Today we celebrate the feast day of St. Katharine Drexel, the patron saint of racial justice and philanthropy. As we continue through this week focusing on the situation faced by immigrants in the United States, it is worth pausing to reflect on the ways that Drexel’s life can offer us wisdom as we discern what roles we ought to play in easing the pain of immigrant suffering.

Send Me

St. Katharine Drexel was born in late 1858, two-and-a-half years before the start of the American Civil War. Her father was an international banker and, during her early life, she experienced a level of wealth that most of us will only ever dream of: her family rode in a private railroad car, Drexel and her sisters were well educated, they were philanthropic, they traveled internationally, and Drexel made her debut into high society.

After reading Helen Hunt Jackson’s book, A Century of Dishonor, Drexel became concerned with the suffering of Native Americans. In fact, their struggles troubled her so much that, during an 1887 audience with Pope Leo XIII, she asked him to send missionaries to Wyoming to assist her friend with his work among the Native Americans. His response was to ask why Drexel did not become a missionary herself. In 1891, Drexel answered his question by taking religious vows and devoting her life to working with Native and Black Americans. She has been called “the richest nun in America,” but she did not let her privileged childhood shield her from the needs of those around her. Instead, when faced with need, she responded.

Like St. Katharine Drexel, we all must respond when we are called to serve others. In his Message for World Mission Day, Pope Leo XIV wrote,

No baptized person is exempt from or indifferent to mission: everyone, each according to their own vocation and condition of life, participates in the great work that Christ has entrusted to his Church.

As we encounter the pain of immigrants, it is easy to long for someone – anyone – to do something. Like Drexel, we need to ask ourselves, why not us?

Empathy is Strength

Over the past few years, one of the strangest, most disturbing political developments in the U.S. (and there have been many to choose from) has been the vilification of empathy. From Elon Musk’s posts about “suicidal empathy” to Charlie Kirk’s statement, “I can’t stand the word empathy, actually…does a lot of damage,” empathy has become taboo. Lest we think that this shift away from embracing empathy has occurred only in secular politics or is “all bark and no bite,” researcher Ryan Berge found that, in 2020, white evangelicals were the most likely Americans to be okay with immigration policies that separated children from their parents. According to David French, this is a reaction against the perception that evangelicals can be swayed from policies that they would otherwise support by appealing to their emotions and consciences. Viewed in this light, empathy is a weakness that undermines power.

St. Katharine Drexel’s life, however, is a refutation of this argument. As a wealthy woman, Drexel had the ability to live a life that was purely hedonistic. She could easily have shut her eyes to the suffering around her and spent her days in comfort and ease. However, she allowed herself to be moved by the pain of Native American people and Black Americans.  She let the things she read and the experiences she had through travel impact the way that she saw the world. Then she responded with action.

Drexel’s life demonstrated that, far from weakness, empathy is strength. It is often what propels and motivates us to do the work that God has asked of us when we would otherwise live lackluster lives. Because of her empathy, Drexel rejected a life of playing hostess and enjoying the frivolities of high society. Instead, she opened 63 schools for Native and Black children, financed and founded 50 missions, paid for the printing of 500 copies of a Navaho-English Catechism, founded Xavier University, and established the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament, an order which continues to serve the poor and vulnerable today. Her empathy made her a model of bravery, courage, and strength.

This courageous empathy is precisely what is needed at this moment in history when people are suffering but our divisions and self-interests threaten to deafen us to their cries.

We are Stewards of Wealth

It is easy to fall into the trap of thinking that our state in life is the well-deserved reward for our own hard work. When this happens, we begin to think of our blessings as rights instead of gifts. We forget that all we have has been given to us and we can become reluctant to give ourselves. Yet we must remember that any prosperity and wealth we have has been graciously given to us by God and, in turn, we must share graciously.

In Deuteronomy 24:19-22, God commands the Israelites to leave some of their harvest in the fields, some of the olives on the trees, and some of the grapes on the vine so that the poor can harvest them for themselves. Then he says:

Remember that you were slaves in Egypt. That is why I command you to do this.

In other words, God said, “Remember, without me you would be nothing, have nothing.”

St. Katharine Drexel inherited incredible wealth when her parents died. She and her sisters are thought to have inherited $15.5 million but, by the time of her death, Drexel had given away more than $12 million in pursuit of the mission God gave her. She did not view her wealth as her right, but rather as the means to do the will of God.

As we seek ways to address the suffering of immigrants and migrants, we must ask ourselves how we can be stewards of the wealth and prosperity we have given – and if we are not being forced to flee our homes, we are indeed prosperous. How can we – individually and collectively – remember that we would have nothing were it not for God and give generously in light of all the material wealth that He has graciously bestowed upon us?

Providing Opportunity is Mission Work

Pope Leo XIV prayed the following prayer for the Church:

Holy Father, make us one in Christ, rooted in his love that unites and renews. May all members of the Church be united in mission, docile to the Holy Spirit, courageous in bearing witness to the Gospel, proclaiming and daily embodying your faithful love for all creatures. Bless all missionary men and women, support them in their efforts, and watch over them in hope! Mary, Queen of Missions, accompany our work of evangelization in every corner of the earth: make us instruments of peace, and grant that the whole world may recognize in Christ the light that saves. Amen.

St. Katharine Drexel’s life reminds us that mission work does not always look like a person preaching in a distant jungle, nor is it purely spiritual. Missionary work for incarnate beings involves care for the body and not just the soul. Drexel sought to provide education and opportunity for society’s most vulnerable members.

So many immigrants come to the U.S. in search of opportunity and Drexel reminds us that they should not be condemned for this. Instead, we must ask ourselves, in what ways should our response to immigrants reflect St. Katharine Drexel’s missionary work? How can we work to protect and defend immigrants’ rights to obtain the means to live fully human lives?

Perfection is Impossible, Action is Not

Sometimes we are paralyzed by our fears of failure and self-doubt. When faced with complex problems like the ones facing immigrant communities in the U.S., it is easy to allow ourselves to feel inadequate or ill-prepared. We worry that we will say something that will offend, do something that makes things worse, or be just plain wrong.

We can be encouraged by the life of St. Katharine Drexel who did not have all the answers and was not perfect. In fact, while Drexel did an amazing amount of good in helping Native and Black Americans, her legacy is not intact. More than seventy years after her death, articles have been written examining the ways that her work fell short. They raise questions like: Did Drexel’s efforts to provide opportunities for the most vulnerable serve to perpetuate segregation? Why did the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament refuse to admit Black women until 60 years after the order’s founding? Why didn’t Drexel do more to publicly challenge the circumstances facing those she served? Did the imperialist aspects of the schools Drexel ran for Native Americans harm the very people she was trying to help? Was there abuse happening at some of these schools?

Like us, St. Katharine Drexel was limited by the time she lived in and her own humanity. Her story should be a cautionary tale for us in some ways, reminding us to do our utmost to do no harm. However, it should also encourage us because, despite her imperfection, Drexel did something. She did not allow the possibility of not doing her work exactly right to keep her from doing it at all. We can look at her life and remind ourselves that, while we might not act perfectly and we might not even accomplish everything we could, we can do something to help our brothers and sisters who are caught up in this moment of persecution against immigrants. We are not perfect, but we are not impotent.

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Image: “Native Dancers” (Public Domain) by Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area