‘May God have mercy on the assassins.’  Shot while celebrating mass, these were his last words.
Three years earlier, few in El Salvador would have expected Archbishop Oscar Romero to become the hope of the nation’s poor. The Vatican had chosen him precisely because he didn’t like to make waves or confront authority.  But that was before his conversion.It’s not that he wasn’t a natural leader or that he didn’t care for the plight of his flock, but a new and radical kind of theology was rocking the very pillars of tradition which had kept the authority of the church secure for hundreds of years.  Romero was a doctrinal and social conservative.

In the 1960′s, a generation after WWII, the world’s great powers were in turmoil. Though the imperial aspirations of Germany and Japan had been defeated, new contests for power played themselves out around the globe. Europe was losing its colonies in Africa and Asia to independence movements. The US and Soviets were the new powers and each believed their security and prosperity depended upon gaining influence in their respective hemispheres.

But neither side was content with allowing the lesser states to choose their own destiny. Eisenhower’s greatest fears were soon realized. The military industrial complexes of the great powers poured their arms into the fights. It was soon difficult to tell who was fighting against whom. Some said the enemies were the insatiable capitalists who stole from the poorest of the poor to gain unlimited wealth and power. Others said the enemies were the godless communists who would stop at nothing to strip people of their faith, property, and freedom. As much as each side convinced itself the others were evil, the poor, caught in between, struggled to just survive.

Not surprisingly, the churches everywhere got caught up in the fights. Some inevitably lined up with the powerful. The price of not doing so was too great. To the wealthy, they preached that wealth was a sign of God’s favor. To the poor, they preached patience and obedience to authority.

Many of the poor found solace in smaller, independent churches, especially the ones that believed God favored the oppressed.

In Latin America, the dominant faith was Catholicism. Its clergy were divided.

Growing numbers of priests, those who most directly served the poor, found good news in Jesus’ beatitudes. ‘Blessed are the meek, they shall inherit the earth!’ They spoke of the God who liberated the Hebrews from slavery, and sent Jesus to liberate the oppressed. They encouraged peasants to study scripture for themselves, even without a priest present–a dangerous idea to more traditional Catholics in that day.

“Be a patriot, kill a priest” - right-wing slogan promulgated by the Salvadoran National Guard in the late 70′s

In contrast, bishops and archbishops owed much of their influence and security to the political leaders where they served, and the Vatican in Rome. In nations like El Salvador, the governments were brutal and kept the clergy on a short leash. Those who preached against communism and kept their flocks quiet and orderly were rewarded. Those who spoke against government oppression were denounced as communist sympathizers or insurgents and disappeared or were assassinated. Many clergy found themselves walking a fine line, wary of falling into disfavor in either direction, convinced the only viable strategy was to hold the church in the center. Better to feed the hungry than ask why they were hungry. Better to quietly urge moderation than publicly condemn those willing to eliminate you.

Two waves collide

It wasn’t just El Salvador. Around the world, Christianity was changing. Culture was changing. In the U.S. young people were standing up to authority. They were protesting racial segregation and winning. Laws were being changed by popular demand. Eastern Europeans were challenging Soviet authority. Students everywhere were questioning structures and policies that none had ever dared challenge before. Folk and then Rock music became platforms for political commentary. By the late 60′s, war in Southeast Asia and protests against it joined the cultural and political upheaval on television’s new world stage. The common person was discovering the power unleashed by social movements.

And the counter-forces fought back. Covert military aid and advisors flowed in every direction. Governments threatened, cracked down, and massacred their own citizens. If insurgents could defeat an empire in one country, where would it stop? No cost was too high.

To stop the madness…

Salvadoran death squads, funded with covert aid from the U.S., killed union leaders, teachers, and farmers. An Army General stole the presidential election. The people protested and many were massacred. When the priests denounced the Army, they became the targets. Within three months of becoming Archbishop, Romero could no longer play it safe. He went on the radio. He mobilized the nation for an enormous mass in the capital. He called for investigations. He started his own human-rights commission. He wrote to Jimmy Carter pleading for U.S. military aid to stop. He shared what he was learning with the Pope. And he counseled his people to not take up arms, but resist without violence.

‘Why non-violently?’ many asked. Because violence would only deepen the cycle of violence. Because violence would only further justify the violence of the oppressors. His weapon was compassion and his conviction in the power of the cross. Knowing of the threats to his life, he replied “If they kill me, I shall arise in the Salvadoran people.”

To the soldiers he said, “Brothers, you came from our own people. You are killing your own brothers. Any human order to kill must be subordinate to the law of God, which says, ‘Thou shalt not kill’. No soldier is obliged to obey an order contrary to the law of God. No one has to obey an immoral law. It is high time you obeyed your consciences rather than sinful orders. The church cannot remain silent before such an abomination. …In the name of God, in the name of this suffering people whose cry rises to heaven more loudly each day, I implore you, I beg you, I order you: stop the repression!”

In his final sermon, just moments before being shot, he was blessing the Eucharist. “May this Body immolated and this Blood sacrificed for [hu]mankind nourish us also, that we may give our body and our blood over to suffering and pain, like Christ — not for Self, but to give harvests of peace and justice to our People.”

I’m writing this on the 30th anniversary of Archbishop Romero’s death. From 1980 to 1992 between 75,000 and 300,000 Salvadorans died. Over 1,000,000 Salvadorans fled the country–all this in a nation of only 5.5 million. At its height in the early ’90′s, the U.S. was sending over $2 million a day to help the right-wing government and death squads fight against leftist rebels. Romero’s assassination was ordered by a Salvadoran Army Major trained at the notorious U.S. School of the Americas.

Today, the country is led by a democratically elected, civilian government, but poverty and extraordinarily high levels of violent crime plague El Salvador.

So what now?

The lessons of El Salvador and the wisdom and example of Oscar Romero are of vital importance to today’s world but they are understandably at risk of being ignored or forgotten.

The truth is humbling. While we Americans were getting our disco grooves on,we were spending billions to train and arm Latin American dictators, thugs, and their armies. Many of us turned a blind eye because we were told we had to stop the communists. The whole time, our actions were convincing many of the poor that the communists were right about us, capitalism is built upon greed.

That was neither the first nor the last time that we invoked sacred purpose to justify very un-Christian behavior. But there is good news here.

Putting a new foot forward

With the gift of humility and the knowledge of God’s mercy, we needn’t repeat our mistakes. We’re not to blame for all the world’s problems, but no one has more power than we do to address them.

Since the 60′s, there’s been a growing disconnect between the culture within and outside of our churches. As those outside of our churches learn to see the social complexities of life, those within the church have tended to do the opposite. We’ve thought we needed to make it all simple and easy, as though one could be on the good team or the bad team. We’ve acted as though our personal salvation was all that mattered and could be obtained by simply believing the right thing.

Confessing faith in Jesus Christ demands more. Salvation is not something we obtain. It is something we pursue, and not just for ourselves. To know God is to do justice. To love God is to love our neighbor. That takes practice and it takes a village. We don’t learn to love in a vacuum.

Pursuing salvation means practicing a theology of liberation. It means learning to know, understand, and speak of a God who would liberate us from every form of addiction, enslavement, and idolatry, especially the forms to which our culture has so conformed that it can’t even recognize. And this is where our brothers and sisters from other cultures bring such rich blessing. They help us to see where we are blind.

Practicing a theology of liberation means being in relationship with the poor, marginalized, and under-privileged. It means learning from them and standing up for them. It means reading scripture and eating our meals and going to the store and paying our taxes and voting through their eyes. Who is more able to shut down the School of the Americas than us? Who better to create a just health care system than us? Who is more qualified to make our economy more sustainable for people and the planet than us?

Many of those outside the church have become convinced that faith is just a drug to dull the mind and fool the heart. But everyone wants the chance to be a whole person, loved as they are. And I think most inside and outside the church want to do their part to create that reality for others as well. That’s a theology of liberation! Good news for everyone.

As a wise man once said, “Philosophers have only interpreted the world in various ways, the point is to change it.” Archbishop Romero knew the truth of the resurrection. We may not see the change that will come, but like wheat that must die and be buried before it can bring a new harvest, the change will come.