By Bill Mefford
Forty years ago last week, on March 24 to be exact, Archbishop Oscar Romero was assassinated while giving mass in El Salvador. Romero, who began his ministry somewhat withdrawn and studious, became an outspoken activist and advocator for the liberation of all Salvadorans, especially the landless poor who were being oppressed and killed by the affluent elite and the political leaders they kept in power. Oscar Romero had once been the safe choice to become Archbishop of El Salvador, but he became so dangerous to the economic and political order that they murdered him.
Without realizing this was the fortieth year since his assassination I just finished an excellent biography by James Brockman called, Romero: A Life. Written thirty years ago, Brockman shows Romero as more than a romanticized saint who can do no wrong. He reveals his insecurities and foibles, while also showing his sheer bravery and relentless passion to defend those in his country who were daily being crushed, kidnapped, and even killed by their own government.
I am always intrigued to find out the struggles of modern day heroes; to discover that the characteristics that made them heroes down through the ages were also those that made them difficult to know and love when they were just feet away. My fascination with social justice heroes is not meant to demean them; but rather, knowing their struggles and weaknesses makes them so much more human and relatable. I can’t imagine waking one day and being willing to die for a cause, but I can imagine waking up and being so passionate for a cause – for the people that that cause represents – that that passion directs and drives me in all I do.
Romero was unyielding in his defense of the Salvadoran people, but this also led Romero to be demanding of others and condescending toward those who did not know him best. As his life was drawing to a close and the pressures of an oppressive government were weighing ever more on him, he confessed that his spiritual life was not where it needed it to be. He was depleted and empty and he wanted more time to pray.
When I read this in Brockman’s book (p. 234) I literally put down the book because it resonated with me so deeply. I have never been persecuted by my government, and neither have I had to witness the death of my friends and colleagues in ministry like Romero did. But I have felt depletion. I have experienced deep disillusionment with the established church. I have witnessed firsthand those in positions of importance in the church with impressive titles and enormous budgets do more to protect those titles and those budgets than they do to advocate alongside people directly impacted by injustice. And I too have looked at my spiritual life knowing it is not where it needs to be and feeling guilt on top of the emptiness I am feeling.
I have long admired the passion and the leadership of Archbishop Romero, but when I read this, this is when I connected with Oscar Romero the person. And in that connectedness the words of his final homily have been ones I have reflected on this past week for it gives a vision of where I want to live into, especially the work of the Festival Center.
In his final homily, Romero spoke of “a liberation that includes, above all, respect for the dignity of the person, the salvation of the people’s common good, and transcendence, which looks before all to God, and from God alone derives its hope and its force.” (242)