SUPER MARTYRIO

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At Plaza de las Américas—the iconic front porch of glitzy West San Salvador, on the far end of Alameda Roosevelt, the outstretched ribbon that leads east from here to the gritty urban clutter of downtown San Salvador and the Metropolitan Cathedral—there are two monuments. One is the postcard attraction that literally defines El Salvador: an image of Christ, astride the terrestrial orb, atop an obelisk-like pedestal. “El Divino Salvador del Mundo”—the Divine Savior of the World, is the country’s patron, and His Feast Day, on the 6th of August, is the country’s own spiritual holiday. The Divine Savior inhabits a monumental roundabout on the Alameda and, in a landscaped traffic island about 350 feet in front of it, stands a human scale statue of Archbishop Oscar Romero. It is a providential placement.

Romero stands between Jesus and Greater San Salvador, as if he was an intermediary between the Savior and the saved. “When I as pastor speak to the People of God, I do not pretend to be a teacher for everyone in El Salvador,” Romero said in his famous last Sunday sermon. Instead, he said, he was, “the servant of that remnant that calls itself the Church, the Archdiocese.” For that reduced group of true believers, Romero insisted, he was “the teacher who speaks to them in Christ’s name.” Romero is also a mediator between Salvadorans and their Divine Savior because he made it a point to explain with greater clarity than any other preacher the meaning of their national feast. Beginning with an Aug. 6 sermon the year before he became archbishop, and with three of his four pastoral letters issued on the date of the national feast, Romero developed what he would call a “Transfiguration Theology.” The Salvadoran holiday celebrates the Feast of the Transfiguration—the Gospel account wherein Jesus is confirmed in his Messianic mission by God’s voice from on high, and His face shines like a brilliant sun. Jesus, Romero preached, is inviting Salvadorans to transfigure themselves so they can then reform their corrupt society. This was, Romero preached, the genuine path to true Liberation.

Over the years, Plaza de las Américas, or Divine Savior Square as locals call it, has become the rallying point for parades, carnivals, and protest marches of every stripe, which then proceed down Alameda Roosevelt to San Salvador’s main square, where the old National Palace and Metropolitan Cathedral are located. It is also the path of the candlelit processions that commemorate Romero’s murder, every year. Therefore, Romero, in statue form at the Divine Savior monument, and in his bodily remains at the Cathedral, continues to bear witness to the trials and celebrations of his nation. This year, Salvadorans were reminded of Romero’s perennial presence as a symbol and point of reference when, during nationwide protests spurred by the right in an institutional showdown between El Salvador’s still immature branches of government, protesters defaced Romero’s statue. The incident touched a raw nerve, unpacking quiet but deep indignation—not only at the damage to the monument, which was grave, but more at the inherent disrespect of the vandalism. The feeling was so widespread that the rightwing mayor of San Salvador—a presidential aspirant—appeared at the site of the monument and denounced what he called the “hatred” of the attack, called for respect for the figure of Romero, and promised that the city would help pay for the restoration.

In March 1980, Romero preached his last Transfiguration sermon. He sounded a hopeful note. “God’s plan is loving and powerful and capable of transfiguring all the miseries, injustices, and sins of the people of El Salvador”—he said—“transforming all these realities and all women and men into people in whom the beauty of Christ’s justice and holiness shines forth.” The monuments at Plaza de las Américas embody that hope.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

POLÉMICO JURISTA INSPIRADO POR ROMERO

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El presidente actual de la Corte Suprema de El Salvador ha anunciado que el Magistrado Florentín Meléndez (foto - izquierda) lo relevará como presidente del máximo tribunal jurídico de ese país el lunes 16 de julio del 2012. Meléndez fue un colaborador del “Socorro Jurídico” de Mons. Romero, y ha destacado como un jurista eminente en la materia de los derechos humanos—fungiendo por un tiempo como Presidente de la Comisión Inter-Americana de Derechos Humanos de la OEA—pero su llegada al liderazgo de la suprema salvadoreña es bastante incierto. Meléndez y el presidente de la corte actual integran un grupo de magistrados que reclaman ser la Corte Suprema de El Salvador. Pero sus fallos han sido declarados sin efecto por una corte regional centroamericana y la Legislatura y el Presidente de El Salvador reconocen a otro grupo, y a otro presidente entrante, como la verdadera corte.

La crisis institucional resultante del enfrentamiento entre la corte actual y las otras instituciones del poder en El Salvador hacen recordar los enfrentamientos monumentales en los tiempos de Mons. Romero, y quizá algo de la polémica se trace a la injerencia de Mons. Romero sobre su discípulo jurista. Mons. Romero jugó un papel activo en el fortalecimiento de la tutela legal en El Salvador. Como bien lo resume Mons. Ricardo Urioste, “El énfasis de Monseñor Romero en la denuncia de violaciones de derechos humanos tuvo un enorme impacto en la comunidad nacional y despertó el interés de la comunidad internacional, especialmente de las organizaciones especializadas en la defensa, promoción y protección de los derechos humanos”. En efecto, Mons. Romero tuvo una fuerte visión sobre la necesidad de tener vigente un estado de derecho y un papel protagónico para la Corte Suprema de Justicia en El Salvador. De hecho, monseñor se quejaba de que la corte de su época era demasiado tímida: “¿Dónde está el papel trascendental de una democracia de este Poder que debía de estar por encima de todos los poderes y reclamar la justicia a todo aquel que lo atropella?” (Homilía del 30 de abril de 1978.) El papel de la corte, decía Mons. Romero, es “exigir a las Cámaras, a los juzgados, a los jueces, a todos los administradores de esa palabra sacrosanta—la justicia—que de verdad sean agentes de justicia”. (Ibid.) Y añadió: “Yo quiero felicitar a los abogados cristianos o no cristianos, pero con gran sentido de justicia, que están poniendo el dedo en la llaga”, al exigir el cumplimiento de la ley. (Id.)

Florentín Meléndez definitivamente ha estado “poniendo el dedo en la llaga” desde su llegada a la cámara de lo constitucional de la Corte Suprema salvadoreña. “El Tribunal Constitucional de El Salvador”, escribió un eminente bloguero de los acontecimientos en El Salvador, “se ha convertido en un campeón del derecho al voto de las personas, recortando algunos de los poderes de los liderazgos de los partidos políticos”. En varios fallos inéditos en la época de cortes tímidas que Mons. Romero lamentaba, la sala constitucional de Meléndez apachó en reiteradas veces los intereses de los partidos políticos: tachó dos partidos históricos fracasados que habían sido habilitados por un pacto entre los partidos, autorizó la posibilidad de tener candidatos independientes, frustró un atentado de limitar el poder de la sala al requerir que sus votos sean unánimes para poder tener efecto, y ahora ha dejado sin efecto los nombramientos judiciales de la Legislatura en el 2006 y el 2012, propiciando el choque de poderes cuando la legislatura y el presidente de la república se han negado a dar efecto a más fallos de la corte, argumentando que la corte ha sobrepasado sus facultades en sus últimas decisiones.

El despliegue de aliados que resulta del enfrentamiento es interesante. Se oponen al seguidor de Mons. Romero, Florentín Meléndez, y sus magistrados colegas el partido FMLN conformado por la ex guerrilla, y su presidente, quien tomó públicamente al arzobispo mártir como su referencial para gobernar. Se oponen a Meléndez y sus colegas el sindicato de trabajadores de la corte y se opone lo que queda del partido de la ex democracia cristiana, cuyos antiguos integrantes tuvieron alguna cercanía con Mons. Romero en vida. En cambio: se aglutinan a la causa de Meléndez y los magistrados rebeldes, ARENA, el partido de derecha; ANEP, la cámara de comercio, y grupos industriales y empresariales. Al dejarlo ahí podría parecer que es un enfrentamiento de izquierdas contra derechas, y que Meléndez está jugando por la causa de los sectores más conservadores de la sociedad salvadoreña. Pero también apoyan a Meléndez la conferencia episcopal católica, la universidad jesuita, otros grupos juveniles universitarios, grupos de juristas, varios sindicatos, y un grupo feminista, entre otros. La verdadera distinción es entre los que apoyan el estado de derecho y la estabilidad jurídica y los que quieren apoyar a la izquierda porque le conviene políticamente.

Cuando Meléndez era integrante del “Socorro Jurídico” del Arzobispado, Mons. Romero visitó al grupo de trabajo para firmar un circular que habían elaborado. “Me dio mucho gusto que todavía a las diez de la noche, cuando llegué, estaban trabajando con mucho entusiasmo”, apunto monseñor en su diario. (Viernes 14 de abril de 1978.) Llamándolos un “impulso esperanzador de los hombres de la ley que quieren colaborar con un sentido más noble de su noble profesión”, Mons. Romero notó con aprobación que “están dispuestos a hacer respetar el imperio de la ley”. (Ibid.) Esto sería lo más importante para monseñor, ya que, “El respeto por el imperio de la ley promueve la justicia y elimina las semillas de la subversión”. (Hom. 11 dic. 1977.) Al contrario, “Al abandonar ese respeto, los gobiernos ... invalidan su arma más poderosa, su autoridad moral.” (Ibid.)

Simbolismo

Monumento de Mons. Romero “vestido de blanco”—simbolismo de los que exigen cumplimiento a los fallos de la corte del Magistrado Meléndez (foto Diario El Mundo). Nota del blog: la intención de este escrito ha sido constatar la conexión de Meléndez con Mons. Romero, y jamás especularía si Mons. Romero estaría a favor o en contra de esta o la otra parte, más allá de lo que se ha dicho de forma genérica sobre el imperio de la ley, etc. Condenamos el “vandalismo” del monumento, y la manipulación de su figura.

Perspectivas & análisis

Linda Garrett, Centro para la Democracia en las Américas (inglés)
Fundación para el Debido Proceso Legal
Joaquín Villalobos
Editorial Washington Post (inglés)
Héctor Dada Hirezi
Dagoberto Gutiérrez (video) (escrito)
Facundo Guardado
CISPES (inglés)
Editorial El Faro
Universidad Centroamericana "José Simeón Cañas" (UCA)
Mary O'Grady, Wall Street Journal (inglés)
Editorial Diario CoLatino
Publicidad del FMLN (video)

Tuesday, July 03, 2012

NEW CDF PREFECT A ROMERO ADMIRER

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In what Vatican watchers are calling a “critically important move” (See Allen, NCR), Pope Benedict has appointed Bishop Gerhard Ludwig Müller as the new Prefect of the powerful Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, the Vatican agency where Archbishop Romero’s canonization cause is currently awaiting to be processed. Bishop Müller is personal friends with the “Father of Liberation Theology” Fr. Gustavo Gutiérrez and has expressed admiration for Archbishop Romero.

Writing last year in the German magazine Christ und Welt, Bishop Müller responded to a liberal ecumenical group which proposed an unauthorized canonization of Archbishop Romero to protest the beatification of Pope John Paul II. “By what right does one witness the lives of two great servants of God to claim to sow the weeds of discord and distrust in the fields of the Church?,” Müller demanded, warning that to drive a wedge between the two constitutes a “destructive antagonism”, and a “disastrous exploitation of the holy martyrs of Jesus Christ.” Müller argued that John Paul and Romero were united in the service of Christ. “In different ways, John Paul II and Óscar Romero served the kingdom of God,” he argued. “They are committed to the unity in Christ and unity in his church. We should not argue about the saints that God gives his Church,” Müller wrote, “but learn from them,” to obtain a richer understanding of the Gospel.

Writing specifically about Archbishop Romero, Müller defended his orthodoxy. “Anyone who reads the moving sermons of the Servant of God Oscar Romero finds,” he said, “no evidence of a difference with Catholic doctrine.” Moreover, Müller praised Romero as a model bishop: “Archbishop Romero,” he wrote, “is truly the voice of those without a voice, and thus an advocate of the poor and an example to every bishop as a defender and father of the ‘poor, homeless and neediest of all’,” as every bishop is called to be during his ordination. Müller wrote that the final words of Archbishop Romero’s last sermon—the improvised Eucharistic prayer seconds before his assassination—is “his legacy to us.” In a revealing touch, Müller quoted the text in its entirety, and cited the accurate version of the quote, not the commonly available version which contains an error (previously discussed in this blog). Finally, Müller has attended the commemoration of Archbishop Romero’s anniversary in San Salvador.

Bishop Müller also co-authored a book with Fr. Gustavo Gutiérrez on the Latin American church movement, Liberation Theology. (An der Seite der Armen. Theologie der Befreiung [“On the Side of the Poor. The Theology of Liberation”], Augsburg 2004). “With Gustavo, I learned more deeply the meaning of this theological current,” Müller told a Peruvian university magazine in 2008, explaining that he first became exposed to the movement at a Peruvian seminar on it in 1988. He has also stated that Gutiérrez’ theology, “is orthodox because it is orthopractic and it teaches us the correct way of acting in a Christian fashion since it comes from true faith” (Ab. Romero’s theology has been subject to CDF scrutiny for orthodoxy and ‘orthopraxy’). Müller has reportedly attended retreats with Gutiérrez every year since 1998 to the present. “The great challenge that we have as intelligent beings and creatures of God is studying reality and acting according to morality and ethics,” Müller told the Peruvian magazine. “When Jesus returns, the first thing He will ask us is what we have done for the hungry and those who suffer the most.”

But for all his sympathy Bishop Müller’s appointment might not mean very much for Archbishop Romero’s cause if it were not for one thing—the complete confidence of Pope Benedict XVI, which is that much more important given the climate of leaks and distrust in the current Vatican. “Müller clearly enjoys the pope’s confidence,” John Allen writes, noting that Müller compiled the comprehensive collection of all the pope’s theological writings. Pope Benedict has known Müller for years, and even attended Müller’s Episcopal ordination, where Müller took as his motto “Dominus Iesus,” the title of one of the Pope’s important writings while he was Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith—the office Müller will now hold.

It is almost certain that Bishop Müller’s appointment won’t constitute an affirmative boost to Archbishop Romero’s canonization. That is, Bishop Müller cannot push the process forward. But it seems equally sure that anyone counting on the process to be derailed by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith now is bound to be disappointed. For example, Fr. Jon Sobrino has said that some objections to the canonization cause arise from Ab. Romero’s collaboration with Sobrino, who is associated with Liberation Theology. Bishop Müller’s collaboration with Gustavo Gutiérrez (who similarly was rebuked by the CDF previously) is likely to take the sting out such objections. And while Müller cannot ordain the beatification to happen, his friendship with Gutiérrez demonstrates that it is more difficult to condemn someone who advocates for the poor once you get to know them: in a recent interview, the rector of the Jesuits in Munich said that John Paul’s interactions with Romero led the pontiff to “a much better understanding of the archbishop’s situation” and “an evolution” in the pontiff’s assessment of Liberation Theology. With Bishop Müller’s appointment, it seems very likely that Ab. Romero will have a fair judge at the CDF.

Sunday, July 01, 2012

SENTIRE CUM ECCLESIA

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En estas últimas ponencias, hemos tratado de ubicar a Mons. Romero en el mundo católico. Es que solo midiéndolo en relación a otros católicos sobresalientes—podríamos decir, inconformistas—es que podemos situarlo en su lugar apropiado dentro de la Iglesia. Desde este análisis, Mons. Romero se configura como un personaje eminentemente católico. No es posible entenderlo en otro marco de referencia, cada uno de los puntos de análisis nos dan luces claras sobre el pensamiento y el accionar de Romero, el hombre estratégico, el espiritual, el católico.

Podemos posicionar a los doce (¡hasta el número es católico!) nombres que hemos considerado en un espectro desde el más conservador, política y teológicamente hablando, hasta el más progresista o “profético”, y esta evaluación en sí nos ayuda a ver a Romero en el centro de esta agrupación eclesiástica—y no al margen. Seguramente, Marcel Lefebvre es más tradicionalista—pero no más ortodoxo, ya que Lefebvre no duda en desligarse del papa y de la Iglesia, algo que Mons. Romero dice que jamás siquiera se le ocurriría hacer. Verdaderamente, Marcial Maciel es más oficialista—pero no más santo, ya que su escandalosa vida personal es algo que lo hace contrastarse más con Mons. Romero que su actitud conservadora. San Josemaría Escrivá tiene la fama de marcar el destacamento derechista más extremo del mundo católico. Sin embargo, vemos a Mons. Romero dialogar con el Opus Dei durante toda su carrera, incluyendo sus años de arzobispo, sin ningún problema.

Y cuando consideramos a Mons. Romero con ejemplares convencionales, aceptados sin renuencia alguna en el seno de la Iglesia, vemos mucha incidencia y coincidencia. Igual que Los Cristeros que se enfrentan con un régimen izquierdista por un extremo, o el obispo alemán el Beato Clemens von Galen, que se enfrenta con los fascistas al otro extremo, vemos a un Mons. Romero que está dispuesto a peligrar desde el punto de vista político hasta personal por no traicionar su misión de predicar el evangelio. Y entre estos dos extremos, cuando consideramos la opción por la justicia y por los pobres de San Maximiliano Kolbe, de San Martín de Porres o de la Beata Madre Teresa, encontramos en Mons. Romero un amor por los despreciados y marginalizados que excede la caridad de la mayoría de cristianos para quien la caridad raramente implica tener que tomar posiciones incomodas.

Si bien es cierto que Mons. Romero se mantiene en comunión con el ala activista del catolicismo por decirlo así—refiriéndonos a los Democristianos en El Salvador y la Sierva de Dios Dorothy Day en Estados Unidos—también vemos distanciamientos importantes cuando pasamos de un activismo conforme al magisterio de la Iglesia a puntos de vista más disparados de la tradición, como son las teologías de Jon Sobrino y Leonardo Boff. Mons. Romero mantiene relaciones amistosas con ellos y sin duda comparte su preocupación por los pobres y la búsqueda de justicia para ellos. Pero no duda en reiterar que su teología es la autorizada por la Iglesia, y en algunas ocasiones aprovecha para hacer un contraste o gentil corrección de lo que considera acercamientos equivocados.

Aparte de las diferencias que puedan existir entre una tendencia u otra, lo que sobresale en estas comparaciones es el dialogo constante que Mons. Romero sostiene—a veces directamente, a veces indirectamente, y otras en total silencio—con el mundo católico. La Iglesia es su escuela, su red social, su fraternidad—su madre y maestra. Los criterios que tiene, los ha recibido en el seminario, en retiros espirituales, en su lectura de los papas. Y los que adquiere, los busca primero en el mundo católico y aunque dialoga con todos los sectores políticos de su tiempo, su zona de confort siempre es la Iglesia.

Friday, June 29, 2012

MSGR. ROMERO and MARCIAL MACIEL

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By comparing Archbishop Romero with Fr. Marcial Maciel (1920-2008), the founder of the Legionaries of Christ, accused of sexual abuse and of fathering children in betrayal of his vow of celibacy, we hope to show, as Ab. Romero preached, that even someone who damages the fragile, God-given gift of life, “is showing us also by contrast the divine image of the God of life, of the God who respects the freedom of the human person.” (February 17, 1980 Homily.)

Romero and Maciel were Latin American prelates born in the early 20th Century (Romero in El Salvador in 1917, and Maciel in Mexico in 1920) and ordained as priests during the WWII years (Romero in Rome in 1942, and Maciel in Mexico in 1944). But, that’s where the similarities end. They pursued their ministries with entirely different approaches and their legacies will mean diametrically opposing things—because of the way they approached their vocations. Fr. Maciel sought to make his contribution by founding an order, the Legionaries of Christ and its associated lay arm Regnum Christi. Romero, on the other hand, sought out conventional pastoral and clerical roles as a secretary to the bishops’ conference and parish priest in provincial El Salvador. By stroke of history, the Legionaries of Christ did not go into El Salvador and, as a result, Romero had no interactions with Maciel or his organization to speak of. Instead, Romero was close to the Legion of Mary, which also promotes a lay religious movement, and Romero had constant collaboration with Legionaries of Mary during his entire clerical career. Promoting it as archbishop, Romero professed to “admire the way in which this army of Mary is willing to work under the banner of the Virgin for the integral salvation of our people.” (June 4, 1978 Hom.)

In characteristic fashion, Ab. Romero approached his vow of celibacy with the simple sincerity of someone who makes a heartfelt pledge. “If we priests accept our commitment to renounce marriage,” he said, “then we must be faithful to this commitment because we are called to be witnesses in the midst of the world ...” (Nov. 6, 1977 Hom.) Vows of celibacy, he said, “are giving a witness about our future life.” (Id.) The contrast between Archbishop Romero and Fr. Maciel is notable—not because one man was perfect and the other imperfect: both were humans and prone to weakness. When we examine their personal sanctity, we cannot avoid the differences relating to lifestyle and life path each man staked out for himself. In the case of Fr. Maciel, the Vatican eventually found “incontrovertible” evidence of “real crimes and ... a life devoid of scruples and authentic religious meaning.” (May 1, 2010 Vatican Communiqué.) However, foiled investigations and strong defenses from powerful allies “rendered him unassailable, making it very difficult, as a result, to know the truth about his life.” (Communiqué, supra.) Ab. Romero never had so many ace cards—and will rest on his merits for vindication.

As a founder of a new religious order, Fr. Maciel had to be constantly fundraising and seeking donations to finance the new institution. According to an investigative report, the need to attract and keep donors kept Maciel in “a perpetual quest for money ... he targeted youths of wealthy families in a Mexico City Legion prep school.” (Berry, NCR, April 2012.) “Maciel built his base by cultivating wealthy patrons, particularly widows.” (Berry, NCR, April 2010.) Maciel “moved with seamless ease among the ultra-wealthy ... running his fingers down the tuxedo lapel of the Mexican billionaire Carlos Slim,” during a video-taped encounter at New York fundraiser. (Berry, 2010.) Tuition at the Legion’s schools could cost from “$15,000 to $35,000, depending on the country and location.” (Berry, 2012.) By contrast, Archbishop Romero ministered to largely peasant flocks in the Salvadoran countryside. Even though he maintained friendly relations with wealthy families in San Miguel and Santiago de Maria, where he was assigned, Romero always turned away gifts or gave them to others. Fr. Maciel was able to cultivate a vast network of connections that reached to the highest levels of the Church hierarchy, and to call on those connections to slow down and thwart investigations of his misconduct. Archbishop Romero, on the other hand, while friendly with a few Vatican officials such as Cardinals Pironio and Lorscheider, had trouble keeping up when his aristocratic detractors flooded the Vatican with complaints about him—but, no one can say he was an influence peddler.

One must assume that both Fr. Maciel and Romero started on their priestly vocation with the same lofty aspiration to be holy—even though sexual abuse accusations against Maciel date back to the 1950s. But priests are men, and are prone to temptation. Maciel was investigated for drug abuse in 1956 and was, in fact, hospitalized for morphine addiction. Of course, Maciel’s most terrible failings were his alleged abuse of children, and his fathering other children, whom he is also alleged to have abused. (See, Legion of Christ statement.) Ab. Romero never came near to such failings, but he did experience difficulties and sought psychological assistance. In 1971, Romero underwent three months of psychoanalysis, and confessed in 1972 to feelings of insecurity in the vow of celibacy he made in his 20s, because he might not have been mature enough when he made it. (Brockman, Spirituality Today, 1990.) Unlike Maciel, however, Romero’s response was to retreat to first principles. Romero resolves, “not travel alone to San Salvador, not stay at a ‘dubious lodging,’ avoid solitude, let someone else answer the door, keep certain persons at a distance, etc.” (Id.) He had practiced a strict form of discipline as a student, and these “precautions were the type of safeguards instilled by the asceticism of Romero’s seminary days.” (Id.) “Celibacy is a disciplinary rule that the Church demands so that we may better serve,” explains Romero confidante Jesus Delgado, “but it is not a gift that just happens.” (Vida Nueva.)

In recent years, Romero was the target of a cheap smear campaign, when Salvadoran television aired a scurrilous rightwing charge that Romero had fathered a child who now lives in Canada. (Vida Nueva, ibid.) The same charge—without any support—was made on a FaceBook post from the ARENA Party account dated April 9, 2010, and sent via a mass email in August 2011. (ARENA is the same party founded by the man believed to have ordered the Romero assassination.) “We asked them to prove it, but they had no proof,” says Delgado. (Id.) Nor is Archbishop Romero implicated in the church pedophile scandal, in which bishops are sometimes charged with concealing abusers. El Salvador has not experienced clerical abuse accusations in the magnitude of other countries: a handful of priests have been accused, a couple postdate Romero, and some have been cleared of charges. One priest, Fr. Luis Recinos, visiting from Nicaragua to study in El Salvador during the Romero years, was convicted of abuse in 2003. Another priest, Fr. Leopoldo Deras, whose parish Romero visited a couple of times, was absolved of abuse charges by a Salvadoran court in 2005. (See LPG article—in Spanish.)

With genuine faith, Ab. Romero invites us to, “look at the beauty of the message that [celibate priests] proclaim to the innocent children in our towns and villages, to the young men and women who struggle against the vile passions of this world.” (Dec. 17, 1977.) And that message is that one must regard the flesh, “with the angelic ideals of God.” (Id.) Ab. Romero lived by these ideals, but his foes are determined to besmirch his legacy. Fr. Maciel strayed from these ideals, but had powerful friends who protected him from the consequences. It may have worked for a while, but in the end, it is better to have virtue than worldly connections.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

MONS. ROMERO y JON SOBRINO

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Hablar de la relación entre Mons. Romero y el jesuita Jon Sobrino (1938- ) es abordar toda una serie de polémicas entre el Vaticano y uno de los principales exponentes de la “Teología de la Liberación” que estuvo ligado de cierta manera a monseñor. El arzobispo mártir y el jesuita ibérico (ahora salvadoreño), en diversos momentos, se desconfiaron, se vieron empujados por las circunstancias hacia una alianza, y su colaboración sigue siendo estudiada. Para colmo, el P. Sobrino fue amonestado por el Vaticano sobre varios aspectos de su teología y ha sido necesario ver si sus “errores” han repercutido sobre el trabajo pastoral de Romero.

El mismo Vaticano reconoce al corregir al P. Sobrino que “la preocupación del Autor por la suerte de los pobres es apreciable” («Notificación», ¶ 1) y que su “preocupación por la situación de los pobres y oprimidos ... en América Latina” es “ciertamente la de la Iglesia entera” («Nota Explicativa», ¶ 1). Por mi parte, me resulta sumamente difícil pretender aquí juzgar sobre un hombre que llega a tener casi una equivalencia moral con los mártires, ya que estuvo en el blanco de los que perpetraron la Masacre de la UCA en noviembre de 1989, en cual todos sus compañeros jesuitas de la facultad de la Universidad Centro-Americana fueron asesinados, y el P. Sobrino solo se salvó por un accidente del destino que lo mantuvo afuera del país. Y desde luego el último punto que le da credibilidad moral es el hecho que Sobrino acompañó a Mons. Romero en una hora dura y oscura en que otros no tuvieron esa misma convicción.

La solidaridad entre Romero y Sobrino no existió desde el principio. “Antes de su cambio como obispo”, recuerda Sobrino, “Monseñor me había acusado de peligros doctrinales, lo que muestra que sabía moverse en esa problemática”. (Carta de Jon Sobrino al P. Kolvenbach, 13 de marzo del 2007.) De hecho, Mons. Romero atribuyó los mismos defectos teológicos que el Vaticano le imputaría posteriormente. Antes de que Mons. Romero asumiera como arzobispo, Sobrino publicó un libro titulado “Cristología desde América Latina”. En su libro, el P. Sobrino propone la idea de un “Jesús histórico” y minimiza la formulación ortodoxa del Concilio de Calcedonia del año 451: “aunque sigue siendo de valor teológico eclesial fundamental al afirmar los límites que toda comprensión cristiana de Cristo ha de respetar y asumir”. (SOBRINO, “Cristología”, Ciudad de México, CRT, 1976, pág. 4.) En su homilía para la Fiesta Nacional del Divino Salvador del Mundo el 6 de agosto de 1976, Mons. Romero responde a estos argumentos insistiendo que la teología sobre la naturaleza divina y humana de Jesucristo establecida por el Concilio de Calcedonia sigue teniendo vigencia y es obligatoria para cualquier discusión cristológica. (BROCKMAN, Romero: A Life [Romero, una vida]. Nueva York: Orbis Books, 1999, pág. 40.)

“Cualquier otro Cristo y cualquiera otra liberación que no sea el Cristo, ni la liberación predicados por la Iglesia”—advirtió monseñor—“serán siempre Cristo y liberación imaginados, por más ‘históricos’ que se les quiera llamar” (Homilía del 6 de agosto de 1976—disponible aquí.) En su libro, Sobrino se enfoca sobre la dimensión humana, más que en la divina de Jesús, quien Sobrino dice que, “como laico y hombre profano” logra hacer, “efectiva y definitivamente lo que los sacerdotes habían intentado hacer, sin conseguirlo”. SOBRINO, 252. Sin embargo, para Mons. Romero, “sólo una persona divina podía dar categoría y mérito de Dios, al dolor y a la sangre humana que debía ser el precio de la redención”. (Hom. 6 ago. 1976, supra.) Por su parte, Sobrino resalta “todos aquellos elementos cristológicos que apuntan al paradigma de la liberación (reino de Dios, resurrección como utopía, etc.) y a la disposición práxica para realizarlos y así entenderlos (actividad socio-política de Jesús, exigencia del seguimiento, etc)”. (Op. Cit., pág, 26). Pero Mons. Romero advierte, “La liberación de Cristo y de su Iglesia, no se reduce a la dimensión de un proyecto puramente temporal. No reduce sus objetivos a una perspectiva antropocéntrica: a un bienestar material o a iniciativas de orden político o social, económico o cultural”. (Hom. 6 ago. 1976, supra.)

A pesar de haber chocado inicialmente con el P Sobrino sobre estos supuestos “peligros doctrinales”, Mons. Romero no volvió a abordar el tema con él: “después, nunca me avisó de tales peligros”. (Carta a Kolvenbach, supra.) Es más, siendo arzobispo, Mons. Romero invitó al P. Sobrino a redactar el primer borrador de su segunda carta pastoral, titulada, “La Iglesia Cuerpo de Cristo en la Historia”, publicada en agosto de 1977—solo un año después del antes referido enfrentamiento. Le pidió a Sobrino escribir el primer borrador, y Mons. Romero procedió a reescribirlo. (BROCKMAN, 80.) Presentando la Carta a la arquidiócesis, Mons. Romero reiteró la doctrina de Calcedonia—sin mencionar la controversia del año anterior con el P. Sobrino—predicando que “no nos hemos apartado del Hijo amado de Dios ... un Cristo auténtico y verdadero sigue siendo el Cristo de esta Iglesia, un Dios y un hombre verdadero”. (Hom. 6 ago. 1977.) La Congregación para la Doctrina de la Fe (CDF) estudió esta carta junto a todos los escritos de Mons. Romero y no encontró defectos doctrinales en sus enseñanzas. Aparte de esto, el P. Sobrino escribió y firmó “un texto de unas 20 páginas” explicando su parte en su elaboración. (Carta, supra.)

Si bien no vuelve a comentar con Sobrino los “peligros doctrinales”, Mons. Romero sí está consciente de las dudas persistentes sobre la teología del jesuita. Consta en su diario una advertencia de un sacerdote que lo visitaba: “Me dijo con sencillez de amigo el juicio negativo que se tiene en algunos sectores para con los escritos teológicos de Jon Sobrino”. (Su Diario, 3 de mayo de 1979.) Mons. Romero sigue manteniendo una leve amistad y sostiene intercambios frecuentes con el P. Sobrino, pero este no llega a ser su asesor teológico, como algunos lo acusan: los dos asisten al Sínodo Episcopal de Puebla con Juan Pablo II, pero solo se encuentran una o dos veces en las reuniones. (BROCKMAN, 161.) Mons. Romero le solicita la elaboración de otro escrito—el discurso que pronunciará en la Universidad de Lovaina, Bélgica, en febrero de 1980. “Le pareció muy bien, lo leyó íntegramente y me lo agradeció”. (Carta, supra.) Igual a la carta pastoral, el discurso ha sido examinado por la CDF sin encontrar errores.

La dificultad más grande surgió en marzo del 2007, cuando la CDF emitió su «Notificación» sobre dos obras del P. Sobrino—libros escritos por él en 1991 y 1999, décadas después del martirio de Mons. Romero. Entre los errores observados por el Vaticano en la obra de Sobrino está el supuesto desprecio de la naturaleza divina de Cristo en contravención del Concilio de Calcedonia y el querer separar a Cristo de la meta que es el reino de Dios, volviendo a este una utopía terrenal, entre otros. («Notificación», supra.) El mismo P. Sobrino reconoció que la «Notificación» podría repercutir de manera negativa sobre el estudio de la santidad de Mons. Romero: “Sé muy bien que en el Vaticano un problema para su canonización ha sido mi posible influjo en sus escritos y homilías”. (Carta, supra.) Como ya mencionado, el P. Sobrino presenta una explicación. Posteriormente, supone: “Para mí el problema fundamental es político”—porque beatificar a Romero significaría acusar del asesinato a un sector político. (“Jon Sobrino ve obstáculos ‘políticos’ en la beatificación de Mons. Romero”, Agencia EFE, 25 ago. 2009.)

El P. Sobrino ha sido un expositor coherente de la Teología de la Liberación. Mons. Romero comulgó con él en proyectos puntuales, pero mantuvo su propia estratagema: “al asociarse a los que trabajan por la liberación, la Iglesia no circunscribe su acción sólo al terreno religioso, desinteresándose de los problemas temporales del hombre, pero reafirma la primacía de su vocación espiritual, y no substituye la proclamación del Reino de dios por el anuncio de liberaciones humanas”. (Hom. 6 ago. 1976, Supra.)

Leer más:

Teología de la Liberación (inglés)
Notificación de Sobrino (inglés)

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

ROMERO and the CRISTEROS

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Mixed reviews for “Romero” (1989) and “For Greater Glory” (about the Mexican Cristero Martyrs, 2012) illustrate the challenge of telling saints’ stories in a complex historical context. How do you pare down politically complicated stories without leaving some of what makes them compelling on the cutting room floor?

The same challenges faced by Hollywood filmmakers awaited the relators and analysts of the Vatican Congregation for the Causes of Saints, who took sixty one years to beatify Father Miguel Pro (pictured—the first of the Cristero martyrs to be recognized as such by the Roman Catholic Church), and are still working on the Romero case, thirty one years on. In fact, political sensitivity regarding Father Pro’s case was so high that the beatification, originally scheduled to occur sixty years after his death, was postponed by the Vatican because 1987 was also an election year. And rather than promote a national celebration of the country’s first modern candidate for sainthood, the Mexican church proceeded cautiously, avoiding any large scale celebrations of Father Pro’s beatification. (ROHTER, “State Power vs. God's Glory: Of Saints and the Not So Saintly,” New York Times, September 24, 1988.)

The political aftermath of the Cristero war was similar to the post-war period in El Salvador against which the Romero beatification process has played out. Part of the difficulty in beatifying Father Pro and the Cristeros was that when the beatifications took place, the PRI party ruled Mexico. The party was established by Plutarco Elías Calles, a populist leftist strongman whom Pope Pius XI accused of “ferocity” in facilitating “the persecution of the Catholic Church,” during the Cristero wars (Encyclical Letter «INIQUIS AFFLICTISQUE,» ¶12, Nov. 18, 1926). After the strife, the party became the entrenched power in Mexico for 71 years, including a period of economic growth and low inflation that some call “the Mexican Miracle,” during which church-state relations stabilized. Similarly, in El Salvador, the country was governed for five consecutive governance periods by presidents from the same political band, the right-wing ARENA party, founded by Roberto D’Aubuisson, who reportedly ordered the Romero assassination. ARENA rule was characterized by social stability following the upheaval of war, and the strengthening of democratic institutions as well as peaceable relations between the government and the Church.

The Cristero saints prove that the Church is equipped to handle complexity. After all, as Pope Pius XI observed at the time of the Cristero conflict, “the frequent revolutions of modern times have ended in the majority of cases in trials for the Church and persecutions of religion.” (I.A., supra, ¶5). In fact, one month before issuing his encyclical on the Cristero conflict, Pope Pius XI had beatified 191 martyrs of the French Revolution—including the Archbishop of Arles—who had been slain 134 years before. (Id., at ¶4). Whether it is the French Revolution, the Cristero Rebellion, or the Salvadoran Civil War, such conflicts conflate religious and political motivations—both of potential martyrs as well as their persecutors, that are necessary to sift through in order to assess whether the victims were killed in hatred of the Christian faith. In some cases, “it may be difficult to prove martyrdom ... if it is necessary to discern between the political and religious motives of the persons involved,” according to a former high ranking official in the Congregation for the Causes of Saints. (Msgr. Edward Novak, quoted in WOESTMAN, Canonization: Theology, History, Process 58, St. Paul University, 2002.) Difficult, but not impossible, because the Congregation can use historical experts to sift through the motive strands to discern theology from ideology. (Op. Cit.)

Archbishop Romero had been studying for the priesthood in Rome during the final years of Pius XI’s papacy, admired the pope’s robust defense of Catholic interests, and took up the Christ the King devotion promoted by the pontiff. “¡Viva Cristo Rey!” (‘Long live Christ the King!’) had been the Cristero motto, exclaimed by some of the martyrs at the moments of their deaths. In fact, Archbishop Romero had been discussing the Cristero martyrs at a retreat with an Opus Dei delegation on the day he was killed. “We were in a beach house and suddenly I do not know why someone brought up the subject of the Cristero martyrs in Mexico, just that day, the day of his death,” recalls Msgr. Fernando Sáenz Lacalle, who succeeded Romero as archbishop. (SÁENZ, "The Legacy of a Friendship," El Diario de Hoy, March 21, 2005—in Spanish.) Invoking the Cristeros in Salvadoran Catholic circles in 1980s would be understandable. During the Cristero conflict, “Churches, seminaries and convents were seized, desecrated,” recalled Los Angeles Archbishop José H. Gómez (who was born in Mexico. He writes in a reflection, ‘For Greater Glory’—available online here). “Priests were tortured and killed, many of them shot while celebrating Mass.” In other words, it was very similar to El Salvador in 1980, when Romero was shot while saying Mass.

The famous picture of Father Pro with his arms outstretched to make his whole body a defiant cross before the firing squad compares dramatically with depictions of Romero. “Growing up,” Archbishop Gómez recalls, “we had prayer cards made from a grainy photograph of ... Blessed Miguel Pro ... standing before a firing squad without a blindfold, his arms stretched wide like Jesus on the cross as he cries out his last words: ¡Viva Cristo Rey!” (Gómez, supra.) In November 1979, Romero was called to mediate a tense standoff at a church one block down from the Cathedral. Rebels inside were holding a soldier hostage and virulent national guardsmen surrounding the church threatened to open fire. Romero stood with his arms outstretched, between the rabid guardsmen and the multitudes taking sanctuary inside. “He began to sweat, to shake, his arms were trembling” as the soldiers threatened to unleash their fire power, an onlooker recalled. (Giovanni Galeas Interview, El Faro, Feb. 2, 2004, cached here.) “This was not Romero the great preacher, but a small man who was scared to death.” But, Romero refused to budge as the tension roiled. “I saw this scared to death little man rise to greatness,” the witness recalled, as one who “rises above his own fearfulness assuming responsibility for the community.” (Id.) After the standoff was diffused, the refugees asked Archbishop Romero to spend the night with them, and he did. (His Diary, Nov. 1, 1979 entry.)

Romero was certainly serene on March 24, 1980, when a sharpshooter fired at him from the open door of the Divine Providence Hospital Chapel in San Salvador. The layout of the small church makes it impossible for Romero not to see the shooter, and experts examining his vestments found evidence of “a sudden and profuse outpouring” of perspiration, consistent with Romero, “in the few seconds before his death, having seen his assassin,” and having “sweated as a natural reaction to the shock and in anticipation of what was about to happen.” (“Stonyhurst Curator returns to San Salvador,” Romero News, January 2009.) The audio recording shows that—on the day he had been discussing the Cristeros—Romero did not falter as he defiantly prayed, “May this body immolated and this blood sacrificed for mankind nourish us also, so that we may give our body and our blood to suffering and to pain—like Christ—not for self, but to bring about a harvest of justice and peace for our people.” (March 24, 1980 sermon.)

When the political intrigues are stripped away, the images on the screen and the sainted memories of the martyrs are clear. They say to us: ¡Viva Cristo Rey!

Tuesday, June 05, 2012

ROMERO y LA DEMOCRACIA CRISTIANA

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La acusación de la inteligencia militar contra Mons. Romero era que, “Impaciente con el ritmo del progreso [de un gobierno] Demócrata Cristiano ... y cada vez más convencido de una próxima victoria de la extrema izquierda, el arzobispo ha criticado duramente a la Junta y se ha inclinado hacia el apoyo a la extrema izquierda”. No obstante el cinismo de esta lectura—la cual choca con la verdadera línea pastoral de Mons. Romero, de que “La Iglesia no tiene sistemas, la Iglesia no tiene métodos” y “no puede identificarse con ningún partido político ni con ninguna organización de carácter político” (Homilía 16 de abril de 1978)—Mons. Romero nunca tuvo tanta cercanía con “la extrema izquierda” como la tuvo con la Democracia Cristiana.

Ahora bien, Mons. Romero lo repitió una y mil veces—incluyendo en una reunión con funcionarios del Partido Demócrata Cristiano (PDC) de El Salvador: “la misión de la Iglesia ... no puede confundirse de ninguna manera con el partido político, aunque busquen objetivos a veces parecidos como es la justicia social, la participación en política de todos los ciudadanos, etc.” (Su Diario, martes 11 de abril de 1978.) Sin querer poner en duda ese distanciamiento formal, no debe sorprendernos que haya habido alguna afinidad entre las posturas del PDC y las opiniones personales de Mons. Romero. En primer lugar, la democracia cristiana, surgió históricamente, desde las ideas de la doctrina social del Papa León XIII. Los fundadores del PDC en El Salvador “abrazaron la doctrina social de la Iglesia con su enfoque de ‘opción preferencial por los pobres’ y justicia social”. (El Mundo.) Y—quizá lo más importante—Romero mantuvo amistades y contactos de confianza con democristianos, a quienes consideraba hombres decentes.

Uno de sus estrechos colaboradores fue Héctor Dada Hirezi, un politólogo democristiano que sostenía desayunos laborales semanalmente con Mons. Romero para planificar sus homilías dominicales (James BROCKMAN, Romero: A Life [Romero, una vida]. Nueva York: Orbis Books, 1999, pág. 237.) El Dr. Dada también figuró entre los asesores de monseñor que le ayudaron a elaborar el documento que la arquidiócesis llevaría a la reunión de obispos con el papa en Puebla. (BROCKMAN, 135.) Uno de los momentos más sensibles en que Mons. Romero tuvo que juzgar sobre la política salvadoreña fue la decisión de respaldar o no la junta que resultó del golpe de estado reformista en octubre de 1979. (Op. Cit., 200) El Dr. Dada asesoró a Mons. Romero sobre las implicaciones de ese hito, y después cuando el Dr. Dada se integró a la junta de gobierno que surgió del golpe, mantuvo a Mons. Romero informado hasta el momento en que Dada renunció de la junta al concluir que era inútil para solventar la crisis que enfrentaba El Salvador. (Id.) Mons. Romero leyó la carta de renuncia del Dr. Dada en su homilía del 9 de marzo de 1980. (En una nota que hace eco a aquellos hechos, el Dr. Dada recientemente renunció como Ministro de Economía del gobierno actual de El Salvador.)

Tan estrechos eran los enlaces con el partido que cuando el Cardenal Aloisio Lorscheider, enviado por el papa, llegó a El Salvador en 1979, Mons. Romero hizo arreglos para hospedarlo con el secretario del PDC (al fin, Lorscheider prefirió quedarse con Mons. Romero en el Hospitalito de la Divina Providencia). BROCKMAN, 217. Los contactos con miembros del partido no se limitaron a democristianos de El Salvador. Cuando Mons. Romero se reunió con el embajador italiano, anotó que “Él es un italiano inscrito en la democracia cristiana” y quien le expresó “que una democracia cristiana bien organizada sería de gran ayuda para los ideales políticos, sociales de la doctrina de la Iglesia”. (Su Diario, 13 jun. 1978.) En otra ocasión, monseñor se reunió con el “doctor Calvani y otros miembros de América Latina de la Democracia Cristiana”. (Su Diario, 3 dic.1979.) “Es interesante saber”, comentó monseñor, “que hay tantas capacidades humanas y cristianas en el laicado para el desarrollo de nuestra América Latina.” (Ibid. Aristides Calvani se encuentra en proceso de beatificación.) También tuvo contactos internacionales, por ejemplo en Europa: “fuimos de nuevo a Bruselas para visitar la sede del partido Demócrata Cristiano, cuyo presidente nos recibió con mucha atención y expresó mucha preocupación por nuestra situación y por la ayuda que puede prestar Bélgica a la situación política de nuestro país”. (Su Diario, 1º feb. 1980.)

Desde luego, los contactos con democristianos salvadoreños tuvieron la mayor incidencia. En 1979, Mons. Romero se reunió en Costa Rica con los entonces exiliados políticos, Antonio Morales Erlich y José Napoleón Duarte, quien sería posteriormente Presidente de la República en tiempos de guerra—y el mayor opositor de la guerrilla. “Hablamos ampliamente y les expresé mi sentido de servicio y mi esperanza en los hombres políticos que tengan verdadero amor a la Iglesia. Y, sobre todo, si tienen inspiración cristiana”. (Su Diario, 19 abr. 1979.) Cuando Mons. Romero decidió respaldar la junta de gobierno de octubre de 1979 su respaldo fue en parte por “la composición del nuevo gabinete”, que tildó de ser “hombres allí bien honestos, capaces, progresistas, que yo creo que si se les deja trabajar, no son hombres—en lo general que yo conozco—que se presten a manipuleos indignos”. (Hom. 28 oct. 1979.) El siguiente día, Mons. Romero sostuvo una reunión privada con el Ing. Duarte, que había sido permitido retornar al país. Otro interlocutor comentó en la reunión, cuenta monseñor, “que Duarte y yo éramos dos personas, que en nuestro propio campo, el Señor había suscitado para orientar a este pueblo”. (Su Diario, 29 oct. 1979.) Añadió que, “estoy de acuerdo en que el Ingeniero Duarte tiene dotes de líder y, sin duda que es un hombre carismático para esta hora”. (Id.)

Sin duda, Mons. Romero habló claro y públicamente con los políticos del partido cuando vio que las violaciones de los derechos humanos seguían dándose en su gobierno. “Si la Junta y la Democracia Cristiana no quieren ser cómplices de tanto abuso de poder y tanto crimen, deben señalar y sancionar a los responsables”, sentenció. (Hom. 17 feb. 1980.) “Hagan valer su poder o valientemente confiesen si no pueden mandar y desenmascaren a los que están haciendo gran mal al país”. (Hom. 16 marzo 1980.) Pero al hacer esta exhortación, Mons. Romero jamás desamparó a los miembros del PDC que trataban de buscar las salidas nobles. Fue visitado por Rubén Zamora, un democristiano que llegó, “a buscar un poco de fortaleza, consuelo y orientación, ya que el momento para el partido es sumamente difícil”. (Su Diario, 11 ene. 1980.) Fue una “consulta, más bien de carácter espiritual”. Monseñor le aconsejó que “como hombre de fe y de esperanza, tiene que servir con generosidad al país, y las mismas vicisitudes y riesgos hay que aceptarlos con rectitud de intención”. (Id.) Los “riesgos” eran riesgos compartidos.

En febrero de 1980 fue asesinado Mario Zamora, otro funcionario del partido, en un episodio que evoca el asesinato del democristiano italiano ALDO MORO—y la reacción de PABLO VI ante el hecho. En la misa fúnebre celebrada por Mons. Romero hubo un atentado dinamitero que quiso eliminar la dirigencia del partido que asistió a la misa y al arzobispo. El siguiente día, Mons. Romero leyó el pronunciamiento del PDC sobre el asesinato: “El Partido … responsabiliza al Mayor Roberto D'Abuisson y a la banda de asesinos que comanda la extrema derecha”. (Hom. 24 feb. 1980.) Un mes después la misma “banda” culminó sus exterminios asesinando a Mons. Romero.

Mons. Romero dio acompañamiento al partido que terminó aliado con el ejército, aunque siempre mantuvo líneas de separación bien definidas. Y trató de orientar a los políticos para evitar un mayor derramamiento de sangre, aún si no dudó en derramar la suya para buscarlo.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

ROMERO and von GALEN

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Between Óscar Romero and Bl. Clemens August von Galen (1878-1946), which bishop earned a reputation as a champion of the poor, and which denounced writing off the infirmed as useless? Which challenged his country’s military to stop its abuses, and which claimed to serve a “Church of Martyrs?” The answer (to all questions) is: both. That’s why Msgr. Luigi Padovese told the 2005 World Synod of Bishops that the memory of “Bishops such as Clemens Von Galen and Oscar Romero is a living testimony of the bond between the memorial of the sacrifice of Jesus,” and the authentic prophetic ministry of today. (Interventions, Oct. 10, 2005—tragically, Padovese was murdered five years later.)

Four decades before Archbishop Romero famously ordered the Salvadoran army to “stop the repression,” the “Lion of Münster” (Germany) had stared down Hitler’s Gestapo, “in the name of the upright German people, in the name of the majesty of Justice, in the interests of peace and the solidarity of the home front,” and had petitioned, “as a German, an honorable citizen, a representative of the Christian religion, a Catholic bishop ... we demand justice!” (July 13, 1941 Homily—von Galen’s homilies cited here are reported in “Four Sermons in Defiance of the Nazis.”) Conversely, forty years after Bishop von Galen denounced the programmatic euthanasia carried out by the Nazis, Romero warned modern medicine against “approaching the theory of Hitler and the German system of eliminating individuals who are useless.” (Oct. 9, 1977 Hom.) In words that presaged Blessed John Paul’s denunciation of a “Culture of Death,” Romero formulated a theological continuum between opposing abortion and euthanasia on the one hand, and promoting integral development and denouncing injustice on the other hand: “If abortion is logical then the process of the elimination of other people also is logical.” (Ibid.)

Like Romero, the noble-born count and bishop, von Galen, “was particularly remembered for his special concern for the poor and outcasts,” since his days as a parish priest. (Beatification Profile.) “His time spent in Berlin was spent in service to the needy” through traditional charitable practices, such as, “helping the poor, checking on his parishioners, and giving what he could to whomever he could.” (Kratofil, Bishop von Galen: A Catholic Leader Who Spoke Out.) In this way, von Galen earned himself “a reputation for helping the downtrodden of society.” (Id.) This concern for the downtrodden would carry through to von Galen’s famous sermons decrying Nazi abuse of power and defending the victims of Hitler’s killing apparatus.

Like Romero after him, von Galen was pushed from traditional piety to prophetic denunciation by the extraordinary events of his day. As a fitting metaphor for their similar circumstances, both bishops literally were forced out of their cathedrals to preach their climactic sermons almost as itinerant ministers or exiled prophets. Romero preached in churches like El Rosario and El Sagrado Corazón while the Metropolitan Cathedral was occupied by rebels, and von Galen preached in the Church of St Lambert and in Liebfrauen-Ueberlassen Church, after his diocesan cathedral was damaged by Allied bombing. (Beat. Profile, supra.)

In a series of remarkable sermons in response to unwarranted attacks by the National Socialists, Bishop von Galen broke away from strictly pious spirituality in his preaching, and began to touch on political themes. In 1936, he denounced the regime’s heavy handed attempts to reign in the Church. “How are the holy church, the Pope, the bishops, the priests, the members of religious orders, how are the faithful children of the church in Germany disparaged, defamed, derided, publicly and without sanction,” he deplored. “How many Catholics, priests and laity, have been attacked and abused in newspapers and in meetings, have been driven out of their professions and positions, and have without due process of law been imprisoned and maltreated.” (Feb. 9, 1936 Hom.) One is reminded of Romero’s words at Leuven: “In less than three years, more than fifty priests have been attacked, threatened and slandered. Six of them are martyrs, having been assassinated ... Religious women have also been the object of persecution. The archdiocesan radio station, Catholic educational institutions and Christian religious institutions have been constantly attacked, menaced, threatened with bombs. Various parish convents have been sacked ...” (Feb. 2, 1980 Address at Leuven University.)

Bishop von Galen’s denunciation reached its crescendo the summer of 1941, when his sermons provided a blow-by-blow account of the regime’s persecution: “the attack on the religious orders which has long been raging in Austria, South Germany and the newly acquired territories of the Warthegau, Luxembourg, Lorraine and other parts of the Reich, has now stricken Westphalia.” (July 13, 1941 Hom.). “[Y]esterday, 12th July, the State Secret Police confiscated the two residences of the Society of Jesus in our city.” (Ibid.) “Yesterday, too, the same cruel fate was inflicted on the missionary sisters of the Immaculate Conception in Steinfurter Strasse, Wilkinghege.” (Id.) “[D]uring the past week the Gestapo has continued its campaign of annihilation against the Catholic orders. On Wednesday 30th July they occupied the administrative centre of the province of the Sisters of Our Lady in Mühlhausen.” (Aug. 3, 1941 Hom.) “On Thursday 31st July, according to reliable accounts, the monastery of the missionary brothers of Hiltrup in Hamm was also occupied and confiscated by the Gestapo and the monks were evicted.” Etc. Romero, of course, maintained a similar practice.

Like Archbishop Romero, Bishop von Galen saw himself forced to publically defend one Catholic order in particular: “I testify as a German and a bishop that I have the greatest respect and reverence for the Jesuit order, which I have known from the closest observation since my early youth for the last fifty years, that I remain bound in love and gratitude until my last breath to the Society of Jesus, my teachers, tutors and friends, and that today I have all the greater reverence for them.” (Jul. 13, supra.) Also like Archbishop Romero, Bishop von Galen had to declare: “Do not be surprised if the good Lord sends us times of trial; Our church is the church of martyrs.” (1936 Hom., supra. Compare Romero’s claim that his was, “a Church that is alive, a Church of martyrs, a Church that is filled with the Holy Spirit.”—Dec. 31, 1978 Hom.) Both bishops found solace in John 15:18: “If they have persecuted me, they will also persecute you.” And von Galen’s citation of John 16:2 was especially prophetic: “The time cometh, that whosoever killeth you will think that he doeth God service. And these things will they do unto you, because they have not known the Father, nor me.” (1936, Id.)

Both bishops were targeted for execution—the difference is that the attempts against Romero’s life were successful. After von Galen’s 1941 sermons, a Nazi official proposed to Martin Bormann that the Bishop be killed, and on October 10, 1943 the Bishop's residence was bombed. (Beat. Profile, supra.) Like the March 9, 1980 bombing attempt of the Sagrado Corazón Basilica while Archbishop Romero was presiding mass, the bombing attempt against von Galen failed. “We Christians, of course,” von Galen declared, “are not aiming at revolution.” The Church was on the side of the German people, he said, and would not take arms even against “the enemy within” who wished to do it harm: “we cannot fight with arms. Against him we have only one weapon: endurance—strong, tough, hard endurance.” (Similarly, Archbishop Romero described how the Letters of St. Paul provided the “endurance and encouragement that we need today in order to live in this historical time.”—Dec. 4, 1977 Hom.)

Pope Benedict XVI has, not surprisingly, praised, in similar terms, both bishops. “All of us, and particularly we Germans,” Benedict said when von Galen was beatified in 2005, “are grateful because the Lord has given us this great witness of faith who made the light of truth shine out in dark times and had the courage to oppose the power of tyranny.” (October 9, 2005 Greeting.) He highlighted the same traits of witnessing the faith and opposing tyranny in El Salvador’s martyr: “Archbishop Romero was certainly an important witness of the faith, a man of great Christian virtue who worked for peace and against the dictatorship.” (May 9, 2007 Remarks to Reporters.)

And so he was.

Friday, May 18, 2012

MONS. ROMERO y SAN MAXIMILIANO KOLBE

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