Beloved friends, neighbors, colleagues, and companions on the journey,

With a full heart and a humble spirit, I need to let you know that, because of health challenges, I will be gradually stepping back from my leadership role in the Ulster Immigrant Defense Network. After 55 years of priestly ministry and nearly ten years of shared leadership in UIDN, I do so with immense gratitude, not for what I have accomplished, but for what we have built together.

Nine years ago, when we launched this bold response to injustice and fear, we could not have imagined the scope or strength of the movement that would follow. The Ulster Immigrant Defense Network began as a seed of moral urgency, a shared conviction that no person should live in fear simply because of where they were born, what papers they carry, or the language they speak.

What has grown from that seed has been nothing short of miraculous.

UIDN has never been a one-person project or the mission of a single institution. It has been, from the very beginning, a wide, grassroots response, a coalition woven from the threads of our diverse community. I am so deeply grateful that people of all faith traditions, and others with no religious affiliation, came together in a holy alliance of conscience and compassion. We didn’t ask, What do you believe? We asked, Will you help? Will you show up? Will you care? Will you serve?

And you did.

You showed up to give rides to ICE check-ins and court dates, to interpret at hospital visits, to bring food to hungry families, to sit with those facing deportation hearings, to make phone calls, to write letters, to advocate, to donate, to pray, to protest, and to protect.

Volunteers, hundreds of you over the years, and now numbering 400 strong, have been the lifeblood of this network. I have seen you pack winter coats in your trunks, offer rooms in your homes, stay up late to offer comfort and hope. I have seen you listen deeply to stories of trauma and loss, responding not with pity, but with solidarity and love.

Through your witness, I have come to see more clearly than ever that holiness is not reserved for sanctuaries or rituals. Holiness lives in the hands that deliver groceries to a struggling mother. It lives in the embrace offered to a newly arrived asylum seeker. It lives in the refusal to let fear drive us apart.

And let me say this plainly: It has been my profound honor to walk alongside our undocumented neighbors and those seeking asylum. They have taught me what courage looks like. They have shown me the deep and sacred yearning to be safe, to be free, to build a future for one’s children. And while I have often been called “Father,” I have felt like a student in their presence, learning the lessons of perseverance, grace, and unyielding hope.

In these times, when cruelty is too often mistaken for strength, and indifference too easily dressed up as policy, you all have chosen another way. You have embodied the Gospel without needing to quote it. You have practiced the highest form of religion: love in action.

Photo of Father Frank Alagna speaking (with microphone) at a rally in support of Dreamers.

I leave this role knowing that the work is not finished, but I also leave knowing that the foundation is strong. UIDN will continue to be a sanctuary of resistance and refuge, a beacon of welcome and justice. And I trust that new voices will rise up, new hands will take hold of the plow, and new hearts will find their way into the work.

If you have not already heard the news, UIDN has just hired an executive director. His name is Victor Cueva. Victor is an immigration attorney who has shared the migrant experience and has worked for many years with immigrant support organizations. He is well equipped to lead UIDN into the next phase of its life.

To my colleagues on the board, to every partner organization, to every house of worship that opened its doors, to every neighbor who spoke out or stood up, thank you. You have reminded me again and again that community is a sacred gift and that justice is a shared responsibility.

As I take my leave from leadership, I do so not in sadness, but in awe. Awe at what we have done. Awe at who we have become. Awe at what, by God’s grace, lies ahead.

Thank you for letting me be part of something so beautiful, so brave, and so urgently needed.

May the work continue. May the welcome widen. And may we never forget that the measure of our humanity is found not in how we treat the powerful, but in how we honor the stranger in our midst.

God bless you all,
Father Frank
September 2025