Outside a San Diego immigration court, a man, his mother, and his two daughters stand in a tight circle, inclining their heads toward a priest. Holding a rosary, the priest quietly says a prayer. The priest is the Rev. Scott Santarosa, and he’s accompanying the man to his immigration hearing.
The man, whom the Monitor is not naming at the request of his lawyer, has resided in the country with the permission of the U.S. government for 20 years. Then, this spring, the Trump administration reopened his case and set an August court date. Father Santarosa is here both as moral support and to bear witness. The man’s family is afraid that he might be taken into detention after his hearing.
Several yards away, half a dozen volunteers wait to pray with the Jesuit priest before beginning their morning shift as witnesses in court. The volunteers are with FAITH – a coalition that includes San Diego’s Catholic Diocese, a mosque, and an interfaith group – which organizes a daily presence in immigration court.
Why We Wrote This
The idea of sanctuary has long been embraced by communities of faith. Religious leaders and volunteers are finding new ways to apply the concept, including by being present with immigrants at courthouse hearings.
Since early August, FAITH – Faithful Accompaniment in Trust & Hope – has organized priests, imams, and other leaders, as well as about 100 community members, to sit in courtrooms and accompany people who request their presence for hearings. Similar efforts are happening around the United States. Earlier this summer, clergy from the San Diego Diocese, led by Bishop Michael Pham, attended immigration court after a Mass dedicated to World Refugee Day.
Father Santarosa and others interviewed say this work is central to their faith, relating to the Hebrew and Christian injunction to “Welcome the stranger” and to follow the golden rule, to love one’s neighbor as oneself.
“Loving thy neighbor is the basis of all my beliefs,” says volunteer Brittany Lostetter. “That’s why I’m here.”
Not all Christians agree with that view. For a lot of evangelical and Protestant congregations, says Gina Pérez, a professor at Oberlin College in Ohio, following the rule of law is integral to what it means to be a faithful Christian. People who come from those denominations that emphasize law and authority as privileged values may support current immigration enforcement because “It’s been framed in such a way that these are people who’ve broken the law,” she says.
That may or may not be the case. Immigration court is actually not part of the U.S. judiciary. Instead, it is a bureaucratic system that exists under the executive branch. Immigration judges do have legal training, but the people appearing before them may or may not have been charged with any crimes. Instead, the questions are, say, whether an asylum claim is allowed to proceed. In the U.S., overstaying a visa is a civil infraction, while entering the country illegally is a misdemeanor for a first offense.
The presence of clergy and volunteers is important, says Father Santarosa. On this day, he and a bishop are accompanying people who specifically requested their help. The remaining volunteers fan out across the hallway or sit in courtrooms when there’s space.
“We’re wanting to be a prayerful, peaceful presence,” says the priest, reminding volunteers not to react if law enforcement is difficult when they enter the building or stand inside, a posture he says is not uncommon, although the public is allowed to be present.
Apolline Guillerot-Malick/SOPA Images/Reuters
In January, when the Department of Homeland Security announced it would no longer recognize churches as “protected areas,” religious leaders objected. Providing sanctuary to vulnerable people is an ancient tradition in many faiths, and several of the lawsuits filed were on the grounds that the government violated the right to practice that aspect of faith.
Our Lady of Guadalupe parish, led by Father Santarosa, is a plaintiff in a suit challenging the Trump administration’s reversal of a directive barring immigration enforcement at sensitive locations such as churches, schools, and hospitals. That directive had been in place during several previous administrations, including President Donald Trump’s first term.
Such measures are necessary, says the Trump administration, which has been critical of illegal immigration levels under the president’s predecessor and has responded with increased enforcement.
The number of unauthorized immigrants in the U.S. reached a record high of 14 million in 2023, according to new estimates released this month by the Pew Research Center, relying on U.S. census data. During the first six months of the Trump administration, Pew estimates, the number of immigrants residing in the U.S. dropped for the first time in 50 years, by more than 1 million.
No arrests at churches have been the result of targeted enforcement, says Todd Lyons, acting director of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), in an interview with the Monitor. “If a foot chase happens for two blocks and they run into a church, we’re going to follow them into a church,” he says. But “There is no plan to go target anyone at a church, a school, or hospitals.”
Roots of a movement
The Sanctuary Movement in the U.S. coalesced in the 1980s, at a time when asylum was denied to Central and South Americans facing war and dire conditions in their home countries. Churches, particularly along the southern border of the U.S., mobilized as shelters. Over the decades, the effort has taken different forms. During President Trump’s first administration, many houses of worship designated themselves as sanctuary congregations.
The actions that faith communities today are taking all fall within an expanding idea of sanctuary, says Dr. Pérez, author of a recent book on the subject.
“There’s a recognition that there are other kinds of work and organizing and advocacy, and that can and should be done to provide that sense of safety and protection to vulnerable people, whether they’re migrants or not,” she says.
Centuries ago, sanctuary was the “privileging of particular kinds of places as places of refuge and safety, where people would turn to appeal to the authority of the Divine, of God, over the power of the state,” says Dr. Pérez.
In its earlier iterations, sanctuary was, in fact, for the guilty.
David “Dee” Delgado/Reuters
“The collar is super powerful”
At the San Diego courthouse, Ms. Lostetter and other volunteers line up against the wall near the courtrooms. A handful of agents stand at the end of the hall, some wearing sweatshirts or vests imprinted with “ICE” or “Immigration and Customs Enforcement.” All have face coverings. One counts the number of volunteers, and soon, more agents arrive, about a dozen total. They divide into two groups, moving to stand on either side of the volunteers.
During their shifts, FAITH volunteers look for ways to comfort people. For instance, one mother tried to shield her young children from seeing the masked agents outside the courtroom as they left their hearing. Volunteers stepped in to chat with the children, giving the mother a moment to regroup.
When it is the man’s turn to appear, there is a reprieve. Even though his lawyer expected him to be taken into custody, he is allowed to leave with his family.
While there is a perception that people appearing in immigration court must have committed a crime of some sort, most of her clients have never been arrested, says his lawyer, Crystal Felix.
“The narrative is that these folks are criminals, but a priest next to them fights that false narrative,” she says. She started asking faith leaders to accompany her clients in May.
“The collar is super powerful, and it impacts how ICE agents behave,” says Ms. Felix, adding that it also seems to have an effect on the trial attorneys and judges. As a Catholic herself, she finds priests bring a peaceful and calming presence.
David “Dee” Delgado/Reuters
“Pursuing my faith”
In addition to participating in FAITH, Our Lady of Guadalupe, which Father Santarosa says is known as an immigrant parish, is looking for ways to support its own congregants.
“In this atmosphere, just being a person of faith is a resistance,” the priest says. “I’m resisting the fear being put on me just by pursuing my faith.”
Though some parishioners have stayed away out of fear, he’s noticed many returning. While people might have friends or family shop for them, they realize they can’t have someone else attend Mass for them. “I know I need this now more than ever,” his congregants have told him.
At the end of the court day, he says he’ll think back on the man he accompanied, who was grateful for his presence, and the smile on his mother’s face when she saw the priest.
“Did we do anything to change the outcome? Probably not,” he says. “But they felt our support.”
Staff writer Sarah Matusek contributed to this report.
