I’ve always found stained-glass art fascinating—the way pieces of glass of different shapes, colors, and textures come together, pressed and soldered by searing heat, edges softening and melting, transformed into a togetherness that did not exist before, becoming something whole and radiant in a way they could never be on their own. They come together to tell a story that is diverse, dynamic, and only fully expressed when light passes through.
I’d like to believe our current world is a beautiful piece of stained glass in the making.
In 2024, I decided to take a stained-glass class. After spending eight months on a waitlist to study with a local artist, my turn finally came. She gave me four templates to choose from and explained that while everyone would work from the same four small designs, we also had the chance to tell an individual story through our choice of glass color and texture.
I chose to tell my own story and one of many Latino/a immigrants and Mexican Americans. My final piece depicts a bird; parts of its body are red, green, and white (the colors of the Mexican flag), others are made of clear glass that let light pass through. It is flying in a landscape of blue and red, the colors of the U.S. flag. In front, a piece of seeded glass. This Mexican bird flies through an American landscape, dropping and planting seeds wherever it goes. A migrant bird that is doing good.
In my more than 20 years living in the United States, I have witnessed many Latino/a immigrants doing good. Gardeners tending to our lawns; construction workers and jornaleros building our homes; farmworkers harvesting the food we eat year round; garment workers creating, with each thread, clothing that covers our bodies; homemakers caring for families. I have witnessed new generations of migrants who, through their parents’ sacrifices, earn higher degrees and enter white-collar professions. I have seen small business owners creating jobs and opportunity.
To be clear, immigrants are not defined solely by our labor. We are good people with worth and dignity no matter what we do. But despite this, immigrants with no criminal record are being unconstitutionally detained in private detention centers that profit from each body that occupies a bed. Families are being separated. We have also witnessed the painful murders of legal observers such as Renée Good and Alex Pretti, as well as others being persecuted.
We may disagree about elements of our politics and about whether certain changes are good or bad, but we cannot deny that something has shifted.
What kind of stained glass in the making are we?
In the middle of what seems like a hopeless scenario, people are coming together to reassess what we once thought were problems and what we once believed were the right solutions. White, Black, brown, people of color, LGBTQ+ and non-LGBTQ+, male, female, migrant, native, citizen, poor, and middle class. Like stained glass—diverse, colorful, vibrant. Painfully cut and reshaped. Melted under searing heat, soldered together by solidarity with our fellow humans. Hard prejudice melting, transformed into a togetherness that did not exist before, becoming something whole and radiant in a way none of us could ever be on our own.
We are stained-glass art in the making—a piece that will tell a story. A story of solidarity. A stained glass that becomes a silent homily.
And like any stained glass, what makes it beautiful is when we let light pass through. May we allow light to pass through. May we have courage to reshape ourselves. May we have the humility to name our mistakes in judgment and the courage to be Christ’s light in the world. May we allow God’s light to tell the story of a people who came together and, in the most gospel-like manner, showed up for one another.
This article also appears in the May 2026 issue of U.S. Catholic (Vol. 91, No. 5, page 20-24). Click here to subscribe to the magazine.
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