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Over the past five years at the U.S.-Mexico border<\/a>, the Rev. Brian Strassburger has gone from ministering to throngs of asylum-seekers in overcrowded shelters to celebrating Mass with detained<\/a> and deported migrants.<\/p>\n But while border crossings have drastically shrunk under President Donald Trump\u2019s administration, the Jesuit priest<\/a> said his mission remains centered on embodying the Christian message \u201cthat God is accompanying you on your journey.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd the journey, whether it\u2019s northbound or southbound, involves a lot of suffering,\u201d Strassburger added. \u201cWe have a faith that speaks to us amid that suffering. We have a God who says, \u2018I want to be one of you.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n Based in the Rio Grande Valley in Texas, Strassburger heads the Del Camino Jesuit Border Ministries, a trio of Jesuits who have been providing Mass and other sacraments to migrants on both sides<\/a> of the U.S.-Mexican border since 2021.<\/p>\n Back then, thousands of migrants crammed into bare-bones shelters daily before and after crossing the border in record numbers.<\/p>\n Nearly 2.5 million people crossed the border illegally or came legally through a system for those seeking humanitarian protections<\/a> from May 2023, when Joe Biden\u2019s administration ended COVID-19 restrictions<\/a> on asylum, until January 2025, when Trump declared a national emergency at the border<\/a> at the start of his second term.<\/p>\n Strassburger celebrated Mass in packed shelters in McAllen, Texas, and just across the Rio Grande in Reynosa, Mexico, where many thousands slept in tents in makeshift shelters and hundreds more waited outside for a chance to cross into the United States even as the Biden administration started to impose restrictions.<\/p>\n He was there, at a shelter run by Catholic nuns, the day after the Trump administration canceled all border appointments<\/a> would-be asylum-seekers had made through an app to enter the United States.<\/p>\n After celebrating Mass, he asked people how they were managing the news. Most said they were feeling devastated, terrified and deceived. But one woman raised her hand and said, in Spanish, \u201cThe last thing we lose is hope.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSandra, she doesn\u2019t place her hope in a smartphone app or in a presidential administration or in a government. She puts her hope in the Lord, and that is a hope that doesn\u2019t disappoint, even in the midst of the despairing moments of life,\u201d Strassburger recalled. \u201cIf Sandra can say that, in that day and in that moment, how can I lose hope in my own ministry here on the border?\u201d <\/p>\n The 41-year-old pastor\u2019s journey to the priesthood and border ministry was one of grace more than planning, Strassburger said.<\/p>\n Raised in Colorado by Catholic parents, he dreamed of becoming a dad, math teacher and basketball coach in a Jesuit high school like the one he attended. It was after college, while volunteering with the Augustinians<\/a> \u2014 among whom he met the future Pope Leo XIV<\/a> \u2014 that he first considered a religious vocation, especially when ministering to AIDS victims at a hospice in South Africa.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019d always thought a religious vocation or a priesthood was like this cross that you bear because God tells you you have to. He\u2019s like, \u2018Sorry, Brian, you\u2019re one of those ones who has to be a priest.\u2019 And you\u2019re like, \u2018OK, God,\u2019\u201d Strassburger said. \u201cI started to think, what if the life of priesthood isn\u2019t this great burden, but actually the way for me to be my best self?\u201d<\/p>\n In 2011, he entered the Jesuit novitiate and five years later, despite knowing no Spanish, he was sent to Nicaragua for more than two years. On his return, newly bilingual, he spent a summer at the Kino Border Initiative<\/a> in the two Nogales \u2014 the cities in Arizona and Mexico just across the fence. <\/p>\n That\u2019s where he found his mission, the ideal place for his ability to navigate a bilingual context and serve as a bridge. After ordination, his superior asked him to establish a Jesuit presence in the Rio Grande Valley, literally at the country\u2019s margins, the places where Pope Francis<\/a> had urged the church to go.<\/p>\n \u201cI couldn\u2019t have said yes fast enough,\u201d Strassburger said, adding that the local bishop then assigned him and another Jesuit a simple mission. \u201cHe said, \u2018Read the reality and respond to it.\u2019 And that\u2019s what we\u2019ve been trying to do since then. And we identified very quickly the need for pastoral accompaniment of the migrant population.\u201d<\/p>\n With the ongoing immigration crackdown<\/a>, Strassburger has been focusing on celebrating regular Masses at two large Texas detention centers as well as in shelters in Mexico.<\/p>\n One of them, in Matamoros, is run by Mexican authorities for people who\u2019ve been deported \u2014 some of them after decades in the United States, like one woman with six children, all U.S. citizens, ages 19 to 6. She was arrested after 29 years in the country, right before Christmas at an immigration court check-in.<\/p>\n \u201cShe\u2019s like, \u2018I just keep thinking, was it a mistake for me to even try to regularize my status? Like, if I had not gone to court that day, would I be celebrating Christmas with my six kids?\u2019\u201d Strassburger recalled. \u201cThat\u2019s the kind of thing we encounter every day.\u201d<\/p>\n Five years ago, William Cuellar was deported back to his native Mexico, which he left when he was 4. He\u2019s now also staying in a shelter in Matamoros, which abuts Brownsville, Texas, to facilitate visits from his mother and adult children who remain in the U.S.<\/p>\n He started attending Mass with Strassburger six months ago and sees him as a friend more than a priest.<\/p>\n \u201cWhen I met Father Brian, I was like, \u2018Cool, I can communicate in English with someone else,\u2019\u201d Cuellar said. \u201cHe provides me with the time to hear me out.\u201d<\/p>\n In addition to sacraments such as Mass, confession and baptisms, it\u2019s that consoling, listening presence from Strassburger and the other Jesuits that helps migrants the most, added Sister Carmen Ram\u00edrez, who runs the Casa del Migrante shelter in Reynosa with another Catholic nun.<\/p>\n \u201cThey bring hope to people,\u201d Ram\u00edrez said. \u201cThese men, they bring the Gospel, a glance of empathy, of compassion.\u201d<\/p>\n The shelter now hosts about two dozen people mostly from Honduras and Mexico. When the Jesuits visit twice a week, another 50 families come for Mass and activities focused on mothers and children, most of whom are from Haiti.<\/p>\n \u201cFather Brian is a man who knows how to relate to children. I imagine Jesus when I see them running to hug him,\u201d Ram\u00edrez said. \u201cHis apostolate is of listening, of sitting down to listen, looking at people straight in the face, saying that there is a God who loves them through this encounter.\u201d<\/p>\n ___<\/p>\n Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP\u2019s collaboration<\/a> with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n