Israel Centeno
Recovering Childhood: A Call to Compassion, Justice, and Christian Action
In a world marked by migration and forced displacement, we witness one of the most profound manifestations of the human struggle for dignity: the exodus of children crossing borders alone, seeking what every human being desires and deserves—security, stability, and the possibility of a better life. While working with these children in a temporary shelter, I observed something deeply moving: even amid trauma, these children do not give up. They carry a spirit that, far from being violent or criminal, reflects resilience, values, and hope.
These children do not come intending to exploit the society that receives them; they come because they have no other choice. Most have faced challenges far beyond their years and have assumed responsibilities that belong to the adult world. Some have had to protect their families from unimaginable dangers or seek sustenance for their loved ones from an early age. Yet, in those brief fifteen days or three months at the shelter, something extraordinary happened: these children were able to be children again. They played soccer, discovered board games, resumed interrupted studies, and learned a new language, all while carrying invisible wounds reflected in their eyes.
Saint Francis of Assisi, in his humility, taught us to see Christ in the smallest and most vulnerable: “What you do for the least of my brothers, you do for me.” This Gospel call cannot be ignored when we confront the reality of child migration. These children are the least among us, those who need from us an act of compassion, not rejection. Their desire to learn, their discipline, and their hope reveal the nobility of their hearts. Many of them, coming from deeply Christian lands, bring with them values that have been passed down for generations—values often drowned out by the noise of prejudices that distort the truth.
Jesus Himself was a child refugee. He fled with Mary and Joseph to Egypt to escape Herod’s persecution. How can we, as a Christian society, refuse to welcome children who, like the Christ Child, seek a place where they can live in safety? Let us not forget His words: “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these” (Matthew 19:14). Is this not an invitation to open our doors and hearts to those seeking refuge?
It is true that we live in a complex world, where politics and immigration measures often take precedence over human lives. However, as Christians, we cannot allow fear or political pragmatism to suffocate our vocation to defend human dignity. Saint Thomas Aquinas reminds us that mercy is not merely an emotional act but a moral duty. It is, as he says, “the greatest virtue after love.” And love, as Saint John tells us in his first epistle, “knows no fear, because perfect love drives out fear” (1 John 4:18).
In this context, we cannot ignore the complex reality of violence associated with gangs. The victims of gangs—both within and beyond our borders—deserve justice. No one can justify the harm they inflict, and those who commit crimes must face legal consequences. However, it is essential to remember that many of the children crossing our borders are not perpetrators but the first victims of these same gangs. They have suffered exploitation, threats, violence, and displacement in their countries of origin, and often during their journey to a safer place. Is it fair that these children should pay for the crimes of those who victimized them?
The great question is this: Should we generalize to the point of punishing the victims alongside the guilty? Should we impose upon these minors the weight of laws meant for the true perpetrators of violence? The answer must be clear. The guilty must be identified and punished by competent authorities, but we cannot transfer that burden to children who, far from being criminals, are seeking the dignity that violence and poverty have denied them.
We must not forget that gang violence not only harms those outside the gangs but also enslaves and destroys the lives of its own members, many of whom were recruited as children. By refusing to generalize and seeing each child as an individual, we acknowledge that our response must be compassionate and focused on justice. We must stand in solidarity with all victims: those who have suffered direct harm from gangs and those who have been oppressed, exploited, or rejected by them.
Saint John Paul II, a tireless defender of the rights of refugees, reminded us in his message for the World Day of Migrants and Refugees: “The Church, as a mother, does not forget any of her children, but embraces them all with a universal tenderness.” Today, that tenderness must be our response to these children who, far from being numbers or statistics, are people with names, stories, and dreams.
Ultimately, our response to this migration crisis defines who we are as a society. Jesus calls us to love our neighbor, especially the most vulnerable. As Saint Óscar Romero said: “It is not enough to open the doors for them to enter; we must go out and find them.” We must actively seek solutions that protect victims, punish the guilty, and offer hope to those who, like Jesus, have been rejected and persecuted.
What would Christ do? The answer is clear: He would welcome, protect, and love, for the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as these children.
