Orlando Letelier served in the democratically elected government of Salvador Allende in Chile; after the 1973 coup, he was tortured and exiled by the military dictatorship, against whose human rights abuses he continued to speak out. On September 21, 1976, he and a co-worker were killed by a car bomb in Washington, D.C. Several operatives of the Chilean secret police were later convicted of his murder. This is the homily delivered at his funeral by the General Secretary of the National Conference of Catholic Bishops. --The Editors
The event of another's death always sharpens our view of life. Orlando [Letelier]'s life recalls the text of the reading from Daniel: "Those who lead the many to justice shall be like the stars forever." The legacy of his life's work permeates this community today as a symbol of hope. Faced with this symbol, the power of death is feeble.
We ponder the words of Jesus, words of hope and life illuminated by the mystery of his own death and resurrection: "Unless the grain of wheat falls to the earth and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat. But if it dies, it produces much fruit."
Jesus of Nazareth, who died a violent death but rose to conquer the power of death, is the foundation of hope. The goal of Christian hope is the new Jerusalem of which St. John writes, the city in which "there shall be no more death or mourning, crying out or pain" (Revelation 21:5). We are on the way to the heavenly city, to the kingdom of God, but we move as pilgrims, journeying as the Israelites once did in the desert.
As we journey toward the kingdom in hope we also prepare the way for the coming of the kingdom by our lives. The kingdom of God is among us; it is being constructed by us in the personal, political, economic, and social relationships which shape human life. As Jesus came among us in his humanity, so the continuing progress of God's kingdom has a human shape. It is the kingdom of justice and truth, of peace and freedom. These are the human values which must be won for ourselves and for others. To share in the life of the kingdom is to shape human life and human society by these values. Such is the task given us.
This day we commend to God a man who desired to see the kingdom take shape in these terms in his own land and in the lives of all. His commitment was tempered by public service and marked by the struggle which knew moments of defeat and times of victory. In both defeat and victory he continued to be a sign and source of hope for all those whose lives he touched.
The kingdom of God is built by people of many faiths and several political persuasions. But for us the pattern for shaping and sharing in the kingdom is found in the life and ministry of Jesus. He described his ministry in the synagogue of Nazareth:
The Spirit of the Lord is upon me
He has sent me to bring good news to the poor
To proclaim to the captives release
And recovering of sight to the blind
To set at liberty the oppressed
To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord (Luke 4:18-20).
Jesus committed himself totally to this ministry of justice and liberation. The commitment brought him to the death of the cross. Many who find meaning in his life have taken up the ministry. They, too, always share the reality of the cross. A few of this number reflect the original witness of Jesus himself when the cross for them becomes a violent death. So it is with Orlando Letelier.
The work of the kingdom continues: a work of hope amidst tragedy, a work of faith in spite of disbelief, a work of love even in the face of hatred.
To sustain our faith, our hope, and love while building the kingdom of God in the struggle and tragedy of human history requires that our lives be shaped by the richness of Jesus' own character. It means combining Jesus' capacity for outrage when the poor and powerless are trampled upon with his capacity for forgiveness in the face of conversion. It means joining his courage in standing against the power of evil in whatever shape it takes with the extension of love and reconciliation even to the enemy who has designs on our life. It means crying out those most difficult of words: "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do." Is it not likely today that Orlando Letelier speaks these same words?
All of us who have known, loved, worked with, or simply admired Orlando Letelier have been assaulted this week. The senseless violence of terror has struck in our midst. It is not the random violence of nature, or even the indiscriminate violence of war. It is the calculated, planned, selective violence seeking to silence the voice of one who sought to proclaim release to the captives and set at liberty the oppressed.
Those of us who call this land home have been brutally reminded of the cost many have paid for our unjustified intrusion in another country's life. The violence came home to our land.
Any of us who have sought to speak to the repression of human rights in Orlando's homeland have been dramatically reminded of the work yet to be done. An outstanding Chilean was not safe, even in exile, in this capital city of Washington.
Outrage is our immediate response, and outrage has its place. But for those who find meaning for all life and death in the cross, there is room for forgiveness. The risen Lord who leads our prayer and petition in this Eucharist calls us both to the ministry of justice and hope and the difficult work of reconciliation and forgiveness.
Catholic bishop James Rausch was general secretary of the U.S. Catholic Conference of Bishops when this article appeared.
Got something to say about what you're reading? We value your feedback!