, several confided they were forced into prostitution. The domino effect of one sin piled upon another weighs heavy on my conscience.

…faces bearing hunger, faces bearing pain?

I would attend Mass with these good people. After worshiping with them, I realized even more that they are not strangers from another land. They are not “them.” They are my brothers and sisters. We sat in the same pew, walked up the same aisle. We took the host together and drank from the same cup. I have been fed by their delicious food, touched by their kindness, healed by their understanding and inspired by their courage.

Who will feed their hungers and comfort all their pain?

I watch the news and weep. I feel as if my family is being torn apart; the children in my family are being taken from their parents. I cannot help but think of my grandmother who came to this country from Ireland as a teenager. Often told, “Irish need not apply,” she worked as a domestic, raised a family and taught them not to take this country for granted but to give back whenever possible. Since we all come from immigrants, I imagine many of us can boast the same.

Tell me, is it you? Is it I?

I am not alone. Sisters of St. Joseph and associates have worked in immigrant communities, gone to our southern border, and reached out to help those traumatized by fear. After all, isn’t this what it means to be Christian? No sides. No agendas. We are Christ in the world, living his mission: “All are welcome at my table.”

And when will we?

Although I am no longer in Mississippi, I know it does not excuse me from “being there.” The work of the Christian is to be present, available and aware, on fire for the other because together, we are the Body of Christ. Together, we can be the steady face of a loving God. Will you consider joining us by making a gift?

Look into the depth of your soul. Where do you see tomorrow?
It’s in the minds and hearts and faces of the children.
So, let us join as one for the sake of the children,
Children wanting us to hope and needing us to care.
Who will make a difference in the future of the Earth?
Tell me, is it you? Is it I? And when will we?