A few days after selling all she had to flee Cuba with her three children on a crowded boat, Daneilis Tamayo raised her hand in praise and sang the rousing opening hymn at Sunday worship in this Miami suburb.
鈥淭he only thing that gave me strength is the Lord. I鈥檓 not going to lose my faith, whatever I might go through,鈥� she said. The family has been sleeping in Iglesia Rescate's improvised shelter since the promises of help made by
In the past 18 months, an estimated 250,000 migrants and asylum-seekers like Tamayo have arrived in the Miami area after being granted only precarious legal status that often doesn鈥檛 include permission to work, which is essential to building new lives in the U.S.
This influx is maxing out the migrant social safety net in Miami's faith communities, long accustomed to integrating those escaping political persecution, a lack of freedoms and a dearth of basic necessities. Cubans were the first to arrive during the island鈥檚 communist revolution 60 years ago, and alongside Haitians, Nicaraguans and .
鈥淭he Lord says to welcome the stranger. It鈥檚 the saddest thing, the quantity of people who come and we can鈥檛 help them,鈥� said the Rev. David Monduy, Iglesia Rescate鈥檚 pastor.
Miami鈥檚 faith leaders and their congregations remain steadfast in their mission to help settle new migrants. But they鈥檙e sounding the alarm that the need is growing unmanageable.
鈥淲e can get a call on a Saturday that 30 migrants were dropped off, and two hours later all have been picked up,鈥� said Peter Routsis-Arroyo, the CEO of Catholic Charities in Miami. 鈥淏ut the challenge is at what point you reach saturation.鈥�
The number of arrivals, by sea directly to Florida and from those heading here from the US-Mexico border, . For most newcomers, the best hope to settle in the U.S. is to win asylum, but migrants can be in limbo for years, ineligible to get a job legally.
Advocates say that makes them vulnerable to criminals, puts an impossible financial burden on existing migrant communities that try to help, and slows down integration into U.S. society.
鈥淚t鈥檚 completely irrational that they鈥檙e not giving out work permits,鈥� said Miami Archbishop Thomas Wenski, whose Catholic archdiocese has long helped welcome migrants. 鈥淏ecause of that, the government can make a situation that鈥檚 not too bad yet, become worse.鈥�
Many migrants are already homeless due to soaring rent and motel rates.
鈥淓very day, people knock on the doors of our parishes, saying they have no place to sleep,鈥� said the Rev. Marcos Somarriba, rector at St. Agatha Catholic Church on Miami鈥檚 outskirts.
In addition to providing food, clothes and some housing relief, churches are helping educate migrants about their legal options.
St. Michael the Archangel Catholic Church put together a migration forum with Catholic Legal Services in mid-February about a that allows 30,000 Cubans, Haitians, Nicaraguans and Venezuelans into the U.S. each month if they have a sponsor who assumes financial responsibility for them for two years.
Parishioner Dalia Marrero attended to learn about sponsoring an uncle in Nicaragua, where many are fleeing .
鈥淚 don鈥檛 want to fail him or U.S. law,鈥� she said, worried about how long she鈥檇 be required to support her relative.
Miami鈥檚 established diaspora communities know all too well the hardships that migrating entails, and that motivates many to help. But there also is mistrust among some old timers who remain active in opposition to autocratic regimes like Cuba鈥檚 and view some new arrivals鈥� politics with suspicion, said Jorge Duany, director of the Cuban Research Institute at Florida International University.
That underscores the potentially crucial role for faith leaders 鈥� to preach forgiveness and build a sense of shared experience.
鈥淭hat鈥檚 it 鈥� to unite,鈥� said the Rev. Elvis Gonz谩lez, pastor at St. Michael the Archangel, a historically Cuban church that welcomes faithful from across Central America. 鈥淭hey have seen the church as the only institution that can give some hope.鈥�
A few miles south on the seashore stands La Ermita, a shrine dedicated to Our Lady of Charity that鈥檚 long been a beacon for Cuban exiles.
Migrants from all over Latin America come to bring sunflowers to the Virgin, to cry in gratitude for having made it and to ask for help with food and clothing, said Sister Consuelo G贸mez.
鈥淛esus also was a migrant,鈥� said G贸mez, who helps many newcomers find jobs and decent housing, often with the aid of diaspora members. 鈥淲e try to help so that they can get ahead on their own.鈥�
Among them were two Venezuelan sisters G贸mez helped get their own place as well as jobs that allow them to send money back to their ailing mother.
鈥淗ere I motivate myself, even though, yes, I miss my family,鈥� said older sister Daniela Valletero, who works two jobs, six days a week. 鈥淗ere I feel that I鈥檒l make it.鈥�
That鈥檚 the kind of faith that motivates Marylin Rondon, an attorney originally from Venezuela whose weekly prayer group of professionals from Latin America prepares hundreds of sandwiches for the nuns to distribute to migrants and the homeless.
鈥淎s a Catholic, you can鈥檛 stop at sadness,鈥� Rondon said. 鈥淭he biggest faith is that of the one who is arriving. He has to depend 100% on providence.鈥�
Outside the Ermita shrine, a couple stood under the palms, their homeland of Cuba some 200 miles across the sea. Roberto Sardi帽as came seven years ago, and in December managed to get his wife, Dadiana Figueroa, to immigrate legally through family reunification.
Asked about the influx of new arrivals, Sardi帽as said it would be selfish to argue anything but that 鈥渁ll who can come, let them come.鈥�
鈥淭he ideal would be that freedom existed in Cuba,鈥� Figueroa added.
鈥斺赌斺赌斺赌�-
Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP鈥檚 collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.
