El Santuario Migratorio

~ written by Tonya

As we made our way through the sights, sounds, and experiences that are integral to the border land between Arizona and Sonora, we stood many times on Holy Ground. One of those sacred spaces is the kiva where the people of Southside Presbyterian Church worship together. When we joined in worship with them on a mild and hazy Sunday morning, several people in our group commented on the sense of hope that was almost palpable in that space. It was created by songs sung together, prayers uttered together, communion shared together...each note and word asking our Creator for grace and love to saturate the struggle for justice that is happening in our border lands.

Just a few steps from the door of the kiva is another Holy Place, the Santuario Migratorio. Unlike the kiva, this ground is not made holy by people joining together in words and songs of hope. No, this ground is saturated with lament and anguish, poured out before God in the form of stones bearing the names of those who have died while crossing through the border lands. "Giovanna Volasco Rodriguez, 4/27/2014," cries out one stone; "Desconocida, 2/16/2014," cries out another. Desconocida means 'unknown or stranger' in Spanish, the final 'a' means that this un-named child of God was a woman...or a girl. Above these stones is a monument made from clay embossed with footprints large and small, deep men's work boot prints and delicate sneaker prints. At the center of the northward flow of footprints, almost hidden among the others, is the impression of a tiny pair of shod feet. Stop a moment and let that image penetrate your heart.

The shrine is draped with rosaries; two dried flowers, perhaps left by another 'stranger' who survived the journey, rest on top. Nestled among the stones is a small statue of Our Lady of Guadalupe along with a silver cross and a small picture of a young man. After slowly approaching this sacred monument and breathing in the anguish that hung heavy in the air around it, my first thought was to run away, to head off the tears that I felt building. I started to turn away but something pulled me back; I knew that I needed to stay.

As I knelt before this shrine that bears witness to the suffering and death that our policies have engendered and perpetuated, I began to weep. My heart was beginning to break, to open to the sadness, anger, and shame that would fill me as my own footsteps passed through this wounded land, as I dwelt a moment among these wounded people. It was only the first heartbreak, the first of many tears that I would cry. I have come to see that moment as a blessing because it allowed my heart to open to all that I would witness over the next few days.

"...and I will remove from your body the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh." ( Ezekiel 36:26b, NRSV)