None of us can single-handedly repair the harm of our immigration policies. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.
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In Indiana, immigrant communities are scared and hurting.
Religious leaders can’t stop arrests or rewrite immigration law. So they’re doing what they know how to do: showing up. To keep their congregations and communities safe, they organize vigils outside detention centers, visit those held by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, write letters and watch court proceedings. The stakes are personal — empty houses of worship, families separated, detainees who don’t speak English signing papers they don’t understand.
Matt Landry believes it is his calling to use his faith to stand as public witness.
As pastor at Castleton United Methodist Church, Landry organizes monthly prayer vigils outside the Miami Correctional Facility near Bunker Hill, where hundreds are detained by ICE. Attendees sing “God Bless the Immigrants” — a hymn that counters anti-immigration rhetoric with Biblical scriptures about welcoming strangers.
“There’s a whole host of denominations and faith leaders who are standing with us,” Landry said. “It was deeply moving to look out and see just this beautiful array of different people.”
Ministering inside detention facilities
Clergy face ongoing battles over pastoral privilege in detention centers, though some have managed to visit facilities.
Father Joel Weir visits the Clay County Jail to provide religious services through Indiana AID, a volunteer group that supports people detained by ICE. Weir is a priest at the St. Stephen the First Martyr Orthodox Church in Crawfordsville.
Weir has been a refugee advocate for a decade and has noticed a stark change in how faith communities discuss immigration. In the past, he said, supporting immigrant or refugee rights as a religious leader wasn’t controversial. Today, it’s wholly partisan.
Jesus’ teachings emphasize treating outcasts with compassion and dignity, Weir said.
He makes that point through sermons and conversations, while acknowledging it might not be possible to get through to everyone in his congregation. Weir considers it his duty to show compassion and dignity to immigrant communities.
Each visit, Weir spends time with two to three blocks at the detention center — about 50 to 60 people per block. Weir offers a short reflection on a Bible verse and then asks who would like the priest to pray for them.
Weir has done prison ministry before. In prisons, his visits are much stricter and more controlled. Detention centers are different — the looser restrictions, he believes, reflect that detainees aren’t dangerous.
“I believe the stories these men tell me,” Weir said. “Which is they’re not criminals. A lot of them were going to work and ICE was there and they didn’t go home that night. Their parent, their family didn’t know where they were for a day or two.”
Letters, visits and advocacy
Umeed Hope Indy also stays in contact with individuals who have been detained. Founded by Komal Kaur, Umeed is a mutual aid coalition that supports Sikh and Punjabi Hoosiers.
Detention is isolating, Kaur said. Not everyone can access an attorney, and some sign paperwork they don’t understand out of fear.
The process is confusing and anxiety-inducing. Umeed aims to provide whatever solace or support it can. The coalition offers community members the opportunity to virtually visit or write letters to people who are detained.
Local gurdwaras — Sikh temples and community centers — are emptying as the threat of arrest and detention looms. It pains Kaur to see Sikh temples become sparse. Places of worship are beautiful because they bring people together. Watching attendance steadily decline out of fear is heartbreaking.
In detention centers, Kaur sees reflections of her own identity — a connection that guides her activism. With limited Sikh and Punjabi representation, Kaur refuses to shy away from her identity.
Someone has to be first to speak out and represent their community. Kaur is willing to take that responsibility.
Drawing parallels to Black history
Rev. Keion Jackson of the Black Church Coalition finds debates about detention’s legality eerily similar to past conversations about slavery and reconstruction.
“It reminds us of some of our own grandparents,” Jackson said. “Some of us are not even that far generationally from sharecropping eras.”
The Black Church Coalition is an advocacy organization that includes faith leaders and community groups. It places identity at the center of its activism.
Jackson thinks supporting immigrant communities should be a key issue for Black Americans, given the parallels between their own historical treatment and current immigration rhetoric. He notes the Christian tradition is rooted in protesting the oppressor and supporting the marginalized.
The Black Church Coalition has been meeting with local elected officials and urging them not to capitulate to the Trump administration. The coalition has been supporting a campaign against mass detention and deportation called #KeepIndyHome.
“We have seen our foremothers and fathers fight,” Jackson said. “We are called to do the same thing.”
Bearing witness in immigration court
Rabbi Aaron Spiegel is observing immigration court hearings to serve as a witness, an action known as court watching.
“Having a public presence in those courtrooms is really important,” Spiegel said. “I don’t think we’re going to change the immigration system until, and unless, the public says this doesn’t work.”
Spiegel court watches because he’s seen progress through the same practice in eviction court. The goal is to create a public docket for immigration-related hearings, which is difficult when little information is available about most proceedings.
It’s hard to watch, Spiegel said. He has yet to see anyone granted asylum.
Spiegel’s advocacy is motivated by his faith. In the Jewish tradition, there is a prescription to not only participate in social justice, but also to live as a manifestation of it.
Spiegel said it’s not his responsibility to solve every major problem, but it is his responsibility to try to make a positive impact.
We talked about how we both understand what it’s like to be part of a faith tradition that has historically faced scapegoating and fearmongering. Jewish and Muslim communities have faced, and continue to face, antisemitism and Islamophobia.
For those of us who know what it’s like to be singled out and stereotyped as the “other,” we need to let that guide us in standing against the marginalization of other communities.
Individually, none of us can single-handedly repair the harm of our current immigration policies. But that does not mean we shouldn’t try to make a positive impact and provide the support that we can.
Faith leaders are inspired by religious beliefs to support the marginalized. My motivation for writing this column is similar. My faith calls on me to call out injustice. The least I can do is amplify advocacy efforts taking place in my community.
Talking with these advocates, I felt that we were all still in search of answers. We don’t know what could happen to any of our communities tomorrow, next week, next month or next year.
Immigrant rights are human rights. These faith and community leaders are doing what they can within their congregations and organizations to make as much of an impact as possible.
It’s an uphill battle, but it’s one that must be fought.
Contact IndyStar opinion fellow Sadia Khatri at sadia.khatri@indystar.com.