A child asks the same question every night: When is Dad coming home?
At St. Camillus Catholic Church in Silver Spring, that question lingered in the air as parishioners gathered for a multilingual Stations of the Cross, where parishioners wove the suffering of Christ with the lived realities of immigrant families in their own community.
The March 20 service, organized by the parish’s Anti-Racism Initiative and Immigrant Support and Advocacy Network, drew from stories gathered at the church’s Catholic Center in Langley Park. Reflections in English, Spanish, French and Bangla wove together accounts from Central American, Haitian, African and Bangladeshi parishioners with the 14 traditional stations.
Frank Bevacqua, a parishioner who volunteers with the Immigrant Support and Advocacy Network, manned a table, watching as parishioners listened to stories he had helped gather.
One station told of a man from Central America who once led a weekly prayer group at the parish. Last fall, agents detained him though he had committed no crime. He is now held without bail in Louisiana, leaving behind a wife and a baby less than a year old.
Another reflection centered on a woman who arrived at the parish office after being told not to bring her child to a routine immigration check-in, something she understood as a sign she might not return.
“I don’t know if you will be seeing me again,” she said.
At another station, members shared the story of a father of four who had built a life in the United States through 20 years of steady work. While in detention, he suffered a violent seizure. For more than two weeks, despite repeated calls from the parish, he went without his medication. During that time, he fell and hit his head on the concrete floor, leaving a deep wound on his forehead.
Jerry Lopez, a freshman at Prince George’s Community College studying mechanical engineering, listened, but was hesitant to speak. Born in the United States to immigrant parents, the 18-year-old said life right now simply feels “bad.” He still goes to class and comes home the same way every day, but his family has talked about what they would do if someone in the house were detained.
For Carlota Ocampo, a member of the parish and part of the core team that helped launch the Anti-Racism Initiative, the work is rooted in Catholic teaching.
“Racism is a justice issue,” she said. “We needed a more active agenda.”
Ocampo said St. Camillus stood out to her as “a very social justice-oriented parish,” one that takes seriously the Church’s call to uphold the dignity of every human person.
“We understand the past posture of the Church with respect to racism and enslavement and other human abuses,” she said. “And we understand the Church is now recognizing that racism is a sin.”
That recognition, she said, carries responsibility.
“To be Christian, to be Catholic, we must fight for the least among us.”
The initiative began with education, including parish-wide study of the U.S. bishops’ 2018 pastoral letter on racism, Open Wide Our Hearts. From there, it expanded into discussions, workshops and community-based action.
“We start by saying, for our own education, how does this fit in the Catholic Church?” said Dominique Njinkeu, another leader in the effort. “We wanted to make sure we are situated within the Church.”
The work has grown to include programs on racial justice, Black Catholic history, and accompaniment of immigrant families.
“It’s a journey,” Njinkeu said. “There’s no right or wrong answer. But we begin with education, then reflection, and then action.”
Throughout the evening, the testimonies revealed a pattern: families living in uncertainty, often one phone call away from separation.
One woman described opening her door to parish volunteers while holding a six-month-old baby, alone, without extended family or income after her husband was detained.
“‘Él nunca le hizo daño a nadie,’ she said. ‘He never hurt anyone.’”
The service moved between languages, Spanish, French, Bangla and English, as different voices from the Haitian, Central African and Bangladeshi communities added their reflections.
One station spoke of Bangladeshi Catholics in the parish who fled persecution where Christians make up less than 1% of the population.
Another told of parishioners from Africa worried about deportations to countries where human-rights groups document danger for returnees.
Bevacqua said the greatest needs right now are simple and immediate: “spiritual comfort for people who are scared, help finding detained relatives, food, diapers and rent money for families suddenly without their breadwinner. The Langley Park center stays busy. The Friday night service was meant both to let the wider parish know what is happening and to bring in more hands to help.”
Near the back of the church, Frank Bevacqua stayed by his table, watching as parishioners passed.
“We’re hoping to sign up additional volunteers,” he said.
At the final station commemorating when Jesus was laid in the tomb, the prayer described those in detention centers as “languishing … like bodies that have been buried and forgotten.”
Jerry Lopez slipped out with his family into the cool Maryland night.
“Because of your resurrection,” the prayer said, “we know that the sorrows of this day are not the end of our journey.”
