As a young priest in Denver, Colorado, I was once asked to accompany a family at the graveside of their infant son, who had died during childbirth. I knew only that they were Spanish-speaking and that I would need to perform the ritual in Spanish. I met the family at the small grave; they were a young couple with a four-year-old daughter. No other friends or family were present, which told me that they were recently arrived immigrants. They were poor and alone.

The four of us prayed amid the vast expanse of green lawn and white stone. During this time I wondered how they had come, how they had made such a difficult journey with a little girl and the mother pregnant. When we finished, I asked them, and they told me, "Corriendo, Padre" ("We came running, Father").

They came running from poverty and hopelessness toward a dream of security and future promise. In their journey they experienced the loss of family and social relations, the loss of church support and familiar religious expressions. And now they had experienced the death of their infant son. They had risked much to make a journey that they believed would help them care for their children. They still had their daughter, and I'm sure they continued their journey to make a life in this new country.

This family's story reveals a deeper reality that has remained invisible to the eyes of most people. The physical, emotional, and spiritual scars often experienced by immigrants, and felt most acutely by the poor, are not seen or known by the rest of the population. They come uninvited, in a certain sense, and are often unwelcome upon arrival. The experience of this family is truly one of flight—flight from danger (poverty, joblessness, and so on) toward safety (economic security). For the vast majority of poor immigrants, it is a journey of survival.

A Catholic vision of immigration must attend to these hidden realities. Immigration has always been an important issue, but even more so today when the issue is being discussed in Congress and around the country in small towns and large cities. Vision forms opinion, and a Catholic vision of immigration contributes elements missing from the current debate on this issue: the overriding dignity of the human person and our communal responsibility to guard that dignity, especially of the poor and vulnerable of society.

Let's imagine a Catholic vision of immigration marking a path for us. Just as that young family was in flight from danger toward security, we, too, will make a journey from the attitude of indifference and apathy toward the promise of communion and solidarity. We will keep this family present in our minds and hearts and imagine ourselves moving toward them in compassion. Our journey's destination is solidarity with the immigrant embodied in that family.

Most immigrant poor can take only the bare essentials for their difficult journey. Many times the things they bring must be abandoned in the desert. We, too, will travel lightly; we will take only what we need so as not to overburden our minds and hearts. (Much of the discourse about immigration seen on TV and heard on radio will not help us on our journey.)

Let's make a list of what we will need. First, we will need water, which we will call our Catholic sacramental life. We will need bread or food, which will be the Scriptures. We will take along a walking stick to support us on the journey, which will be the social teaching of the Church. Finally, the sandals on our feet will be our open-mindedness to follow after the master, Jesus, who will be our guide.

Our Catholic faith offers us the essentials to make such a journey. Some might worry that this will not be enough. They think we will need to factor in questions of history, social realities like language and culture, economics, and questions of national security if we hope to get anywhere in our understanding of immigration. I counsel you to trust that we will make progress even though we don't seem to have brought the bare minimum to reach our destination. I also suggest that these other matters are actually part of the terrain that we will cover on our journey. It is important that we wisely guide ourselves through the landscape that we will travel, landscape that includes the economy, social realities, culture, and history. Remember, the Catholic vision marks our path.

History

On our journey toward solidarity it is necessary to get the lay of the land. Many say that the most important historical factor to keep in mind is that we are a nation of laws, and that fidelity to this principle must drive our attitude and policymaking. Following the law must be our guide; therefore, we will not allow lawbreakers to benefit from any government immigration policy.

On this leg of our journey we rely on what I call "holy remembering." From Scripture we recall the journey of the people of Israel as they moved from the slavery of Egypt into the freedom of the Promised Land. For the Israelites, their overarching concern would not be to remember that they had laws, but rather that their laws were inspired by a liberating act of God: "The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt" (Lev 19:34). As we journey toward solidarity we are strengthened with this food from Scripture. This also helps us to remember the original inspiration for the founding of our own nation.

In United States history, the idea that the human person is imbued with certain inalienable rights was a first step in our independence. Recall that these rights are not predicated on any other reality because they come from God. Of course this declaration of the rights of the individual was made before the existence of any such thing as a citizen of the United States. Remembering this part of our own history bolsters the belief that we have already gained from Scripture. People have a fundamental dignity expressed in rights that must be respected regardless of any other attribute the person may or may not have, for example whether a person is documented or undocumented.

Another way to do holy remembering is to recall the sacrifices made by our own ancestors who came to this country from far-off places. Of course for Native Americans and descendants of the enslaved, this might not apply; but for the rest of us, remembering the journey endured by our own family is a wonderful way to move toward compassion for others. This is exactly the type of remembering the Israelites did as they formed attitudes about the alien who lived among them.

Now let us use our walking stick a bit to support our journey. The bishops of Mexico and the United States call upon us to remember our common history in the Americas. They call this a "common history of migration and of shared faith in Jesus Christ." It is true that not all immigrants come from other parts of the Americas, but for the vast majority, this is the case. With them we share this common bond of history.

Finally, let us recall the family that I spoke about at the beginning. Their journey involves a considerable shift in their history, witnessed in how they have ruptured a line with their own family history. Take this family as the image of your own ancestors' journey to this land. Let it help you to remember your family's history and the hardships they endured to start a new life. Holy remembering is richer, deeper, and more profound than simply remembering that we are a nation of laws.

Social realities: language and culture

The question of immigration often provokes an anger in people that is understandable. Reactions can be strong and even fierce. The core issues seem to drop off the radar screen and give way to other questions, like the effect immigrants are having and will have on the general society, for example access to health care and paying taxes. The question of language is raised to demonstrate this point. Even in our own Catholic churches different religious expressions and devotions are eyed with suspicion, as is the use of other languages. Many wait for the day when these types of religious practices will pass away so that "they" will be more like "us."

We must tread very lightly through this part of our journey. The terrain here has many pitfalls. We do not want to stumble and fall into the sin of racism or ethnocentrism. Sometimes people trip themselves up and are unable to continue on the path toward solidarity. This can be likened to spraining an ankle. Although we may have the intellectual desire to continue, we have become injured and it seems impossible to go on.

The journey toward solidarity is more than an intellectual exercise; it is much more a movement of the heart. On an intellectual level we may wish to move forward, but we can't because the heart is not able to move with the mind. Remember the sandals on our feet representing open-mindedness and, more important, our heart's desire? They call us to continuing conversion. This has very little to do with the immigrant per se. We know that their dignity is not predicated on any other attributes or qualities, that is, that they be more like us. This is an interior movement of our own heart.

The cure of the demoniac in the synagogue at Capernaum (see Mk 1:21–27) illustrates the point. Intellectually, the people are impressed with Jesus' teaching and with his authority. The demon seems to represent a deeper level of reaction to Jesus. This is the full impact of Jesus' teaching coming into our hearts. Reactions to the reality are fierce.

What does this say about our interior conformity to the gospel, which calls us to love and serve others, especially the poor? We must quiet the voices in our hearts that lead us to others. With Jesus' help we can appreciate the grand diversity of the human family.

Thus the bishops, together with the pope, have called first for conversion. Without interior transformation, communion and solidarity remain nearly impossible goals. The bishops of Mexico and the United States call us not only to tolerate the reality of immigration but also to embrace it.

This, my fellow travelers, is to take a long, satisfying drink from the Church's biblical tradition. Welcoming the immigrant stranger is a way of opening the door to Christ, who knocks at the door of our hearts. No matter how different they are from us, our sacramental spirituality lets us see the face of Christ shining through each and every one.

The journey toward solidarity is more than an intellectual exercise; it is much more a movement of the heart.

The economy

This will probably be the longest part of our journey. Again, many would want to use the economy as a tool to form an opinion on immigration. I do not believe this is wise. I believe that the economy forms part of the terrain through which we must travel. Here the path can be rather complicated, and we might be tempted to mistake this place for our actual destination. If we do this, we will find a false paradise. We will see the interests of the human person being subordinated to those of the economy or, if you will, to bottom-line concerns for profit.

Let's enjoy some of the bread of Scripture to help us through the economic landscape. The story is recounted of the disciples of Jesus walking through a field of grain on the Sabbath, picking as they went. (See Mk 2:23–28.) Jesus is not accused of picking the grain; nevertheless, he defends his disciples in their need. He explains that the "sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the sabbath." The Sabbath, which is a religious institution, was meant for the well-being of human beings. Can we not say the same thing for the economy? If the global economy does not meet the needs of human beings, then their needs supersede other considerations. Let's see how this might apply to actual circumstances.

Three teachings of the Church on immigration are intimately related. First, individuals have the right to find employment opportunities in their homeland. Second, individuals have the right to migrate to support themselves and their families. Finally, nations have the right to control their borders. Many seek to absolutize this last teaching. But border control is always tempered by the first two. Wisely, the bishops link the immigration question to the fight against global poverty. Since we are participating members in the global economy, the bishops call for a globalization of solidarity to ensure that the economy continues to serve the real needs of people, especially the poor. Seeking investment and job development in sending nations would go a long way in reducing the flow of immigrants.

Pope John Paul II called this global economy the North-South contrast, the richer nations of the Northern Hemisphere and the poorer nations of the Southern Hemisphere. Referring to Matthew 25 and the Final Judgment at the end of the world, the Pope also commented that it would be these poorer nations of the South who would judge the nations of the North for monopolizing economic supremacy at the expense of other nations (homily in Canadian airport, September 1984). These are strong words that must be taken seriously. Because of this great wealth we must also accept the responsibilities that come as a consequence.

Another biblical image to add here is that of the rich man and Lazarus. (See Lk 16:19–31.) There is a surprising development in this parable after both the rich man and Lazarus have died. The poor man rests in the bosom of Abraham and points out to the rich man that a great chasm has been established to prevent people from crossing from one side to the other. This image of the great chasm between the poor and rich comes to mind as more suggestions are made to extend the wall and fence along the U.S. and Mexico border.

The global economy requires new and sustained vigilance on the part of Christians and other people of goodwill to ensure that it fully serves the needs of the human person. The walking stick of Catholic social teaching guides us well in this regard, reminding us that the human person and the dignity of the human person always come first.

National security

The final stretch of our journey will take us through the issue of national security. This road will lead us through dark and unexplored territory. The darkness is our fear. The unexplored landscape signifies a rather new reality for us. Since the attacks of September 11, national security concerns have been intertwined with the immigration debate. Some say it is time to completely seal the border between Mexico and the United States as a way of dispelling fear of further attacks.

Once more we grasp the walking stick of Catholic social teaching to lead us toward solidarity. Pope Paul VI counseled us that peace (in this case, freedom from terrorism) must be built on a just society. Instead of emphasizing defensive postures to alleviate our fears, we should increase our positive actions to establish a more just global community where true and lasting peace is to be found.

Above all we must look to the sandals on our feet and our desire to follow after our divine Pastor, who leads us through the darkness of fear: "I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness" (Jn 8:12). These fears must be overcome so that we may find real security and peace, which are the fruits of justice.

Jesus entered into everlasting solidarity with the human family by his life, death, and resurrection. Our call to follow him is a call to solidarity with others, especially the poor. Our journey toward solidarity with the immigrant is one of personal conversion and commitment to the other. Arriving at our destination—like the immigrant—we find new hope for the future. We, too, must demonstrate our hope in concrete expressions of solidarity:

• Pray every day for immigrants, especially those who are crossing the border through deserts between the U.S. and Mexico.
• Contribute to the conversations taking place all around you and imbue them with our Catholic vision.
• Participate in the bishops' campaign "Justice for Immigrants." Read about the campaign and decide how you can participate.
• Write members of the House and Senate, reminding them of our immigrant history and the Christian values that must remain at the forefront of the debate.

Thousands of families like the one I described at the beginning are searching for a new life. They have journeyed many miles through dangerous territory to pursue a promise, a dream for tomorrow. Our personal journeys of solidarity help us cross the borders of our own hearts toward them.