It will be early on June 20, International Refugee Day. Long before California’s light rises over the federal courthouses in San Diego, priests, deacons, and faith leaders will gather – silent, praying, present. Their mission is neither legal nor a political provocation. It is an act of solidarity. A quiet, yet powerful statement that faith begins where humanity is under attack. The Diocese of San Diego issued an urgent letter on June 11, 2025, calling on its communities to visibly stand alongside migrants that day – people who sought refuge in this country but are required to appear in court only to face deportation orders soon after. What the U.S. government demands is courtroom attendance. What many face is a return flight into uncertainty, hunger, persecution.
We know that migrants and refugees find themselves in the difficult situation of being summoned to court – only to receive an order for expedited removal, the bishops Ramon Bejarano, Felipe Pulido, and Bishop-elect Michael Pham write. But they will no longer remain passive. They will be present, with their eyes, their hearts, and the quiet power of their faith. For the diocese believes: The mere presence of faith leaders changes how authorities behave. What may seem a symbolic gesture is in truth a deeply human intervention. Early morning at the courthouse is not a place of hope for many migrants. Yet it can become one – through presence, through bearing witness, through the knowledge: I am not alone. The church understands that this gesture will not change the verdict. But it can safeguard the dignity that would otherwise be shattered by the cold machinery of deportation.
After the court proceedings, a press conference will follow. It is not meant for church self-promotion, but for the public: to make it known that people of faith do not remain silent in times of moral decay. That the church does not only preach, but acts – precisely where the need is greatest. It is a good opportunity to bear witness and stand with immigrants, the letter concludes. And that on a day when special Masses for refugees are being celebrated in every parish across the region – not as a duty, but as spiritual resistance to a system that cares less about where people are sent, as long as they disappear.
In a time when migration is being cast as the enemy and deportation as political theater, San Diego shows a different face: one that does not turn away. And one that, when words no longer help, simply shows up. On June 20. In front of the courthouse. For those who have nothing left – except the hope that someone is watching.
English 
German 
