It Burns

I just spent a week in El Salvador as part of a Cohort of Missioners intensive trip. We had participants from Honduras, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, and El Salvador with special guests from InnerCHANGE in Guatemala. It was my first time in El Salvador, and it was wonderful and terrible, all at once.

The ceiling of the cathedral in San Salvador, which captured me and inspired worship

We learned about the history and context of El Salvador, mostly. Semillas de la Nueva Creación is the hosting organization for the Cohort in El Salvador, and we interacted a bit with their staff. However, most of the trip was spent learning and consequently lamenting.

The city of San Salvador at dusk from La Puerta del Diablo near the Planes de Rendero

Lamenting because the history of this tiny country is filled with injustice and oppression. Lamenting because the US contributed through funding and training to much of the armed conflict and massacres that occurred over a period of 50 years from the 1930s to the 1980s, but mostly concentrated in a civil war during the 1980s. Lamenting because in 1980 Archbishop Oscar Romero was martyred for speaking out on behalf of the poor and exhorting the soldiers to stop killing civilians. Lamenting because in 1981, one thousand civilians - children, women, men - who were in the guerrilla zone were massacred in a town called El Mozote. Lamenting because in 1989 five Jesuit priests and two women were killed for teaching principles of liberation theology and freedom for the oppressed. Lamenting because many of the atrocities of these times have gone unpunished, unspoken, and unacknowledged. Lamenting because the voices of the poor and downtrodden continue to be drowned out by modern consumerism, by big politics, by hunger for power.

The tomb of Oscar Romero beneath the cathedral in San Salvador

Lamenting because I feel like I am doing little to alleviate the pain of the world and participate in the Kingdom of God. It burns within me, this desire to do something to put things right. It's beyond awareness. Now that I know of places where massacres occurred, where soldiers were trained by my country and subsequently went out to kill the innocent, where gangs and government continue to oppress and terrorize the people, I feel a responsibility to do something. Yet I don't know what that is. So I feel agitated, searching for something to do to put things right.

I participated in my first procession as part of the vigil for the Jesuit martyrs at the UCA university

Maybe that's right where I need to be. Maybe it's like what Jesus felt for most of his time here on earth. Maybe it's this sort of zeal that led him to chase the money changers out of the temple. Maybe if I listen carefully, I will hear the call of the Spirit. Maybe it's this burning within me that pushes me forward to act.

Gathered around the art that expresses pain in a Christian base community 

It has pushed others onward, this Spirit of fire and justice. Christian base communities teach values and love to communities as everyone from young to old gets involved in the lives of their neighbors. Families of the massacred have moved back to El Mozote and have erected a monument, committed to telling their story and also to forgiving their enemies. Churches are opening their minds and doors to the marginalized and outcast, seeking to gather around the Kingdom of God.

The church ELIM, which has been changing significantly in the past few years to share the Gospel in an integral way

There are glimmers of hope in this sad story. They are teaching me not to despair. They are teaching me how to gather with others around the Kingdom of God and His movements. To live with open hands. To live always doing justice, loving mercy, and walking humbly with God. What better way to learn humility than to feel helpless? What better way to do justice than to feel it burning within me and not find rest? May the Kingdom of God come among us.

The memorial and tombs for those massacred at El Mozote