In a solemn convergence of past and present, survivors of Japanese American internment camps and their descendants completed a pilgrimage last week to the site of the Kenedy, Texas, detention center, before marching to the gates of the Dilley Family Detention Center. Their message was clear and urgent: the same logic that imprisoned innocent families during World War II is now being used to cage asylum-seeking families today. For these activists, the pilgrimage was not merely political—it was a sacred act of remembrance and a spiritual demand for justice.
Why does this matter spiritually? At its core, the issue touches on the ancient wisdom that we are all interconnected, and that the suffering of one group is the suffering of all. The Buddhist concept of paticca-samuppada (dependent origination) teaches that no action exists in isolation; the karmic seeds of past injustice are still bearing fruit. When we fail to recognize the humanity of the “other,” we repeat the very cycles of violence and exclusion that spiritual traditions have always warned against. The survivors of Japanese internment are not just witnesses to history—they are living prophets, calling us to break the cycle before it consumes another generation.
Deeper context from wisdom traditions underscores this urgency. In the Jewish tradition, the command “Do not oppress a stranger, for you know the heart of a stranger” (Exodus 23:9) is rooted in the memory of slavery in Egypt. The Christian call to welcome the stranger (Matthew 25:35) is not a suggestion but a test of our faith. Likewise, in the Islamic tradition, the Hadith reminds us that “The best of people are those who are most beneficial to others.” The interfaith activists at Dilley are drawing on these deep wellsprings, arguing that detaining families—especially children—is a violation of the sacred bond of hospitality that all religions uphold. As one pilgrim, a Buddhist priest, stated, “We cannot pretend we do not see the suffering. To look away is to betray our own awakening.”
The takeaway for the reader is both personal and communal. Spiritually, we are called to cultivate sati (mindfulness) of how our own comfort may be built on the displacement of others. The survivors of Japanese internment are not asking for pity; they are asking for action. They are reminding us that the spiritual life is not a private retreat but a public witness. To ignore the echoes of history is to risk repeating its tragedies. As the Dalai Lama has often said, “If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion.” The pilgrimage to Dilley is a living lesson that compassion must be practiced not only in our hearts, but in our laws, our borders, and our communities.