My Friends….
Over these past months, I have witnessed something both sobering and sacred unfolding in our midst. Allow me to share a story.
Because of the generosity of Bishop Loya’s Migrant Support Fund—together with support from congregations and individuals across the country—St. Clement’s was able to provide crisis rental assistance to 49 households in Minneapolis and St. Paul during February and March of 2026. Based on what we encountered in the delivery process, it is reasonable to say that this effort helped keep as many as 300 individuals housed. The largest household included more than 15 people living together in a multi-generational, multi-family shared space.
This is an extraordinary impact in a very short time. And yet, it is only one small part of a much larger story unfolding across our diocese.
Through the ECMN Migrant Support Fund, 85 immigrant families have already directly received assistance. More than $122,000 has been deployed, with nearly 90% distributed in the last month alone. Of that support, 77% has gone directly toward stabilizing housing and preventing eviction.
What could have become a cascade of displacement has, in many cases, become a witness to shared care—a quiet, determined refusal to let our neighbors fall.
As this work unfolded, those of us helping steward the fund—Rena, Susan, and I—came to an important realization: we did not have the capacity to adjudicate one family at a time. The need was too great, the urgency too immediate. So we began to shift our approach.
We explored deeper partnerships with parishes that were already building relationships with local schools and social workers—those closest to the realities on the ground, and best positioned to identify immigrant families at risk. We worked closely with Neptale Rodriquez Vicar at El Santo Nino Jesus as he visited each of the families that comprise this Episcopal Community determining their specific needs. We built upon the amazing generosity of Saint John’s ministry with the Ecuadoran families and discerned to match funds from the Migrant Support Fund with local fundraising efforts.
Thanks be to God, this approach worked beyond our expectations. Across multiple faith communities, networks of trust and care began to grow—faster, more responsive, and more relational than anything we could have managed alone.
What we are witnessing on the ground is that conditions are worsening—not improving. The cumulative impact of months spent staying home, unable to work, and keeping children out of school is taking a profound toll. Increasing numbers of families are at risk of losing their housing. Mental health struggles are increasing. Many have lost jobs that once sustained them. And while enforcement remains present—ICE is still active in our communities—there is also a quieter, more subtle fear shaping daily life, limiting movement, opportunity, and hope. Beyond that, many families with undocumented parents and citizen children discern the risks of returning to a country that would do them harm or risk the separation of parents and children within this country. We know too well that our government does not hesitate to place children in cages.
Recently, a single mother connected to one of our congregations lost her job as workplace raids began circulating in her neighborhood. Fear spread quickly. She stayed home to protect her children, unsure whether leaving the house would put her family at risk. With rent due and utilities falling behind, the Migrant Support Fund stepped in—paying one month’s rent directly to her landlord and assisting with a utility bill. What could have become a crisis of homelessness became, instead, a moment of stability, dignity, and hope.
This is what the Church looks like when it is most fully itself.
We have also been deeply heartened by the number of people stepping forward to help—or longing to help. Landlords have expressed gratitude—not only because rent is being paid, but because their tenants are able to remain in their homes. Some landlords are now reaching out proactively, alerting us to tenants who are at risk—families who need food, clothing, or other basic necessities. Networks of care are forming in ways we could not have orchestrated on our own.
And then there are the moments that stay with you as shared by Joy Caires, rector at Saint Clements:
One neighbor said simply: “Le agradezco mucho—que Dios le bendiga y le dé mucha abundancia.” What a gift to receive such a blessing.
Another neighbor, supporting immigrant families, came to my home to pick up emergency funds for a family at the school we partner with. When he arrived, he looked at me and said, “So—you’re our priest.”
In that moment, I realized something: this work is not about what we are doing for others. It is about who we are becoming with one another.
It has been over a year since Bishop Loya called for the creation of this fund. What began as an urgent response has become a sustained expression of the Gospel—of love made visible, organized, and shared.
Looking ahead, requests for support are expected to exceed $315,000 over the next three months, primarily for rent stabilization and legal support. With approximately $88,000 currently available, we will need to raise an additional $225,000 to continue responding quickly and compassionately to more than 200 families in crisis.
The need is real. But so is the love.
This has been one of the hardest and holiest seasons of ministry I have known. And I am profoundly grateful that none of us has done this alone. Together, we are showing our neighborhoods that the Episcopal Church is not only a place that prays—but a people who act, who accompany, and who live following the Way of Jesus as illustrated within the Gospel: love your neighbor as yourself. A people who deeply understand Migration with Dignity. To learn more about our ministry.
In this Easter season, I invite you to be part of this continuing work—through prayer, through food preparation and delivery at Casa Maria, through advocacy and whistle blowing, and through giving—so that what we have already begun together may continue to grow. As is our custom, Lisa has directed with Vestry approval, this Easter Vigil and Easter Sunday the loose plate will be divided between Haiti and the Migrant Support Fund. You may also contribute directly here.
Because this is what resurrection looks like in real time:
neighbors staying housed,
fear met with courage,
and a community discovering that love is stronger than the forces that would divide us.
That love is greater than hate.
Shalom, Rex
