In this file photo from February 2020, Sergio Barrera stands on the Minneapolis campus of the University of Minnesota, where is a Ph.D. student in economics. DAVE HRBACEK | THE CATHOLIC SPIRIT
Over the past couple weeks, I have been crushed watching images of the situation in Afghanistan. The events that have occurred throughout the whole country have been deeply personal to me, and I know they have been to many others in this country. I am a veteran of the U.S. Marine Corps who served in Afghanistan in the year 2011. My job, or Military Occupation Specialty as we called it, was to be an Afghan linguist, where I learned how to speak Dari and Balochi.
When I was a Marine, Afghanistan was looming over our heads like a storm cloud ready to rain. Everything that we trained for and focused on was our mission in Afghanistan. This was true from the moment I went to boot camp in 2008 to the moment I received my honorable discharge in 2013. I was 11 years old when 9/11 occurred and remember the fear, but also the pride and love I had for my country that followed in our moments of remembrance that hearkened back to the days when we had a public religion. I am a second generation Mexican American and I joined the Marine Corps to serve the country that has been so good to me and my family.
Over the course of my career in the Marines, I spent a significant amount of time with Afghan nationals as well as dual citizens. My instructors in Dari, and in Balochi, were mostly former Afghan refugees who left Afghanistan when the Soviet Union invaded or when the Taliban first came to power in the 1990s. In addition to teaching us the language of Afghanistan, my instructors taught us about the culture, the religion and the beauty of Afghanistan. In an environment like the Marines, where perfection is expected and leadership can be severe and intimidating, my language instructors provided care and understanding that helped many of us feel like family.
This interaction and close cooperation with the people of Afghanistan continued when I deployed. I spent most of my time in Afghanistan shut in a room that was a little larger than a closet with Afghan Americans, who had been in Afghanistan continuously for more than five years at that point. Many of them continued serving as military contractors for years after I came home, spending more than a decade there, away from their families in the U.S. They were there for two reasons. The first was they wanted to help their country of birth and their countrymen move on past the brutal years of Taliban rule and have a better, more secure future. The second was they wanted to support the country, the United States, that generously welcomed them when they left their homes years ago.
Because I was a Dari linguist, I had the added benefit of serving and training the soldiers of the Afghan National Army (ANA). My experience with the soldiers of the ANA was certainly an experience of culture clash, with many awkward moments, but by the end of my service I became close with these soldiers and saw them like brothers. I had many deep, impactful conversations with these men, and the experience really hit home for me, how we are all connected. In a Catholic sense, it reinforced the truth that we were all brothers and sisters, because we were all children of God.
My conversations with many of my Afghan friends, like my conversations with any American friends, ranged from topics as simple as our favorite foods, to the most profound, meaningful topics. We talked about our hopes, our fears, our worries, and the things we loved. Just as I joined to serve my country, they told me they chose to serve their country. Just as my father made sacrifices and left Mexico for better opportunities for his children, they also made sacrifices, left their home districts to provide a better life for their families. I had one frank conversation with one soldier, where he was expressing his frustration with irresponsible leadership and just wanted to vent. He told me how important it was for the sake of the country that leaders have virtue and integrity. A sentiment that I believe in as well because my experience in the Marines made it obvious to me that sin is never confined to yourself, it always spreads and produces more harm. We also talked about how we missed our families. I was already married at the time and was having a hard time being away, so we talked about how much we missed our wives and, additionally, how much they missed their children.
Now of course, we weren’t there to evangelize. We had a mission and it was securing the future of Afghanistan, and preventing it from becoming a haven for terrorism. However, there was a faith, a real humility, and strong value of hospitality that many of my Afghan brethren possessed that deeply impressed me, especially living in a deeply secular culture in the United States. I would be bold enough to say that they converted me, though not to Islam. But they converted me, in the sense that they inspire me to live out my faith honestly even in the face of great hardship. They reinforced the importance of the values my Mexican community espoused while I was growing up near the border. Like my family, they talked comfortably about God and how important it was for them to always serve God. Prayer was crucial and so was spiritual poverty, recognizing our dependence on God for all things.
I was also deeply impressed with the hospitality my brethren showed us. Although comparatively they had little, they treated us like kings. And did they feed us, and my goodness, was it good! Sitting around the dinner rug on the floor (because that’s the custom), and enjoying rice, chicken, naan, tea and friendship was one of the best experiences of breaking bread I ever had. I can honestly say that I met some of the best, most faithful people I’ve ever met in Afghanistan.
My service in Afghanistan was difficult and presented many challenges. There were moments when I thought my world came crashing down upon me, and I never felt so powerless in the face of it. My faith in God, and in the Church grew, and I know in those darkest moments God was there with me and ultimately answered my prayers. I lost friends there; a high school friend, Randy, with whom I joined the Marine Corps, was shot, and my first team leader, Luke, stepped on an IED. Luke provided the example of a good man of faith as well as leadership. Randy showed me the value of perseverance and never losing hope and never giving up, even if the world tells you it’s hopeless. So, I keep them in my prayers and take their example with me. I cannot even imagine what their families are going through, with the temptation to think that their lives were spent in vain. To be honest, I’ve had the same temptations to despair. My time in the service was a high point of meaning, community, as well as pain. There were many highs and much more lows, but when I served, I felt truly alive, an experience that comes much less commonly in a secular, materialistic culture that we live in, where community is hard to find.
But the people of Afghanistan paid a bigger price than I did. Our translators, whether they were citizens or not, provided the backbone of our intelligence and translation services. I spent less than a year in Afghanistan, while some lived there, and our dual residents and citizens spent, in some examples, two decades there. Although my fellow Marines and I were in harm’s way, my family was not, because they were safe at home. Many Afghans, on the other hand, not only risked their own lives, but risked the lives of their families and communities as well. Yet to this day I get thanked for my service, while they do not, and are barely even thought of by many.
This brings me to my Catholic faith. The Catholic Church has long sought to live out the Lord’s command of “Welcoming the Stranger.” The second part of that command rings ever more true for Catholics in the United States, “For you were once Strangers too.” Many of our Catholic ancestors, mine included, came to the United States because of famine, war and lack of opportunities to make a living in their home countries. It was difficult for our ancestors, and they weren’t always welcome, but we eventually found a home in the U.S.
Because we were once strangers, we must not forget the plight of the immigrant, and the refugee, many of whom are fleeing to the airport of Kabul and seeking safe passage to the United States. Just like the Holy Family fleeing the portending wrath of Herod, they must leave their homes because their lives are in danger.
In Catholic social teaching, and put succinctly in the joint statement that the bishops of the U.S. and Mexico issued, “Strangers No Longer Together on the Journey of Hope,” the bishops emphasized how all people have the right to migrate when their home country does not provide sufficient economic opportunities. They stressed that this is especially crucial when people must migrate to escape persecution, war and threats to their life. Although countries have the right to defend their border, they taught that this must not be exaggerated. In the words of their statement, “More powerful economic nations,” like the United States, “which have the ability to protect and feed their residents, have a stronger obligation to accommodate migration flows.”
In general, this holds for all immigrants and refugees from all countries of origin. But I would argue, justice requires that we take this teaching more seriously with regard to Afghanistan. Politics aside, for good reason or bad, we are in large part responsible for what is happening in Afghanistan right now. Additionally, the Afghan people in many ways fought for us, bled for us, believed in us, and helped us live safely at home by fighting with us. Therefore, it is imperative that we recognize the face of Christ in our brethren from Afghanistan. Yes, we should pray, pray, and pray again for Afghanistan. As in the prayer from the Poor Clares of Galway that was posted on St. Peter Claver church’s Facebook page: for those who are fleeing, sanctuary, for those who are staying, security, for those who are fighting, peace, for those whose hearts are breaking, comfort, and for those who see no future, hope.
But we must not forget that we are also called to be the hands, feet, mouth and eyes of Christ on earth. Gov. Walz has announced that Minnesota will be hosting Afghan refugees, so we may find ourselves in a position rather soon to be of service. If we are in the position to help, we should try. The situation in Afghanistan right now is making evident the barriers and difficulties in our immigration system, that prevent us from helping many in need. It is a system the bishops have proposed reforming to be more open to immigrants and refugees. We should listen to our pastors and press our governing officials to make a system that is more respectful of human dignity and the right that all have to pursue their basic human rights when it is not available in their home countries. I myself have been busy passing information to other veterans seeking ways to help Afghan refugees. The work I’ve seen my fellow Marines perform, just through a Facebook page, has really inspired me, and taught me how any little act of goodness, like forwarding a message, can save lives and make a difference in people’s lives. Sometimes, all we have to do is plant the seed, and the fruit will come.
But politics aside, anything can help, even a word of encouragement to your Afghan neighbors, whether they just arrived, or fellow Americans who have been here for decades. Just the other day, I spoke to an Afghan American born in the U.S. I had never met the man before, and I just so happened to be passing through a business owned by his family. Although it was awkward, I expressed to him my sorrow and support for what his family was going through. The man replied at the brink of tears. He told me his family’s story and how his parents, aunts and uncles had nothing before they came here. He told me what bothers him the most is that it seems like “nobody cares.” I have felt that, too, and almost broke down in tears myself. I told him how I served in Afghanistan. He thanked me for my service, and I told him about all the wonderful Afghans I met in the Marines. Then we shook hands and parted ways, but I felt like it was what he needed and I needed.
Through this and whatever else may come, we must never forget that God is always asking us to serve. He is knocking at our door right now, America’s door, and asking to be let in. Only this time he is in the guise of the veteran struggling to cope with the result of the war, the Afghan American worried about their family and country of origin, or the Afghan refugee seeking — even at the point of holding on to the outside of a plane — to escape danger. Let us heed our Lord’s teaching in the parable of the good Samaritan to not ignore the stranger that many abandoned on the other side of the street.
Barrera, 31, is a Ph.D. student in economics at the University of Minnesota, and a member of Our Lady of Lourdes in Minneapolis, where he is on the Justice and Charity Committee. He also is a board member of the Chicago-based National Center for the Laity.
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