By Paula Day

The Gospel judgment, “What you did for these, the least of my brothers, you did for me,” is being lived out in north Georgia in a fundamental way.

When 14 undocumented men from Mexico were left stranded, hours before they needed to meet a government deadline that would mean the difference between being legalized or deported, the archdiocese of Atlanta came to their assistance. Through the ministry of its priests, through Catholic Social Services’ legalization office and through others, the men are now settled, working, and on their way to stability after years of living on the fringe of American life.

On November 30, 1988, Father Jorge Christancho, parochial vicar at the Cathedral of Christ the King, made his usual early morning trip to the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service offices on Columbia Drive in Decatur. He has been visiting daily to encourage those sleeping on the sidewalks in hopes of being at the front of the line. It was the last day undocumented agricultural workers could file for legal temporary residency under a one-year U.S. amnesty law.

Father Christancho noticed standing first in the line, the same group of men who had stood there the morning before. “I knew something was fishy,” he recalled.

The 14 had come from Fort Valley, Ga. Where they had been living in barracks and working in the pecan groves. They were waiting for their contractor, a bilingual Hispanic, to bring them their documents and money to pay legalization fees. It was money they had earned, but that had been kept for distribution by the contractor, who never came.

Father Christancho spoke with Sara Gutierrez, chief legalization officer for the Atlanta district, and made arrangements for Patrick Kingery of CSS’ legalization office to represent the men for immigration purposes. Kingery and his staff had 60 days, until January 30, to process these latecomers along with approximately 40 others seeking residency.

The 14 posed a particular problem. They were without shelter: they could not go back to Fort Valley’s pecan groves. They were without money, food, transportation.

Through Father Ed Salazar, S.J., vicar for Hispanics, the archdiocese was approached and $4,000 in emergency assistance obtained. This would be used during the next two months to pay the $185 in immigration fees for those submitting documentation papers; $90 for the required medical exam for each of the 14; and money for food and shelter.

Part of the money would also buy bus fare back home to Mexico for 12 from a group of more than 50 other undocumented whom the legalization office was helping. The 12 could not meet legal requirements.

As late as Jan. 31, Kingery was still drawing from the dwindling fund. In two days, $20 went to assist a man who had been sleeping in his car after his medical exam showed he was HIV positive. Kingery had had to explain to him that the medical report meant he was carrying the AIDS virus. Forty dollars went to a 17-year-old for food and bus fare to North Carolina. The youth had sent his legalization papers there for safekeeping before hitchhiking from Dallas, Texas. Another $50 was given a Florida couple with two children for emergency assistance after they had had two flat tires on their trip to Atlanta.

To critics who might say to him, “You’re just a bleeding heart liberal. How do you know these people aren’t taking advantage of you?” Kingery answers, “Called to serve the poor has no label - neither conservative nor liberal. It is every Christian’s vocation from his baptism.”

He added that when he gets tired or frustrated he recalls what an elderly Cuban volunteer said to him early in the legalization program: “Todo por el amor de Dios,” which is translated, “All for the love of God.”

With the assistance of people from the Atlanta Hispanic community, Father Christancho was able to find a house in Chamblee for the 14 men from Fort Valley. They are now employed, saving their money and helping to pay their rent. Several are married and are sending money to their families in Mexico, Father Christancho said. Six younger men are receiving catechetical instruction in the Cathedral’s Hispanic RCIA program. They had been baptized as infants but had never received any instruction in the Catholic faith.

When questioned through an interpreter about their plans, hopes and dreams, 36-year-old Santana Vargas spoke for the group, saying each had his own hopes, but they all wanted to find stable work, save some money and send some to their families.

Cesar Rosa said he wanted to become a skilled mechanic. Santiago Rodriguez wants to study agricultural engineering. All want to learn English.

Living conditions at the Chamblee residence are meager. The men sleep on the floor. One, a carpenter, made a table. They now have two chairs which they share. Two couches and a lamp are the only other pieces of furniture in the house. Vargas said conditions are still better than those in Fort Valley where the men slept in bunks, had no blankets and frequently did not have enough to eat. They now receive actual wages rather than a ticket to get money from their contractor or crew boss. All joined in words of thanks to their benefactors, calling them by name, wanting to be certain they didn’t miss anyone.

The assistance has involved many. Two Hispanic doctors have provided medical help; owners of construction businesses have hired the men; volunteers have scrounged for furniture; a parish group has provided food, sleeping bags, clothing and a bicycle.

Explaining his continued involvement, Father Christancho said, “I have really experienced with them their pain. I am impressed with their resistance to pain. Once you learn their stories - there’s a woman and children waiting in Mexico for some - well, if I were in their shoes, I’d be going the same.”