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"On the Words of Oscar Romero"
Oscar Romero lives on in the hearts of so many people around the world and he has been a true inspiration to our congregation. We join with our Central American sisters and brothers to say a resounding "Presente!". For years we've maintained solidarity with our partner community in El Salvador, plus we've spread our peacemaking wings to Afghanistan and Colombia. Visit our What's New page to learn about more ways you can help work towards peace and justice in our world. We bring back this sermon from 1996 to remember Archbishop Romero and as part of our preparation for future trips. |
| Father Oscar Romero was not a dangerous man. At least that is what those who installed him as the Archbishop of El Salvador thought in February of 1976. The ruling oligarchy of fourteen families that controlled most of the wealth in that poor country rejoiced at his installation. He represented true, moral and time-tested traditional values. "Unobtrusive, willing to toe the line:" that is how his contemporaries described him at that time. No one would have called him a prophet. He was not a dangerous man. But Oscar Romero soon found that he lived in the midst of a dangerous time for his people and his country. On march 12 of that same year, an event occurred that would change his life and his theology. A friend of his, a Jesuit priest and Pastor, was shot to death as he was driving to say Mass on a Saturday afternoon, along with an old man and a young boy. He was shot because he was helping the people to organize for their own self-determination. That event was the hinge that turned Oscar Romero from an ordinary, line-toeing, harmless priest, into a prophet. It was the reason for a Metanoia, a turnaround, a change, a conversion. He had become dangerous man. Dangerous because he began to preach the truth. After that event, he began to recognize the injustice being perpetrated in his own country in the name of "traditional moral values." People who sought to organize for democracy and freedom were being killed for the simple act of coming together. On January 22, 1979, the largest political rally in the history of that country was held. As the rally reached downtown San Salvador, snipers shot at the demonstrators, killing 21 and wounding 120 people: men, women, children. Oscar Romero could not ignore the fact that right-wing death squads raped, tortured and murdered with impunity. Oscar Romero had moved from being a comfortable mouthpiece of the status quo, to a pastor, a shepherd for the people. And since the vast majority of the people of El Salvador were (are) poor, it meant being a pastor to the poor. That, he realized, had become a dangerous vocation. The last sermon he preached, he preached directly to the military of his country, which had become so involved in the repression of the people. Let me quote to you his own words: "I want to make a special appeal to soldiers, national guardsmen and policemen: each of you is one of us. The peasants you kill are your own brothers and sisters. When you hear a man telling you to kill, remember God's words, 'thou shalt not kill.' No soldier is obliged to obey a law contrary to the law of God. In the name of God, in the name of our tormented people, I beseech you, I implore you; in the name of God I command you to stop the repression." Later, on March 24, 1980, exactly 16 years ago today, a red, four-door Volkswagen approached the Carmelite chapel at Divine Providence Hospital in San Salvador. The driver of the van, associated with the right-wing political party ARENA, stepped out, and opened fire on Oscar Romero, hitting him in the throat. He was standing behind the altar, preparing the gifts of the offertory. He died a martyr, a prophet, a dangerous man. In a homily, several months before, Romero had said words that later would be some of his most famous: "I do not believe in death without resurrection. If they kill me, I will be resurrected in the hearts of the Salvadoran people." What does Archbishop Oscar Romero have to do with us, relatively comfortable people of faith living in this time and this place? Is it possible that Romero might be alive even in us? Is it possible that the flame of prophecy might bum in us, and make us dangerous? Is it possible that we too, in whatever large and small ways, might find a way to overturn those unjust structures under which we all live? (Shall we remember that it was our government that supported the forces that killed Romero?) Is it possible that we cling to those things we foolishly believe will promise us life, but rather further numb us to the possibility of resurrection. Is it possible that our fear, even our fear of death, keeps us from facing ourselves and the injustice that chokes life, and that prevents us from loving? What will make us dangerous-turn us from comfortable Sunday morning Christians to burning 7/24 prophets? For we are called to burn as Romero did, with the flame of the Spirit-the flame of prophecy and hope. Knowing the depth of these questions, even weeping with them, leads us to that thing we seek from our faith: Hope, even in the midst of death. For as the prophet Ezekiel spoke to the dry bones that represented his people Israel, he knew that hope is the fuel that makes the flame burn. As Daniel Santiago writes regarding Romero in his book The Harvest of Justice, "But hope is not resignation; it is a commitment to continue to struggle even when things seem to warrant surrender, when hope flares, it allows human beings to overcome monstrous difficulties. It allows people to defy common sense and confound strategists. Hope experienced in the extreme, like faith and love, is miraculous." What will make us dangerous, by speaking and living the truth? For we are called to burn. To bum with the light of truth and prophecy that illuminates our world. Hear the words of the gospel: "I do not believe in a death without resurrection. If they kill me, I will be reborn in the hearts of the people." Amen. |
