Believing Matthew 25 when nobody else does

By Maria Ruiz Scaperlanda

This article originally appeared in Our Sunday Visitor, May 25, 1997. Photos of Mark and Louise Zwick courtesy of Maryknoll.

At their leader's signal, the eager boys lined up single file to pick up a fork, cup and plate of food. A 12-year old with a pleasant smile signaled the boy behind him with his elbow and made sounds of delight anticipating today's menu: cabbage, black beans, elbow noodles and warm corn tortillas.

Two mismatched tables had been put together in the combination living-dining room to create a seating arrangement large enough to accommodate the 12 youths and seven adults present at the home tonight.

When everyone had their dinner plate, Andy, a twentysomething energetic leader wearing a "Taz" T-shirt, asked the boys to stop their talking and horsing around long enough to bow their heads for grace.

As the boys dug into their food, Andy looked around the table and proudly reported that all but one of the youths who were eligible were enrolled in school. The exception, Andy explained, was the 12-year-old who had never been to school and would need to be tutored to read and write.

Andy took a bite of food and added casually that the boys' new business — making pine coffins for the poor — was progressing well.

While most here are not old enough to shave, this is no group of boy scouts. The boys living at Casa Don Bosco, a youth home run by Houston's Catholic Worker House, have the life experience of old men in teenage bodies.

They have traveled across thousands of miles and several countries — by themselves. And they have experienced horrors in their short life that no person should ever have to: a recent arrival witnessed a beheading on the journey, several were accosted by pedophiles at the border, still another saw his brother killed in his homeland of Nicaragua.

The business of "hospitality" to refugees and immigrants, many of whom are illegal, is not always a popular one — even when it involves children such as those living at Casa Don Bosco. And in the current political climate of immigration restrictions and welfare cuts borne disproportionately by immigrants, the battle is truly a war.

It's also precisely the reason that Louise and Mark Zwick, 16 years ago, opened Casa Juan Diego Catholic Worker House in Houston, of which Casa Don Bosco is one of many programs.

"Our constitution is Matthew 25," explained Louise, who noted that these are our society's poorest of the poor, the unwanted, the abused, the homeless. "That's the whole basis of what we do; those who come to us are the Lord himself, and we receive them in His name."

She quickly recited from memory Christ's commandment to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit those in prison and welcome the stranger, adding, "We particularly see the Lord in the displaced immigrants."

And like Dorothy Day, the founder of the Catholic Worker movement, the Zwicks see themselves as both radical and orthodox Catholics.

By any standard, the immigration crisis hasn't abated. According to the Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS), illegal immigrants currently account for nearly 2 percent of the total U.S. population, an increase of 28 percent in the past four years.

But contrary to popular thought, 41 percent of the illegal resident population (2.1 million people) originally entered the country legally at airports and other entry points and overstayed their temporary visas.

As far as immigration policy, however, the focus remains on the Mexico border, as is evident by recent efforts to beef up the U.S. Border Patrol. The state of Texas accounts for 14.1 percent of the U.S. illegal population. And Houston, like other major cities in the United States, endures raid on workplaces and the deportation of undocumented workers.

Under recently enacted immigration law, immigration officers can pick people off the street and detain and deport them without a judicial hearing — if they can't prove they entered on a visa or have been here for two years.

 An April 4 editorial in The New York Times charged that the new law requires immigrants to "meet difficult tests that they are not likely to know about and be prepared for...America will be sending people back home to dangerous situations."

But INS officials ignore the Catholic Worker houses of hospitality in Houston, the Zwicks point out, because they realize that these shelters maintain a "service" to the city provided by no other ministry or social-service agency.

Casa Juan Diego has, in fact, fed, clothed and sheltered tens of thousands of refugees and battered women over the past 16 years.

The ministry of Casa Juan Diego Catholic Workers House is multifaceted. Besides the Don Bosco youth shelter, there is a home for refugee men, a women's center and several residences for long-term housing of women and their children.

The homes are not without rules. "We make a contract with them," Mark explained. "With one arm you say 'bienvenidos' and with the other you offer a list of expectations."

For example, while battered women and women with children are offered indefinite stay at a shelter, single women are encouraged and helped to find employment. For men, two weeks is usually long enough to help them move on.

Much like the youths at Casa Don Bosco, the other homes run by Casa Juan Diego are often a safe stop for immigrants and refugees on their way to another city or state where family members await their arrival. For others, it's the first step into an unfamiliar country.

Casa Juan Diego also offers food distribution, religious education, and parenting classes, as well as medical, dental and eye clinics. For their ministry, the Zwicks depend on donations of time and materials from churches and individuals.

The shelters are staffed by Catholic Worker volunteers, such as Casa Don Bosco's coordinator Andrew Wright, who gave up admission to medical school this year in order to open the newest house of hospitality in Houston.

Louise explained: "All the different things we are involved in emerge out of the needs of the immigrants, and thanks to the contributions of the Catholic community of Houston. It's what we need to be doing as Christians. These are straightforward works of mercy."

Despite their enormous achievements, the Zwicks see themselves as ordinary Catholics trying to live out the call of the Gospel. "We are called to challenge the world," Louise noted, "to penetrate American society with our Catholic values."

She looked at Mark, who responded with a smile as he put his arm around her shoulders. It is not uncommon for this couple to walk together — both figuratively and physically — finishing each other's sentences and completing each other's tasks.

Their energy, they both confirm, comes from prayer. And prayer is part of the daily routine at each of the houses of hospitality.

Each home, in fact, has a chapel for staff and house residents. Still, Mark acknowledged that they have concerns over the ever-changing immigration policies. "We're worried about legal immigrants not being able to receive welfare [and] medical services," he said. "Our food distribution has already doubled at one location. Without a doubt, all these changes impact us. But our plan is simple — to be there for those who come."

Ultimately, there's no danger of developing a Messiah complex, the Zwicks argue, because there are so many failures — and so much work remains to be done.

"When some want to close you down, when social agencies who should be helping instead send people to you, there's a great dependency on faith," Mark said. "We need the Lord's grace to do this, and we never make a decision without praying about it."

For the Zwicks, the bottom line remains the people. "If you stand in line for really simple food — rice, beans, bread," Louise added, "then we understand these people to be hungry, and we don't need to ask any questions. We're the beneficiaries of approaching it as a faith experience. It's our opportunity to serve the Lord under the guise of the poor."

To help in or contribute to this ministry, contact:

Casa Juan Diego
P.O. Box 70113
Houston, TX 77270
Tel: 713-869-7376

Bibliography

For more information, visit the Casa Juan Diego Web site at http://www.cjd.org.

Moises Sandoval, "Room at the inn," Revista Maryknoll, December 1988.

Warren Lee Holleman, "Safe haven: Central America's battered refugees find food, shelter, medical care and the gospel at Casa JuanDiego," Our Sunday Visitor, April 7, 1991.

Ann Ball, "Immigrants fearful after 'day of deported,'" Our Sunday Visitor, December 5, 1993.

"Catholic Workers say INS targeted arrests at guests in their house," National Catholic Reporter, December 10, 1993.

Mark and Louise Zwick, "The real love of Dorothy Day's life," Our Sunday Visitor, November 5, 1995.

Arthur Jones, "Catholic Worker house is multinational," National Catholic Reporter, January 12, 1996.

Maria Scaperlanda, "Driven by love: Louise and Mark Zwick take the gospel at its word," New Covenant, August 1996.

"Poverty" (Second Spring section of the Catholic World Report with articles by Mak and Louise Zwick, Dorothy Day, et al.), December 1996.