Monsignor Arturo Bañuelas
When he arrived at his parish St. Mark, Msgr. Banuelas knew he needed to foster the Catholic energy of his parishioners into a force of change. The people of St. Marks are border people through and through, but before Msgr. Banuelas, they were conditioned to practice their faith only through inward prayer and piety. Msgr. Banuelas saw a need for solidarity, to take faith and combine it with action, to make the Gospel credible along the border. For him, solidarity is a radical shift from the division that taints our country. He has seen hatred prevail at the border, especially through the death of his nephew, Rico, a young boy killed in Mexico. Banuelas takes the pain he has seen around him and nurtures a sense of collective identity and healing. He started RICO ministries, named after his nephew, where children aged 5-17 experiencing detention can gather in solidarity to share their stories and return home to their faith.
Through his dozens of ministries, Msgr. Banuelas pushes his parishioners out of their comfortable personal lives and into a community of believers. He nails this point of solidarity home when he says, “Tu eres mi otro yo, you are my other self. If I harm you, I harm myself. If I let your light shine, mine shines brighter. And together, we rejoice.” Immigrant or non-immigrant, Hispanic or non-Hispanic, Catholic or atheist, Banuelas sees those around him as an extension of himself. And that’s what keeps him moving forward, despite the narrative of polarization.
Sandra Spector
Sandra Spector is a lifelong activist who works with her husband at his asylum law firm. Living within the borderlands has been central to the way Sandra sees her world. She insists, “My family has been in Texas before it was Texas. In other words, in 1848, we ended up on this side, on the United States. The line moved, we didn’t.”
For Sandra, activism is more than a hobby. She explains, “I’m 67 years old. I’ve been involved in all kinds of anti-war movements, women’s rights, educational rights, labor organizer, immigrant rights. You know, you just keep going. You can’t stop. Because nobody else is doing it. I’ve always been politically active. There’s gotta be change. You can’t rest when there’s injustice. It’s something inside of you.”
To her, the asylum work she does is about more than just documents and cases--it’s a job of building and protecting family. She believes, “Our families should not be separated by a wall. These are human beings. Now I know everybody has a right to a border, but it doesn’t have to be as harsh as it is right now.” She works to challenge cruel and dehumanizing policies that separate migrants from love and nurture. She explains that these policies reflect the racism of people who “don’t understand a mother. Do they think that because we’re not white that we’re not mothers? That we can’t feel? That’s what racism and nationalism does.”
Ruben Garcia
The Annunciation House might not look big, but it’s a home of monumental importance for refugees traveling in both directions between Texas and Mexico. Ruben Garcia, founder of the Annunciation House, works tirelessly for immigrants and refugees in the spirit of the Catholic gospel. “The people continue to be my motivation,” he says. “It’s really important that I as an individual, I as a member of this community, I as a member of the United States, do not allow forces to take away the humanity. If we lose that, I’m not sure that there will be anything left of our souls.” In a display of radical hospitality Ruben and his team serve over a hundred immigrants each day with legal and relocation services.
