When I began this monthly column one year ago, I planned to joyously share with you the extensive positive good that is happening in the Church and greater community and is still happening every day. As a priest and bishop my main responsibility is to spread the gospel of Jesus Christ and to build up the Church. Never did I imagine that in the past year – or anytime – we would see people detained in this country by masked secret government agents, accompanied by an intentional campaign of fear, intimidation, cruelty, and violence, including the use of deadly force against immigrants and citizens. Even so, there is hope – hope which brings light, and the darkness shall not overcome it.
Recently, I visited Minneapolis, Minnesota for a conference and took some time to drive past the locations where U.S. citizens Renée Good and Alex Pretti were killed during federal immigration enforcement actions earlier this year. Knowing that the local community is still grieving, and trying to regain peace and tranquility after these traumatic events, we remained at a respectful distance and just paused for a moment to pray a Hail Mary and Our Father. Seeing the sites, which have been transformed into street shrines with flowers, candles, and personal remembrances, was very moving.
At the same time, I was encouraged to see that in many neighborhoods throughout the Twin Cities, many homes and some businesses display signs of support for the immigrant community. Those signs serve as silent, yet powerful reminders that love, solidarity, and the resilience of a united community are stronger than cruelty, injustice, and discord.
Not long ago, I also traveled to my beloved country of El Salvador to mark the 10th anniversary of my father’s passing. During that visit, I also had the opportunity to visit the chapel where Saint Óscar Romero was assassinated on March 24, 1980.
There, at the very altar where he offered his life, I celebrated Mass with a few brother priests and Cardinal Gregorio Rosa Chávez, a close friend and collaborator of Archbishop Romero. On the wall behind the altar, these words are written as a lasting testimony: “On this altar, Mons. Óscar A. Romero offered his life to God for his people.” Celebrating the Eucharist at that sacred place is always a profoundly moving experience, as you stand on holy ground.
After Mass, we went to the crypt of the Metropolitan Cathedral to pray at his tomb. In both places, the chapel and the cathedral, we prayed for peace, freedom, and the well-being of all peoples of the world, and in a special way for a comprehensive immigration reform in the United States.
Saint Óscar Romero was known as a prophetic shepherd who gave his life defending the poor and denouncing injustice during one of the most violent periods in El Salvador’s history. As archbishop of San Salvador, he courageously confronted egregious human rights abuses in the 1970s and 1980s, naming the disappeared, condemning torture and repression, and challenging both structures of oppression and the consciences of those who carried out unjust orders. Through homilies broadcast across the nation, he sought to restore dignity and visibility to victims whose suffering might otherwise have been silenced and ignored. Yet his voice was never one of hatred or revenge; rather, he called for conversion of heart, fidelity to the Gospel, nonviolence, and moral integrity rooted in Christian values. He reminded his people that injustice and death do not have the final word, and that authentic social transformation begins with the transformation of one’s heart. In this way, Saint Óscar Romero became an indispensable Christian voice of faith, hope, justice, and forgiveness in the face of oppression and feelings of revenge, offering both moral clarity and unwavering hope to a wounded and divided nation.
My visit to my home country brought to memory also the four American missionaries who were brutally murdered by Salvadoran government forces on December 2, 1980, a few months after the martyrdom of Saint Óscar, for their humanitarian work among the poor. Their names and sacrifice should never be forgotten. They were Maryknoll Sisters Maura Clarke and Ita Ford – buried in the municipal cemetery of Chalatenango not far from where my mom lives – Ursuline Sister Dorothy Kazel, and lay missionary Jean Donovan. The killing of these church women, the oppression of the Salvadoran people, and the current strife in this country were all on my mind during my pilgrimage to Martyrial Chapel and the tomb of Saint Óscar Romero.
During last year’s Jubilee Year of Hope, Pope Leo reminded us: “The peace Jesus brings is like a fire, and it asks a lot of us. It asks us, first of all, to take a stand. Faced with injustice and inequality, where human dignity is trampled underfoot and the fragile are silenced: take a stand.”
In this long night, there is hope in the inspiring constellation of lights that has begun to shine in our time – ordinary men and women like those in Minneapolis who are courageously standing in solidarity with our besieged sisters and brothers, and raising their voices for human dignity and justice for all, even at the cost of their own well-being and, in some cases, their very lives.
Other lights for which I am especially grateful on this first anniversary are also my brother U.S. bishops, who have taken a stand by appealing for simple human decency toward immigrants and refugees, saying, “We oppose indiscriminate mass deportations. We pray for an end to dehumanizing rhetoric and violence, whether directed at immigrants or at law enforcement. We pray that the Lord may guide the leaders of our nation.”
Amidst the darkness of our times, the prophetic witness and teachings of Saint Óscar Romero must remain for us a burning torch – illuminating our path and strengthening our resolve. We can also be heartened by the good people across the country who are taking a stand for justice and human dignity. United in Christ, we trust that no evil will ultimately prevail, that even the coldest winter will give way to the rebirth of spring, and that the peace of Christ will triumph over the crimes of Cain.
(Bishop Evelio Menjivar serves as an auxiliary bishop of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Washington.)
