romero

Today marks the 25th anniversary of Oscar Romero's assassination. Romero was a Roman Catholic bishop who was assassinated in El Salvador for speaking out against the economic inequality and political violence suffered by the El Salvadorian people.

He was a rather bookish conservative priest, and many of the more leftist priests and revolutionaries in El Salvador disliked him for it. But after seeing the violence and oppression first hand, his conscience wouldn't let him ignore it, and he began to speak out, especially in his homilies and weekly radio broadcasts, where he'd read off the names of those who were tortured, murdered, and disappeared by the military government, as well as revolutionary groups.

One of the things I admire about Romero is that his focus wasn't limited or sectarian; his focus was all the victims of violence and injustice. His words were the words of truth. He actions were those of love. And his life was one that mirrored the words of Jesus read last Sunday, "unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit." Or in Romero's own words, spoken during his last homily just before he was assassinated on March 24, 1980:

Many do not understand; they think Christianity should not be involved in such things. But, to the contrary, you have just heard in Christ’s gospel that one must not love oneself so much as to avoid getting involved in the risks of life that history demands of us, and that those who try to fend off the danger will lose their lives, while those who out of love for Christ give themselves to the service of others, will live, live like the grain of wheat that dies, but only apparently. If it did not die, it would remain alone. The harvest comes about only because it dies, allowing itself to be sacrificed in the earth and destroyed. Only by undoing itself does it produce the harvest.

I've always found the example of people like Romero inspiring. It's hard to face the harsh realities of life, to open one's eyes and heart to them. And it's even harder trying to confront them with love and compassion rather than anger, and to truly serve others rather than retreat into the safety of complacency. It takes a level of bravery and conviction that I don't think I have but that I aspire to.