SAN DIEGO — Bishop Michael Pham shared his own journey of perseverance and hope as he accepted this year’s Lucy Howell Humanitarian Award.
The award was presented on Oct. 23, during Casa Cornelia Law Center’s 18th annual La Mancha Awards. The ceremony was held in the Peace and Justice Theatre in the University of San Diego’s Joan B. Kroc Institute for Peace & Justice.
Casa Cornelia Law Center, which was founded in 1993, is a public-interest law firm that provides legal services to victims of human and civil rights violations. It primarily serves immigrants in Southern California.
Named after one of the law center’s former board members, the Lucy Howell Humanitarian Award “honors individuals and organizations that advance humanitarian relief for people experiencing suffering around the world.”
Bishop Pham came to the United States in 1981 as a teenage refugee from Vietnam. As the seventh bishop of the Diocese of San Diego and the first Vietnamese bishop to lead a U.S. diocese, he has stood with immigrants.
He has done so most notably through FAITH, which stands for “Faithful Accompaniment in Trust & Hope,” a new, interfaith ministry launched over the summer. It enlists clergy and other people of faith to accompany migrants and asylum-seekers at immigration proceedings at the federal courthouse in downtown San Diego.
In his acceptance speech, Bishop Pham described himself as “deeply humbled and profoundly grateful” for the award. In vivid detail, he recounted his harrowing flight from his homeland.
“In 1980, when I was just 13, my parents made a painful yet courageous decision,” the bishop said. “They put my older sister, my younger brother, and me on a small fishing boat with more than a hundred others to seek freedom.”
He recalled that, aboard the “small, crowded boat, overflowing with people,” he and his siblings “slipped away into the night, frightened and unsure of what waited beyond the waves.”
Bishop Pham said that they spent three days and four nights adrift on the open ocean, without either food or water; endured a “violent storm”; and survived a collision with a pirate vessel that split the bow of their boat almost in half.
The ordeal taught him about perseverance, he said.
“When you can no longer move on your own, hope can still carry you,” he said. “In that uncertain time, kindness found us — the kindness of strangers and the generosity of a nation that welcomed us. Eventually, we arrived in the United States, to a small town in Minnesota called Blue Earth.”
Bishop Pham’s entire family was reunited a few years later and, ultimately, they relocated to San Diego.
“As a refugee, I can never forget those still searching for safety today,” he said. “That memory compels me to stand with immigrant and refugee families — in our parishes, at our borders, and even inside immigration courts.”
Bishop Pham recalled attending an immigration proceeding with other priests and ministers. They entered the courtroom, he said, “in our collars, quietly sitting in the back rows.”
“We did not intervene nor protest; we prayed,” he said. “Yet that simple act of standing there made a difference. People turned and saw that the Church was with them. Judges noticed, too. The atmosphere shifted: You could feel compassion enter the room.”
Bishop Pham shared that, as of today, 396 volunteers from both Christian and non-Christian religious traditions have been trained to participate in the FAITH ministry.
“Presence is a form of advocacy,” he said. “When we stand beside the vulnerable, (those at) the margins, the migrants, even in silence, we proclaim that they are not forgotten — that God’s love is still with them, even in the hardest places.”
The bishop concluded his remarks with one final piece of encouragement.
“If I could leave one message tonight, it would be this: Whatever trials you face, do not give up,” he said. “The same God who brought a young boy from a small boat in the South China Sea to this moment will never fail you.
“Keep walking in faith. Keep serving in love. Keep persevering in hope.”
The entire text of Bishop Pham’s acceptance speech follows:
I am deeply humbled and profoundly grateful to receive the Lucy Howell Humanitarian Award. I am sure there are many people who are worthy of this honor, so I am thrilled to be chosen this year.
“I thank the Board and Staff of Casa Cornelia Law Center for this honor and for your steadfast commitment to justice and compassion. Your work brings light and dignity to countless men, women, and children seeking safety and hope — particularly for the poor, vulnerable, migrants, and those on the margins.
“The theme of tonight’s celebration, ‘Perseverance: The Journey Toward Justice,’ touches my heart in a very personal way.
“I was born in Da Nang, Vietnam, during a time of war. When the conflict ended, my family fled south to survive. My grandfather told my father that because our family was large, we could not stay in the city — we had to live on the farm, cultivating rice and raising pigs just to survive. But life under the new regime was harsh: food was scarce, and freedom was gone.
“In 1980, when I was just 13, my parents made a painful yet courageous decision. They put my older sister, my younger brother, and me on a small fishing boat with more than a hundred others to seek freedom. I had imagined it would be a large ship — but instead it was a small, crowded boat overflowing with people.
“We slipped away into the night, frightened and unsure of what waited beyond the waves — just children starting out on a journey into a future we could not imagine.
“For three days and four nights, we drifted in open waters — no food, no water, only fear and exhaustion. I suffered terrible motion sickness and could not move from one spot. I remember sitting curled up the entire time, unable to lift my head. Then a violent storm arose, and the waves crashed over our small boat like mountains. People cried out, clinging to one another as the sea swallowed everything around us. In that terrifying moment, everyone prayed out loud — each to their own God — and it sounded like a single desperate choir rising from the dark sea.
“Then, as if the storm were not enough, a pirate ship came and crashed into us, splitting the bow of our boat nearly in half and leaving us drifting in the vast Pacific Ocean.
“When we finally reached shore, my body could not move. Every muscle was numb; breathing itself felt like work. The trauma was overwhelming. Yet somehow, an unseen strength lifted me — just enough to stand, enough to live, enough to keep going.
“Through that experience, I learned something about perseverance: when you can no longer move on your own, hope can still carry you.
“In that uncertain time, kindness found us — the kindness of strangers and the generosity of a nation that welcomed us. Eventually, we arrived in the United States, to a small town in Minnesota called Blue Earth, in the middle of a freezing winter. That was my initiation in America.
“The United States was a place we had only heard about, but it became the land where our hopes took root again. Life was not easy at first. We had to learn a new language, adapt to a new culture, and begin again with almost nothing. But every challenge taught me something: perseverance is not just survival; it is the courage to begin again, to build, and to believe that the future can hold something better.
“My whole family was reunited a couple years late. Because the weather was too cold for my parents, my family later moved to San Diego. I completed high school at San Diego High, then studied engineering at San Diego State University. Yet a philosophy course awakened deeper questions in my heart.
“I felt a quiet but persistent call to the priesthood — a call my father initially resisted. Twice he said ‘no,’ and I understood his fears. But God’s call grew stronger than my hesitation. Eventually, I entered the seminary, trusting that if this path was truly from the Lord, He would provide what I lacked.
“Since my ordination in 1999, I have learned that perseverance in faith often means saying ‘yes’ one small step at a time — when doors close, when challenges arise, when you feel unworthy — keep moving forward in trust.
“Looking back, I see only God’s grace overflowing. He placed people along my path — my parents and siblings, generous sponsors in Minnesota, mentors, priests, religious, and parishioners — who shaped me and sustained me.
“Grace gave me strength to serve joyfully even when ministry was hard, and courage to say ‘yes’ again when Pope Francis called me to serve as bishop.
“Perseverance also means carrying faith into action.
“As a refugee, I can never forget those still searching for safety today. That memory compels me to stand with immigrant and refugee families — in our parishes, at our borders, and even inside immigration courts.
“I still remember the first time I entered an immigration courtroom. The air was heavy with fear. Families sat clutching one another, uncertain if they would be allowed to stay together. Some had no lawyer, no voice, no one to speak for them.
“A few of us priests and ministers came simply to be present — in our collars, quietly sitting in the back rows. We did not intervene nor protest; we prayed. Yet that simple act of standing there made a difference. People turned and saw that the Church was with them. Judges noticed, too. The atmosphere shifted — you could feel compassion enter the room.
“As of today, we – Father Scott Santarosa, Father Hung Nguyen, and Dinora Reyna-Gutierrez – have trained 396 volunteers, 115 clergy including ecumenical and religious sisters which consist of Catholic, Greek Orthodox, Episcopal, Nazarene, United Church of Christ, Quaker, Unitarian Universalists, United Methodist Church, Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, Presbyterian, Calvary Chapel, nondenominational Christian, Islamic Center of San Diego, Buddhism, Baha’i Faith, and Jewish.
“Presence is a form of advocacy. When we stand beside the vulnerable, the migrants, even in silence, we proclaim that they are not forgotten — that God’s love is still with them, even in the hardest places.
“Our solidarity and advocacy for the vulnerable migrant community are not optional acts of charity — they are the living expression of faith. When we accompany those who are displaced, we declare that love knows no borders and that every human being bears the image of God.
“Perseverance is never a solo journey. It thrives in community. When I see Casa Cornelia’s attorneys, interpreters, and volunteers giving their skills and hearts for justice, I see hope alive. You remind us that law and love can, and must, serve one another.
“To my fellow people of faith — and to those from other traditions or none at all — our shared humanity is what unites us. We may speak different languages of belief, but we can all act with the same conviction: compassion heals, justice uplifts, and mercy is never wasted.
“To the lawyers, advocates, and friends of Casa Cornelia: your vocation is holy. You stand at the crossroads of human law and divine love. Never underestimate how your presence, your advocacy, your perseverance changes lives. You are instruments of grace for people who may have lost everything but hope.
“If I could leave one message tonight, it would be this: whatever trials you face, do not give up. The same God who brought a young boy from a small boat in the South China Sea to this moment will never fail you. Keep walking in faith. Keep serving in love. Keep persevering in hope.
“Thank you, Casa Cornelia, for your faith, your courage, and your compassion. May God bless you and your mission abundantly — and may we all continue to be pilgrims of hope, walking together on this journey toward justice.”
