Remembering Oscar Romero

Last month saw the 30th anniversary of the assassination of Archbishop Oscar Romero.

I must say that in these days of corruption and scandal within the clerical leadership of the church, I find it comforting and hopeful to be reminded that true leaders can emerge - despite the terrible price that can (and in Romero's case, was) paid for embodying such authentic leadership. In many ways it's authentic discipleship, really: the putting of others - of real human beings - before institutions, be they government, military, or ecclesial.

Following is an excerpt from a recent National Catholic Reporter article by Pat Marrin. As you'll see, it offers a moving account of the journey of Romero.

One of the numerous parts of this article that I appreciate is Marrin's recounting of how Romero's leadership style impacted the church.

Under Romero’s leadership, the church in San Salvador became fully collegial at every level. His offices at the seminary and his Masses at the cathedral became centers of dialogue and reflection on the events of the day in the light of the scriptures and church documents. Romero wrote four pastoral letters to address the complex challenges facing the church in relationship to the government, to the popular organizations and political parties that rose to protest injustices and the violence of the security forces. His Sunday homilies were broadcast by radio throughout Central America (except when the station or its towers had been bombed). His letters and sermons were the fruit of constant consultation with his priests, religious and people.

Truly inspiring, don't you think?

Interestingly, Marrin shares the view that the reason Romero's canonization process has stalled is because if it were to be completed "[Romero and his living of the 'church of the poor' would] be held up as an exemplar for the episcopacy and for the church itself." I guess that's just too much of a challenge for many of us - including those within the current clerical leadership of Roman Catholicism.

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Romero’s road to martyrdom was neither direct nor obvious. Trained and ordained in Rome in 1942, Romero was known as a conservative cleric when he served at Medellín in 1968 as secretary to the Salvadoran bishops and then as a bishop from 1970 until his appointment as archbishop of San Salvador in 1977. While he was very pastoral, always obedient to church teaching, Romero resisted the liberalization of attitude, dress, pastoral and liturgical style so evident in the life of the changing church. He was publicly opposed to any pastoral ministry that appeared to engage in political action.

But after the murder of Jesuit Fr. Rutilio Grande, Romero’s friend and a devoted pastor who had championed the rights of campesinos in their struggle for just wages and land reform, Romero emerged as a strong voice for the poor. A shift in the historical alignment of the hierarchy with rich elites and the military was taking place throughout Latin America, and Romero’s recovery of the church of the poor shaped his own role as pastor. The people embraced him and their faith inspired him. He once remarked, “With this people it is not hard to be a good shepherd.”

Under Romero’s leadership, the church in San Salvador became fully collegial at every level. His offices at the seminary and his Masses at the cathedral became centers of dialogue and reflection on the events of the day in the light of the scriptures and church documents. Romero wrote four pastoral letters to address the complex challenges facing the church in relationship to the government, to the popular organizations and political parties that rose to protest injustices and the violence of the security forces. His Sunday homilies were broadcast by radio throughout Central America (except when the station or its towers had been bombed). His letters and sermons were the fruit of constant consultation with his priests, religious and people.

Romero responded to the deteriorating social reality in El Salvador as he evolved in his role as archbishop. As teacher, preacher and pastor, he made the church visible to itself as the body of Christ. He moved constantly throughout the archdiocese, saying Mass, confirming young people, burying the dead and encouraging everyone. He listened to, prayed for and counseled the people who were undergoing suffering and oppression. To critics who said he was politicizing the church, Romero said often that there could be no “spiritual” walking with the poor without committing to social transformation on their behalf.

With the election of Pope John Paul II in 1979, whom Romero would meet twice, his struggle against an increasingly brutal repression in El Salvador was often characterized at the highest levels of the church as implied support for Marxism and violent revolution, charges Romero refuted repeatedly. By late 1979, with both U.S. intervention and Vatican scrutiny misreading him and civil war rapidly approaching, Romero would play out his final months as archbishop by using his homilies to define his coming death as a paschal offering for the eventual resurrection of the Salvadoran church.

Saying his last Mass on March 24, 1980, in the chapel at the hospital where he lived, Romero had just read the Gospel passage from John 12:23-23: “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. . . . Unless the grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a grain, but if it dies it bears much fruit.” Moments later he was shot through the heart by a sniper.

The shocking nature of his death and the stunning implications of his example have made the question of canonization even more relevant for the universal church. In a global economy marked by what the bishops at Medellín, almost 40 years ago, called the “institutionalized violence” of poverty that remains the fate of billions, the question remains, does the church walk with the poor?

“That is what Romero did.” said [Dr. Dean] Brackley [an American Jesuit who served in El Salvador], “inspiring countless others to collaborate with him. This will invite persecution and misunderstanding, but that is the fifth mark of the true church. Romero sought not what was best for the institution as such, but what was best for the people. In the long run, that is what is best for the church, too. The institution that strives to save itself will lose itself. If it loses itself in loving service, it will save itself.”

Oscar Romero, pray with us
for the church and the world.

Recommended Off-site Links:
Archbishop Oscar Romero - A remembrance by U.S. Catholic.
Archbishop Oscar Romero: Thirty Years and Little Learned - Joseph A. Palermo (The Huffington Post, March 24, 2010).
Remembering Oscar Romero - Daniel Hernandez (Los Angeles Times, March 23, 2010).