STORIES
Kutupalong Refugee Camp, Bangladesh // photo: Paul Jeffrey/ACT Alliance
A Staff Reflection from Springfield9/10/2026 walking the road to Emmaus with our Haitian neighbors Recently I have been wondering about the road to Emmaus. I have been wondering about how Jesus’ disciples could possibly not recognize their teacher, a man they had spent so much time with, while they traveled together down that stretch of road. There is, of course, one obvious reason - these disciples had not yet seen Jesus alive since his crucifixion, though they had heard from multiple sources that Jesus’ tomb was now empty. There’s also the detail that they are walking a road together, which as anyone who has had a long conversation on a road trip before knows, means you can get deep with someone without ever looking them in the eye. So it’s not particularly surprising that it took breaking bread together, getting close over the intimacy of a meal, for the disciples to recognize Jesus. In the United States, we receive messages on a daily basis telling us not to get close enough to other people to see Christ in them, to hold them at arm’s length and dehumanize them. This is particularly true of immigrants. During the 2024 presidential campaign, JD Vance amplified false claims that Haitian immigrants in Springfield were eating residents’ pets–claims Springfield officials said were not supported by credible evidence. For the Haitian community in Springfield, those claims became part of a painful public narrative about who they were and whether they belonged. On June 25, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that challenges to the termination of Temporary Protective Status (TPS) for Haitians and Syrians could not postpone those terminations. Haitian TPS subsequently ended on July 27, affecting hundreds of thousands of people who had been protected from removal and authorized to work in the United States. For Haitians who had no other immigration status or pending protection, the end of TPS meant losing those protections. In Springfield, some Haitian residents have since been required to report to Immigration and Customs Enforcement offices and fitted with ankle monitors; others have been detained or deported, even as conditions in Haiti remain extraordinarily dangerous. This weekend I went to Springfield after local Haitian pastors put out a call for people of faith to show up in solidarity after two local Haitian pastors were arrested and detained and community members were being required to wear ankle monitors. In my time in Springfield I heard testimony about the humiliation of the ankle monitors. I learned from the President of the NAACP Springfield Unit, Denise Williams, about the echoes of enslavement and shackles that the ankle monitors recall. With hundreds of others, I raised my voice alongside the community, chanting “Unshackle Springfield” at Springfield City Hall. I met so many wonderful people who refuse to remain silent about what is happening to them and their neighbors–people continuing to care for one another, worship together, organize and hope in the midst of extraordinary uncertainty. The next morning I went to observe immigration court in Indianapolis, and I watched dozens of Haitians who lost their Temporary Protective Status seek another path forward to safety. I heard the names of the six people who were not present when their cases were called and watched the court move their cases to deportation proceedings without them. When I left court, I learned that Pierre Damas Bel, a 20-year-old Haitian college student from Springfield, had died after walking into traffic on I-70. His family described his death as a suicide and spoke publicly about how deeply distressed he had become after being required to wear an ankle monitor, including the shame and humiliation he experienced because of it. I heard his family’s pain at a press conference this afternoon. Words cannot convey my anguish at this loss of precious life. Hearing his family describe Pierre’s pain made the human consequences of what is happening in Springfield impossible for me to hold at a distance. After the disciples on the road to Emmaus had their eyes opened to Christ in their midst, they asked themselves, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” Disciples, are our hearts not burning when we hear the cries of our Haitian siblings, when we witness the fear, uncertainty and suffering of people we may not yet be close enough to break bread with, but who nevertheless carry Christ within them?
Disciples, listen to the burning in your hearts. Our calling to accompaniment begins by drawing close enough to listen–to the people experiencing these realities, to the churches walking alongside them and to the communities telling us what they need. Week of Compassion continues to accompany congregations and partners responding alongside immigrant communities. A next step you can take right now is to learn from Haitians on the ground in Springfield about how this is impacting their community by watching this statement from the leaders of the Haitian Support Center. Congregations discerning how to accompany immigrant neighbors in their own communities can also connect with Week of Compassion’s Immigration and Refugee Response ministry for resources and support. Sincerely, Rev. Grace Kozak Associate Director, Immigrant and Refugee Response Week of Compassion Comments are closed.
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