Trump-Vance’s ICE Blocks Catholic Bishop From Delivering Eucharist at Detention Center

Responding to Pope Leo's call, it was their second attempt in three weeks to minister to detained migrants, and once again the answer from the Trump Administration was simply “no.”

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On Nov. 1, Chicago Auxiliary Bishop José García-Maldonado and a delegation of priests, nuns, and lay Catholics walked in solemn procession toward the Broadview Immigration Processing Center in suburban Chicago after an outdoor Mass.

They carried sacred vessels of the Eucharist — which Catholics revere as the body of Christ — hoping to share it with the faithful locked inside.

But as the small group reached the facility’s gates, an Illinois state trooper relayed their request to ICE officials by phone.

Moments later the officer emerged and “the answer was no,” Sister JoAnn Persch, RSM, announced to the crowd.

No reason was given this time, despite organizers following all protocol after a prior denial.

Last month, a similar Communion visit was refused, with Homeland Security initially claiming lack of advance notice — a requirement the organizers met this round, to no avail.

As the bishop and his companions bowed their heads and returned with the Eucharist, a hush fell over the hundreds gathered outside.

“This time, I felt a lot of grief,” admitted Dominican Sister Christin Tomy, who helped organize the Mass. “I really was just heartbroken… for the way that the body of Christ was being ripped apart” by the refusal.

Many in the crowd wiped away tears. Maria Reynaga, a local Catholic who attended, said it “was so unfair… What part of history is this? What are we doing?”

The pain in the assembly came from knowing fellow Catholics just yards away were being denied not only human contact, but Christ’s comfort in the sacrament.

Yet amidst the sadness, the faithful stood in resolve.

Bishop García-Maldonado — himself an immigrant from Mexico — reminded everyone that “wherever our brothers and sisters are, Jesus wants to be… [to let those detained know] ‘You are not alone’”osvnews.com.

Even if ICE barred the chapel doors, the Church would remain present at the fence.

For Sister JoAnn Persch, 91, the heartbreak was personal. She has prayed outside Broadview every week since 2006 and for years was allowed inside to minister to detainees, until recently.

“We were allowed to go in…and pray and talk with them, work with the families. And now they won’t even acknowledge us,” she told the Sun-Times, fighting back tears.

That abrupt shut-out coincided with President Donald Trump’s renewed deportation blitz in Chicago.

Since mid-September, Trump’s “Operation Midway Blitz” has unleashed aggressive raids and a heavy federal presence around immigrant neighborhoods.

The Broadview facility — long a site of peaceful prayer vigils — has become a flashpoint of confrontation. Sister JoAnn and others note that what was once a cooperative relationship with ICE has frayed under the Trump regime’s hardline tactics.

Still, the Catholic coalition refuses to give up its pastoral mission.

“We have tried every channel possible… but we’ve been denied time and time again,” said Michael Okińczyc-Cruz, executive director of the Coalition organizing the Mass.

“We are here today to continue knocking on ICE’s doors, proclaiming that our sisters and brothers deserve their pastoral care… and [to remind] that love is stronger than fear.”

His words drew cheers from the crowd braving the November chill.

At its core, this standoff is about more than a single denied visit – it’s about what values will guide us.

For Catholics, visiting the prisoner is a Gospel mandate (Matthew 25:36), one of the seven corporal works of mercy that Jesus himself demands of the faithful.

To see that basic act of Christian love effectively banned at a U.S. detention center is both deeply unsettling and ironic. The Trump administration loves to champion “religious freedom,” yet here its agents are literally blocking clergy from carrying out a sacrament

Cardinal Blase Cupich of Chicago has stressed that keeping America safe “and being mindful of human dignity are not mutually exclusive” — in fact, denying people’s dignity undermines any claim to true security.

And few things violate human dignity more blatantly than preventing willing ministers from offering spiritual consolation to those behind bars.

Pope Leo XIV, in his All Saints homily from Rome that very day, lamented how the “hungry and thirsty Christ in our midst” is often rejected by nations that claim to know him.

The events in Chicago made that warning painfully real.

The message from Broadview is as clear as the Gospel itself: No government order should hinder the work of mercy.

On a feast day honoring all the holy men and women who have gone before, a modern-day chorus of saints — lay grandmothers and young sisters, priests and bishops standing together — tried to bring the love of Christ to the least of these.

They were stopped at the door by armed agents, but they were not defeated. “This is not the end,” Bishop García-Maldonado assured, urging everyone to “get up [and] keep walking” forward in faith.

As long as migrants languish in lockdown and the Eucharist is kept at bay, the Church in Chicago will keep processing, praying, and pressing for entry. In their steadfast witness, these believers echo Christ’s own words: “I was in prison and you visited me… Whatever you did for one of the least of these, you did for me.”

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