Remembering El Salvador

(Trigger Warning: there is a photo in this post that shows someone who was shot)

Four weeks ago today, we arrived in San Salvador, El Salvador.

The layers of clothing I needed to stay warm on the airplane were 

excruciatingly unnecessary once we deplaned.

As we stood waiting for our luggage,

as we waited for our passports to be stamped, 

as we watched dozens of American military personnel drag their enormous bags

out of the terminal,

as we drove from the airport to our guest house,

every step along that journey,

I was reminded that we weren't in Charlotte anymore.

This was a whole different world.

A world of barbed wire and locked gates.

A world where coconut water straight out of the coconut was available at every turn.

A world of street food and hustlers sold at every traffic light.

A world with a bloody past and a resilient people.

Actually, that sounds a lot like Charlotte after all...

On our very first day there, we went to a place called CRISPAZ.

Christians for Peace.

After decades of bloody and brutal repression by the government,

after the ongoing horrors of political and economic corruption,

there has been yet another assault on the people through gang violence.

The poorest people are always the most vulnerable.

That's true in El Salvador and Guatemala - and also these United States of America.

So people like the man on the left have made it their goal 

to advocate, to work, to speak up, to march, to live for peace.

I was honored to be there and also challenged by what I heard and learned there.

Hope and joy regained a foothold when he told the story of his own father - 

who went from a life of military service against the people

to a life of guerrilla warfare and life service on the side of the people.

Later as we reflected on his account, I said, 

"Sometimes we use the word 'conversion' when we talk about stories like that."

One of the things I loved most about El Salvador and Guatemala

was their practice of incorporating green spaces in the middle of their homes and work places.

This photo was taken from an office at CRISPAZ -

looking across their green space into the room where we had listened 

to that gentleman tell his story. 

Notice the gorgeous greenery in between. 

The sunlight you see on the right is streaming into open space.

How lovely is that?

Imagine having a space like that just feet from your desk?

Especially a desk that is so often covered with accounts of brutality and suffering...

I wrote about Monsenor Oscar Romero in my last blog post.

I wrote about how he was assassinated while serving communion.

That act of horror took place in this chapel, behind this table.

His body lay on that floor, bleeding out,

while nuns and nurses, parishioners and visitors,

cried and screamed for help,

cradling his body, loving him

to the end. 

I had his book with me as I sat in that chapel.

I read portions of his homilies and speeches in the very place

where his life was taken from him - 

and I pondered the sorrow that must have gripped those present on that fateful day.

Oscar Romero's love for the poor exposed the violence in those who hated the poor.

His love forced others to recognize their violent tendencies.

His love pushed those who don't believe in the love or justice

so far into their hatred, injustice, and fear that they thought

they had no choice but to act violently against his love.

Once again, that sounds a lot like Charlotte, 

a lot like these United States.

More than that, it sounds a whole lot like the One I Love Most of All -

it sounds a whole like like Jesus.

Although much attention has been paid to Archbishop Romero and other who were brutally murdered because they loved and cared for the poor among them there in El Salvador,

although I spent thirteen days exploring the themes of martyrdom and oppression 

in two Central American countries,

the truth is that the poor and vulnerable have been martyred and oppressed 

dispossessed and discarded everywhere

throughout all of history.

they still are being martyred, oppressed, neglected, hated -

and also blamed for creating their own circumstances.

Grandmothers, mothers, daughters, 

farmers, coal miners, store clerks,

community organizers, small business owners,

preachers, priests, nuns, lawyers,

teachers, doctors, nurses,

people from every walk of life,

from every level of education and privilege,

have seen and heard the cries of the needy and the desperate.

They have stood alongside, spoken up for,

protested and sought justice on behalf of,

and given their lives for others. 

As I remember my time in El Salvador,

as I am reminded of their history,

may I not forget my own,

the history of my own oppressed people

here in my own broken country.

May I never abandon the work of peace and justice

here in my home city

and in my home country.