The experience was extraordinary. There are so many images to bring to mind and contemplate: the people we met who have dedicated their lives to working for the beautiful people of El Salvador, trash everywhere, incredible faces, eyes and smiles, deep, deep love for Romero, hovels, dogs, roosters, color, martyrs, blood, laughing children, hospitality, music, the poor giving to the poorer, and the love they have for any of us who visit them and walk with them in solidarity.
I have returned from my visit to El Salvador with a profound appreciation for the liberties and opportunities we have in the US, and I pray that I can use my freedom to take small steps to help the poor and marginalized in our community, in El Salvador, and globally. I can vote without fear of reprisal, I can count on clean drinking water, I can chose what I eat, where I eat, where I live, how I live, where I work, what kind of education to get, where and how I practice my religion, what I say, what and how I speak—these are basic freedoms that are denied to the poor of El Salvador through the structural, economic, and political injustice entrenched within their society.
I have also returned with a deep appreciation that faith in God brings hope where none would appear to exist… that instead of spending time with religious traditions and theological debate, there is only time to act—to combat the injustice and poverty in El Salvador and many other places—and that is what many of our counterparts in El Salvador are doing… Love is as Love does—not what “Love” may say. The people in El Salvador have hope through their deep faith in God which binds their communities with a spiritual wealth that we would do well to emulate. The resurrection of Archbishop Romero and Jesus Christ live in the many faces and courageous / charitable acts of the people of El Salvador and those that minister to them.
I also believe that it is our role to communicate the wrongdoing of our government, many of whom may not realize the impact of US policy on the poor majority in El Salvador. God favors the poor and marginalized—US policy does not.
My recent pilgrimage to El Salvador reinforced and extended many of my thoughts gleaned from my past trips to El Salvador. The inner and outer beauty of Salvadorans; how they, of necessity find God in each other; the beauty of their countryside; the tremendous hardship they endure in their struggles with intense poverty, disease, and crime; and the positive and negative effects on them of policies of the Catholic Church, Salvadoran Government, and United States Government.
More than half of the approximately 6.5 million residents are unemployed, and most of those employed receive “wages” that keep them impoverished. It is appalling to learn about the unbelievable lack of nutrition in the diets of the poor—in infants, children, and adults; the financial inability of many parents to send or keep their children in school; the lack of a decent education for those in school; and (so-called) housing for many that are barely suitable for their animals. It is not blessed to be living in extreme poverty—when you don’t know where your next meal is coming from or whether your child will survive the night. It was made very clear that the institutional structures in place in El Salvador (privatization of public utilities, free trade agreements, etc.) will ensure that a majority of the population will forever remain destitute. God created one world, yet we talk about second and third world countries.
Consider going on an OLGC pilgrimage to El Salvador. Among other things, it can open your eyes to the institutional injustices in place there and raise your awareness of those in the United States. It will cause you to reflect on the role of the people of God (i.e., the Church) in combating social injustices. A Jesuit priest and professor at the University of Central America told us that the model for the Church is Salvadoran Archbishop Oscar Romero, martyred 25 years ago. To know more about what he did and why he did it, read Romero: A Life, by James Brockman, S.J.
What can be done worldwide to alleviate the suffering of the poor? We were told that the only solution is global solidarity—a change of heart throughout the world, which includes a sharing of our wealth. Isn’t this what Jesus said in Matthew 25:31-46 and elsewhere? All people are equal and deserve equal access to food, water, shelter, jobs, education, health services, and a dignified life. It is impossible to sustain peace in the world as long as the global North lives in opulence and over-consumes the earth’s resources while the poor have barely enough to survive. Changing this existing power dynamic and the militarization that accompanies it are worthwhile objectives for each of us to pursue.
In my incredible journey to El Salvador my eyes were opened wider to the very disturbing disparity between the rich and poor. I saw the ugly outcome of wealth and greed for a small and selfish group at the expense of a country full of poverty, suffering, and death. I listened, learned, walked and talked with the people of El Salvador while trying to get a feel for their reality. I now envision and pray daily for all of those beautiful people with the deep eyes that have seen so much and the hearts that have hurt so badly. Through all that they have experienced, their eyes still sparkle so brightly and their hearts beat so strongly. They are so full of love for their people. From the very young to the old and frail, all seemed to work together in SOLIDARITY. Faith and community were alive and working. Everyone striving for only the very basics—food, water, medical care, education, jobs, and hope for their children. I also experienced an awesome opportunity to learn more about the lives of the many courageous martyrs who loved, lived, and gave all to the Gospel they shared. I felt their powerful presence in the chapels, rose gardens, and throughout the country in the strong and faithful Salvadorian people. Their lives are a daily struggle, their opposition is overwhelming, but there they find strength and hope for the future.
The El Salvador encounter was a life-changing experience. I have so many thoughts and reflections that it is difficult to know where to begin. Persistent in my thoughts has been the discrepancy between the daily comforts and abundance of material goods that surround me at home as opposed to the poverty present in El Salvador. The Salvadorans struggle for the basics of adequate water, food, and shelter. Having the opportunity to see first-hand the conditions in which they live made the reality of their oppression and the overabundance and materialism of our culture so evident. Another prominent reflection was the spirit of the Salvadoran people. Despite their lack of material goods, education, and medical care, the love and respect for one another within their communities was remarkable. Within each community, there was a deep sense of family who work together to sustain daily life. Their faith and trust in God is what appeared to give them the strength to endure the sufferings of their past and present. It appeared that it is also their great faith that gives them optimism and hope for their future even though much has not changed with respect to opportunities and oppression since the 1992 Peace Treaties in El Salvador. I cannot reflect upon El Salvador without recalling my vivid feelings of the presence of Oscar Romero. His spirit continues to be very alive among the Salvadorans. Although Oscar Romero was assassinated 25 years ago, it is as if he is still there speaking for justice and human dignity in a manner of love and call to conversion of heart. Having the opportunity to visit the martyr sites of Oscar Romero and the Jesuits and their housekeepers as well as a wall that listed the names of people killed and/or missing during the 13-year war was an overwhelming experience. Each of these sites elicited a deep sorrow beyond words due to the loss of life and brutality that each individual suffered. Some of those murdered spoke for justice and others such as the many children were just victims of circumstance. Either way, each life violently taken was a loss of a gift to this world. To listen with a heart of solidarity to the voices and experiences of the poor and marginalized who live not that far away in a global world was humbling. Engaging in their reality has changed the way I see the world, particularly with how the actions of the United States affect others. Lastly, witnessing the faith, love, hope, and unity within the Salvadoran communities was a great reminding example of how we all as people “created in the likeness and image of God” are called to live in the world beginning within our own community, parish family, and individual families. I am so thankful to the Salvadorans and their life-changing presence in my life. I continue to pray in solidarity with them.
It is now three weeks since I have returned from El Salvador, and I am not certain I can even begin to describe my reactions this pilgrimage. We went to learn about the Church of the Poor in a Land of Martyrs. I must admit that I was emotionally and spiritually overwhelmed at the death site of Monseñor Romero and the death site of the six Jesuits and their housekeepers. Even as I write these words, I find myself crying over the loss of such good and holy people to a system that was predicated on violence and repression of the poor. These churchmen and lay people, along with so many other named and unnamed martyrs, were killed and tortured because they wanted to stand with the poor in their times of suffering. Over the years, I have seen my share of violence and bloodshed. These deaths brought all that back to me and I was paralyzed by the senselessness of it all. I pray that their example not be lost on me in my ministry to God’s people.
In seeing the poverty of the people in El Salvador, I was often struck by memories of poverty in our own country; e.g., Navaho Indian Reservation, lower eastside of Manhattan, the Bronx, Harlem, Appalachia, and even our own local communities in the Detroit metropolitan area. The taste and smell of poverty is the same no matter where you go. It is the reality of man’s inhumanity to man. At one point, in walking along a set of railroad tracks in the Salvadorian community of Maria Madre de los Pobres, I had the images of the Mexico City Neza Dumps appear in my mind. I looked around and thought to myself, these conditions are at least better than the dumps of Mexico. I was struck by how callused that assessment seemed to me. How could I compare one person’s suffering to another’s? When one suffers we all suffer. I think this was at the core of Monseñor Romero’s preaching. We must stand with one another so that together we are strong in a community of love. I stood ashamed of myself.
We saw many examples of brave and hard working people trying to do the best with what they could. They seemed to always be filled with hope and faith. In El Salvador and Mexico I have seen the reality that the possession of things does not give one hope. It is the shared faith of a people that sustains and upholds them. I have always known the poor have much to teach us about our faith and our ability to love in this world. Perhaps now I am beginning to reclaim that vision from them.
Finally, I realize how much I have grown to love and cherish the other people who traveled to El Salvador with me. I think the spirit of community we received from the Salvadorian people began to enter into our hearts and we saw each other as pilgrims on a journey. We realized that we must be part and parcel of each other’s pilgrimage or we are heading down a misdirected road. Each day, I remember these people in my prayers and ask the Lord of Life to bless them. Perhaps what I learned the most from my experiences with the poor is that we must learn to love the person standing right in front of us. They are the only ones we really can touch, and they present to us the face of Christ.
May the Lord give you the grace to love the one standing before you at all times.
What was I going to learn from a mission trip to El Salvador? It came at a very unsettled time in my life. Two weeks before the trip, I returned from my vacation in Florida to find out that I had been re-assigned to St. Agatha. These are the two weeks that I had planned to make final preparations for El Salvador. I spent them trying to move and to figure out what was going on at St. Agatha instead. It was probably the worst time for me to be gone from my new assignment, but I knew that something important was going to happen there. As I was leaving on this mission trip, foremost in my mind was: “How am I going to be a pastor to the people of St. Agatha?”
I encountered one of the most important role models of my priestly life in El Salvador in the person of Monsignor Oscar Romero. While he was martyred 25 years ago, he is still very alive in the hearts and minds of the people. Monsignor Romero was called by God to lead the people of El Salvador, and he continues to do so to this day. He was very in touch with the needs of his people. He was very committed to exercising a preferential option for the poor and was very outspoken in supporting Catholic Social Teaching in this area. While he did not always receive the support of other bishops, and it was not always easy, he remained true to God’s plan in his priestly ministry.
I had the opportunity to say Mass in the chapel where Monsignor Romero was assassinated. It was an overwhelming experience to vest in the sacristy where he vested, to preach in the chapel where he preached, and to celebrate the Mass in the sanctuary where he bled to death when an assassin shot him through the heart. It was an experience that I will never forget.
I met an economist, Raul Moreno, and learned that six families own the majority of the businesses in the country and receive 62% of the country’s profits. I learned that the single largest source of income in El Salvador is the money that is sent from family members living and working in the United States. In that economist’s opinion, the only hope for economic reform in El Salvador is revolution. Yet the country goes on.
I met Sr. Peggy, who organized church groups in rural areas in El Salvador. These groups are really small communities that have been resettled after the recent civil war. The unemployment rate in these communities is astronomical and the wages for those who do work are miniscule. Without funds donated from benefactors outside of the country, it would be doubtful that they would be able to continue. Few have any possibility of receiving a college education, and those who do have almost no opportunity for employment within the community after completing a college degree. In spite of all the adversity, Sr. Peggy could smile and say: “I live in paradise.”
I met many of the poor in El Salvador. For most of these individuals, the possibility for them to change their situation in life is nonexistent. Yet all of the people that I met seemed to be filled with joy, and hope, and faith in God. They seemed to know that they had something much more valuable then material possessions. They have life, they have community, they have loving and supportive relationships, and they have God.
The individualism, isolation, and materialism in the United States stands in marked contrast to the connectedness that appeared to exist among the poor in El Salvador. The success, power, control and achievement that exists in the United States came at an extreme price. In many instances it cost us our communities and our relationships. In many instances, we have even lost God.
Which brings me back to what I learned about leading, about pastoring. It is not about achieving something measurable. It is not about building a thriving parish. It is not about receiving approval from a bishop. It is not about power or control. It is not even about being right. It is about walking life’s journey with God. It is about praying always. It is about making all of the little decisions of each day according to God’s will. It is about loving as many people as possible as well as possible. That is what I learned from the people of El Salvador.
A man wept openly and asked God, “If you are a just God, how can you allow so many precious young children to die of starvation?” God answered that he has created enough resources to feed everyone in this world; we just need to share… “Live simply, so that others may Simply Live.”
In El Salvador, young children still die from diarrhea because they do not have clean water to drink. In the rural communities, the very sick are carried out to the streets by other community members in the hope of flagging down the occasional vehicle, for transport to a medical clinic. Over 50% of the people are unemployed. Those lucky enough to be employed may earn a minimum wage of $150 a month; however, it takes $600 a month to meet the basic needs of food, clothing and shelter for a family of four. Twenty percent of the rich own 60% of the country’s resources and the poorest 20% lay claim to 2% of the nation’s income. Because there are very few opportunities in El Salvador, one in four have left the country, and those that survive the journey have illegally entered the US to earn enough money so that their loved-ones, left in El Salvador have a chance at survival; forty percent of the young men have left the country, leaving behind their wives and children.
El Salvador is just one country out of many living in dire poverty. However, the political and economic injustice facing the majority of the poor in El Salvador can be directly linked to the policies of the US. During the civil war in El Salvador (1980–1992), the US government supported the Salvadoran government’s war efforts by providing $6 billion in aid; select training to elite military commandos and clandestine military troop support. The civil war began when repeated peaceful protests by the poor (who had no land, concentrated in the hands of 14 families, and no opportunities to make a living to sustain themselves and their families) turned into bloodshed at the hands of the military regime. The civil war was fueled into full force after the murder of their beloved Arch Bishop Oscar Romero in 1980; Romero was the voice and soul for peaceful justice and the biggest proponent of the poor. Death squads, some trained in the US by the School of Americas, massacred entire communities and brutally murdered six Jesuit Priests, a housekeeper and her daughter, and raped and murdered four nuns and a lay missionary. A negotiated peace settlement was engineered in 1992 with the promise of addressing the human rights violations and unjust socio-economic policies. Instead, the perpetrators of the tortures and murders (over 75,000 people were killed during the civil war) were given general amnesty and the incumbent political party remained in power. US policy today continues to favor the political and economic status quo in El Salvador—to influence election results, the US threatens to disrupt the remittances to El Salvador from Salvadorans who work in the US, or to deport these workers. And, US support of CAFTA favors the economic and political elite. Since the civil war, the inequality between the rich and poor has increased, and poverty and political intimidation is mainstream.
El Salvador is known as the Land of the Martyrs. As a result of the amnesty, People fought and died for a cause that never came true… Yet, all the people we met welcomed us with open arms and loving hearts. During our visit, our sister community (Haciendita Una) served us chicken—a meal they eat once a year during Christmas. Felix, a senior member and leader of this community, opened his house so that our 14 member delegation had a place to sleep (on thin mats on the floor). Felix has a gentle smile, inner peacefulness and hope that hide the fact that he lost two children and five siblings during the war. Alicia, the leader of COMADRES (Committee of the Mothers of the Disappeared) has been fighting a battle for twenty eight years to give recognition to those that have disappeared without a trace and more recently, to reverse the amnesty and push a resolution before the United Nations that “forced disappearance” is a crime against humanity. Alicia is small in stature, lacks any formal education and has a shy smile—she lost her son and was brutally tortured during the civil war. The only survivor of a village massacre has found his mother and father alive in the faces of those who love him in a new community. One poor community takes up a collection to help poorer communities.
What have I learned from the people of El Salvador? How great faith in God has given them consolation from the tragedies in their lives. How well they carry their own cross and each other’s crosses to work for the betterment of not only their lives but the lives of their community and their nation. That one small person can make a difference in the fight for injustice. How wealthy is a community that shares and cares for each other. That you can overcome anything with patience and great love. Live simply and love greatly so that others in our local community, in El Salvador and globally… Can Simply Live.
The recent visit to El Salvador enlightened me on the devastating effect that the civil war of the 1980s had on the Salvadoran people. During the war Government troops were “disappearing” (i.e., imprisoning and murdering) their fellow countrymen, mostly the poor and oppressed who were seeking better conditions. As a result of the conflict, approximately 75,000 people were killed in a country of six million. Scaling this to the U.S. population, it would be equivalent to four million of our citizens being killed.
The war has left the people of the country distrustful and very polarized. The current democratic government shares power between two dominant and diametrically opposed political parties. The ARENAS Party represents the right wing ultra conservative views of the establishment, and the FMLN Party represents the left wing liberal views of the poor and socially conscious. Hot button issues are wealth redistribution and land reform. Salvadorans take their politics very seriously.
Unfortunately the Catholic Church in El Salvador is also polarized. For example, Sunday worship at the main Cathedral in San Salvador features two simultaneous Masses, a traditional Mass in the main floor sanctuary, and a liberation theology styled Mass for the poor in the basement, with a priest usually brought in from the countryside. Despite this cleavage Salvadorans generally have a deep seeded faith, which has enabled them to persevere the tragedies that have befallen them.
U.S. policy heavily influences life in El Salvador. Our government supported the Salvadoran government militarily against the rebelling FMLN during the civil war, under the rationale of preventing a communist takeover (as was happening with the Sandinistas in neighboring Nicaragua). Hopefully our government was not complicit in the atrocities committed by the Salvadoran government on its people.
Today the U.S. inspired CAFTA (Free Trade policies) will favor the wealthy of El Salvador (and U.S.) at the further expense of the great number of already impoverished Salvadorans. Fair Trade policies would benefit more Salvadoran citizens and raise the country’s overall standard of living.
So is there hope for El Salvador? Well, “youth springs eternal” and there are plenty of Salvadoran youth. Schoolchildren, in both public and private schools, are distinguished by their blue and white uniforms. The ones I met were respectful, positive, energetic and fun-loving. They are the hope of El Salvador.
The school our group visited opened before 7:00 a.m., completed the morning session about noon, started another session in early afternoon (with different students) finishing after 5:00 p.m. The school also offered evening classes for adults and fallen behind teenagers. The overworked, underpaid teachers are a blessing to the woefully under funded educational system.
I am grateful and proud that the people of Our Lady of Good Counsel Church have chosen to financially support (1) an aspiring teacher attend classes to obtain her teaching certificate and (2) rural schoolchildren from our sister community, Haciendita Uno.
The concept of “solidarity for the poor and marginalized” dominated my thoughts during my educational pilgrimage to El Salvador last February. I made it a point to reflect on current and past examples of solidarity for the poor and marginalized of El Salvador, and on how we in the United States are doing in being in solidarity with the poor and marginalized.
Words and phrases describing what it means to be in (Christian) solidarity with others include living for others, dying to oneself, listening to their plea for help, feeling their pain, becoming their voice, and carrying a message of hope, love, and peace. It also includes sharing the dangers of their struggles, uncovering injustice and evil, and promoting the kingdom of justice and their dignity. It is believing that each person has value equal to mine, that the way to faith and the way to justice are inseparable ways, that the Church’s preferential option for the poor is no longer an option but a way of life at the heart of the gospel, and the Christian hope that the radiance of life will prove victorious no matter the amount of darkness.
Examples abound of Salvadorans being in solidarity with the poor and marginalized in El Salvador. This is one of the great lessons to be learned from our pilgrimages. That the poor in El Salvador are in solidarity with each other goes without saying. They are very much aware that they need God and each other to survive, and they find God in each other. According to Jesuit Jim Barnett, many Central Americans would say: “The greatest sin is individualismo.” There he continues, “Everything is community. But here [in the U.S.], el pecado mortal—individualismo is the highest value. We have esteem for the self-made person, and prosperity just means getting more toys for myself, for my posterity.”
I could tell you a lot about Raul Moreno, the leading economist in El Salvador who came to our guesthouse and spend an hour and a half revealing how the economic policies of the U.S. and Salvadoran governments are devastating to poor Salvadorans. Suffice it to say that his concerns over institutional economic policies that forever lock Salvadorans into dire poverty are inspiring.
We met with Alicia Garcia, cofounder in 1975 of CoMadres (Committee of the Mothers of the Disappeared), who is still with the organization. CoMadres has met with tremendous opposition from the Salvadoran government over all these years, and is now more hopeful since they are finally receiving help from international organizations, including the United Nations. We were impressed with her 30-year story, persistence, and solidarity with those who have been obstructed at almost every turn in their efforts to find out about the disappearance of their family members. Two of her young children were killed in the civil war.
We became aware of the beautiful Jesuit priest Jon Cortina, a professor at the Jesuit University of Central America, referred to by many as the “Father of the Communities.” He chose to live in a poor community and was much loved by the poor of El Salvador for his solidarity with them. He died last September and is buried in the Oscar Romero Chapel at the University of Central America, alongside the six Jesuits who were murdered in 1989.
There is the moving story of Herbert Anaya, a prominent civil rights activist who expected to be assassinated for his work, due to receiving death threats. According to his daughter Rosa and wife Mirta, he always came home from work filled with joy and thanksgiving that he had survived another day. One morning as he was entering his car in the yard of his home, he was assassinated. His wife Mirta picked up where he left off, eventually graduated from college and law school, and is now a Supreme Court Judge in El Salvador doing what she can for the poor. Rosa, who was in the yard when her father was assassinated, become a CRISPAZ staff member and coordinated the work of CRISPAZ with high-risk youth.
Guillermo Cuéllar, a popular musician in El Salvador who wrote music for Archbishop Oscar Romero, conducted a very moving private concert for us in our guesthouse. His solidarity with the poor is evidenced though the lyrics he writes for his music. He composed the music for “The Popular People’s Mass.” He was forced to leave El Salvador for 13 years during their civil war due to receiving death threats. The list of Salvadorans in solidarity with the poor of El Salvador goes on and on.
There are many U.S. citizens in solidarity with Salvadorans. My many trips to El Salvador, beginning in 1998, have exposed me to individuals down there from the United States whose dedication to the poor and marginalized of El Salvador is humbling. There is Paul Darilek from San Antonio, Texas, who recently went back to the States after spending nine years in El Salvador, first as a CRISPAZ volunteer at age 22, and then going it along, dependent on contributions for his survival. He was the impetus for drilling wells in rural communities (where none existed), and devoted the past five or six years training Salvadorans to drill wells and overseeing their work. The first well he drilled served a 26 families in a rural community in which he was a CRISPAZ volunteer. He eventually got married, had a child and they lived from month to month not knowing if they would get enough money to survive to the next month. I saw him several years ago and he told me that the 60th well he was drilling had a well pipe of diameter 30 inches and would serve 23,000 families. He recently came back to the States at age 31, with no savings and no 401K account. He choose to work in El Salvador because “It is the best job I could find.” What a privilege it has been to know him—this living saint.
Stan Grams from San Francisco was on my first delegation trip to El Salvador in 1998. He was age 72, a retired engineer and gentleman. He wanted to make a difference to the poor of El Salvador. He collaborated with Paul on the prospect of drilling wells, and said he would help raise funds to support the purchasing of equipment. He did this for several years and without his assistance Paul’s work would not have gotten off the ground. Stan did made a tremendous difference, with a cane and prosthetic shoe as his angel wings. A few years later he died in an infamous airplane tragedy—he was on the airplane that crashed into the ocean on a flight from New York to Egypt.
Kelly Creedon, from the East Coast, was one of many CRISPAZ woman volunteers in their 20’s who assisted and lived in poor communities. She worked with a community radio station and supported the work of the local “Committee Against Aids.” She lived by herself in a rural community in a “house” where I would have great concerns about my safety. She and the other women volunteers are courageous individuals, subjecting themselves daily to disease, crime, poverty, and a myriad of other hardships. Why do they do it? I suspect it has everything to do with love. Kelly recently left El Salvador, spending about five years there.
Matt Eisen is from Cincinnati and a former CRISPAZ volunteer. After he left CRISPAZ, he took over a fledging youth program in the Capitol City, San Salvador, and has energized it to the extent that it is one of San Salvador’s premier multi-faceted youth programs. It has become a safe haven for teens that find themselves in abusive or dangerous home situations, and an alternative to the gang lifestyle. Matt is still in El Salvador after many years there, and you have to wonder if he will ever leave. His Cincinnati parish, Our Lady of Victory, supports his work.
My cousin, Sister Antona, has been working in El Salvador for 25 years. She was required by her order to leave the country shortly after the four churchwomen were murdered in 1980. She came back about four years later. She now regrets that she didn’t resist more the order to leave. She is now 70 years old and runs a parish by herself, living in a lean-to, on the church that she had built, and then had to rebuild due to the 2001 earthquake. She is very active in her community, being the impetus for building projects, getting a vehicle in her village for emergency purposes, etc. I always ask her when she is going to leave El Salvador, and she always looks at me with a serene smile, and says, “When my work is finished.” I asked her how she has kept safe all these years, knowing that she lived and worked in many unsafe places, especially during the civil war. She says, I can’t say, but I know that my Franciscan sisters have been praying for me in our Motherhouse Adoration Chapel in Wisconsin for 25 years, 7 day week, and 24 hours a day.
It was a privilege to visit our Salvadoran sister community, Haciendita Una. The leader of the community is Orlando, and the look in his eyes conveyed to me that he had a profound sense of hope because of our visit and promise of an ongoing relationship. Yes, this poor community needs and will accept our financial support, but much more than that they value our love, our prayers, our presence, our recognition of their plight—our solidarity. Please support your sister community.
How well are we in the United States doing in solidarity for the poor and marginalized? Our government can do much better, and so can we, as evidenced by statements from politicians and others such as these: “It is better to fight terrorism in Iraq then here. Translation: “We don’t value the lives of Iraqi’s as much as we value ours.” “We need to send all the undocumented immigrants back to their country.” Translation: “We need to do this even if it means death to family members back in their countries, due to not receiving monies back from relatives working here that allow them to survive economically.” “We need free trade agreements with other countries so we have a level playing field.” Translation: “We need free trade agreements so our corporations will improve their bottom line, even though we know free trade agreements, written primarily by corporations, are devastating to the poor in poor countries.” “We need to send all Latin American gang members back to the countries they came from.” Translation: “We know that many youth left their countries for the United States during unjust civil wars that were supported by the United States, had difficulty inculcating here, learned the gang trade from existing U.S. gangs, and committed violent crimes here, so lets turn them loose on their poverty-stricken countries, where they cannot be adequately imprisoned, to prey on the poor and marginalized.” And the list goes on and on with other statements such as, “They are jealous of us and our wealth,” “They need to be a democracy just like us,“ “Our lifestyle does not have an impact on poor people in other countries,” “They need to pull themselves up by their bootstraps.” “Only in America are poor people fat, or drive to their houses in a Cadillac.” “Affluent Americans are the measure of what it means to be a human being.” Space does not allow for a translation of these statements. Unfortunately, we live in a culture of national politics based on “half-truths” and “disinformation.” Each of us has a responsibility to seek the truth.
We have the greatest act of solidarity in the Father sending his Son to live with us, and then dying for us. What does Eucharist mean if we share the table of the Lord with those families around the world and yet are part of a system that treats them worse than animals? Are you in solidarity with the poor and marginalized? According to Jesus, we are judged on this when “the Son of Man comes in his glory.” (See Matthew 25:31–46.) Please reflect on this statement by St. Francis as he was nearing death: “ I have done what is mine to do, may Christ teach you what is yours.”
The missions of third world countries? Why in the world would anyone need to look so far as El Salvador or Mexico to help others when we have so many needy right here in our own community?
This was my response last year when I heard of the group that went to El Salvador during a discussion with the Saturday Morning Men’s Prayer Group. We talked of the work that was needed to be done there and I had mixed feelings about it more so because I really didn’t understand what they did. I was directed to read an article in the church paper by Deacon Tim which just happened to be in that weeks Counselor, a coincidence…? I think not. Deacon Tim explained the need of these disadvantaged people and how we all can help. How the Holy Sprit is at work and why we must answer this calling to help our brothers and sisters both local and abroad.
I tried to understand yet my eyes and my heart seemed closed. For so many years my opinion was already set on this topic and one more discussion was not going to change my mind. These people are so far away, not much a concern of mine and what could I possibly do anyways. So later I asked my self, what are you doing about the disadvantaged people here or abroad? With a short pause, I came up with NOTHING!
So with time on my hands I reflected on what I should do and how I could help. It all seemed like to much work. How do you get started? How do you make a difference? Just what I need, another commitment. During the last year, filled with many trials of my own life, I kept in prayer and on my mind were these missions, the ones I find no time to help. This song continued to run through my head. “Lead me guide me along the way, for if you led me I can’t not stray, let me walk each day with thy, led me oh Lord led me” So I pray to the Holy Sprit asking for guidance and understanding regarding the mission work.
Last fall at mass and announcement was made regarding the up coming trip to El Salvador in February, 2006. Let me remind you I had no plans of going. The calm voice inside said, “You are going on this trip!”, so, as we all know, when the Holy Sprit speaks, you listen and respond. My prayer was beginning to be answered.
I registered for the trip that same Sunday. I was the 13th of 15 to sign up. I sat in this first meeting and was asked a simple question. Why do you want to going to El Salvador? My response, “I have no idea!” As it turned out, that was probably the best reason of all to go. Not knowing why, but being willing to be led. Opening my heart and mind to what God has in store for me, to do his will, not what I would like to do.
Over the next few months, I planned for the trip, was vaccinated for things I didn’t know existed and packed for the unknown. I worried about “Me”. Will I get sick? Will there be food I would like to eat? Enough clean water to drink? Could I get killed? What if I get sick? Are the hospitals safe? What will I find? What will it be like? How will I communicate? I don’t speak Spanish! I though of all my own concerns. My safety, all about “Me”. I never put much thought into the people I would meet or how they would affect me. My sister told me that this was the kind of trip that would wreck your life forever! (She meant it in a positive way) It raised even more questions and excitement. Where is God taking me? What am I to learn?
The day finally came and I arrived in the country of El Salvador which’s means “My Savior”. Greeted with a lot of smiles and no conversation (I don’t speak Spanish) you feel a great sense of peace. A peace I never felt before. As we traveled through the city of San Salvador and the country side, the peace was still present, it seemed to be everywhere. It wasn’t a feeling of pity for the poor of material possessions; it was for the richness of the Sprit within the people. It was as clear as day, God is right here! I reflected on these feelings and it dawn on me what I was embracing was Gods true presents, stronger than ever. I traveled to a third world country full of the poorest of poor to learn the recipe of life. That is, Faith, Hope and Love equals a Life embraced with God. The essence of our own existence. Everything we need to live a wonderful, fruitful life.
The people of El Salvador, the men, women and children all are filled with faith hope and love. You can see it in their eyes, hear it in the tone of their soft voices and feel it in their warm embrace. The people of this country suffered greatly, yet they never lost their faith, never gave up hope and continue to simple love unconditionally. They may not have the big house or the new car but they have each other and value life, their family and friendship like none other. The youth admirer the adults and the adults cherish the youth.
Now answering the question. Why are you going to El Salvador? The “I have no idea” was more like I had no idea it could be so amazing, powerful, enlighten, spiritual, life changing and a gift from God. This trip turned out to be a week spent in heaven. A week spent with God in a loving embrace. This trip just wasn’t a week long vacation, but the start of a life long journey living, loving and giving of yourself unconditionally. As it turned out, all my fears before going on this trip never happened. They all turned into graces and joyful memories. I visited one of the poorest countries in Central America and found the richness of the sprit alive in its people. Now I was faced with returning home to the United States of America, a country rich in material wealth, but yet poor in the Sprit. Now where should I have been afraid to go?
As for my sisters comment, I didn’t really understand what she meant until I came home. She was right, it wrecked me for the better, it woke me up and put a lot of things we take for granted into perspective! It reassured what is truly important. My view is different on mission work now, both local and abroad. I became active in many different groups working on projects both local and in El Salvador. I am returning to El Salvador with the Life Teen of OLGC this July to help with a building project with our Sister community, Haciendita Uno. I also am continuing my work on an organization called “Manna” - Men Assisting Neighbor Needing Aid, which will help the disadvantaged with in our own community. We are all called to do something for the glory of God where ever it may be. I encourage you to get involved.
I invite you to listen to the calm voice inside yourself. To answer its calling and venture to the unknown. I assure you the Lord will guide you too. It’s hard to imagine this trip and all the wonderful experiences began with a simple prayer. Thank you Jesus!
What do I learn from traveling to El Salvador?
I experience a different reality. You may ask why not just experience a different reality right here in our country and perhaps the Detroit Metropolitan area? I don’t know. For some reason, God has called me to go and see how His people live their faith in El Salvador. Over the years, I have learned that when I believe God is calling me to do something I must respond.
On this second pilgrimage for me, I took fewer pictures and listened more to the people around me. I looked into the eyes of children and old women as they told their stories. I saw the despair and hopelessness in the eyes of young men who have lived under oppression. I felt the stories about dying children and victims of torture. I sobbed openly at the site of the Jesuit martyrs. I kissed the floor of the sanctuary again this year where Archbishop Romero died and it felt like I was at home.
When I visited the dumps of Mexico City last year, I remember the pain in my heart as we were leaving and a young woman and I had to tell three young boys that we were not coming back to see them again. The power of that moment stuck in my heart as I visited the people of Haciendita Uno and felt the presence of their love for me and mine for them. I promised that we would be coming back and that we would not forget them. A few short weeks later I was able to see two of the boys in the Mexico City dumps that we had said good bye to last year. The young woman was with me and I could see the delight in her face as she saw the boys. I know I will feel the same way for the people of Haciendita Uno when I return there someday.
One of the tasks I had this year was to reflect on the scriptures throughout the day so that I could lead the discussions at the end of the day. All the members shared their reactions with each other and I was supposed to put it together in light of God’s Word. I found that the scriptures were running through my head constantly each day as I tried to fashion a stream of consciousness that would describe the day. I felt as though the Word of God was living within me and trying to come out at each encounter we had. Some of the themes were, “The Lord hears the cry of the poor,” and “Love one another as I have loved you,’ and “there is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for a friend,” and “I am in you and you are in me.” The reality of the violence and poverty of El Salvador makes all of these themes come to life in a much deeper way. Each one is a radical call to know that God loves us and that we are to love God and each other in return.
I always leave behind all the contents of my suitcases when I go to El Salvador and Mexico. It seems like such a little to do in light of the massive poverty I encounter. But I trust that it is something that God can use to do good in this world. Perhaps it changes the reality just a little bit by my having been there. I know it has changed me.
I’ve had a difficulty distilling my thoughts about my experience in El Salvador, not because the experience overwhelmed me but because the experience crept into every fiber of my being and ignited a new awareness. I didn’t know how to begin this reflection. Finally, I realized that simply sharing a verbal collage of the recurring themes of my experience might be all I could provide. El Salvador stirred my core beliefs about so many things—human dignity and human rights; the injustice of poverty due to social, economic and political systems; compassion and mercy.
I’ve worked with poor and underserved populations in urban and rural areas in several parts of the United States. In my work, I focused on providing services for individual and groups, meeting specified needs, and establishing systems for follow-up. I believed I was effective and contributed to alleviating some of the distress and suffering experienced by the people I served.
Now I know this caring, service perspective is only a small part of “the preferential option for the poor” we are called to consider. I need to develop a broader perspective and understanding about justice and human dignity, beyond my confidence and comfort zone here—in Plymouth or Ann Arbor or Detroit or Michigan or the United States.
It is a privilege and a humbling experience to be able to travel to another country to discover how we, parishioners of Our Lady of Good Counsel and citizens of Michigan in the USA, are perceived by individuals that country. Yes, we are seen as members of a superpower, wealthy nation. Yet, we surprise others with our limited vision and information about US international policy and the impact of US policy on other nations and the individuals in those nations.
Whether part of a rural agricultural community or the University of Central America, the Salvadorans I encountered were eloquent and perceptive individuals, hospitable, polite, hard working, and generous. They were well informed and willing to discuss their economic, social and political issues. They asked incisive questions about US international policy because it has such a huge impact on their country and economy. Salvadorans said that by understanding the social, economic and political issues they are able to defend themselves against oppression.
While in El Salvador I saw only two television monitors. Both were in the Community Centers of poor communities and were used for showing educational videos or movies. I heard no radio. The radio and television stations are owned and influenced by the government, as are most of the newspapers. How do Salvadorans develop and maintain their social, economic and political perspective? They have their experience and social networks for information.
A child in first grade asked, “Are there any poor people in the United States?” This is such touching awareness about poverty from one so young!
In a small town, youth told us about the lack of opportunity for employment and any hope for change. They said, “We hear that someone is going to have some work. We go and wait for him to come. Sometimes he comes, sometimes not. Sometimes we get work, mostly not. Sometimes we get paid for our work, sometimes not. The man who hires us can decide to pay us or not. This is why many try to get to the United States for work.”
A young adult in his early twenty’s at Haciendita Uno asked about the North American Fair Trade Agreement (NAFTA) and if we knew how NAFTA would only benefit the bankers and the few wealth families of El Salvador. “NAFTA will only squeeze the poor,” he said.
Life is the same, yet so different for the poor. Mothers worry about education of their children, faith formation, youth safety, keeping children close to home and safe from bad influences, employment opportunities, and maintaining family and community structure. Children need to be fed, educated, kept safe and healthy so they can grow to be productive citizens. Adults need to provide for the health and safety of their families, but are limited by the social, economic and political forces in the country.
Action to make change goes beyond simply providing the necessities for survival. At a recent Stephen Ministry retreat, Sister Judith VanderVeen, Religious Sister of Mercy, described the difference between justice and mercy, “Justice is giving what is deserved. Mercy is giving even when not deserved and underserved. Mercy, from the Latin word misericordia, is to carry the misery of the other in one’s heart.” We need to carry the poor in our hearts and treat them with our love, which provides recognition of human dignity.
I hope that more OLGC parishioners take advantage of the unique faith enhancing educational pilgrimage to El Salvador to make a spiritual bond that embraces other cultures and countries with mercy.
For months I have been struggling to write a reflection from our trip to El Salvador. I have asked myself if I only had a page to summarize this experience, what would I write? Where do I begin when there is so much to sort through? I have started at least ten entries in ten different directions never completing one, always feeling it lacked in something or said too much. Finally, I told myself it just wasn’t meant to be. I’m not going to write anything. Or at least I convinced myself to think it wasn’t meant to be until two weeks ago when I was at a graduation party. There off in the back was my husband’s uncle sitting at a table surrounded by other family members. Everyone around him was talking while he sat there staring down at the table. My husband’s uncle has Parkinson’s; it has gotten to the point where he can no longer speak, even on medication. That evening he had forgotten his speaking aid- a card containing the alphabet where he points to the letters to spell words. As superficial as this is, and even egocentric on my part, in the past I would have said my “hello’s” more out of a sense of obligation accompanied with great discomfort. What do I say? What if I don’t understand him? How long do I keep on trying? What if I embarrass myself?
That night was different. That night we were kindred spirits connected by an experience I had in El Salvador when our delegation was visiting our sister community, Haciendita Uno. After we did our formal introductions with the help of our translator, we broke up and were free to go and see and speak to anyone we wanted. In many ways it was no different than being at the graduation party.
At first, I quickly hooked up with people from our delegation so I would not be alone fumbling with the language barrier. I remember very little from the one semester of Spanish I had in college, not to mention forgetting to bring a Spanish dictionary. Eventually as time went on I found myself sitting alone while I watched one of the elders of the community walk towards me. Dread filled my entire body. What on earth am I going to say? He is never going to understand me. I still remember as if it was yesterday, he had the warmest smile as he asked me something. In my mind I kept thinking over and over, how can I get out of this? Then I smiled back replying, “No hablo espanol.” (This is my equivalent to pressing “control-alt-delete” when I’m frozen on the computer and want to get out of the quandary fast.) He smiled again and from what I could tell it sounded as if he asked the same question, but this time he began to act like an airplane extending his arms out and making an engine sound. From that moment I stepped back and just watched him. He didn’t look embarrassed, he didn’t look put out, he looked as if he had all the time in the world. Suddenly I no longer felt panicked and poorly said, “Si, Bueno.” Basically, I was trying to say, yes we took a plane, and the plane ride was good. Then he grabbed both my hands and cupped both of his hands around mine, looked me straight in the eye, smiled, and walked away. No words were spoken but I felt as if he said, it is a pleasure to meet you; I hope you feel at home.
It amazes me, after all this time I continue to experience “El Salvador moments” in situations I never dreamed of. This is just one of many, all very simple, nothing that changes the world, but definitely changes something inside of me. I continue to be inspired by their strength, their courage, and their faith. Two weeks ago I did not understand my husband’s uncle’s words, but I hope he felt mine when I reached out and held his hand.
So now I sit here still hesitant to send in my reflection, still feeling as if it’s lacking something, too simple. Once again I find myself panicking, searching for the equivalent “control-alt-delete” buttons. I’ve all ready used, it’s not meant to be. How about it won’t make any difference anyway? But after going to El Salvador, meeting the people, hearing their stories, I know they do, especially the little things.