By Nancy Sandman, Advancement Officer for A Faith That Does Justice

Earlier this month, I, along with two family members and about 5,000 other like-minded citizens, participated in a protest in Sarasota, Florida. United in opposition to the current Administration’s cruel policies, we stood in support of one another and speaking up for those in need. The sign I held was inspired by a quote from Thomas Jefferson: “ WHEN TYRANNY REPLACES JUSTICE, IT IS OUR DUTY TO PROTEST.”

In light of more recent developments, that event, though still important, seems distant now. This week, after the Federal Government had acknowledged that it had mistakenly sent Kilmar Armando Abrego Garcia to a notorious prison in El Salvador, it flouted a unanimous Supreme Court decision directing it to facilitate his return to the United States. The Government has accused him, without evidence, of being a member of the international MS-13 criminal gang. Prior to his deportation, however, it had refused to provide him due process of law. A bedrock principle of the United States Constitution, enshrined in the Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments, due process is afforded to both citizens and non-citizens living in this country. Without any intervention, Mr. Abrego Garcia, who has not been accused of a crime, could spend the rest of this life in jail. As a result of the Government not providing such due process and of its refusal to follow the Supreme Court’s instruction, many legal experts assert that we are now in the midst of a constitutional crisis. As important, it a moral crisis on a scale we have not seen in our lifetimes. For people of faith, it is a call to respond.

I am deeply involved with my parish, St. Cecilia’s in Boston, and as a volunteer with A Faith That Does Justice (AFTDJ), whose mission as an interfaith organization is to challenge people to experience God by living their faith intentionally in service to others.

The attacks the Federal Administration has launched on Kilmar Abrego Garcia, others  who are vulnerable and in need, and those who have devoted their lives, in various capacities, to the service of our country, have been breathtaking in their callousness. They have challenged us in ways we never could have imagined. My initial shock has given way to anguish, indignation and action.

When the first dizzying array of Presidential Executive Orders were issued, targeting immigrants, people of color, and women, some close friends and I started weekly conversations about what we could do in response. We felt helpless, limited in our ability to effect change or support those affected. We each began to contact our Congresspeople on a regular basis.

I called and visited my Senators’ offices and attended several town halls with my Representative. As I approached the office of one Senator, I saw a woman headed in

the same direction. In a brief conversation, it quickly became clear that we had very similar messages so she, representing the Friends Meeting of Beacon Hill, and I decided to share our concerns jointly. We conveyed our alarm about the dismantling of USAID and the consequences of mass deportations that had already begin to harm immigrants, Americans, and those whom the country supports around the world.

When I explained that I was a volunteer for A Faith That Does Justice and described its purpose, I reported that many of the immigrants AFTDJ serves now live in fear of leaving their homes. Our Senators and Representative and their staffs took special note of our experiences, stressing the value to them in hearing real-life examples of the callous actions affecting — and scaring — so many.

We had a simple message: “Until the next election, you are our voice in Washington, DC; please do more, speak more forcefully, as a group.” We also thanked these officials and their staffs, for each individually had already given powerful voice to the fears and concerns of their constituents.

Afterwards, my companion and I shared the same reaction. In that moment, we knew we were doing right by bringing to the forefront the concerns of our families and friends, and all those unable to do what we did, all of whom are simply seeking justice.

While the experience was informative and helpful (our comments were well received), it was oddly unsatisfying. It was not enough. We went our separate ways but were determined to do more..

In my case, I continued my conversations with my friends but also joined with several local colleagues for what we decided would be a regular gathering to convey our concerns and to determine how to take action. All of us share a strong moral conviction about the need to act in response to the injustices we are witnessing.

One colleague feels particularly threatened, not because of anything she has done but simply because of who she is. She expressed a real need for our support. The rest of us were deeply disturbed at how profoundly recent Federal administrative actions have affected her family.  We were also startled to realize how removed we are from what she is facing every day. It was humbling, making each of us far more aware of the insidious ways in which the lives of people close to us have changed so radically so quickly.

Since then, another colleague in the group shared her own experience of having a person painting her living room detained as he headed to her home to work. He had a valid work permit, an asylum appointment, no criminal record, and a wife and two young children. Snatched from his car. Gone in an instant. It’s so difficult to fathom.

Throughout these experiences with family, friends, and strangers, I’ve been reminded of a profound reflection by AFTDJ’s founder, Peter W. Gyves, SJ, MD. In speaking of compassion and its effects on people, he noted that it’s not an intellectual thing but rather that feeling of being “almost sick to your stomach and saying, ‘I cannot accept what I see,’ and I’m going to act because of that.”

As massive protests have begun, we, the people, are acting, and speaking aloud, all over the country.

At the protest in Sarasota, I felt a combination of awe, gratitude and hope. Given the number of other protests occurring in neighboring communities that day, the turnout was incredible, particularly given the heat. There was virtually no shade. Most participants were in their early 50s – late 80s, not surprising given the demographics of the region.

People were polite, commiserating with those whose signs revealed the harm that they had, or would, experience, and laughing at the many clever signs. (What can one say when things are so grim?) The protest ended with a splendid march over the Ringling Bridge, yes, that Ringling of Ringling Bros. Circus fame.

There was a profound sense of gratitude among those gathered that so many had come to proclaim, together, that what is happening, particularly to the most vulnerable, is not moral, is not right, is not just.

Now, I have a new sense of urgency as should every citizen in this country, an imperative to advocate for and defend the constitutional and human rights of our neighbors.

I will continue to call my representatives, protest, consult with my friends, meet with my colleagues and try to find other communities that are seeking ways to address the many injustices we are witnessing every day. In the midst of this, we must continually look for the good in each other, for as Henry David Thoreau said, “Goodness is the only investment that never fails.”