I rejoice heartily in the Lord, in my God is the joy of my soul.
ISAIAH 61:10
Eating locusts and grasshoppers, wearing camel skins, preaching repentance, living in a desert among wild animals, and facing a gruesome death aren’t images that provoke joy. Yet today’s readings, connect John the Baptist to joy. Advent joy, which asks us to step back and reflect on a different path to rejoicing.
I think of Gilberto who I know from Casa Betania, an immigrant shelter in Mexicali, Mexico, where I’ve been working for the past year. Tall, blond hair, blue eyes, from the Mexican cattle country of Durango, Gill fled due to his profile. A drug cartel asked him to transport drugs into the United States. They told him his complexion benefited him, made him more passable. They’d give him all he needed – driver’s license, car, documents. He refused. Another chance: lots of money. He refused again. Last chance: do it or die. To save himself he had to lose himself; he fled to Mexicali, leaving behind two teenage sons.
He found work at a recycling company that lasted four months. He went out on a truck at midnight to round up cardboard and finished around 9 a.m. He came to Casa Betania for breakfast. Gill told me that when cardboard is abundant, his round doesn’t finish until 1 or 2 in the afternoon. On such days, he arrives for the afternoon meal and makes $15 for thirteen or fourteen hours of work. “That is a good day,” he said wholeheartedly.
When I saw him for breakfast, his earnings were only half that. “Not a good day.” But he took it and often ate leftovers found in cardboard boxes so he could send money to his family.
One afternoon, he arrived at Casa Betania and gave me a pineapple. Other than a few rust spots, it was in pretty good shape. I tried convincing him he needed the vitamins more than me. “I need grace more than vitamins.” He stared me down, eyes as big as craters shining with the truth that we are never more human than when we give.
The last time I saw Gill he told me he was returning to Durango. I tried persuading him to see an immigration lawyer, apply for asylum in the United States. He shook the words off, saying he needed to be with his family.
In just a few months, it felt like Gill had become a lifelong friend. His predicament could have made him ask: how can there be joy in a world so full of violence? Yet, despite everything, he is filled with joy, imbuing a well-ripened truth: “It is not joy that makes us grateful, it is gratitude that gives us joy.” (Benedictine monk David Steindl-Rast)
As I cut the rind from his pineapple, I thought of how Gill often whistled the song De Colores. The words filled me as I ate: “All the colors, all the colors, oh how they dress up the countryside in springtime... And that’s why a great love of the colors makes me feel like singing so joyfully.”
And I give thanks for Gill’s friendship.
Question for reflection
- How is God calling you into a deeper experience of giving and gratitude during this season?
Prayer
Merciful God,
Our history as human beings, and even before, has been a history of life on the move. As your sons and daughters, we continue to search for a place to sleep, food to eat, and
families and communities to support us.
We are a people on a journey.
We are grateful for the earth that sustains us, but we do not always take time to thank you. Also, we lack compassion for our brothers and sisters who have been uprooted by violence, natural disasters and poverty.
Help us to remember that we are always on a journey with them and with You, to a new way of life in abundance.
Amen.
- Father Paul Masson, M.M.
Response
- Tell Congress: Pass the Protect Vulnerable Immigrant Youth Act to move these young people out of a backlogged U.S. visa category and into a safer, more secure legal status. https://mogc.info/IYA
- Join the Catholic Church in creating a culture of welcome for all migrants in the U.S. through the Justice for Immigrants Campaign. https://justiceforimmigrants.org/
Quote
Living in El Paso, at a crossroads of the United States and Mexico, is excruciating. I hear, see and feel the suffering of people who flee for their lives, who flee to protect their children’s lives, and have a door slammed shut in their faces. As an immigration attorney, I meet people who pour out stories of torture, police violence, government threats and extortion, and people who talk about the dangers of waiting in Juarez to present their cases. Then my heart breaks again and again each time I hear that a government authority decided that they are not in danger, they do not “deserve” asylum, they are not our problem.
Humanity is resilient, though, and people continue to hope against all odds. Solidarity and faith-based actions for justice inspire people to protect God among us by putting water in the desert and sheltering the homeless. Thousands of volunteers give time and love, countless others pray for justice and love, and only God knows how many contribute money to support organizations that fight for justice and organizations that shelter and feed the migrants. We don’t give up. Our job is to open the door, to welcome the stranger, to give our child a fish and not a snake. We believe in hope and in justice.
- Heidi Cernaka
Maryknoll Lay Missioners
This reflection was published as part of our 2023 Advent Reflection Guide. The guide is also available in Spanish.
Photo of pineapples for sale by Antonella Moltini via Flickr CC BY-NC-ND 2.0 https://www.flickr.com/photos/profondo_rosso/19537343596/ Photo of Heidi Cernaka courtesy of Heidi Cernaka.