By Cecilia Kingman Miller, Guest Preacher

June 21, 1998

First Unitarian Church, Portland

OPENING WORDS

Behold, I am going to send My messenger,

and he will clear the way before me.

And the God that you seek

will suddenly come to his temple;

and the messenger of the covenant will arrive.

But who can endure the day of his coming?

Who shall stand when he appears?

For he is like a refiner’s fire.

He will sit as a smelter and a purifier of silver.

He will purify the people and refine them like gold and silver,

so that they may offer to God

their righteousness.

From The Book of Malachi

Today I am going to tell you the story of a prophet, a redeemer, a martyr, a saint.

Many of you know the story of the life of Oscar Romero. He is the martyred archbishop of El Salvador who was murdered in 1980 by the right-wing military regime. Perhaps you remember his death. Maybe you have seen the film of his life made by the Catholic production company Paulist Pictures, in which he was played by Raul Julia. You may know that he is now being considered for canonization as a saint, or that there are miracles being attributed to him.

I want to share with you not the particulars of his life, but his own words, from his journals, letters and sermons. I also want to tell you of my love for this priest, and of the precious gift that his life has been to me, years after his death.

The story of Oscar Romero is one of transformation, of what is possible when we give our lives to the Holy. The gospel of Mark says this:

"For whoever wishes to save his life shall lose it; but whoever loses his life for the sake of the good news shall save it."

Romero spent most of his life as a conservative priest, unwilling to examine his church’s role in the oppression of his people, afraid to say what he felt was true and right. And yet he was a man who longed only to serve God. At a critical juncture, Romero had to choose between his own safety and the work God required of him. For me, it is not only his martyrdom that is heroic. Rather, it is the unflagging faithfulness of his last years that is the miracle of his life.

Oscar Arnulfo Romero y Galdamez was ordained on April 4, 1942. During that time he wrote in his diary the following:

"The Lord has inspired in me a great desire for holiness. I’ve been thinking how far a soul can ascend if it lets itself be possessed entirely by God."

The years that Oscar Romero spent as a priest were years of great conflict for both El Salvador and the church. I do not need to recount for you the recent history of Latin America. As you know, the middle of this century was marked by horrific oppression. It is that old, ugly story seen so many times in human history, of disappearances, murders and massacres.

In the fifties and sixties, the clergy of Latin America responded to the oppression with what is known as "liberation theology." This theology teaches that God does not will human suffering, in fact God is on the side of the poor and oppressed and struggles with them against injustice. These were radical ideas, and they were not always well received by the Catholic hierarchy.

Romero himself was wary of these ideas. He was a conservative man and distrustful of anything that sounded like Marxism. Liberation theology seemed too political. Although Romero could see the lives of his people, their attempts to organize themselves and hear their anguish, it would be some time before he could see the role of the church in their struggle for freedom.

In 1974 Romero was ordained a bishop, and given the poor diocese of Santiago de Maria. Now he was exposed daily to the volatile politics in his nation. This diocese was the site of numerous massacres and disappearances. Romero spoke out against these atrocities, but he still believed that they were perpetrated by foot soldiers, and that government officials could not be held accountable for the actions of their subordinates. He was reluctant to speak on behalf of the victims, who might have been subversives or criminals.

But on July 30, 1975, troops in San Salvador massacred over forty students while they were gathered to demonstrate.

In the aftermath of the killings, Romero met with his clergy to hear their thoughts on the nation’s troubles. He then turned to a serious study of liberation theology and began forming a more critical view of the oligarchy and military rule. Romero’s thinking was evolving, albeit slowly. The seeds of his transformation were planted.

On February 22, 1977, Oscar Romero became the Archbishop of San Salvador. This made him the senior clergy of El Salvador. He was considered a safe choice, due to his moderation. These first months, however, would challenge Romero. He would emerge from this baptismal fire forever altered.

These are the events of Romero’s first month as Archbishop. Two days before his ordination, El Salvador held a horribly fraudulent election. Opposition members were intimidated and arrested at the polls. To voice their protest, thousands of people began gathering in the plaza. Government troops shot into the crowd, killing an unknown number. In the days that followed, protestors were murdered and the political opposition leaders fled into exile.

Believing that the church was encouraging the people to revolt, the ruling parties turned on the clergy. Foreign priests were deported. Then clergy were taken into detention, and frequently beaten before being released. The repression soon worsened.

On March 12, Rutilio Grande, the pastor of Aguilares and a dear friend of Romero, was murdered while riding in a jeep through the countryside. Killed with him were an old man and a boy of fifteen.

Within weeks, another priest was murdered. Alfonso Navarro, a young pastor in San Salvador, was shot to death, along with a teenage boy, in the rectory of Navarro’s church.

At the funeral mass, Romero condemned the violent acts and said, "We, the church, repeat once more that violence resolves nothing."

Romero called for an end to the repression and began to condemn the government. Within a month of his ordination the priests who served under him, who had once distrusted him as a conservative, were now welcoming him as their leader. The people were responding to him with trust and affection. But the oligarchy, the military and their allies in the church were threatened, and they were furious. That spring a slogan appeared on handbills: "Be a patriot, kill a priest."

Then on May 17, there was a terrible massacre in Augilares. Two thousand government troops and armored cars invaded the town. More than fifty peasants were killed and hundreds more removed. Priests were detained and one was beaten. Romero himself attempted to enter the town and was not allowed to pass. He sent in the chaplain of the Guardia Nacional, a government security force. The guardsmen arrested their own chaplain and then desecrated the church by firing into the tabernacle and throwing the holy wafers for Mass onto the floor.

Romero had been archbishop for three months. In that time he had endured the refiner’s fire. In spite of his fear, he knew he must stand with his people, and offer to them all the leadership and protection he was capable of giving. He had been transformed into a prophet, and his greatest work lay ahead. As the attempts to discredit, replace and even silence Romero grew more vicious, he responded with clarity and courage. His own words are evidence of the change in him.

In January of ‘78, Romero said,

"The church must suffer for speaking the truth, for denouncing sin, for uprooting sin. No one wants to have a sore spot touched, and therefore society twitches when someone has the courage to touch it and say: ‘You have to treat that. You have to get rid of that.’ "

The following passage is from January of ‘79.

"My position as pastor obliges me to solidarity with everyone who suffers and to embody in myself every effort for human dignity."

And, in April of 79, as the death threats against him were increasing, he preached these words:

"To each one of us Christ is saying: ‘If you want your life and mission to be fruitful like mine, do like me. Be converted into a seed that lets itself be buried. Let yourself be killed. Do not be afraid. Those who shun suffering will remain alone. No one is more alone than the selfish. But if you give your life out of love for others, as I give mine for all, you will reap a great harvest. You will have the deepest satisfactions. Do not fear death or threats. The Lord goes with you.’ "

As Romero neared the day of his murder, he spoke increasingly of his willingness to die for El Salvador. I don’t mean to imply that this was easy for him. He was afraid. Once, when he heard a car slow down outside his little ground floor apartment, he grew fearful and nearly ran into the woods to hide. He would not however accept protection for himself or take undue precautions. He said in the summer of ‘79, "The shepherd does not want security while they give no security to his flock."

And in November of that year, after several attempts on his life, when friends were begging him to go into exile, he assured the people that he would not abandon them but would "together with them run all the risks that my ministry demands." He even offered to take the place of the disappeared, to ransom himself for them.

And so Romero became a redeemer.

In his transformation, Romero had given his life completely. Although faced with death threats daily, he could not return to his old ways. Romero had to decide, every day, to answer God’s call to him. He did not flinch from his work even when he realized that his martyrdom was imminent. Indeed, Romero’s death is merely the final expression of his devotion to his people.

Two weeks prior to his death, Romero was interviewed by a journalist who asked him about the threats against his life. Romero responded:

"If the threats are carried out, from this moment I offer my blood to God for the redemption and for the resurrection of El Salvador. Let my death, if it is accepted by God, be for my people’s liberation and as a witness of hope in the future."

On Monday, March 24, 1980, Archbishop Oscar Arnulfo Romero was murdered while saying an evening mass for a small group of nuns and lay people. People all over the world mourned, but no one more than his fellow priests and the campesinos who loved him.

I was a teenager when Romero was martyred, and twenty-two before I ever heard his name. But from my first exposure to his life and his words, I have felt drawn to his story. And like the people of El Salvador, I feel his presence today, eighteen years after his death. I consider him to be one of the greatest influences of my life.

There are many lessons in the life of Oscar Romero. We can learn from his faith, his courage, and his love for all people. As citizens of the United States, we can surely look at our own involvement in the crises of Latin America and find lessons, not the least of which is that we ought to close the School of the Americas, where our government trains the armies of these regimes.

But the message most compelling to me, the teaching of Oscar Romero that intoxicates and challenges me daily, is his willingness to be transformed, to answer God’s call and give his life away. He was unfailing in his commitment to serve God by serving the people. Archbishop Romero knew that true salvation lies in giving oneself away.

This is not an easy lesson for us. We are attached to our comfort, our opinions, the goodwill and esteem of others. We know we must throw all this away, abandon all security and live as we are meant to live, in service of one another. Why then do we hold back? We are afraid. We are terrified of the costs of transformation. And looking to a martyr doesn’t exactly ease our fears.

When someone is martyred, we often see their death as the most important facet of their memory. It becomes easy to discredit in ourselves any temptation to be like them, because their martyrdom makes them seem good beyond compare, their fidelity beyond the reach of the average person. But it is in their daily lives that the saints can teach us.

This is the lesson of a martyr’s life: it is only when we give away our lives as we live them, that we truly come alive. The message of Romero’s life is that in giving our lives we will find joy, security and peace beyond our understanding. Romero teaches us that we too can choose, every day, to walk through fire and be transformed.

I have had my own struggles with this lesson. As you know, I am leaving Portland to enter Starr King School for the Ministry this fall.

It has not been easy for me to answer my call to the ministry. I wanted to remain in the safety of my current life. I found many reasons to prevent me from entering seminary. My kids were too young; it was too expensive; I wasn’t ready.

But my favorite excuse, one which may always be with me, is that I am simply not minister material. Sure, I am organized and hardworking. I love this faith and I want to serve our people and the broader world. But at heart I am a wicked person, with many vices and flaws, and I am simply not good enough to be a minister.

Now I can get a lot of mileage out of this excuse in my prayer life. I imagine a conversation between God and I (and of course this is the God of my childhood, the wise old man. You know, THAT God.). I say to God, "Gee, I’d sure like to do what you ask and become a minister, but I just can’t. I am a bad person. I covet my neighbor’s Italian shoes. I have murderous thoughts about my husband when he snores. I cheat at Monopoly.

God says: "I am calling you."

I say: "Well, I hear that call. In fact, I can’t hear anything else. But, you see, I have all these faults. I’m self centered. I’m controlling. I get mad when I don’t get my way."

God says: "I am calling you."

So I pull the trump card. I say: "I cannot. I am afraid. I have denied you, betrayed you and I know I will do so again."

And God says: "I am calling you."

And then I remember my favorite line from scripture. It is from Hebrews, and it reads, "See to it that you do not refuse Him who is speaking."

This is the beauty of the Divine: the Spirit never takes no for an answer. You might think that you have plugged your ears sufficiently, or turned up the volume of your life to cover her voice, but the Holy is always calling you.

And so I came to a place of acceptance of my call. If the ministry was where God wanted me to serve, then so be it.

Then I found myself showered with gifts. I was given the most wonderful mentors in Tom and Marilyn; I was given the blessings of family and the support of friends; and I was affirmed in my calling by so many of you. The time that I have spent in this church has brought me skills, confidence in my abilities, and a deep wellspring of love and support. You have entrusted me with the work of many committees, you have challenged me and nurtured me, and you even allowed me to ask all of you for money in our fund drive last fall.

You have taught me so much about love and trust and commitment. The lives that you share here every week have been an inspiration to me, and I am thankful to have found my ministry among you.

It is also true that responding to my call has been painful. I had to leave behind other paths that I longed to follow. I have had to endure the misunderstanding of my fundamentalist family members. This was not easy.

And I have had to struggle with my own selfishness and pride, with the ugliness of my human condition. I have been helped in this by some of you in this church. You have corrected me and pushed me, knowing that your teaching would serve me well in my ministry. I am very grateful to those of you who called me on my flaws, and encouraged me to grow. You gave me trust in my own goodness.

I am now ready to go where God sends me, to take up the work that is required of me. I am still afraid, but I want to live the life that I am meant to live. I want to give my life, daily, and accept the dangers of transformation. I seek the refiner’s fire, that I may be purified and that my life will be acceptable to God. I could not have arrived in this place were it not for Oscar Romero and all of you.

In his last homily, given moments prior to his death, Romero preached these words:

"You just heard in Christ’s gospel that one must not love oneself so much as to avoid getting involved in the risks of life that history demands of us, and that those who try to fend off the danger will lose their lives.

"But whoever out of love for Christ gives themselves to the service of others will live, like the grain of wheat that dies, but only apparently. If it did not die, it would remain alone. . . . Only in undoing itself does it produce the harvest."

It is my fervent hope that I will have the courage of Oscar Romero, that I will be able to always choose what is good and true and right, and that I will serve our faith in a way that is a credit to you, my beloved home church.

I ask for your prayers as I embark on my seminary education. And it is my prayer for each of you, that you will choose the life that you were meant to live.

So be it, my friends. Amen.

LET US PRAY

Blessed Spirit, be with us today, and all the days of our lives. We ask for wisdom, that we may discern our true paths. We ask for courage, that we may endure all the risks of our lives. And we ask for fire, that we may be transformed. We pray this in the name of the Holy One, who is always with us and will never abandon us. Amen.

BENEDICTION

Go forth and be of service. Give up your life, that you might find Life. Go in love and go in peace. Amen.

Copyright © 2000, Cecilia Kingman Miller. All rights reserved.