Opinion

This bill, which passed the Republican-controlled House of Representatives on a party-line vote, serves as a thermometer — and the reading we’re getting back is telling us that the United States of America is suffering from a dangerous fever.

I went on a trip to the American South with the Telos Group, a nonprofit dedicated to equipping people to advocate for peace and reconciliation amid conflict. The purpose of the delegation was to help Palestinians learn about the histories and current realities of the Black and Indigenous struggle for justice in the United States.

On May 15, Palestinians around the world will mark Nakba Day to remember the catastrophic events of Palestinian mass displacement. In years past, this day has largely flown under the radar. But this year feels different. After the atrocities committed by Hamas on Oct. 7, 2023, and in the wake of the state of Israel’s mass killing of Palestinian men, women, and children along with the staggering destruction of Gaza, the world can no longer look away. The question now is whether it will summon the courage to act.

On Wednesday of Holy Week, while most Christians were preparing to proclaim the Resurrection of Christ, Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. made a proclamation of a different kind: “Autism destroys families.” He went on to say that autistic children “will never pay taxes, they’ll never hold a job, they’ll never play baseball, they’ll never write a poem, they’ll never go out on a date, many of them will never use a toilet unassisted … ”

These remarks framing autism as an epidemic or tragedy were not simply a one-off. They are both part of and an escalation in the broader Trump administration position that accessibility — the “A” in DEIA — is a problem to be eliminated, a mindset that results in policies that are at least unfriendly, if not actively hostile, to disabled people like me.

Pope Francis will be remembered as a champion for the vulnerable. The outpouring of praise from global leaders shows a near universal appreciation for his voice for justice.

Former President Joe Biden marked Francis’ death in a statement, saying the pope “commanded us to fight for peace and protect our planet from a climate crisis. He advocated for the voiceless and powerless.” President Donald Trump ordered flags to be flown at half-staff in the pope’s honor. Several other leaders in the U.S. and around the world also took time to honor Francis.

But you can’t have a voice for justice without boldly denouncing injustice, and Francis was brave enough to do so. Recalling Francis’ simplicity and humility, we must avoid the risk of erasing his courage and audacity, letting the powerful — all too keen to praise a pope whose advice they routinely ignored — off the hook in the process.

The pope’s final months have felt to me like the times when my grandparents were at the end of their lives. We waited for updates from the doctors. We waited with dread for the phone call — or in this case, breaking news emails and social media posts — to bring the final news. There were moments of hope, including Pope Francis emerging from the hospital and appearing in St. Peter’s Square. But we knew that at some point, we’d be facing the loss of someone we loved.

When Pope Francis’ condition first began to worsen in February, I found myself suddenly feeling the kind of vertiginous paradigm shift usually reserved for the loss of close family or friends, that sense of a curtain being torn aside and a truth being revealed. The detail that really broke me was the news that as he had gotten sicker, Francis continued to text and call the people of Holy Family Parish in Gaza. It was so far beyond what anyone would expect of a critically ill 88-year-old man. And yet it crystallized for me what has been so personally important about Pope Francis: his dedication to welcoming those on the margins.

Reading these passages today, Jesus’ trial is a striking example of the interplay between the political power brokers who condemn Jesus to death and the crowds who cried out to Jesus days earlier for deliverance. While Pilate is responsible, he uses the crowd’s actions as cover, absolving himself of responsibility for deciding Jesus’ fate. Reading this story amid the deeply concerning judicial drama playing out in real time between the Trump administration and courts, I’m reminded of the role we all can play when we collectively act — or fail to act — in support of justice.

This past March, the Trump administration deported over 200 men to El Salvador to be held in the notorious maximum-security prison known as the Centro de Confinamiento del Terrorismo.

White House spokespersons have repeatedly claimed that these men — most of whom are of Venezuelan background — are members of the Venezuelan gang, Tren de Aragua.

However, multiple outlets have reported that neither the U.S. government nor El Salvador have provided any evidence to support these accusations.