A Shared Journey: Migration and the Human Spirit

A Shared Journey: Migration and the Human Spirit

By Eddie Torres

Migration is one of the most fundamental experiences shared by all living beings. It’s a journey that crosses physical, emotional, and spiritual borders. From families seeking refuge from violence to wildlife navigating disrupted habitats, the story of migration is as ancient as humanity itself. For many of us, it’s a personal story too.

I was born in Los Angeles but moved 13 times throughout my life—between L.A., Mexico, Orange County, and the Inland Empire. No matter where I went, I saw familiar faces searching for peace, love, and a home. California’s economy thrives on migrant labor, especially in agriculture, construction, and service industries. Yet, these same workers often face exploitation, low wages, and precarious living conditions.

This is not a coincidence. The displacement of people from rural Mexico, Central America, and other parts of the Global South is driven by economic systems that prioritize profit over people. Take NAFTA, for example. This trade agreement devastated small farmers in Mexico, forcing many to migrate for survival. My own family’s journey from Michoacan, Mexico to California in the mid-1990s was a direct result of NAFTA’s economic impact, an impact that persists to this day.

Migration is deeply embedded in faith traditions. The Christian Bible tells of the Exodus and the flight of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus to Egypt. The Quran recounts the Hijra, the migration of Prophet Muhammad and his followers from Mecca to Medina. Hinduism’s Lord Rama and Buddhism’s Siddhartha Gautama also embody the transformative journey. Migration—whether physical, emotional, or spiritual—is a sacred act, an act of trust in the possibility of a better future.

The militarization of the U.S.-Mexico border—particularly in regions like Douglas, Arizona and Agua Prieta, Mexico—serves to enforce systemic inequality. The fortified border protects capital, not people. It ensures a flow of cheap labor while denying full rights and protections to migrant workers.

Yet, borders are also meeting places. Churches, community organizations, and individuals on both sides offer aid and solidarity. I’ve witnessed this firsthand in Douglas, where I’ve seen people provide water, food, and medical attention to those crossing the harsh desert. These acts of humanity remind us of Matthew 25:35: “For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me.”

Despite its brutality, the border reveals our shared humanity. No line on a map can erase the bonds of family, culture, and spirit that connect us. It’s here, in this contested space, that our collective resilience is most visible.

Southern California is a region built by migrants with an incredible strong history of resistance. From the Chicano Moratorium against the Vietnam War to the immigrant rights marches of 2006, the immigrant rights movement goes as far as Southern California takes it, in my humble SoCal native opinion. 

Consider the struggle of street vendors, many of whom are migrants working in the informal economy. Their fight is not only for survival but also for dignity and the right to exist and thrive. Their presence on sidewalks and in public spaces challenges policies that seek to criminalize their livelihoods. By organizing for legalization, recognition, and protection, they demand respect for their labor and humanity.

Migration impacts not only people but also the land and its creatures. The U.S.-Mexico border disrupts wildlife migration routes for species like jaguars, pronghorns, birds, butterflies, and even rivers. The exploitation of labor and nature are part of the same system—one that views both people and the Earth as resources to be extracted.

Faith traditions challenge this view. Psalm 24:1 reminds us, “The Earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it.” Similarly, Hinduism’s concept of Prithvi Mata (Mother Earth) calls on us to live in harmony with creation. Liberation theology insists that we cannot separate the struggle for human dignity from the fight to protect the Earth.

As we fight for migrant justice, we must also fight for an economy that values the land and its people over profit. The fate of the jaguar, the pronghorn, and the migrant worker are intertwined. If we exploit one, we exploit all.

Migration challenges us to grow spiritually and morally. It calls us to embody love, empathy, and interconnectedness. In Buddhism, metta (loving-kindness) teaches us to extend compassion to all beings, transcending borders. The Quran’s Surah An-Nisa (4:36) urges kindness to neighbors, travelers, and those in need. Christianity’s Jesus was a migrant himself—crossing regions, healing, and preaching radical love.

So, how do we honor the Migrant? How do we care for travelers, whether human or non-human? Migration is not just a story of struggle but also one of hope and possibility. Faith traditions frame migration as a sacred journey, while revolutionary movements see it as a catalyst for change. Both perspectives call us to action.

Socal’s immigrant rights movement demonstrates what’s possible when people unite. From garment factory workers to street vendors to sanctuary city campaigns, migrants have led the fight for justice. Our role as people of faith and conscience is to stand in solidarity—welcoming the stranger, advocating for systemic change, and recognizing that our liberation is bound up with theirs.

Migration is a mirror reflecting the injustices of our world—and the hope of transformation. The journey from Douglas and Agua Prieta to Los Angeles calls us to challenge systemic oppression and build a world rooted in justice.

Let us carry the revolutionary spirit of the migrant, the wisdom of our faith traditions, and the courage to fight for a future where all can thrive. As the Buddha’s Dhammapada teaches: “As a mother would protect her only child, even at the risk of her own life, cultivate a boundless love toward all beings.” May we, too, cultivate boundless love and solidarity as we walk this shared journey toward liberation.