On Sunday morning, as some people packed the diners in downtown Minneapolis in search of warm breakfast and coffee, others filed into the pews at Westminster Presbyterian.
One detail, however, hinted that this wasn’t a typical weekly service — a woman with knitting needles was making a red hat worn by many of those who have poured into the streets to deplore the presence of immigration agents.
The church offered a quieter but, for many, an equally powerful form of protest: prayer. Absent were the animal onesies and profanity-laden chants of the crowds outside the B.H. Whipple Federal Building. In their place were hymns, scripture and a full-throated sermon.
“The main reason why Operation Metro Surge has not gone according to the Department of Homeland Security’s plan is because the architects assumed that Minnesotans would turn on one another, or decide that it’s too costly to show solidarity to people who are suffering or who are gripped by fear,” the Rev. Matthew Skinner declared from the pulpit. “So far, we haven’t done that.”
Places of worship have played pivotal roles in protests throughout history. The Presbyterian Church has urged members into action in the Revolutionary War and supported the civil rights movement. Since Immigration and Customs Enforcement began operations in Minnesota in December, leaders of many faiths have provided support for the people resisting.
Mr. Skinner said in an interview that attending church allows older congregants, those who can no longer march or stand for hours in the cold with signs, to show solidarity. “People are looking for ways to feel a sense of cohesion,” Mr. Skinner said.
Those people are not always members. On Jan. 22, the church hosted over 700 clergy of different faiths to train them on security risks before a day of protest. And after services on Sunday, roughly 2,000 protesters filled the sanctuary to participate in what they called “a singing resistance,” performing protest songs.
The Rev. David Shinn said that Westminister had a surplus from its 2025 budget that it donated to two groups providing services such as food delivery to immigrants afraid to leave their homes as well as finding and funding immigration attorneys.
Ryan Burge, a professor at Washington University’s John C. Danforth Center on Religion and Politics in St. Louis, said that, for many churches, political activity can risk alienating members. But as politics becomes inescapable — and President Trump’s administration has liberalized tax rules to allow churches to make political endorsements — some churches have become more overt. Conservative Christians voted overwhelmingly for Mr. Trump, and some pastors have herded their flock in his direction.
Now, even a sanctuary is not necessarily a refuge. Nine people have been charged in connection with a protest during a service at a St. Paul church where a pastor also serves as an ICE official.
According to Mr. Burge, some mainline Christian churches, in response to conservative evangelicalism, have leaned in the opposite direction. Mr. Burge added that within the Presbyterian Church, Westminster’s stance is common. “They feel like they have a righteous fight,” he said.
That drew Larry Christiansen, 73, to the congregation. It was tough for him to admit, as a Minnesotan, that he could no longer withstand the cold, but it had kept him from the many protests. He appreciated that he could show support by his attendance at Westminster.
That same reason drew Sarah Swindle, 36, a graphic designer. She said the past three weeks had been overwhelming, but that the church had provided a place to reflect. She said a major reason was the older members.
“They really want to learn and understand what is going on in the world, and they want to make a difference, even if you know they can’t be protesting out in the streets,” she said.
A man named Fedinard, who asked that his last name not be used because he is fearful of being deported to Cameroon, said the church provides him with energy. He said he has been living behind locked doors since ICE appeared, leaving only for grocery-shopping and church.
“Being here on Sundays, and on other days that I can be able to make it here, just breathes so much life and energy inside of me,” Fedinard said. “If you’re afraid to go to church, then you’re just dead.”
On Jan. 25, the Rev. Margaret Fox delivered a sermon the day after Alex Pretti was killed by Border Patrol officers just over a mile away. She reflected on “acts of repurposing” that had taken place — parents who were now neighborhood patrollers, Signal chats that had become service networks, cellphone cameras that were now a form of accountability.
“But the one repurposed object that feels the most ubiquitous is the ordinary whistle,” she said. “On the lips of a referee, a whistle means stop. It means foul. It means you are out of bounds. A whistle says, this is a violation.”
As Ms. Fox’s sermon closed, the congregation slowly rose to its feet, providing her a standing ovation. As the members clapped, their whistles sounded throughout the church.
Claire Fahy reports on New York City and the surrounding area for The Times.
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