Birthdays, Birth, and the Gift of Being Together

by Rev Andy Schwiebert, Pastor, Immanuel Presbyterian Church

On this 7th day of the pilgrimage, the sacredness of birthdays spent together have been on my mind. Today Suzuki of Nikkei Progressives and David of the Pasadena Mennonite Church spent their birthdays in community on the walk.

It made me think about what it means to mark a life—to be surrounded by people who care about you, to be present for one another in the moments that matter.

Today, as this 96-mile pilgrimage took us through Arcadia, we walked past the hospital where both of my daughters were born. I found myself remembering the sacredness of those moments: being alongside my wife Allison, watching my children enter the world, and sharing those first hours together as a family.

Rob Muthiah’s youngest child was also born there so he and I reminisced, showing each other (and anyone nearby!) the brand new baby pics taken at that same hospital. That sacredness stands in contrast to the pain of families separated by detention.

I thought about Mahmoud Khalil, the Columbia University activist who spent more than three months in immigration detention last year. When he was detained, his wife was eight months pregnant. He was sent to a detention center in Louisiana and missed the birth of his child, experiencing that moment only through a phone call with his wife. “Such cruelty,” he said last week on NPR’s Fresh Air.

Birthdays ought to be occasions of joy and connection. Birth is supposed to bring people together. Yet detention can take those sacred moments away from families.

I thought, too, about a young UC Riverside engineering student whose 21st birthday I spent accompanying him and his mother Lupe (a member of the church I serve) to visit his father Jose in detention in Adelanto. On the day of his visit, after the 2 hour drive up, it took another 4 hours of waiting to get in to see him. Jose had been ill and was not getting medical attention and I could see the worry on the faces of all 3. That separation and suffering is no way for a son—or a parent—to celebrate a birthday.

As we walk these 96 miles, we carry those families with us. May we all do what we can to shed light on this suffering and on the horrible conditions inside and organize and pray and fight for change.

This pilgrimage is also reminding me that separation is not the end of the story. Community can make a way toward reunion.

CLUE’s Detained Immigrant Bond Fund helped free José last December, and helped many others regain their freedom and return to their families. A bond payment may look like a financial transaction, but behind every bond is something much more sacred: a family reunited, a birthday celebrated together, a child able to hug a parent, a person able to come home.

Please consider supporting CLUE’s Detained Immigrant Bond Fund. Your gift can help turn separation into reunion and give families back the ordinary, sacred moments that detention takes away.

Today a walker shared a poem by Jan L. Richardson with the group, something that resonated with  us throughout the day, as we reflected on our purpose. 

A Prophet’s Blessing

This blessing
finds its way
behind the bars.
This blessing
works its way
beneath the chains.
This blessing
knows its way
through a broken heart.
This blessing
makes a way
where there is none.

Where there is
no light,
this blessing.
Where there is
no hope,
this blessing.
Where there is
no peace,
this blessing.
Where there is
nothing left,
this blessing.

In the presence
of hate.
In the absence
of love.
In the torment
of pain.
In the grip
of fear.

To the one
in need.
To the one
in the cell.
To the one
in the dark.
To the one
in despair.

Let this blessing come
as bread.
Let this blessing come
as release.
Let this blessing come
as sight.
Let this blessing come
as freedom.

Let this blessing come.

Written by: Pastor Kevin Kang

I want to tell you about my friend Liam. In late 2024, he and his wife Hannaneh came to the US through the southern border and applied for asylum. Months earlier, they had fled Iran to escape religious and political persecution. They flew to Brazil, then traveled to Mexico by foot, crossing over multiple countries in between. When they reached the US, they were immediately detained by Border Patrol agents, separated, then sent to their respective detention centers in Texas and Louisiana.

Liam was released and granted asylum after about 7 months. Hannaneh, though she lived through all same the things as Liam, was repeatedly denied by immigration judges. She remains in detention today, and It’s been over 22 months. Her health declines every day and her hope diminishes as the justice system has fails her.

A few weeks ago, we hung out with Liam cooking kabobs, sweet potatoes, and Korean ramyeon over an open firepit in our church parking lot. He spoke honestly about his struggle with anger. His anger at ICE, anger at immigration judges, anger at the government, anger at himself, and even his anger with God. He hasn’t given up on Hannaneh and fights for her every day, but it doesn’t make things hurt any less. He misses his wife. He feels guilty he is roaming free in Los Angeles while Hannaneh is locked in a government sponsored concentration camp.

I hold him in my heart today and I too am angry. And sadly, there are hundreds of thousands of stories like this today. The last few days, I got to hear from many of my fellow pilgrims. I found that no one is walking because of some arbitrary political rhetoric they saw on on TikTok or television. They journey from Adelanto to DTLA walk holding their own Liam or Hannaneh in their hearts.

It’s the end of Day 5 and we’re officially more than half way. We are “feeling the miles in our bodies”, as Rabbi Susan expressed during our group reflection time. As the days accumulate, our feet, hips, and knees ache more and more. At the same time, our hearts grow fuller by the day. We’ve forging new friendships, sharing stories that inspire, shedding tears shed of solidarity, and receiving renewed vision for a better world. 

Written by: Reverend Dr. Rob Muthiah

I sat on a bench chatting with “Maria” at the campground where we stayed last night (other nights we’re staying at motels and churches). Maria was one of our support vehicle drivers on Day 4 of this pilgrimage.

The day’s walk was long and hot, and the route was the most remote one of our whole pilgrimage. About two thirds of the 12 mile route was on a rough dirt road, much of it angling up the side of a mountain and fully exposed to the hot sun. There were no trees. The dirt road was difficult for vehicles to access, so we had no vehicle support for several hours. But when we got through the roughest section, our support drivers were waiting with much-needed refreshments and words of encouragement. Just another mile or so of walking and we were in camp.

In the evening, as I sat listening to Maria’s story, I forgot all about the challenges of the day. She is a grandmother who has lived in the U.S for 45 years. She shared with me about her own experience six years ago of being captured by ICE and incarcerated inside the Adelanto Detention Center. She spent a year and a half imprisoned there, experiencing the harsh conditions and abusive  treatment we’re hearing about daily now. On top of that, she was in Adelanto during the start of the covid epidemic, and while the guards all wore PPE, the detainees received none. Finally Maria was released to wait for  her case to move through the immigration system. As required by the process, she has been going regularly to her scheduled immigration check-in appointments over the last six years. When she showed up two months ago, they slapped an ankle monitor on her.

Why? Maria hasn’t disappeared at any point during the last six years. She is showing up for her mandated check-ins as required. She’s not a flight risk. She has children and grandchildren here who love and support her. Why suddenly do they make her wear an ankle monitor? When she asked this question, she was told that they were following orders from above.

Maria’s daughter fought hard and got her a medical reprieve from the ankle monitor due to her recent knee surgery. They took the ankle monitor off, but now she has to wear a wrist monitor. I sat staring at what looked like a somewhat ordinary smart watch on her wrist. Except that this one reports her location constantly to ICE. It is a constant reminder that they are in control of her life.

The image of the watch on her wrist has been with me all day. It is the presence of ICE forcing its way into everyday ordinary lives. It is a mobile reminder of a hidden system that inflicts misery and suffering upon our fellow human beings, paid for by my tax dollars. I pray that this pilgrimage we’re doing helps to raise awareness and resistance to the point that the chains of injustice are soon broken. I pray that the day comes soon when Maria’s ICE watch and the whole system behind it are no more.

Written by: Reverend Jennifer Gutierrez

I have been moved by the number of people offering support for this pilgrimage. It started on the first day when over 150 people showed up to stand vigil with us outside of the Adelanto Detention Center and walk with us the first part of the day. Partway through the day, a busload of UNITE HERE Local 11 members joined the pilgrimage in solidarity with us and with their fellow members that have been targeted by ICE and sent to Adelanto.

Throughout the first two days we passed multiple snack stops where volunteers from various congregations had tables set up beside the road to offer us cold water, fruit, and other treats to sustain us. One of these snack stops was operated by the Durfee Foundation! On the second day, as the news began to spread more and more drivers honked in support as they drove by.

Then, there were the conversations with people in gas stations where we stopped to use the restroom. So much support has been offered by so many! One of the most moving for me was from a CLUE volunteer who had helped us write stories about people we had helped with the bond fund. She was not able to go on the pilgrimage herself, but wanted to help in some way. So instead she wrote prayers for a number of the walkers planning to complete the entire 8-day pilgrimage. I want to quote from the prayer that she wrote for me.

Nothing is impossible for you – we’ve seen you set Paul free from prison, seen jailers transformed through seeing your mighty power, and so we ask that of you today…We call on you as the God who sees, the God who heals, the God who desires wholeness and peace.

Please continue to pray with us for the liberation of everyone inside Adelanto and the detention centers throughout the US. Indeed, nothing is impossible when we join together to do God’s work in the world. As I’ve seen over the last few days, there are many more people than you might think that want to be part of this work with us.

Written by: Reverend Canon Jaime Edwards-Acton

A very tired Rabbi Susan Goldberg shares a brief reflection:

We began the interfaith pilgrimage this morning from the Adelanto detention center to the LA Federal building and Metropolitan Detention Center.

We gathered in the early morning light in front of Adelanto. We began with prayers, lifting up the memory of those who had died in this detention center and detention centers across the state and country.

We heard testimony from those who have been held there and learned throughout the day about the horrific conditions, medical negligence, and inadequate food and water.

We named the Kavana, our intention for the pilgrimage, in the words of the prophet Isaiah, “Clear the road, remove the obstacles from the path!” and we began walking to do just that, to clear the road of the scapegoating of immigrants and to lift up that transformation is possible.

We walked for 14 miles with the big sky and even bigger clouds and were cared for by kind volunteers bringing food, snacks and water.

We ended the day at St Hilary’s Episcopal church for dinner with those of us celebrating the pilgrimage holiday of Sukkot eating outside in the Sukkah.

We ended the evening with more prayer and song and the sharing of more storires of both tragic treatment by GEO Group at Adelanto and stories of witness and advocacy grounded in love.

Tomorrow we continue walking. Please send your prayers.