In 2007, as a recent graduate from divinity school, I had a thirst for knowing what books and theories of religion and theology truly meant. I was particularly interested in Catholic teachings on social justice and what impact they had on our world, but felt that years of reading about these teachings left me parched for some real experience.

Among many things that I did to sate my interest was to organize a stay at a retreat house in Arizona, just miles from the border of Mexico and the United States. I wanted to know for myself what was going on at the border and add to the conversation my own observations. How could I understand the complexity of immigration if I had no context for the problem?

I engaged in my own limited simulation of a desert crossing. I woke one night at 3:00am and began hiking through the desert toward Tombstone, Arizona, through the same landscape that many take to cross into the United States. My sojourn fell short of an actual immigrant's experience in so many ways. I didn't have the fear that I was being hunted. I knew that if I was caught, a few papers in my wallet would validate that I was a citizen and would not be imprisoned. I had no fear of where I was coming from or the fear of being transported back to that same space. I had the proper hiking boots and gear. I had a cell phone for emergencies. I had water (which I ran out of) and I had packed some food. I had money and people I could call if I got into trouble.

The only ways that my simulation mirrored an actual immigrant's experiences were that I was hiking in the same spaces that they hiked and that I would endure some of the same physical difficulties. At that, it was a punishing experience which has forever garnered my respect for someone who would make such a venture to cross the desert into the United States.

I walked 23 miles without a map, only a general direction and the knowledge that a creek bed would lead to more populated areas. I had already arranged a pick up in Tombstone, Arizona and planned on using my cell phone when I got there. Through the night, my pants got wet from the creekbe dand by dawn, my pants and socks were covered in icicles. By 11:00am I was shedding layers of clothing because of the heat. The added weight to my backpack from my clothing become a nuisance. I could have left them behind knowing I would have a room that night, but immigrants would not be so fortunate. I finished my journey around 3:00pm and by 5:00pm had returned for a comfortable dinner while I cooled the blisters that had formed on my feet.

The experience was unappealing in every way and left me weary and irritable. Even so, I know that my experience paled in comparison to the excruciating trials so many immigrants go through.

The experience informs why I think "immigrants" is a poor word for the plight of so many on our southern boarder. I have friends who are immigrants from Malaysia, neighbors from China and Pakistan, parishioners from Ireland and Poland. Regardless of an immigrant's legal status, the situation at the border is different. No one would endure the disquiet of walking a multiple-day journey through the desert to come to America if they didn't have to. There are better ways. Those who have such ambition have impossible realities from which they are running. That is why the term "refugee" or "asylum seekers" honors their truth with greater integrity.

This weekend, Archbishop Cupich has asked for a special collection for asylum seekers who have been brought to the Chicago area after crossing the southern border of the United States. This collection will be given to Catholic Charities of Chicago which is coordinating a response effort to these asylum seekers just as it responds to the needs of other refugees from other countries. We are asking for your generosity but also your care.

This weekend's Gospel talks about Jesus' teaching on the Resurrection, a teaching that foreshadowed his own conquering over death. It is the key defining action of Jesus' life. He rose from the dead. I don't know what that is like, but I do know the feeling of relief that inhabited me at the end of my 23 mile journey through the desert of Arizona. I'm reminded that water can taste inexplicably sweet when you are thoroughly parched.

My memory primes my ability to imagine what asylum seekers must feel. Theirs is a journey from despair to hope. Like our Hebrew ancestors who also journeyed through the desert and found their Promise Land, it must incubate ineffable joy, the stirring of a personal resurrection. We all have our mini-moments where we move from impossibility to possibility, from death to resurrection. We also have the ability to make that moment possible for others.

It seems to me that this is such a moment for us, a chance for us to make a moment of resurrection possible in the lives of many. God has designed our world in such a way that our acts of mercy in resurrecting others, reflectively has the same effect on ourselves, both now and for eternity.

The annual Book and Bake sale is back and will take place on Sunday, November 13 from 8 a.m. to 1 p.m. During this fun event, the Saint Andrew gym will be transformed into a lively bookstore and pop-up bakery. Hundreds of gently used books will be available for sale. Come find books to keep you and your family entertained throughout the winter months or stop by and spend some time catching up with friends over a cup of coffee and some delicious baked goods. All proceeds from the sale benefit Saint Andrew School.

Upcoming tours: November 8 at 9am and November 17 at 6pm. Please contact Anne Japsen in Admissions at annejapsen@gosaintandrew.com for more information. Come join us and experience what makes our Blue Ribbon School so special. www.gosaintandrew.com