Day of the Disappeared

At a time when our government is disappearing too many people, a multifaith gathering met to pray and talk about it.

We walked slowly and quietly from a park in Huntington Station, adjoining St. Hugh of Lincoln Church, to a CVS store where day laborers have routinely gathered to seek work, but now find themselves targeted by the not-so-nICE masked agency that is spreading fear all over the nation. We were on our way to an event for the disappeared.

As we passed one store, a Latina woman who works there came out and thanked each of us as we walked by. A couple of blocks later, a car drove by and the driver yelled out something like “illegal means crime.” It was a stark difference in attitudes, typical of this moment in the so-called land of the free, where millions live in fear and other millions grumble vaguely and ignorantly about deporting the worst of the worst.

It wasn’t hard to figure out which side to be on. The pastor at St. Hugh’s, Father Bob Smith, used to be the pastor of my home parish, and he is a consistent champion of the rights of immigrants. My friend Dick Koubek, of Long Island Jobs with Justice, was one of the organizers of the event. And the person who took the microphone at the start of the walk to explain the plan, then led the program at the CVS, was the Rev. Kate Jones Calone of the Long Island Immigrant Justice Alliance, one of my favorite preachers. So many of the people who gathered yesterday were familiar to me, and I felt surrounded by people seeking justice for our immigrant brothers and sisters.

I can’t repeat every speaker’s remarks, but hearing from a few of them will give you an idea of this event expressing solidarity with immigrants who have become desaparecidos, the disappeared. One of the first speakers at the CVS was Nadia Marin-Molina of the National Day Laborer Organizing Network, who talked about the men who have used the CVS as a place to stand outside in the open and hope that someone will see them and hire them for the day.

“Day laborers are visible,” she said. “Day laborers have to be visible in order to get jobs, and they need to take the risk of being visible, because they need those jobs, and because they need to work, and they need to work, because they need to buy food and they need to pay rent. Without that, we all know, if we don’t pay rent, we get evicted. So they are taking a big risk every single day. Sometimes people ask, why do they keep going? Well, that’s why they keep going, despite the fact that ICE has come to this day laborer corner over and over again and arrested workers over and over again.”

Marin-Molina added that ICE has also showed up to capture day workers at Home Depot stores all over Long Island. “When they come, they’re coming with masks and with guns and surrounding workers very quickly, surrounding workers and beginning to either question them, or not question them, just arrest them—but question them or arrest them without any warrants, without any reasonable cause or suspicion. They’re just targeting them because of who they are, what they look like, and the work that they’re doing. And that is racial profiling. That is a violation of constitutional rights. So we think that when they’re doing that, they’re violating day laborers’ rights, and when they violate day laborers’ rights, they’re violating all of our rights. Any one of us could be walking down the street and for whatever reason, for no reason, be targeted.” So she expressed thanks to those who showed up for the event: “We have a saying, ‘Solo el pueblo salva al pueblo,’ which is, only the people save the people. And this is a beautiful demonstration of that.”

Sister Janet Kinney, director of the Long Island Immigration Clinic, run by the Sisters of St. Joseph of Brentwood, offered a reflection about children whose parents have been taken away. As she spoke, I noticed emotion verging on tears on the faces of several of those in the group.

“We walk today in solidarity with all children who were left behind,” Sister Janet said. “Maribel was deported in error. Her child was left behind. Jorge is only 2 years old. His mother was supposed to be protected from deportation because she had a pending asylum case on appeal, after fleeing years of abuse and torture in her home country.

“But we know that all too often, immigration agents under intense pressure to deport thousands of people each day, make erroneous decisions and on that particular day, Maribel was one of the many workers picked up in a factory raid, and she was deported swiftly. In a mere four days she was in Guatemala.

“Jorge is now cared for by two siblings who are barely adults themselves. Many nights he cries himself to sleep, reaching out for his mama.

“Jorge’s only visits with his mother—now thousands of miles away—are through a cell phone propped up on a kitchen table. She fears he will forget her.

“While Jorge remains with his older brother and sister, most children who are separated from their parents end up in the foster care system, a system which has its own share of problems and is ill equipped and lacks the resources to deal with their trauma of separation.

“Let us remember the countless little Jorges that have been left behind because of the cruel decisions made by our government to separate them from their parents.

“Pope Leo writes, ‘You have in your hands a very great task, to accompany those who need a sign that God never abandons anyone, not the smallest, not the poorest, not the foreigner, not anyone.’

“And so we walk today in accompaniment of these little ones, as witnesses to the injustices of our broken immigration system and to condemn the mass deportations happening in our communities that separate families.

“May the God of infinite compassion hold close in your divine protection these children left behind who are often fearful and afraid. Comfort them in their sorrow, and bring help to them in their time of greatest need. We will continue to walk with them as signs of your hope, so they will never feel alone. Amen.”

Father Bob Smith read a brief section from the special message of the American bishops critical of the mass deportations. And he offered a prayer: “Oh, God, holy and loving, you who look upon all in our human family as your beloved daughters and sons, you who grieve and weep with your children in their sorrows and their sufferings, you whose heart is hungry for justice, be with us, we pray, as we mourn the disappearance, the absence of our neighbors, some known to us by name, others not, but neighbors still. Enliven in us once more the spirit, the wise and tender heart, the steadfast courage of the Samaritan, who recognized even in one who may have seemed at first a stranger, a brother, a sister, a neighbor in need, one who could not be passed by. Help us to remember once again that we in our human family are intimately entwined one with the other, that what befalls one befalls all, that when one of us suffers the sting, the insult, the tragedy of injustice, so all of us suffer the same. Help us to remember what we know in the depths of our hearts, that when even one sister, one brother, one neighbor is taken from us unjustly, the soul of our community is diminished and weakened. As we remember, let us hear the voices of the great prophets of our faith traditions and of our human family, reminding us that the measure of who we are as a community, society, or country, lies in the way that we are present with a heart of compassion—or not—to those among us who suffer wrong, those seen as least or expendable, in the eyes of some. As we remember this day, tomorrow, and next, those gone from our community, let our bonds of unity, solidarity, and intimate connection to one another be strengthened, that we may stand together for justice, wherever and whenever that may be needed. Amen.”

Rev. Canon Marie Tatro, the vicar for community justice ministry of the Episcopal Diocese of Long Island, also offered a prayer: “Send your spirit of strength and resilience upon all of those affected and all of those who are fighting for justice in these unjust times. Amen.” She continued: “Friends, as the holidays approach, there will be empty chairs at our tables. Shattered families will gather, knowing that there are pieces of themselves that are missing, loved ones ripped from their homes, our streets, and ripped from our hearts. They are not forgotten. Say their names.” Cheryl Keshner of the Empire Justice Center produced pieces of poster board with the names of some of those disappeared, and others were invited to step to the microphone and add names. I mentioned one man, the son-in-law of a friend, who has been ripped from his family.

As the event neared its conclusion, Father Bill Brisotti sang a Woody Guthrie song, “Deportee (Plane Wreck at Los Gatos),” based on a 1948 airplane crash near Los Gatos Canyon, California. The dead included four Americans and 28 migrant farm workers who were being deported from California back to Mexico, and Guthrie felt those Mexican passengers were subjected to racist mistreatment before and during the crash.

The gathering happened on a chilly, overcast afternoon on one corner in one town. It will take more than that one event to stop the cruel mass deportation madness. But, as Nadia Marin-Molina said, “Solo el pueblo salva al pueblo.”