St. Óscar Romero and the Via Crucis
“Whoever serves me must follow me.”
If God accepts the sacrifice of my life, may my death be for the freedom of my people. A bishop will die, but the Church of God, which is the people, will never perish. I do not believe in death without resurrection. If they kill me, I will rise again in the people of El Salvador.
During this past weekend’s Sunday readings, we are reminded of the great paradox at the heart of the Christian life:
In all truth I tell you, unless a wheat grain falls into the earth and dies, it remains only a single grain; but if it dies it yields a rich harvest. Anyone who loves his life loses it; anyone who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.
If we are to save our lives, we are first to lose them.
Before the Resurrection, there must be a Crucifixion.
Jesus reminds us that if we wish to share in the glory of eternal life, we must be willing to do what he does: we must follow him on the Via Crucis, the Way of the Cross, and stumble the path to Golgotha. We must become willing to give of ourselves as Jesus does, to recognize that our lives are not our own to keep.
But how difficult this is, even if we believe Christ with all our hearts! How often do we give in to the temptations of selfishness, pride, greed, and envy, against what we know to be our own good? How often do we cling to our time and our possessions, and in doing so, cling to our own fallenness rather than the grace of God? “How narrow the gate and constricted the road that leads to life” (Mt. 7:14).
The Kingdom of God is “already and not yet,” both present among us now and ready to be revealed at the end of time. At once it requires that we place our whole selves in the care of something utterly beyond our line of sight, but it also demands us to see what is right in front of us in a wholly new way. We must learn to see life as a death, those around as as made in God’s image, and all of creation as God’s handiwork. If we seek sainthood, radical transformation into the people of God both now and for eternity, then there is no escaping the immanence of the Crucifixion.
St. Óscar Romero, whose feast is celebrated March 24, is a luminous model of this for us, and one of my own personal favorite saints. For most of his life, Romero was thought of by his contemporaries as a stuffy and uninspiring traditionalist, though one with a heart for pastoral care. Faced with the violent repression of the local poor by the dictatorial government, Romero saw his primary responsibility to be spiritual guidance and comfort for those affected, and definitely not any kind of outspoken response to the situation in his country.
However, shortly after his appointment as archbishop of San Salvador, Romero was a witness to the brutal murder of his friend, Jesuit priest Fr. Rutilio Grande (now declared Venerable), who was assassinated by a government death squad. From this point forward, he could not help but publicly proclaim the Gospel in its entirety, regardless of the possible consequences. He did so not in spite of or outside the tradition of the Church, but wholly from it, in continuity with so many great saints and witnesses to God’s love before him, all who had taken up their own cross and followed Jesus. Romero’s weekly radio sermons shared a message of hope to the many living in fear of violence and sharply denounced the numerous human rights violations by the government and ruling class. While falsely accused by the press in his country of allying with revolutionaries and abandoned by many of his fellow Salvadoran bishops, Romero gained worldwide recognition for his support for the poor and abused and was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize in 1979.
What strikes me most about Romero’s life is the seeming inevitability of his death, much like that of Jesus. The latter witnessed the example made of John the Baptist, who was imprisoned and beheaded, and could not have but known he would meet a similar end for his life and ministry. Romero knew as well that he might be made to suffer like so many of his flock. Shortly before his death, he reflected on the possibility with the words quoted above, showing his total faith in the reality of the Kingdom. Surrounded by threat of violence, chaos, and all opposition to hope, Romero chose to persist.
The final straw was his homily preached for the Fifth Sunday of Lent. Here, he spoke to the rank-and-file of the military, whose leadership, unfortunately backed by the U.S. government, had recently seized power in the country:
“I would like to appeal in a special way to the men of the army, and in particular to the troops of the National Guard, the police, and the garrisons. Brothers, you belong to our own people. You kill your own brother peasants; and in the face of an order to kill that is given by a man, the law of God that says ‘Do not kill!’ should prevail.
“No soldier is obliged to obey an order counter to the law of God. No one has to comply with an immoral law. It is the time now that you recover your conscience and obey its dictates rather than the command of sin. . . . Therefore, in the name of God, and in the name of this long-suffering people, whose laments rise to heaven every day more tumultuous, I beseech you, I beg you, I command you! In the name of God: ‘Cease the repression!’”
The very next day, while saying Mass at a hospital chapel, Romero was assassinated by a military gunman while standing in front of the altar. He had become an alter Christus, another Christ, who had laid down his life for his sheep. While we may not experience the same violence nor have the same platform as St. Óscar Romero, we are still called to do as he does — trust in the true presence of God’s Kingdom, living our lives totally in service to God and others.
As we near the end of our Lenten journey and continue to draw nearer to the Cross, let us embrace our death with Christ so that we, too, may rise with Christ on Easter Sunday.
P.S.: Kerry Walters’s biography St. Oscar Romero: Pastor, Prophet, Martyr is excellent and is available as an eBook through FORMED for those who have parish access.
