Send us a text

What drives ordinary people to extraordinary acts of kindness? For Harriet Taub and Kathy Prussak, members of the United Synagogue of Hoboken's Refugee Committee, the answer lies at the intersection of faith, heritage, and a profound commitment to human dignity.

Living "literally in the shadow of the Statue of Liberty," these two remarkable women have formed a powerful partnership with the Lighthouse, an Episcopal ministry serving refugees and asylum seekers. Their regular food deliveries, community dinner organizing, and personal connections with residents exemplify interfaith collaboration at its finest. But their service goes deeper than logistics—it's rooted in their Jewish tradition of "tikkun olam" (repairing the world) and honoring their own immigrant ancestors who fled persecution in Eastern Europe.

The conversation reveals how small, consistent acts of service create meaningful impact in divisive times. When Harriet took Ghanaian refugees to source authentic ingredients for a community dinner, she witnessed their pride in sharing cultural heritage. When Kathy met brilliant young African boys eager to learn English, she advocated for their education. These personal connections challenge dehumanizing political narratives about immigrants, revealing instead their resilience, contributions, and dignity.

As anti-immigrant sentiment has intensified and legal pathways narrowed, these volunteers have adapted their approach—focusing on supporting those already here rather than welcoming newcomers who can no longer enter. Yet they remain undeterred, finding creative ways to channel community resources to meet specific needs. Their message to those feeling helpless: start local, start small, but start somewhere. Whether donating household items, collecting school supplies, or sharing your time, everyone can contribute to building a more welcoming community.

Share this episode with friends who care about immigration issues, interfaith cooperation, or finding practical ways to make a difference. Then visit lighthousenjorg to learn how you can support refugees and asylum seekers in your community.

Please consider supporting The Lighthouse, a haven to those navigating our broken immigration system. We strive to ensure that those seeking safety never have to navigate their darkest moments alone.

For more information, please visit lighthousenj.org.

Send us a text

For immigration attorney Cari Pastor, the law is more than a profession—it’s a calling. With 35 years of experience and a personal connection—her father fled Cuba during the 1959 revolution and sought asylum in the U.S.—she brings rare clarity to how the asylum process really works.

In our conversation, Pastor dismantles some of the loudest myths. Seeking asylum is not illegal; it is a protected legal process whether at a port of entry or after crossing. Asylum seekers aren’t angling for handouts; they are waiting—often desperately—for work authorization, asking again and again, “When can I start working?” And far from the caricatures in headlines, these are people fleeing persecution who want nothing more than safety and the chance to rebuild their lives.

She also draws a sharp contrast between refugees and asylum seekers. Refugees arrive with legal status and resettlement support. Asylum seekers, by contrast, face a labyrinth of hearings and paperwork with virtually no safety net—making organizations like The Lighthouse critical lifelines during the long wait before work permits arrive.

Pastor’s courtroom stories capture both heartbreak and hope: a Middle Eastern student granted asylum after raising a resistance flag, a domestic violence survivor denied despite overwhelming evidence. Through it all, she grounds her work in faith: “I draw on that all the time. I am a lawyer thanks to God.”

As political rhetoric grows harsher, Pastor offers a roadmap for those who want to help: listen with empathy, show up at peaceful demonstrations, and hold officials accountable. “Don’t lose hope,” she insists. For those willing to walk alongside their vulnerable neighbors, the light at the end of the tunnel is still in sight.

Please consider supporting The Lighthouse, a haven to those navigating our broken immigration system. We strive to ensure that those seeking safety never have to navigate their darkest moments alone.

For more information, please visit lighthousenj.org.

Send us a text

Jessica's voice carries the quiet power of someone who has walked through darkness and emerged with purpose. As our first house manager at The Lighthouse, she helped create a community for asylum seekers when her own journey was still unfolding. Nine years after we first met, Jessica now shares how a leap of faith brought her from Burkina Faso to an unexpected six months in U.S. immigration detention.

"I was the only French-speaking person there," Jessica recalls of her detention experience. Far from being defeated by isolation, she formed bonds with Spanish-speaking detainees as they learned English together by watching television and attending weekly religious services. This resilience foreshadowed her future role at The Lighthouse, where she would befriend those from Syria, Honduras, Ecuador, and Mexico, building lasting bonds  despite language barriers.

Jessica's story illuminates the hidden workforce behind our everyday conveniences. Now a U.S. citizen balancing warehouse work with pursuit of a social work degree, she describes picking and packing online orders alongside fellow immigrants from Africa, Haiti, and Latin America. "It's only my boss who is white," she notes about the warehouse staff, offering a glimpse into the essential labor performed by those who've come seeking better lives. Despite the physical demands of this work, Jessica persists in her education, determined to serve refugees and immigrants once she completes her degree.

Faith remains Jessica's cornerstone. From her grandfather who served as a pastor to her unwavering commitment to attend church even when offered holiday overtime pay, Jessica's spiritual foundation guides her journey. "When you are a believer you have to have faith, because faith can do everything," she shares, her words a testament to finding meaning beyond hardship. Her story challenges us to recognize our shared humanity and responsibility toward those seeking refuge. How might our communities change if we all approached newcomers with Jessica's blend of compassion and clarity?

Please consider supporting The Lighthouse, a haven to those navigating our broken immigration system. We strive to ensure that those seeking safety never have to navigate their darkest moments alone.

For more information, please visit lighthousenj.org.

Send us a text

A chance hallway encounter becomes the catalyst for profound ministry when Reverend Melissa Hall notices a worried expression and stops to help. "Everything okay?" she asks, learning about a stranded family needing transportation funds. Her simple "we'll help with that" launches a partnership that transforms both St. James Episcopal Church and The Lighthouse community.

This conversation pulls back the curtain on what authentic faith in action looks like. Reverends Melissa and Audrey share how a youth group service project evolved from basic cleaning tasks into genuine relationships. The turning point comes when David, a guest from Ghana who couldn't cook, receives a simple cooking lesson that sparks independence and confidence. For the youth involved, he transforms from an abstract concept into a friend with a name and story.

The clergy don't shy away from challenging their congregation with the responsibility of proclaimed faith. "You say this is your gospel, how are you living it?" becomes a question impossible to avoid. For churches wondering if they're too small to make meaningful impact, they offer liberating wisdom: "You are not going to eradicate poverty. Feed one person and see what a difference it makes." Through through their stories, they demonstrate how ministry happens not primarily through grand gestures but through faithful presence in daily moments. Their experiences remind us that transformation flows both ways—those who serve often receive the greater gift of purpose, connection, and the relief of putting faith into authentic practice.

Please consider supporting The Lighthouse, a haven to those navigating our broken immigration system. We strive to ensure that those seeking safety never have to navigate their darkest moments alone.

For more information, please visit lighthousenj.org.

Send us a text

Few stories capture the brutal reality of seeking asylum in America like Jose's journey. Fleeing violence in Honduras at just 19 years old, he arrived at the U.S. border in October 2015 with hopes of safety and reuniting with family in Miami. Instead, he entered a labyrinthine detention system that would consume 18 months of his life.

The most shocking aspect of Jose's experience wasn't just the physical hardship – though being handcuffed at wrists and ankles, transferred between facilities without explanation, and housed in crowded rooms with zero privacy certainly qualifies as cruel treatment. What truly stands out is the profound isolation and information vacuum that defined his detention. For six months, no official explained his situation or options. He received no visitors, had no legal representation, and couldn't afford to call home. When he finally earned enough from his $1-per-day kitchen job to make a call, he could only afford one minute—just enough time to reassure his mother he was okay while hiding his true suffering.

The economic exploitation within detention centers emerges clearly from Jose's account. Beyond the essentially unpaid labor, he faced a $20,000 bond—four times what others typically received—and upon release, a $420 monthly fee to rent an ankle monitor, with the threat of re-detention if he failed to pay. How does someone who's been restricted to earning $7 weekly suddenly afford such costs? The system seems deliberately designed to break spirits and force returns to dangerous situations.

Yet Jose persevered. With help from a pro bono lawyer and LGBTQ advocates, he secured his release and found community at The Lighthouse, where he stayed for 18 months while rebuilding his life. Today, though his asylum case is approved, he faces the cruel requirement of returning to Honduras—where his mother was later killed—to complete his green card process. Despite this ongoing struggle, Jose now supports others at the Lighthouse, bringing them clothing, food, and understanding born from shared experience.

Please consider supporting The Lighthouse, a haven to those navigating our broken immigration system. We strive to ensure that those seeking safety never have to navigate their darkest moments alone.

For more information, please visit lighthousenj.org.

Send us a text

"The perception about immigrants being criminals is false, false, false." These powerful words from Kofi, a Ghanaian asylum seeker, cut through the noise of political rhetoric to reveal the human reality behind migration statistics.

Kofi never intended to come to America. Facing persecution in Ghana, he initially sought refuge in Nicaragua with his wife and two young sons, only to discover that crime, kidnapping, and language barriers made it impossible to build a safe life there. Learning about America's human rights protections from fellow migrants, Kofi made the heart-wrenching decision to journey northward through Central America.

What follows is a breathtaking account of courage and desperation. Kofi describes carrying his children and all their belongings through jungles and across rivers, including a terrifying crossing on a narrow fallen tree where his wife wept with fear. "I was even thinking that if anything at all, if there should be any fall at all, I should rather fall, die for them to also save their life," he recalls, the emotion still raw after two years.

Upon reaching American soil, Kofi encountered another daunting challenge: navigating an overwhelmed asylum system without resources or connections. His court dates repeatedly postponed, his next hearing isn't until 2026. During the mandatory 150-day waiting period before work authorization eligibility, asylum seekers receive no government support. "How do we survive?" Kofi asks.

The answer came in the form of the Lighthouse, which Kofi calls "my God on this earth." The Lighthouse provided food, clothing, education for his children, and even funded his wife's training as a Certified Nursing Assistant. Now working legally and watching his children thrive academically, Kofi dreams of giving back to the country that eventually offered them protection.

Subscribe to hear more powerful stories from asylum seekers and learn how The Lighthouse has helped those caught between persecution and protection.

Please consider supporting The Lighthouse, a haven to those navigating our broken immigration system. We strive to ensure that those seeking safety never have to navigate their darkest moments alone.

For more information, please visit lighthousenj.org.