NYC is supposed to be a sanctuary for migrants and yet it has become one of the epicenters of family separation and deportation.
On September 25th, a migrant family of Ecuadorean-descent was aggressively separated by ICE officers after an immigration court hearing. ICE officers have been using immigration hearings as an opportunity to deport migrants seeking asylum as they exit their court hearings. This moment of profound vulnerability, even when seeking to do things the ‘right way,’ has been met with the grotesque practice of family separation and deportation.
The scene becomes even more frightening as the father screams: No hice nada mal, I’ve done nothing wrong, as ICE officers aggressively separate him from his wife and young daughter. His wife, Monica Moreta-Galarza, desperately cries out: Lo van a matar en Ecuador, they are going to kill him in Ecuador. She hoped her words would draw empathy from the officers but instead they drew out malicious words and physical violence. An ICE supervisor says to Monica, adios, and pushes her back into the floor — a moment that perfectly encapsulates the brutality behind this system.
This is a clear display of how ICE’s culture of violence has been normalized, emboldened, and weaponized by this administration. All under the blessing of fellow christians steeped in the harmful ideology of white supremacy, politics, and the Christian faith. The entire nation witnessed the unholy trinity of white supremacy, conservative politics and Christianity when it was platformed and preached by 47, his allies, and white-dominate worship groups who proclaimed and sang songs to a Jesus they have Americanized. It bears a theology that has everything to say about spirituality but nothing about how spiritually can and should build a just world for the marginalized. So contesting white supremacy is not a knock on white folks, it’s fighting against ideologies that have empowered unjust systems and structures that disproportionately impact BIPOC communities.
These patterns of psychological, political, and physical violence are not new. This administration has normalized and boasted about violence through their rhetoric at Charlie Kirk’s memorial, the funding of genocide in Gaza, airstrikes on small boats of Venezuelan people (allegedly transporting drugs), and finally the criminalization, separation, and deportation of migrant families seeking asylum from poverty and violence.
To witness this family torn apart and a woman assaulted, as a Christian of Ecuadorean-descent, was heartbreaking.. This wasn’t just proximity of location but of ethnic-identity. I could see the resemblance of my tios y tias in this family but make no mistake, our shared ethnic-identity isn’t the only thing that makes me see their humanity first and foremost.It’s the simple fact that they are made in the wonderful image of God and worthy of dignity, respect, and the opportunity to flourish here on earth.
In this season, we need a dose of Micah 6:8, the holy trinity of justice, mercy and humility. I long for a world where the practice of justice for the marginalized becomes an extension of our worship. I long for a world where we are filled with mercy for those who are deemed powerless. I long for a world where humility allows for us to see the beauty and image of God in each other, despite documentation status or birth place. This is the type of world that becomes a sanctuary for the marginalized. If we could embody the way of Jesus then our dinner tables, churches, and relationships can be the very sanctuary this world is longing for.
Our migrant neighbors have created all kinds of sanctuaries for us to experience God’s goodness, whether that be through food, cultural expressions, resilient faith, theology, or presence. I hope that we can return that favor during this critical time.
I hope to be a sanctuary for the college students wrestling with their faith and the brokenness of our world. I hope to be a sanctuary for the migrant youth I work with at the justice center by offering the resources they need to navigate this complex city.
I will find sanctuary in the Lord because despair does not have the final say. I will continue to follow the brown Jesus who brought forth the kingdom of God despite coming from a family that was displaced under a violent regime.
