Friday, March 24, 2017

Dear Friends, Greetings! It is Friday evening, the 24th. For me this date brings to mind the death, the assassination of a man I have admired immensely: Oscar Romero, the archbishop of El Salvador from 1977-1980. 37 years ago this evening, while he was praying mass for a young man shot to death by the army, he was himself killed. I had read his biography and traveled with 12 others to El Salvador in March of 1998 to visit his gravesite and see the places where he rose to the challenge of his ministry to speak out for the people of the nation, mainly humble farmers, who were de facto slaves/farm workers for the few very well-to-do families who owned 60% of the land of the nation and needed the hands of these poor people to cut their sugar cane, pick the coffee berries and tend their animals. The economic structure was very similar to what prevailed in the southern states of the USA before the Civil War. That situation led to a civil war in El Salvador because the farmers were being squeezed with so much work and so little pay that they could not afford their own homes nor send their children to school much beyond the 4th, 5th or 6th grades because the children were needed in the fields. The people were desperate; they were "suffocating" socially and economically. Romero heard their cry and he voiced it over national radio each Sunday afternoon to give them courage and call the leaders of the nation to repentance, a change of heart. But this ended up as an assurance that someone from the government or hired by the government would kill him. He knew he was taking a huge risk but he could not live with his conscience if he did not speak up. How could he be the chief shepherd of the church and sit quietly, safely in his home when his people were so oppressed? And so, the fate of the people, so many of them already executed and dumped in the city's garbage dump, became his fate. He saw it coming: sharing in the crucifixion of his people. What was so moving for me during the one week visit to El Salvador was to see his residence, a humble chaplain's quarters at a nursing care center for terminally ill cancer patients. His bedroom was small but enough, and the hallway had a set of closets with glass doors. One could easily see what was inside. What the caretakers of the place had done is to put up front on a hanger the alb or white garment Romero wore under another garment when praying mass. There was one small hole in the alb just above the heart, and that side of the garment was completely covered with dried blood. Quite sobering! I will never forget that. It made it so real for me what a martyr does, witnessing courageously to Christ and the Gospel values. Everyone was in silence as our group walked very slowly through this small house. Then we walked over to the chapel, a two minute walk and again quietly took in the ambiance. I was taken by how small the chapel is. It might hold 200 people if jammed in. Our group had a photo of us all taken in front of the altar. Before we dispersed I took the opportunity to go behind the altar for just a moment and stand on the spot where Romero stood when he was shot. How awesome, and then to look out on the chapel and see how short was the distance from front to back. I then walked to the back and just outside to get a sense of how the assassin was driven up in a Volkswagen, got out, took out his rifle from a case that looked like a musical instrument case, assembled what was a two piece rifle, and walked into the back of the chapel, fired one shot that killed Romero instantly, and quickly got back into the car which someone else drove away. There were maybe 10-15 people at that mass, mostly nuns who worked at the home of the cancer patients. It was just shy of 7 PM in the evening with the evening shadows already settling in. Mr. Delgado is the name of the assassin and he was never brought to justice. I have often wondered whether the memory of this awful incident ever caught up with him and his conscience. A person has to be hardened to a lot of violence not to feel something like this in his or her memory and sleep. Still . . . People who survive combat still experience shock, flashbacks. The truth of our soul wells up from our depths sooner or later!! What I find so amazing about this man is how he met the challenge of his being archbishop in such a conflicted nation and among fellow bishops who were polarized among themselves and thought Romero could be easily co-opted to their side of their conflicts. Romero had been a seminary professor for many years before being named a bishop. He was a man of books as he described himself. He admits in his retreat journals to struggles with his own sinfulness. He was quite ordinary in many respects. But the situation made him become what it forced him to face and speak out about. In less than three years he was a changed man and became a martyr for Christ. His prayer greatly deepened. He suffered horrendously, especially in the last three weeks of his life. He could hardly sleep, thanks to nightmares of his being hounded and eventually murdered. He knew it was coming. He could not run away any more than Jesus could run out of the Garden of Gethsemane before the soldiers came to arrest him. To run away, to keep silent would be to betray his deepest truth, his true self. What an experience to be thrust into such a choice. Jesus sweat blood out of such great fear. Romero had nightmares and trembled with fear. Both felt abandoned by God, the Father. What moves anyone of us to choose death over betraying our soul, to trust God even when we cannot feel his presence? It has to be God. What else is left? There has to be a love for the One you have trusted all your life to be able, even if it involves terrible fear, to choose the relationship with God rather than betray God, your first love, and one's own self. Tomorrow is perhaps, along with Easter, the most awesome feast-day in the Christian calendar. I refer to the feast of Mary conceiving Jesus. That is, what is most amazing is that God became human. Eternity stepped into time and space, and if you really understand the essence of this mystery, God is still doing this inside us all who believe and trust and open the door to Him to come into our lives, to become human again in our lives. Humans don't expect God to do such. The gap between divinity and humanity is infinite. God would never lower himself to such, so we think. Yet, we Christians profess our faith in a God who does such, who is so humble to become one of us and share our lot, the joys and the pains of it all. So, I wish all you who read this a blessed Lent for what is left of it and a happy Easter. I am doing reasonably well at the same time sharing with the locals here in their exasperation over a drought that seems to never end. God help us and the farmers!! I am blessed with the stories and experiences of the retreatants who come here and I get to guide. God is very real. If only more would seek to get that close, to take the time to pray in a concentrated way and develop a close friendship with Jesus and the Father. I guess it is a call and a great gift for those who do respond and thirst for that deeper life. Bernie Owens