Rising from the Ashes

THIS YEAR WE COMMEMORATE the 10th anniversary of two tragedies in El Salvador. On March 24, 1980, Archbishop Oscar Romero was gunned down in a San Salvador chapel while saying Mass. Eight months later, four North American church women were brutally murdered. Their fate is one that has been shared in the last decade by 75,000 Salvadorans. Another 7,000 Salvadorans have "disappeared," and 1.5 million have been displaced from their homes by the terror.

The murder last November of six Jesuits, their cook, and her 13-year-old daughter once again riveted the world's attention on El Salvador's ongoing tragedy, making this year's commemorations even more poignant. Their deaths were just one part of an escalating war against the church.

But the people of El Salvador -- "The Savior" -- would ask us, as we remember their tragedy, to remember another reality in their country. They invite us to hear their testimony to hope and life and faith amid terrible suffering. They offer us their story of resurrection.

In what are now perhaps his most remembered words, Archbishop Romero proclaimed shortly before his death that if he were killed, he would rise again in the Salvadoran people. Today a book is being offered by its editors "as proof of that resurrection, revealed in the courage and perseverance of the Salvadoran people."

El Salvador: A Spring Whose Waters Never Run Dry is a moving collection of dozens of testimonies and prayers, of reflections from refugee camps and poor urban neighborhoods, from base Christian communities and villages being reborn through repopulation as refugees return home. They were gathered by the Oscar Romero Pastoral Center of the University of Central America in San Salvador. Five of the Jesuits murdered in November collaborated with theologian Jon Sobrino and the center's staff to publish them regularly in a newsletter called Carta a las Iglesias, later appearing in English as Letter to the Churches.

The book, like the New Testament, is a chronicle of a persecuted church living in the hope of Jesus Christ. Its proclamations of faith invite all its readers to know once again the power of the resurrection. With our thanks to Scott Wright and Minor Sinclair, two of the book's editors, for their assistance, we offer the following excerpts.

-- The Editors

Juanito's Confession
A priest recalls his visit to an orphanage.

THE ORPHANAGE IS ON A HILL OVERLOOKING SAN Salvador. The home is for children who are victims of the war. The parents of some of the children have been killed. The parents of other children are political prisoners or are in the war zones. I have just returned from hearing the children's confessions.

The children have suffered terribly. Some of them were forced to witness their parents, brothers, and sisters being beaten, raped, or hacked to pieces with machetes. Now they suffer from lack of appetite, neurosis, depression, and insomnia.

One 13-year-old girl was raped and then forced to witness the torture and killing of her mother and brothers. "She became ill, " said the psychologist who treated her. "Not physically ill, but ill from sadness. Shortly afterward she died. I had never seen anyone die of sadness before. "

I will never forget an 11-year-old boy named Juanito whom I met at this orphanage. A few years ago, he was found beneath the bullet-riddled bodies of his mother, grandmother, and three older brothers. Juanito was covered with blood but unharmed. The other survivors of this massacre brought Juanito and his sisters to the orphanage. According to his sisters, Juanito tries to keep his spirits up, but he still spends entire days totally withdrawn, without speaking a word to anyone.

After his confession, Juanito put his hand on my shoulder, looked me in the eye, and said, "Father, pray for me, so that I can forgive the soldiers who killed my mother and brothers. I do not want to live with hatred in my heart. "

"Forgive whatever grievances you have against one another. Forgive as the Lord has forgiven you" (Colossians 3:13).

Sonia's Baptism
A child is baptized when an army attack forces a community to flee.

IT WAS SIX O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING ON FEBRUARY 28, 1983. We found shelter by the side of the creek in a deep ravine. We had been walking since the 25th, fleeing the bombing.

On the afternoon of the 25th, a 250-pound bomb had killed a woman who was carrying her baby girl. The father pulled his two-month-old daughter from her dead mother's arms and had been carrying the child for the last three days.

We gathered in the shadow of the trees to baptize the infant. Jose, a seminarian, spoke.

"We are going to participate in one of the most beautiful acts of our church -- baptism. We will give a name to this little girl who three days ago lost her mother.

"Christianity has been betrayed because at times the church has been, and still is, characterized by wealth and pomp. The church thought that having power and wealth and great cathedrals and schools would build the kingdom of God. But if we go back to the origin of our faith and to the life of the one who is our friend, the founder of our church, our companion and our older brother, Jesus Christ, we see that he was poor, like us."

Then Father Tilo added, "We are going to use the symbol of water. But first let me ask you: Who knows the value of water? What does water mean to you?"

One person answered, "Water is essential to life. We can go for days without eating. But if we don't have water, we will die."

Father Tilo continued, "That's right. The river has given us life for the past three days. Now it is going to be a symbol of the life that we are giving to this little girl as we receive her into our community.

"During these past three days, when one person has eaten, everyone has eaten. When one person has had water to drink, everyone has had water to drink.

"Today we are not only going to baptize this little girl, we are also going to make her a member of our community. She will suffer what we suffer. She will struggle as we struggle and win the same freedom as all of us on the day of our victory. What name are we going to give her?"

Her father answered, "Sonia."

"On behalf of Sonia, on behalf of all the children, on behalf of all the orphans, on behalf of all the baptized, we are going to pray to you, Lord, the prayer of all your children, the Lord's Prayer."

Before pouring the water, Father Tilo reminded us, "Let us remember that in a liberated community all of us in the community are the child's godparents. It is the community which takes care of Sonia and of all children in the world. We are making this revolution for them. A revolution would not be worth the sacrifices if it were not for the children." And this is how Sonia was baptized, with water from a stream, as her community gathered in a ravine.

"If the raising of the dead is not a reality, why be baptized on their behalf? And why are we continually putting ourselves in such danger?" (1 Corinthians 15:29-30).

A Model of Accompaniment
COMADRES (Committee of the Mothers and Relatives of the Disappeared, Political Prisoners, and Assassinated of El Salvador) share a devotion during a Mass in August 1982.

TODAY WE COMMEMORATE MARY, WHO ACCOMPANIED HER son from birth to death, and was present at his resurrection. She did not ask what she was going to suffer along the way, nor did she stop to think of the dangers. She simply accompanied him through life to the glory of his resurrection.

Today she is our model. As families of political prisoners and the disappeared, we want to publicly renew our promise to accompany our loved ones in the struggle for liberation. We call on all people of good will to share our hope and join our struggle: a hope born of God, a struggle which unites the people of God.

Our strength and commitment come from a profound conviction that we are called to give up our lives for each other. We are called to defend the dignity of all men and women against tyranny, exploitation, and oppression.

God, in whose image and likeness we are made, nurtures this conviction. God teaches us the Great Commandment of love. Jesus offers us the example of what it means to give up one's life for others. Christ's resurrection from the dead gives us hope for the coming of the kingdom of solidarity, justice, and peace.

For this reason, we gather around the altar to celebrate the Eucharist together, in memory of his passion, death, and resurrection, the root of our strength and the source of our hope.

"Near the cross of Jesus there stood his mother, his mother's sister, Mary the mother of Clopas and Mary Magdalene" (John 19:25).

For We Have Sinned
During a forced flight, a community takes time for confession.

WE ARRIVED AT A ROCKY SLOPE COVERED WITH BRUSH after walking in ravines and along rough paths for three days. Two members of the pastoral team invited us to give thanks to God for having saved us from the enemy and to recall our sins.

We began by making the sign of the cross. Then Juan, who is one of the community's catechists, asked us to recall our personal sins. At first there was silence. Then an elderly woman spoke. "The enemy is killing us."

Juan answered, "Yes, that is terrible. But right now let us think about our own sins, those we committed while fleeing." There was more silence until a child said, "Fear."

"It's true that we have been afraid," Juan said. "But fear is not a sin. We sin if we give up because of fear, if we lose hope that God is with us."

Gradually all of us became calm. We quietly reflected on our sins. After a short while someone said, "I didn't want to bury the dead."

All of us had felt the same. While we were fleeing, some people who had been killed had been left unburied. One person said, "But the bodies really stank."

The children laughed. But Juan replied, "Children, think about how terrible it is to have so many dead bodies and no one to bury them. There are no cemeteries here. It becomes an act of mercy just to bury our dead."

Someone else said, "Some of us had a little bread and others did not. Many people hid their bread even though they saw other people going hungry."

We continued to recall selfish things that we had done -- our sins -- and we asked God to forgive us, singing, "Lord, have mercy on your people."

"Then I acknowledged my sin to you, my guilt I covered not. I said, 'I confess my faults to the Lord,' and you took away the guilt of my sin" (Psalm 32:5).

Waiting for the Harvest
A campesino returns to his village of Arcatao in July 1987.

IT HAS BEEN SEVEN YEARS SINCE THE MILITARY DESTROYED our village. I was the first to return with my family. When I saw the little house where I grew up, I felt anxious. I went inside and began to repair some of the damage, cutting branches to cover the holes in the roof. After the house had been cleaned and repaired, it looked nice and we got up enough courage to begin life anew.

I went walking in the mountains around the village, and I found an elderly couple who told me their story. They also told me that there were other families nearby. I went to look for them, and I found five households, four of elderly people and one of younger people. They told me their stories, and all of them said that they preferred to die in the village rather than leave.

When other people found out we had returned, the idea spread, and many people took courage to repopulate. Today there are 150 families in Arcatao, and more are coming. We have become a community again.

We have had to endure still more cruelty from the army. Our only sin is having returned to our little village, which we love so much. They have killed some of us who were brave enough to return here. Others have been tortured.

The army steals our food, which we carry on our backs from Guarjila, 15 miles away. In 10 minutes they take our food to their barracks by helicopter, while it took us two days of walking to bring it to our village. The whole time we are in constant danger of them military bombing or machine-gunning us.

We are ordinary people who must work constantly to support our children. Now we have learned how to improve our community, and we want the military to leave us in peace. We want to watch our fields of corn grow and see stalks of corn bend in the wind.

How beautiful it is to see the pink, purple, and white flowers of the bean plants! Each dawn we touch the drops of precious dew on their leaves, and we know that the fields are being transformed into an abundance of food that will feed the community.

The children shout with joy when they see their fathers return from the fields carrying bundles of bean plants on their shoulders. They begin to shell the beans and to sing songs. As parents whose children have often gone hungry, we know the joy at the sight of food.

"You shall keep the feast of harvest, of the first fruits of your labor, of what you sow in the field. You shall keep the feast of ingathering at the end of the year, when you gather in from the field the fruit of your labor" (Exodus 23:16).

From Death to Life
A North American priest visits the repopulated village of Guarjila during Holy Week 1988.

THE VILLAGE OF GUARJILA IS HIDDEN IN A VALLEY BETWEEN the mountains. The hills were burned recently by the army to deprive the guerrillas of any cover. At the beginning of Holy Week soldiers occupied the village. On Good Friday we heard eight bombs explode nearby.

On Holy Saturday we met in an open field in the light of a full moon and celebrated the coming of Easter. For hundreds of those present, it was the first Holy Week they had celebrated in their country since fleeing to Honduras as refugees seven years earlier.

On this day, the people worked on a sad but sacred task: On small pieces of paper they wrote the names of all their family members and friends who had been murdered during seven years of war. The list of one woman's dead relatives did not fit on her paper. One man, Rafael, said a prayer for the 11 members of his family who had been murdered by the death squads.

In the evening a thousand of us gathered around the fire which would light the Easter candle. By the light of the fire, I saw the faces of young people, of mothers weary from the day's work, and of elderly people who had survived the hardships of war and exile. Many people spoke about the meaning of the Easter candle. Looking at their faces, I saw their hope.

That morning we had walked to San Antonio de los Ranchos, a small community hidden in the hills of Chalatenango. The day before a battle had taken place between the army and the guerrillas. The village looked like a ghost town. The church had been bombed, houses were destroyed, and the plaza had been turned into rubble.

This is the fundamental mystery of Christianity -- the emergence of life from death. The people understand this mystery.

On Holy Thursday the church commemorates the Christian commandment to love and serve one another in the washing of the feet. Here in Guarjila, however, the people used another symbol: An old man gave a young widow an armful of firewood, and she gave him some tortillas. These gestures expressed the mutuality of service and the giving and taking which builds community.

This is how they expressed their faith: To go from death to life is to grow from individualism to community. These people who pray for their dead also pray for their oppressors. We prayed for their 3,000 murdered family members and also for the soldiers who committed these crimes. Then one woman said, "May we always be able to love, to hope, and to forgive. "

Sharing is a great truth that cannot be concealed. From Guarjila, a thousand men, women, and children proclaim to the world that they have not been vanquished. They proclaim a new way to live. They speak of a new way to die and of resurrection.

"Why do you search for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has been raised up" (Luke 24:5-6).

We Believe ...
In February 1984, after four years of being closed due to a bombing in 1980, Christ the Saviour Church in the Zacamil district of San Salvador celebrated the 15th anniversary of the Christian base communities. The church was decorated with red flowers in commemoration of the 623 martyrs from the parish, the Eucharist was shared by a thousand people, and the following prayer was offered by the gathered community.

WE BELIEVE IN GOD, WHO CREATED US FREE AND WALKS with us in the struggle for liberation.

We believe in Christ, crucified again in the suffering of the poor, a suffering which calls out to the conscience of people and nations, a suffering which ends in resurrection.

We believe in the power of the Spirit, capable of inspiring the same compassion which has led our best brothers and sisters to martyrdom.

We believe in the church, called forth by Jesus and by the Holy Spirit.

We believe that when we gather, Jesus is with us, Mary, our Mother, is at our side, a sign of faithfulness to the Lord.

We believe in the Christian community where we proclaim our ideals, through which we practice our Christian faith.

We believe in building a church where we pray and reflect on our reality, celebrate life and the sacraments, and share in the prophetic, priestly, and pastoral mission of Jesus. In this way we make the kingdom of God present on earth.

We believe in unity in the midst of differences.

We believe that Christ calls us to communion and to live as sisters and brothers.

We believe that we need to love one another, to correct one another compassionately, to forgive each others' errors and weaknesses.

We believe that we need to help one another recognize our limitations, to support each other in the faith.

We believe that the poor, the illiterate and the sick, the persecuted and tortured are closest to the gospel of Jesus. Through them, Christ challenges us to work for justice and peace. Their cause is our cause.

We believe that Christ is also present in those who are slaves to their passions, to vices, lies, and injustice, to power and money.

We commit ourselves to never give up hope in the possibility of their conversion; to love them even though they slander, persecute, and kill us; to pray for them and to help them so that one day they may live simply and humbly in the way that the gospel calls all of us to live. Amen.

"For it is your special privilege to take Christ's part -- not only to believe in him but also to suffer for him" (Philippians 1:29).

The Last Word
Father Miguel Ventura, a representative of the Christian base communities of El Salvador, gives a homily during Holy Week 1989 to the people of war-ravaged Calavera in the Morazan province.

A FEW DAYS AGO, I visited the village of Junquillo, near the Torola River. That community suffered a terrible bombing attack on March 8. A bomb fell two yards from one of the houses, destroying it completely. Five people died, and five others were seriously injured.

I arrived in the community four days after the bombing and met the family members of the victims. I saw the pain in the eyes of the father. Three of his children had been killed and three others injured. None of us could have been there without feeling his anguish. We can all understand the pain of that father.

But in the midst of that pain, and in the midst of a home which was completely destroyed, we saw another aspect of suffering. The community had gathered to share in the family's grief. One of those present said to me, "In our community, all of us have been touched by this tragedy. All of us carry this cross, and we can rise above the suffering."

I believe there are no wiser words than these. They showed me in a powerful way that as a community, we can overcome all the barriers that separate us from each other and confront any trial.

What does Christ say to a people at war who have suffered 75,000 dead, more than a million refugees and displaced people, 7,000 disappeared, and thousands of prisoners? What do the events of almost 2,000 years ago have to say to us?

In the time of Jesus, his followers asked the same questions: Who has the last word in history? Will it be the Roman empire? Will it be the oppressive powers that condemn the poor? Will it be death or life?

On this night of resurrection, we must understand that we are not walking toward death, but advancing day by day toward life. Christ seems defeated but rises again on the third day. His enemies place guards around his tomb to deny his resurrection. But Christ rises up victoriously and says with a loud voice: "The God of life has the last word!"

Brothers and sisters, you who have wandered these hills; you who have left loved ones along the way; you whose children have died and watered this soil with their blood; you whose family members have been imprisoned and tortured; I ask you: Who has the last word in history?

What purpose does the blood of Monsignor Romero and of the others serve when we see a right-wing power emerge at this time? At this difficult time, remember: The idols of power and money do not have the final word.

You, brothers and sisters, are the living testimony that Christ is the last word, that your profound faith is the last word. We are gathered as a people of God, as a church of pilgrims, in the midst of this martyrdom, proclaiming that the God of history and the God of resurrection has the last word!

"Then I saw new heavens and a new earth ... I heard a loud voice from the throne cry out: 'God shall be for this people and this people shall be of God. God shall wipe away every tear from their eyes and there shall be no more death or mourning, crying out or pain, for the former world has passed away'" (Revelation 21:1, 3-4).