Tuesday, November 29, 2011

TABOO MURAL INSERTS ARCHBISHOP ROMERO
INTO SALVADORAN INDEPENDENCE STRUGGLE


Some works of art are revolting because of the subject matter they depict. An ancient Roman inscription showing the Crucified Jesus with a horse’s head was so offensive to Christians that it was labeled the «graffito blasfemo». A mural commemorating the bicentennial of the Central American “Cry for Independence” unveiled in San Salvador has raised howls because it depicts Archbishop Óscar Romero alongside the man widely believed to have ordered his assassination—Roberto D’Aubuisson (click here for detail). Oddly enough, the protests have come from D’Aubuisson’s sympathizers, in a row that reveals a lot about the politics of Archbishop Romero’s image in El Salvador.

The mural, entitled “200 years of struggle for emancipation in El Salvador,” was commissioned by the Salvadoran Culture Ministry to commemorate the 200th anniversary of the movement that led to El Salvador’s independence. The mural, created by Salvadoran artist Antonio Bonilla, recalls the scale and spirit of the murals commissioned in the U.S. by the Works Progress Administration during the Great Depression—especially, the works of Diego Rivera. In the mural, Bonilla posits, as the name of his work suggests, that the independence movement was not a discrete historical event that occurred 200 years ago, but a process that has occupied El Salvador for the past two centuries, and is still underway. Thus, the mural includes scenes of El Salvador’s founding fathers ringing their liberty bell, but also includes images of a 1932 peasant uprising, of the 1989 Jesuit Massacre, and of Archbishop Romero, in a polyptych (a work of art that is divided into sections, or panels) resembling an altarpiece with contrasting motifs: pre-Columbian and colonial themes, tradition and innovation, protest and repression.

The work’s principal critic—at least, the one to publicly come forth—is the retired colonel, Sigifredo Ochoa Pérez, a man of the right. Ochoa Pérez was himself a schoolmate of Roberto D’Aubuisson, and also was accused of complicity in a wartime massacre. Although he now stands as a candidate for the national legislature for the party that D’Aubuisson founded, Ochoa Pérez traditionally was aligned with a party even further to the right, and he broke ranks with the establishment in 1989 to finger higher ups who may have ordered the Jesuit Massacre. More recently, however, he sided with the Honduran government that overthrew the democratically elected populist president.  “It’s a pity, because Antonio Bonilla is an excellent artist,” Ochoa Pérez told a Salvadoran paper. “I think he betrayed his ideological preferences,” Ochoa Pérez continued. “He painted with his left hand.” But what Ochoa Pérez objected to was really not the mural’s POV, which equates leftwing uprisings to the founders. “He made a mockery of our brothers in the armed forces,” Ochoa Pérez lamented, “and also of a man who had his warts like any other leader as is Roberto D’Aubuisson, depicting him in such a grotesque way in the mural.”

For his part, Bonilla defends the depiction of D’Aubuisson alongside Archbishop Romero, as an image of reconciliation—the juxtaposition of the lion and the lamb. In fact, for Bonilla, that image was not simply an act of provocation, a grenade lobbed at museum goers. It was a carefully planned composition. A video of the mural’s creation shows Bonilla methodically painting Romero before any other figure, and using a photograph to ensure accuracy, whereas all the other figures are painted freehand, as if by painting an accurate Romero, he could inoculate himself against any other falsehood. And though the right may not like Romero’s newfound prominence, they seem to begrudgingly accept it, as when the ARENA mayor of San Salvador quieted fears that he was planning to change the name of a street named after Archbishop Romero to the name of one of the founding fathers. It turns out that Archbishop Romero has his own place within the bicentennial of El Salvador’s struggle for emancipation.

More:

Romero in Art

Sunday, November 27, 2011

MONSEÑOR ROMERO Y YO


Yo a penas llegué a conocer a monseñor Romero. Como en las viejas películas de “Ben-Hur” en que los héroes se encuentran por casualidad con Jesucristo en una escena melodramática que tiene poco que ver con la historia del film, llegué a rosarme con monseñor en episodios breves y transitorios de mi niñez. Pero algún día, si Dios me lo concede, podré atestiguar ante generaciones que no lo conocieron, de que sí lo vi, aunque a penas logré hacerlo.

Nuestra coincidencia en este “valle de lágrimas” fue un parpadear de ojos. Cuando yo nací en 1968, a monseñor ya solo le quedaba poco más de once años en su peregrinación sobre esta tierra. Y cuando él llegó a ser arzobispo de San Salvador, que fué la primera vez que pasó por mi conocimiento, a mi ya solo me quedaba año y medio en el país. Pero, su impacto fue tremendo, desde un principio.

Bien me acuerdo de la primera vez que ví su foto, en blanco y negro, en el “Diario De Hoy”, en 1977, cuando fue elevado a arzobispo de San Salvador . Leí la entrevista, y le seguí sus primeros y dramáticos pasos a través de la radio, oyendo sus impresionantes homilías dominicales, como el resto de la nación. Mi abuelita que me crió me llevaba a catedral en las fechas más importantes del calendario litúrgico, como la navidad, semana santa, y el día de la transfiguración del Divino Salvador.

Fue en este marco que presencié su apostolado profético en horas tan culminantes de su ministerio público. Fue en 1977 que asesinaron al padre Rutilio Grande, y al padre Alfonso Navarro unos meses después. Me acuerdo de asistir a catedral un sábado de gloria y observar una fogata de los Boy Scouts en la Plaza Barrios. Me acuerdo ver a monseñor Romero y algunos de sus sacerdotes en procesión alrededor del interior de la catedral, perfumando el templo con incienso, y rociándolo con agua bendita mientras que la feligresía cantaba, “Ya el Señor resucitó/Resucitó ya el Señor.” Me acuerdo ver camiones con soldados alrededor de la plaza y pensar que ellos estaban allí para participar en la misa, tal vez dando protección al rebaño de los fieles. Nunca se me ocurrió a mis nueve años de edad que sería más siniestra su presencia.

Pero, mis memorias más íntimas, y sacrosantas de monseñor Romero fueron encuentros más cercanos, aunque todos fuesen pasajes instantáneos. Son tres episodios los que prevalecen sobre todos los otros, y que han quedado grabados en mi recuerdo para siempre. Una vez, entró monseñor Romero, sin aviso por adelantado, a una misa que yo asistía con mi abuela en la Iglesia de San Esteban, en el barrio del mismo nombre. Ya que la misa había empezado, lo anunciaron con un parlante portátil desde atrás del templo, donde según me acuerdo, el iba llegando en un carro. Entró por la nave principal de la iglesia, con una casulla verde y su mitra episcopal, bendiciendo y saludando a los allí presentes, y pasando directamente enfrente de mí. Aunque fue ligero el momento, hoy me quedo impresionado de que San Esteban fue el primer mártir de la cristiandad. Para mí fue como un signo y una bendición vivir esa coincidencia.

En otra ocasión, habíamos ido mi abuelita y yo a la misa en la catedral, y al salir de la iglesia, vimos que monseñor Romero estaba saludando a la gente en las gradas de la iglesia, ante la Plaza Barrios. Aprovechando de un campito que se abrió en los gentíos que lo rodeaban, en un instante en que no había nadie, mi abuelita se le acercó y se arrodilló ante él para besarle su anillo. En ese momento el la coronó con una bendición pontífica. Por ser un poco tímido, yo no me acerqué mucho a él, pero mejor me quedé a un lado apreciando ese beatífico escenario. Para mí, mi abuela y Monseñor Romero han sido mis padres espirituales, y ese marco se me figura un retrato familiar.

El tercero encuentro es el más íntimo, pero en ciertos aspectos, también el más imprescindible y elusivo. Estábamos otra vez en catedral, posiblemente el mismo sábado de gloria indicado anteriormente. Entré a un vestíbulo con el motivo de confesarme. Hay un empañamiento del hecho, un misterio, que se envuelve con el misticismo y el espiritualismo del momento para convertir al episodio a algo más allá de la historia, y del tiempo. ¡Pero, al oír esa voz inconfundible, quedé con la indudable certidumbre de que monseñor Romero era mi confesor! Me acuerdo que sus preguntas me impresionaron por la falta de formalidad, de austeridad en su estilo de platicar conmigo: En vez de recitar las frases repetitivas de una confesión formal, me preguntó de qué parroquia venía, y otras cosas que no eran estrictamente parte de la obligada o acostumbrada revisión. Aunque sí estuve seguro de quien era, tomo cierto deleite en poder dudar si era él, porque le añade a la mística del momento, y verdaderamente, a la persistencia sobrenatural de su presencia en nuestras vidas. Monseñor Romero fue un ser espiritual, cuya presencia en la historia no se explica con la regla estéril de la ciencia, o la ciencia política, o la teología social. Fue una fuerza espiritual, como la sombra de Dios que flotaba sobre nuestro suelo.

Después de mi salida de El Salvador en 1978, seguí oyendo la voz del profeta gritándome al oído. En primer lugar, mi abuelita me mandaba cassettes con sus sermones, junto con la semita y el quesito “capa-roja” que me hacían sentirme en mi lugar cuando no lo estaba. En noviembre de 1979, me acuerdo de ver una noticia en la televisión hispana de que esperaban a monseñor Romero en Nueva Jersey . Resulta que estaba de llegar, pero tuvo que cancelar el viaje al último minuto, debido a que la situación siempre inestable de la vida nacional salvadoreña. En la catedral de San Patricio de Nueva York , donde esperaban que celebrara una misa, se reunió la comunidad que solo se quedó con las ganas de verlo.

En marzo de 1980, yo asistía al quinto grado en una escuela en Queens, Nueva York. La mayoría de los niños eran Afro-Americanos, y los únicos hispanos en mi clase eran de Puerto Rico y de Sudamérica. En el quinto grado, tenía un profesor muy estricto, un señor judío, con una barba gris, y cabeza calva y aceitada, llamado Mister Spatz. Mister Spatz me humillaba al dirigirme instrucciones en inglés, ordenándome a llevarle ciertos útiles, y yo le llevaba los equivocados. Su intención era a enseñarme el inglés, pero las carcajadas y las burlas de los otros alumnos solo me confundían más de lo que pudiese aprender.

El cuarto lunes de ese marzo, Mister Spatz me notó muy deprimido, y con bajos espíritus. Estuve muy callado todo el día y mi concentración estaba distraída. El día siguiente era el 25 de marzo y ahora Mister Spatz había entendido el por qué de mi depresión el día anterior (aunque yo no me había enterado sobre el asesinato de Mons. Romero hasta el siguiente día), y me expresó su pésame por la tragedia que indignó a todo el mundo.  La bala que perforó el tórax de Mons. Romero me partió a mí el corazón, y he estado desde entonces tratando de rellenar la brecha, lo que da impulso a este blog.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

ÓSCAR ROMERO’S THANKSGIVING


It is easy enough to give thanks for good and pleasant things, that we readily count as blessings. At the end of the first year of his ministry, Archbishop Romero reminded us (full text) also to be thankful for the trials and hardships that make us stronger, and to pray for those who test us.
This is the act of thanksgiving that we offer on this night as we conclude this year: we gather together and offer all the pain and suffering and injustice and abuse. As was said in our newspaper Orientación … we have perhaps lived the most tragic year in our history, yet for the Church this has been the most fertile and productive year ...
Let us give thanks to God for beneath the cross of 1977 we have seen the flourishing of seeds of hope and renewal and conversion and new vocations and faith. How many people have come to the Church and said that they had lost their faith, but thanks to the cross of 1977 they have recovered their faith! Yes it is also true that many people have distanced themselves from the Church. Those people separated themselves from the Church who had to be separated—like leaves of the tree that have changed color and are no longer able to withstand the strong winds ...
Let us give thanks to God, yes let us give thanks even for those offenses and insults, for just as the bloodied and beaten Jesus turned toward his Father and said: Father, forgive them, they know not what they do, so too this voice of Jesus during his passion has become the voice of the Church—the voice that asks for mercy for those who have offended her.
There is another reason to give thanks to God: the way in which we have tried to be faithful to the gospel and to the holy spouse of the Church, Jesus Christ. The Church has been very clear about her program: to be faithful to the gospel and in light of the gospel to analyze her life, her social relationships and her place in the world. Those things that can withstand the light of the gospel are authentic. The happiness of the children of the Church is true happiness when it is rooted in the gospel of our Lord, Jesus Christ who said: Blessed are those whose hearts are freed from the prisons of wealth, of selfishness, of hatred, and of rancor ...
At a time when we have seen so much bloodshed and hatred and evil may we call upon Mary to give us a new year and a new humanity. May the hearts of people be renewed. May the pains of conversion become pains of hope and the pain of the cross become a cross that redeems ... May all these criminal hands that have spilled so much blood be converted! May their pain be converted into repentance and may they become the builders of a better world ...

Monday, November 21, 2011

DIECI RAGIONI IL PAPA BENEDETTO
DOVREBBE BEATIFICARE A OSCAR ROMERO


10. Perché è la cosa giusta da fare. Lo stesso Benedetto ha detto che Romero merita beatificazione, e Giovanni Paolo II ha pregato sulla tomba di Romero e ha detto che è sicuro che egli intercede per la Chiesa.
Foto: Il Papa con Mons. Vincenzo Paglia, postulatore della causa della canonizzazione di Mons. Romero.
9. Perché sarà una decisione popolare. Altri gruppi cristiani e anche i non credenti si congratulerà con la Chiesa sulla nuova aggiunta al suo «roster» di santi.

8. Come quando Nixon andò in Cina, avrà maggiore significato se questo papa lo fa. La beatificazione di Romero sarebbe il terzo e più splendido capitolo dell insegnamento di Ratzinger sulla Teologia della Liberazione.

7. Perché si attrarrà i progressisti disillusi nuovamente dentro la Chiesa. Benedetto guarirà la spaccatura a sinistra come lui sta cercando di fare con la FSSPX.

6. Si salverà Romero per la chiesa. La strumentalizzazione dell'immagine di Romero si nutre della percezione che la Chiesa lo ha abbandonato. Questo finirà se la Chiesa lo recupera definitivamente.

5. Perché aiuterà il processo di riconciliazione di El Salvador. Il paese è a un bivio, con un alto tasso di criminalità e di polarizzazione. La beatificazione di Romero sarebbe alzare il morale.

4. Perché sarà fonte di ispirazione per i vescovi del mondo. Il modo in cui Giovanni Paolo II ha descritto il vescovo modello nella «Pastores Gregis» suona molto come Romero. La sua beatificazione fornirebbe un modello di lavoro.

3. Perché sarà un balsamo per gli emarginati. I poveri in tutto il mondo capiranno che la Chiesa non offre solo elemosine, ma è interessata a condizioni che impattano la loro integrale benessere.

2. Perché sarà il patrono della Dottrina Sociale della Chiesa. Il Papa Benedetto ha richiesto santi e martiri per la giustizia cristiana e non ci sarebbe stato esemplare più grande di Romero.

1. Perché sarà un martire per il secolo XXI. Con la beatificazione di un martire con del calibro di Romero, la Chiesa sarà una Chiesa di martiri di nuovo all'inizio di questo millennio.


Note in Italiano in questo blog:


Romero e i Papi: Giovanni Paolo I
Romero e i Papi: Benedetto XV
Obama visita tomba di Romero
Il padre Rutilio Grande
Nuovo concetto di Romero

Sunday, November 20, 2011

SUPPLEMENTUM



PASTORAL LETTERS/
CARTAS PASTORALES

Ñ = ESPAÑOL (texto de homilía)
E = ENGLISH (text of homily)
A = AUDIO (de homilía en español)
£ = LITURGY (readings in English)


La Iglesia de la Pascua
(The Church of Easter)
4/17/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
La Iglesia, Cuerpo de Cristo en la Historia
(The Church, the Body of Christ in History)
8/6/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
Misión de la Iglesia en Medio de la Crísis del País
(The Church's Mission in the Midst of the Nation's Crisis)
8/6/1979
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
Misión de la Iglesia en Medio de la Crísis del País
(The Church's Mission in the Midst of the Nation's Crisis)
10/21/1979
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]

MENSAJES ESPECIALES/
SPECIAL MESSAGES

A las Comunidades Neocatecumenales
(To the Neocatechumenal Communities)
11/22/1979
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
A las Madres de los Desaparecidos
(To the Mothers of the Disappeared)
12/1/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
A los Maestros
(To the Teachers)
6/22/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
A los Maestros
(To the Teachers)
6/22/1979
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
A los Trabajadores
(To the Workers)
5/1/1979
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]

MEMORIAL MASSES/
MISAS POR DIFUNTOS
P. Ernesto Barrera Motto11/29/1978
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
Ing. Mauricio Borgonovo5/11/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
P. Rutilio Grande García3/14/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
Misa Única (P. Grande)3/20/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
1° Aniv., P. Grande3/5/1978
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
Ioannes Paulum, PP.10/3/1978
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
P. Alirio Napoleón Macías8/5/1979
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
Carlos Molina Cañas11/14/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
P. Alfonso Navarro Oviedo5/12/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
1° Aniv. P. Navarro5/11/1978
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
P. Octavio Ortíz Luna1/21/1979
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
P. Rafael Palacios6/21/1979
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
Nov., P. Palacios6/30/1979
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
30 d., P. Palacios7/20/1979
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]

VISITAS PASTORALES/
PASTORAL VISITS

Aguilares6/19/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
Antiguo Cuscatlán12/28/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
Apopa11/25/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
Citalá12/5/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
Chalatenango9/24/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
El Paisnal11/1/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
Huizúcar9/29/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
La Libertad12/8/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
Planes de Renderos5/15/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
Quezaltepeque12/19/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
San José Villanueva12/17/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
Santa Tecla7/16/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]

IGLESIAS SAN SALVADOR/
SAN SALVADOR CHURCHES

Divina Providencia3/24/1980
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
El Rosario4/16/1978
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
María Auxiliadora5/28/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
Sagrado Corazón3/1/1980
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]

MISC.

La Virgen de Guadalupe
(The Virgin of Guadalupe)
12/12/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
Asunción de la Virgen
(Assumption of the Virgin)
8/15/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
Ordenación Sacerdotal
(Priestly Ordination)
12/10/1977
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]
Honoris Causa/Georgetown Univ.2/14/1978
[Ñ] - [E] - [A] - [£]


¡Viva Cristo Rey!

Monday, November 14, 2011

VICEDECANO DEL COLEGIO DE CARDENALES
PIDE BEATIFICACIÓN DE MONS. ROMERO


El vicedecano del Colegio de Cardenales, el purpurado francés Roger Etchegaray, se ha pronunciado a favor de la beatificación de Mons. Romero, según reporta LA STAMPA de Italia. “Verdaderamente espero que Romero pronto sea beatificado por la Iglesia Católica”, el prelado dijo durante una visita a la iglesia de San Bartolomeo en Roma, donde se guarda un memorial a los mártires del siglo XX. El cardenal Etchegaray es un clérigo de alto rango en el Vaticano, que sufrió fuertes lesiones durante un ataque al Papa Benedicto XVI por una mujer trastornada durante la misa de Navidad en la Basílica de San Pedro (FOTO). Anteriormente, Etchegaray había sido el enviado del Beato Juan Pablo II para frenar la guerra en contra de Iraq, y ha sostenido altos nombramientos en la curia romana.

La memoria de Romero siempre está aquí”, dijo Etchegaray, en referencia a una reliquia del mártir salvadoreño que se conserva en la iglesia, localizada en una isla del río Tíber. “Lo llegué a conocer bastante bien”, dijo el cardenal que también ha sido presidente de dos consejos pontífices (que asesoran al papa)—el Pontificio Consejo Justicia y Paz y el «Cor Unum». “Yo era Arzobispo de Marsella cuando él dejo a Roma para regresar a su patria y este fue su último y difícil viaje” (que incluyó la última entrevista con Juan Pablo II en febrero de 1980). Continuó el prelado, “También he ido al lugar donde fue asesinado a celebrar la misa. Verdaderamente espero que pronto sea beatificado por la Iglesia Católica”.

La esperanza expresada por el cardenal Etchegaray encaja con el comentario de monseñor Giampaolo Crepaldi en la presentación del Tercer Informe sobre la Doctrina Social de la Iglesia en el mundo, quien recordaba que el papa Benedicto ha deseado que hayan mártires que ayuden a promover la doctrina social de la Iglesia. Monseñor Crepaldi recordaba “cómo Benedicto XVI, en Inglaterra y en Portugal, insistió mucho en pedir formas de testimonio extremopodríamos decirtambién en el campo de la Doctrina social”.

En otra ocasión, el cardenal Etchegaray ha comentado que, “De por sí Romero no sentía ninguna vocación a la política, pero consideró que era su deber hablar alto y fuerte a favor de la paz, de la justicia, de la reconciliación. No se comprometió con ningún partido político, aunque buscaba afanosamente soluciones políticas cuando el país se precipitaba hacia la guerra civil, procurando siempre atenerse en todo al magisterio de la Iglesia”.

Antecedentes:

Doce cardenales simpatizantes

Wednesday, November 09, 2011

10 FICTIONS ABOUT ÓSCAR ROMERO


Good information is hard to find and, in this media age in which digital information is widely disseminated and consumed, Mark Twain’s musing has literally come true: a falsehood “can go halfway `round the world before truth gets its pants on.” Here are the ten false facts about Archbishop Romero that we run across most often.

Part I: Honest Mistakes

10. Archbishop Romero was killed at the Cathedral. Perhaps spurred by works such as Mario Bencastro’s “A Shot in the Cathedral” (a fictionalized work based on the Romero assassination), itself a reference to T. S. Eliot’s “Murder in the Cathedral” (about the assassination of Thomas Becket) and by cinematic depictions such as Oliver Stone’s “Salvador,” the location of Archbishop Romero’s assassination is often misstated. It is a natural mistake, since Romero was, in fact killed saying mass, and archbishops usually say mass in their Cathedral (and the Cathedral is a pretty dramatic locale, particularly on the big screen). Other variations of the mistake have Romero killed at the steps of the Cathedral, or during the famous sermon in which he commands the military to “Stop the Repression.” In fact, he was killed in a more low-key setting, saying Mass in the chapel of a cancer hospital on a Monday evening.

9. Prophets of a Future not Our Own. For some mysterious reason, this verse came to be known as “The Romero Prayer.” Bishop Thomas Gumbleton explains that, “The mystery is that the words of the prayer are attributed to Oscar Romero, but they were never spoken by him.” Bishop Gumbleton goes on to explain that the “prayer” was drafted by Bishop Kent Untener for a Mass given by John Cardinal Dearden in November of 1979. “They come from a homily he gave at a Mass for deceased priests.” It has elsewhere been supposed that if the prayer is not “his own,” it does belong to Romero in other ways: “It's his because it would not have the same weight or power that it does in association with him. Also, it's his in the way it seems to fit so naturally his call to service, his ideas.”

8. The Romero family was very poor. Again, the idea that the defender of the poor came from the extreme poverty that he would rise above and defend is alluring, “but that’s false,” says Archbishop Romero’s brother. “My father was from Jocoro (Morazán) and they transferred him to Ciudad Barrios because of his work as a telegrapher; my mother was a teacher,” Don Gaspar explains. Romero and his siblings grew up to become professionals—Gaspar worked in middle management in the state telephone company. “Ours was a modest home, without luxury, but we were not poor. Our home was in the very center of town, and we had coffee growing lands.” Romero’s childhood portrait reveals his family’s relative comfort—no one familiar with poverty in El Salvador would mistake this with an image of the marginalized poor.

7. Romero was shy. The movie “Romero” popularized the view of pre-San Salvador Romero as a bookish introvert. Raul Julia (photo), a large force on the screen, plays a timid, almost cowering Romero. As one critic has stated it, it is “unlikely that Romero was as timid and organizationally inept as he is portrayed in the film.” That critic reasoned, “Timid persons do not get named archbishop anywhere!” In fact, Romero had been a star broadcaster, holding radio audiences in rapt attention since his days as a priest in San Miguel, and he was controversial and outspoken during all of his episcopal career, as much a nuisance to the Left-leaning in the early part of the seventies as he would be to rightwingers after the end of that decade.

Part II: Defamations from the Right

6. Archbishop Romero supported/agitated for armed struggle. Over the years, rightwing Salvadoran politicians have gone as far as to say that Archbishop Romero is to blame for Salvadoran Civil War deaths because he fanned the flames of insurrection. The charge is plainly false, as Romero repeatedly and consistently denounced violence, as we have pointed out here, going as far as to tepidly endorse a military coup d’état in October 1979 to avoid greater bloodshed. He famously rebutted the accusation himself, saying, “We have never preached violence, except the violence of love, which left Christ nailed to a Cross—the violence that we must each do to ourselves to overcome our selfishness and such cruel inequalities among us.” Many are familiar with the famous appeal to the army in Romero’s last Sunday sermon to “stop the repression;” fewer are familiar with his appeal the Sunday before, “to the guerrilla groups,” in which he said: “I appeal to you and ask you to understand that nothing violent can be lasting.” There was still time to make peace, he insisted: “Above all else there is God’s Word, which has cried out to us today: reconciliation! God desires that we be reconciled and so let us be reconciled and we shall make El Salvador a land of sisters and brothers, all children of one Father who waits for us with outstretched arms.”

5. Archbishop Romero was a Communist sympathizer. Another related slander with which to assail and discredit Archbishop Romero has been that he was an ally of communists who wanted to undermine democracy and take over El Salvador. In the height of the Church persecution in El Salvador, the right was crass and audacious in its accusations, saying outright that Romero was a Marxist. They slandered him with the nickname “Marxnulfo,” an adulteration of his middle name, Arnulfo (which his parents gave him because he was born on August 15, the Feast of Saint Arnulf of Metz). As with the accusation that he was fomenting violence, Archbishop Romero consistently denied these characterizations and drew sharp contrasts between his preaching and the tenets of Marxism, which he rejected. As recently as 2008, then vice president of El Salvador Ana Vilma de Escobar told the Salvadoran newspaper El Faro that Archbishop Romero fomented class hatred by selectively emphasizing the repression of the right and turning a blind eye to the abuses of the left. In light of the UN Truth Commission’s findings that over 90% of the killings were the responsibility of the right, Romero’s emphasis seems to have been justified.

Part III: Manipulation of the Left

4. Reagan Administration policies contributed to the Romero assassination. This is a theory that is sometimes advanced, but it is easily and totally refuted: Archbishop Romero was assassinated on March 24, 1980; President Reagan was elected seven months later, on November 4, 1980, and began his term as president on January 20, 1981. So, no Reagan Administration policy could have contributed to or supported any Salvadoran government role in the assassination. In fact, Jimmy Carter was president during all of Archbishop Romero’s ministry, and it was to President Carter that Archbishop Romero directed his famous appeal for the U.S. to discontinue military support to El Salvador. There may be criticisms of the Reagan foreign policy to base on the Romero story, including that Reagan’s policies would have permitted gross human rights abuses like Romero’s murder. The problem that cannot be easily circumvented is that such abuses, including Romero’s murder, not only occurred under a Democratic administration, but they occurred under one which, as Romero chided Carter, had pledged to promote human rights.

3. Archbishop Romero was an adherent of Liberation Theology. This theory started with the right and migrated to the left. It was first advanced by Romero detractors such as Msgr. Freddy Delgado, but it was taken up with aplomb by followers of Liberation Theology who sought to add merit to their movement by claiming Romero as their own. In fact, Romero never cites or refers to mainline Liberation Theologians such as Leonardo Boff, Gustavo Gutiérrez, Manuel Pérez or Carlos Mugica. Romero never studies Liberation Theology directly, but reads about it from sources such as the Opus Dei theologian José María Casciaro, the Franciscan friar Buenaventura Kloppenburg, and the CELAM missionary Segundo Galilea. Instead, Romero draws up his views from his roots in ascetical theology, and in particular from the social doctrine of the Church as taught by Pope Paul VI (the “man who continually illuminates my thinking regarding these aspects”), Cardinal Eduardo Pironio (“a man who enjoys the full confidence of the Pope”), and the social teachings of the modern Popes. The postulator of his canonization cause, Bishop Vincenzo Paglia, maintains that Romero was not a dissident theologian but an faithful advocate of the orthodox social doctrine of the Church.

2. Pope John Paul II was hostile or cold to Romero. There is no denying that the Pope and the Archbishop wrestled with how to strike the right balance in El Salvador, and that John Paul was fed a lot of negative information about Romero that made the Archbishop feel he needed to set the record straight with the Pontiff. But Romero himself insisted that the tone of their interactions was respectful: “He did not scold me as some have said but rather it was a dialogue about criteria,” he said, “like when Paul went up to Jerusalem to speak with Peter about the content of his preaching.” They had two meetings: by Romero's own accounts, at their first meeting, John Paul leaned in and listened intently as Romero made his case, acknowledged the difficulty of Romero’s position and counseled “boldness and prudence” as Romero went forward and, at the end of their last meeting, John Paul embraced Romero and told him that he prayed every day for El Salvador.

1. His dying Eucharistic Prayer exulted “the Voice of Diatribe.” A glaring error in the Spanish language transcription of Archbishop Romero’s final sermon—the one during which he was assassinated—leads to a grotesque misstatement in the English translation. Namely, that, “To Christian faith, at this moment the voice of diatribe appears changed for the body of the Lord, who offered himself for the redemption of the world.” Except that, where the Spanish transcript says “voz de diatribo” (voice of diatribe), Archbishop Romero actually said “Hostia de Trigo” (wheaten Host). (The Word Remains: A Life of Oscar Romero (Orbis, New York, 1999), p. 244. The resulting error bolsters all the erroneous ideas about Romero as a dissident cleric and rebel rouser who equates the holiest sacrament with diatribes and sloganeering, rather than the spiritual minister focused on the religious rite.

Tuesday, November 01, 2011

INDEPENDENCIA Y LIBERACIÓN
La “Oración Patriótica” de Mons. Romero para el Bicentenario


El 5 de noviembre de 1971 el entonces obispo auxiliar de San Salvador, Mons. Oscar Arnulfo Romero y Galdámez, ofreció una homilía cuya pretensión era de ser una “Oración Patriótica … con motivo de la conmemoración del primer grito de independencia y día nacional de acción de gracias”.   («Ningún bien es comparable con la auténtica libertad», Semanario Orientación Nº. 1244 Págs. 1 y 8, Domingo, 14 Noviembre 1971, disponible aquí.)  Fue un sermón digno de estudiar en este bicentenario ya que la coyuntura histórica de El Salvador en el 2011 es aún más apta para el marco que monseñor comentaba que la realidad que el país vivía cuando pronunció aquel mensaje. En concreto, Mons. Romero predicó en aquella ocasión sobre la libertad, tomando como su referencial la historia de Israel y recordando que en la plenitud de su libertad, fue necesario la intervención de los profetas para interpelar al pueblo en libertad a ejercerla con fidelidad a la alianza con Dios.

Por supuesto, El Salvador en 1971 todavía gemía bajo la corrupción de dictaduras militares, y es la realidad de el Salvador de hoy la más pertinente para comparar con la historia de Israel después de toda la aventura de la esclavitud en Egipto, la liberación del Éxodo, la conducción del pueblo por Moises, el cautiverio de Babilonia y la entrada final a la tierra prometida que mana leche y miel, pero que necesita de la voz de los profetas para asegurar la fidelidad del pueblo a la nueva alianza con Yahvé. Entre líneas, monseñor admite que El Salvador de 1971 no era un modelo perfecto de comparación—reconoce que su libertad iba envuelta en elementos de la mitología: no es “más que una leyenda de nuestro folklore, la figura de aquel eclesiástico salvadoreño (José Matías Delgado) que agitó la campana de La Merced, en la aurora de este día, para anunciar la liberación de Centroamerica”, confiesa. Sin embargo, las exageraciones de la historia no le restan importancia al don de la libertad, predica monseñor, citando al Concilio Vaticano Segundo: “la libertad es el signo eminente de la imagen divina en el hombre”—y a José Simeón Cañas: “no hay bien comparable con la libertad”.

Después de dibujar la comparación entre el ejemplo prototípico de Israel, monseñor llega a inferir que tanto en el ejemplo bíblico como en la actualidad, es necesario ejercer la libertad con responsabilidad, porque la libertad es un don de Dios: “Pero también aprendió [Israel] que esta iniciativa divina está condicionada a la fiel cooperación de los hombres”. Las tribulaciones del desierto y el sufrimiento que Israel vivió son una escuela para inculcar los valores de una sociedad que es fiel a los valores divinos, dice monseñor: “La austeridad de los desiertos donde se templaron la voluntad de aquel caudillo y la fidelidad y solidaridad de aquel pueblo con vocación de libertad es la pedagogía de Dios para enseñar a todos los pueblos que la libertad hay que trabajarla en la austeridad en la solidaridad, en la búsqueda incansable y humilde, en el batallar contra todos los enemigos de esa preciosa dádiva” (compárese Hom. 24 febrero de 1980: “Que sepan unos y otros vivir la austeridad del desierto, que sepan saborear la redención fuerte de la cruz; que no hay alegría más grande que ganarse el pan con el sudor de la frente”).

En este sentido, monseñor predica unas palabras que llegarían a ser proféticas para su propio ministerio arzobispal y quizá puedan tener valor también para nuestro momento:
Era difícil ministerio de los profetas de aquel pueblo: mantener despierta esta conciencia de fidelidad, de cooperación, de solidaridad con el designio libertario de Dios; porque estas actitudes humanas condicionaban el regalo divino de su propia libertad. El reclamo contra las injusticias sociales, contra el libertinaje de las costumbres, contra el abuso del poder, contra el atropello de los derechos y de la dignidad de los hombres, se dirigía a todo el pueblo y llegaba, cuando las circunstancias lo exigían, hasta el trono de los reyes o los palacios de los grandes. No era un espíritu demagógico el que inspiraba aquel mensaje, ni eran desahogos de odios o de violencia inspirados en resentimientos sociales; no buscaba ventajas políticas ni lo inspiraban intereses subversivos. Era el grito de la verdadera liberación que buscaba extirpar los peligros de la verdadera libertad.
La mismas palabras se pueden aplicar ahora retrospectivamente al arzobispado de Mons. Romero y él lo supo anticipar en 1971: “Cualquiera comprende lo difícil de esta misión (profética) que más tarde el Evangelio de Cristo confiará a su Iglesia en medio de todos los pueblos”—incluyendo a aquel futuro Arzobispo de San Salvador.

En aquel momento, Mons. Romero recuerda la abolición de la esclavitud en El Salvador, pero profundiza sobre el tema y lo actualiza con una franqueza extraordinaria y analiza que “nuestra oración de examen de conciencia ... por la fuerza de la lógica y del contraste nos lleva a descubrir en la carencia de tantos bienes nuevas formas de esclavitud”. Y entonces hace la invitación a seguir el camino de la liberación: “nuestra historia”, dice, “con sus gestas libertarias, con sus luchas, sus fracasos y esperanzas, es camino y signo donde Dios se hace encontradizo con el gobierno y con el pueblo de El Salvador para reafirmar su pacto de trabajar en unión con él y con nuestros hermanos la libertad auténtica de nuestra Patria y conducirla a aquella plena liberación que sólo se consuma en Cristo”.

En efecto, en su sermón, monseñor ha sentado fundamentos para lo que será la pastoral de su futuro arzobispado:  “Si el Señor no edifica la casa”, dijo, citando el Cantico de los Ascensos del Rey David, “en vano trabajan los que construyen, si el Señor no cuida la ciudad, en vano velan sus centinelas”. (Salmo 126.)