Mersey Leven Catholic Parish
To be a vibrant Catholic Community
unified in its commitment
to growing disciples for Christ
Postal Address: PO Box 362
Parish Office: 90 Stewart Street
(Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday 10am - 3pm)
(Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday 10am - 3pm)
Secretary: Annie Davies / Anne Fisher
Pastoral Council Chair: Jenny Garnsey
Parish Mass times for the Month: mlcpmasstimes.blogspot.com.au
Weekly Homily Podcast: mikedelaney.podomatic.com
Our Parish Sacramental Life
Baptism: Parents are asked to contact the Parish Office to make arrangements for attending a Baptismal Preparation Session and booking a Baptism date.
Reconciliation, Confirmation and Eucharist: Are received following a Family–centred, Parish-based, School-supported Preparation Program.
Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults: prepares adults for reception into the Catholic community.
Marriage: arrangements are made by contacting one of our priests - couples attend a Pre-marriage Program
Anointing of the Sick: please contact one of our priests
Reconciliation: Ulverstone - Fridays (10am - 10:30am)
Devonport - Saturday (5:15pm – 5:45pm)
Care and Concern: If you are aware of anyone who is sick or in need of assistance in the Parish please visit them. Then, if they are willing and give permission, could you please pass on their names to the Parish Office. We have a group of parishioners who are part of the Care and Concern Group who are willing and able to provide some backup and support to them. Unfortunately, because of privacy issues, the Parish Office is not able to give out details unless prior permission has been given.
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Archdiocesan Website: www.hobart.catholic.org.au for news, information and details of other Parishes.
Parish Prayer
Heavenly Father,
We thank you for gathering us together
and calling us to serve as your disciples.
and calling us to serve as your disciples.
You have charged us through Your Son, Jesus, with the great mission
of evangelising and witnessing your love to the world.
Send your Holy Spirit to guide us as we discern your will
for the spiritual renewal of our parish.
Give us strength, courage, and clear vision
as we use our gifts to serve you.
as we use our gifts to serve you.
We entrust our parish family to the care of Mary, our mother,
and ask for her intercession and guidance
as we strive to bear witness
as we strive to bear witness
to the Gospel and build an amazing parish.
Amen.
Eucharistic Adoration - Devonport: Every Friday 10am - 12noon, concluding with Stations of the Cross and Angelus
Benediction with Adoration Devonport: - first Friday of each month.
Legion of Mary: Wednesdays 11am Sacred Heart Church Community Room, Ulverstone
Prayer Group: Charismatic Renewal – meetings will be held on Monday evenings in the Community Room, Ulverstone at 7pm.
Weekday Masses 27th - 31st March, 2017
Monday: 11:00am Ulverstone Memorial Mass Late Fr Jim McMahon MSC
Tuesday: 9:30am Penguin
Wednesday: 9:30am Latrobe
Thursday: 12noon Devonport
Friday: 9:30am Ulverstone
1:30pm Devonport Funeral-Mass
1:30pm Devonport Funeral-Mass
Next Weekend 1st & 2nd April 2017
Saturday Mass: 9:30am Ulverstone
Saturday Vigil: 6:00pm Penguin
6:00pm Devonport
Sunday Mass: 8:30am Port Sorell 9:00am Ulverstone 10:30am Devonport 11:00am Sheffield
5:00pm Latrobe
Ministry Rosters 1st & 2nd April, 2017
Devonport:
Readers: Vigil: V Riley, A Stegmann, M Stewart 10:30am E
Petts, K Douglas
Ministers of Communion:
Vigil: D Peters, M Heazlewood, T Muir, M Gerrand, P
Shelverton, M Kenney
10.30am: F Sly, E
Petts, K Hull, S Arrowsmith, S Samarakkody, R Batepola
Cleaners 31st
March: K Hull, F
Stevens, M Chan 7th April: M.W.C.
Piety Shop 1st
April: R Baker 2nd April: K Hull
Ulverstone:
Reader/s: J & S
Willoughby
Ministers of
Communion:
M Byrne, D
Griffin, K Foster, R Locket
Cleaners: M Swain, M
Bryan Hospitality: Filipino
Community
Penguin:
Greeters: G & N Pearce Commentator: Y Downes Readers: M & D Hiscutt
Ministers of
Communion: J
Garnsey, A Guest Liturgy: S. C J Setting Up: T Clayton Care of Church: J & T Kiely
Latrobe:
Reader: M Chan Minister of
Communion: M
Mackey, M Kavic Procession of gifts: M Clark
Port Sorell:
Readers: D Leaman, T Jeffries Ministers of
Communion: L Post Clean/Flow/Prepare: B Lee, A Holloway
Readings this week Fourth Sunday of Lent
First reading: Samuel 16:1. 6-7. 10-13
Second Reading: Ephesians 5:8-14
Gospel: John 9:1-41
PREGO REFLECTION ON THE GOSPEL:
As I come to my place of prayer, I ask God to open my heart and my eyes so that I might better understand and see His Word at work in my life.When I am ready, I read the words of the Gospel slowly, allowing images to form in my mind as the scene unfolds before me.
What do I hear and see?
Where is my attention drawn?
To whom do I relate most in the story?
I try to place myself in the heart of this scene.
Can I see how Jesus has been sent to me?
He is looking at me and He comes to offer me healing.
What needs healing in my life?
What holds me back from seeing the love that God has for me?
What do I need to let go of, for my eyes to be truly opened to this love?
The Pharisees are so caught up in the importance of keeping religious rules that they cannot see God at work in front of them.
How can this be?
I hear Jesus say to me, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?”
What is my response?
I finish my prayer with my own words of thanks for the healing that God offers me
Readings next week Fifth Sunday of
Lent
First reading: Ezekiel 37:12-14
Second Reading: Romans 8:8-11
Gospel: John 11:1-45
Second Reading: Romans 8:8-11
Gospel: John 11:1-45
Your prayers
are asked for the sick: John Munro, Sr Joy Hanrahan, David
Welch & …,
Let us pray
for those who have died recently:
Fr Jim McMahon MSC, Adrian (Tom) Sage, Bev Zimic, Bonafacia Claveria, Sr Paul Coad MSS,
Fr Jim McMahon MSC, Adrian (Tom) Sage, Bev Zimic, Bonafacia Claveria, Sr Paul Coad MSS,
Gwenda Holliday,
Aurea Magsayo, Connie Fulton, Sr Mary of the Trinity, Lorraine Bowerman and Lola Hutchinson.
Let us pray
for those whose anniversary occurs about this time: 22nd – 28th
March
Myra Dare, Peggy Leary, Eva Rogers, Peter Bolster, Doreen
Alderson, Robert Charlton,
May
they rest in peace
Weekly
Ramblings
Some of you have probably heard the poem ‘The Dash’ by
Linda Ellis read at a funeral at some stage or other. It reminds us that the
dates on a headstone or plaque are a statement about the beginning and the end
of a life but it is the ‘dash’ or at least what we have done during that dash
that gives significance to our lives.
This week we learnt of the death of Fr Jim and there are
many stories that can be told of the impact he had on the lives of people in
our parish over the many years that his ‘dash’ was lived out in Tasmania. There
were other deaths during these days – an 84 year old mother, a 101 year old
father, a 95 year old religious sister (and many others). The lives of all of
them tell a story and remind us that each person is important and their journey
through life has an impact on others. May they rest in peace.
This past week was also a celebration of Catholic Education
in Tasmania with Mass in Burnie on Tuesday, Launceston on Wednesday and Hobart
on Thursday. It was an opportunity for students from the 2 Colleges and 7
Primary Schools from the NW to gather and celebrate one journey and call to
mind what being a witness in our community is all about.
This coming week I will be in Hobart on Tuesday and
Wednesday for meetings of the Council of Priests, Consultors and the Pastoral
Conference. For those who suggest that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks Fr
Smiley is going to classes on Monday and Wednesday to …
Please take care on the roads and in your homes,
With limited support in Vietnam for the education and
social inclusion of children with disabilities, young Nguyet lived an isolated
life. Then, through a neighbour, her family became involved with a
Caritas-Australia supported program offering her education, creative outlets
and community interaction, and strengthening her parents’ skills and support
networks.
Now Nguyet’s mother has great hope for her future.
Please donate to Project Compassion
2017 and give children living with disabilities in Vietnam the opportunity for
education and inclusion in their community.
KNIGHTS OF THE SOUTHERN CROSS: monthly meeting will be
held this
Sunday 26th March, Community Room Ulverstone commencing at 6pm with a
shared meal. All men are welcome.
MACKILLOP HILL
SPIRITUALITY IN THE COFFEE SHOPPE: this Monday 27th March 10:30am – 12noon. Don’t miss an interesting
discussion over morning tea! 123 William Street Forth. Phone 6428:3095. No
bookings necessary.
MACKILLOP HILL LIBRARY: opening hours 9am – 5pm Monday to Friday.
OUR LENTEN LITURGY IN 2017:
Our words, actions and music in the liturgy lead us ever
deeper into the paschal mystery this Lent:
- After the introduction, Mass
begins with the priest greeting from the rear of the church and then
proceeds while Kyrie Eleison or Lord have mercy is sung. On the 1st,
3rd and 5th Sundays of Lent, the Rite of Sprinkling
(Asperges) may take place during the singing of the Kyrie. The name ‘Asperges’ comes from the first word in the 9th
verse of Psalm
51 in
the Latin translation, the Vulgate.
- By
the use of violet/purple vestments. Violet recalls suffering, mourning,
simplicity and austerity.
- By
having moments of silence before and after the readings and after the
homily RGIRM (2007) 45.
- At
the breaking of the bread (the Fraction Rite) there will be a short
narrative before intoning the Lamb of God
- By
the absence of flowers due to the penitential nature of the season.
- There
is no recessional hymn (at the end of Mass). The congregation leaves the
church in silence after the celebrant.
- There
is no Gloria or Alleluia verse (replaced by a Gospel acclamation).
- Images
are veiled immediately before the 5th Sunday of Lent in
accordance with local custom.
- On
the 4th Sunday of Lent (Laetare Sunday) flowers are permitted
as well as music (eg music – that is musical instruments – being played
during preparation of the gifts, or during the communion procession). Rose
vestments may be worn on this Sunday.
LENTEN PROGRAM:
Our group will be meeting at the Parish Hall Devonport on Thursday 30th March and 6th April from 10am - 11:30am. Contact Clare Kiely-Hoye 6428:2760.
GRAN’S VAN: The month of April has again been
allocated to our Parish to assist with Gran’s Van on the five Sundays in that
month. Help is required with cooking a stew, (meat will be supplied), assisting
with the food distribution, driving the van. 6:30pm – 8:30pm. If you are able
to assist please contact Lyn Otley 6424:4736 or Shirley Ryan 6424:1508.
FOOTY TICKETS:
Footy margin tickets are now
available. $2.00 each – three prizes of $100.00 every week!! The footy margin
is from the Friday night game
each week.
Thursday Nights OLOL Hall, Devonport. Eyes down 7.30pm!
Callers for Thursday 30th
March Alan Luxton & Tony Ryan.
MERSEY LEVEN
CATHOLIC PARISH
Holy Week & Easter Ceremonies 2017
DEVONPORT: Our Lady of Lourdes Church
Holy Thursday:
Mass of the Lord’s
Supper 7.30pm
(Adoration till 9pm followed by Evening Prayer
of the Church)
Good Friday: Commemoration
of the Passion 3.00pm
Easter Sunday: Easter
Mass 11.00am
PORT SORELL: St
Joseph’s Mass Centre
Good Friday: Stations of the Cross 10.00am
Easter
Sunday: Easter
Mass 8.00am
LATROBE: St Patrick’s Church
Good Friday: Stations of the
Cross 11.00am
Easter Sunday Easter Mass 9.30am
SHEFFIELD: Holy Cross Church
Good Friday: Stations of the Cross 11.00am
Easter Sunday: Easter Mass 11.00am
ULVERSTONE: Sacred Heart Church
Good Friday: Commemoration of the
Passion 3.00pm
Holy Saturday: EASTER VIGIL 7.00pm
Easter Sunday: Easter Mass 9.30am
PENGUIN: St Mary’s Church
Good Friday: Stations of the
Cross 11.00am
Easter Sunday: Easter Mass 8.00am
RECONCILIATION
Monday, 10th April - Our Lady of Lourdes Church, Devonport @ 7pm
Wednesday, 12th April - Sacred Heart Church, Ulverstone @ 7pm
OUR SHADOW AND OUR SELF-UNDERSTANDING
This article is by Fr Ron Rolheiser OMI. The original web address is here
What is meant when certain schools of psychology today warn us about our “shadow”? What’s our shadow?
In essence, it’s this: We have within us powerful, fiery energies that, for multiple reasons, we cannot consciously face and so we handle them by denial and repression so as to not have to deal with them. Metaphorically speaking, we bury them in the hidden ground of our souls where they are out of conscious sight and mind.
But there’s a problem: What we’ve buried doesn’t stay hidden. While these energies are out of conscious sight and conscious mind, they continue to deeply impact our feelings, thoughts, and actions by pushing through in all kinds of unconscious ways to color our actions, mostly negatively. Our deep, innate energies will always act out, consciously or unconsciously. Carl Jung, one of the pioneer voices in this, says that we are doomed to act out unconsciously all the archetypal configurations which we do not access and control through conscious ritual.
Perhaps a simple image can be helpful in understanding this. Imagine living in a house with a basement beneath your living room, a basement into which you never venture, and every time you need to dispose of some garbage you simply open the basement door and dump the garbage there. For a while, that can work, it’s out of sight and out of mind; but soon enough that garbage will begin to ferment and its toxic fumes will begin to seep upward through the vents, polluting the air you breathe. It wasn’t a bother, for a time, but eventually it poisons the air.
That’s a helpful image, though it’s one-sided in that it has us only throwing our negative garbage downstairs. Interestingly, we also throw into that same place those parts of us that frighten us in their luminosity. Our own greatness also scares us, and we too bury huge parts of it. Our shadow is not just made up of the negative parts that frighten us; it is also made up of the most luminous parts of us that we feel too frightened to handle. In the end, both the negative and positive energies inside us, which we are too frightened to handle, come from one and the same source, the image and likeness of God imprinted in us.
The most fundamental thing we believe about ourselves as Christians is that we are made in the image and likeness of God. However it isn’t very helpful to imagine this as a beautiful icon stamped inside our souls. Rather we might think of it as irrepressible divine energy, infinite eros and infinite spirit, constantly wrestling with the confines of our finitude. No surprise then that we have to contend with energies, feelings, pressures, and impulses that frighten and threaten us in their magnitude.
Ironically, the struggle with this can be particularly trying for sensitive people; the more sensitive you are, morally and religiously, the more threatening these energies can be. Why? Because two fears tend to afflict sensitive souls: First, the fear of being egoistical. Greatness isn’t easy to carry and few carry it well, and sensitive souls know this. The wild and the wicked unreflectively feed off of sacred fire, except they aren’t known for their sensitivity and too often end up hurting others and themselves. Sensitive souls find themselves considerably more reflective and timid, and for good reason. They’re afraid of being full of themselves, egotists, unhealthily imposing. But that timidity doesn’t everywhere serve them well. Too sensitive in dealing with certain energies inside them, they sometimes end up too empty of God.
The second reason sensitive people tend to bury much of their luminosity is because they’re more in touch with that primal fear within us that’s expressed in the famous Greek myth of Prometheus, namely, that our most creative energies might somehow be an affront to God, that we might be stealing fire from the gods. Sensitive people worry about pride, about being too full of ego. Healthy as that is in itself, it often leads them to bury some or much of their luminosity.
The consequence isn’t good. Like the negative parts of ourselves we bury, our buried luminosity too begins to ferment, turn into toxic fumes, and seep upward through the vents of our consciousness. Those fumes take the form of free-range anger, jealousy, bitterness, and cold judgments of others. So much of our undirected anger, constantly looking for someone or something to land on, is the shadow side of a greatness, which is repressed and buried.
Where to go in the face of this? James Hillman suggests that a symptom suffers most when it doesn’t know where it belongs. We need more spiritual guides who can diagnose this. Too often our spiritualities have been naïve in their diagnosis of human pride and ego. We need more spiritual guides who can recognize how we too much bury parts of our luminosity and how our fear of being too full of ourselves can leave us too empty of God.
Staying Grounded
This reflection is taken from the Daily email series by Fr Richard Rohr OFM. You can subscribe to receive the emails here
There are lists upon lists of things you can do to help the
environment. I’m sure you’ve read and perhaps tried many of them: reducing,
reusing, recycling; walking, biking, or taking public transportation; using
less water and energy; eating less meat. I hope you’ll continue to find ways to
live more simply as an individual and in community, and that you’ll encourage
your church and government to protect the environment.
As you do this vital work, you may be discouraged and
disheartened to see progress come slowly or seemingly not at all. You may be
tempted to give up or to give in to easy excess. You may feel hate toward the
“enemy” that is destroying creation.
I suggest three practices to keep you grounded, loving, and
hopeful:
- Stay close to nature. Reconnect with creatures and plants, whether in an animal shelter, your garden, a city park, or the wilderness. Actually touch the living soil with your bare hands and feet. Feel the breeze and listen to the birds.
- Lament the suffering and loss you see. Let yourself truly grieve for extinct species, for people touched by hurricanes, famine, and disease. Cry and wail aloud. Beat a drum. Tear a piece of cloth. Create and bury a litany of loss.
- Celebrate the beauty and mystery of our universe. Write a poem, chant a psalm, paint a picture. Say thanks for the abundance of air, water, food, and shelter you receive every day. Praise the Creator who is gradually bringing all of creation to fullness and wholeness, through your participation.
For Further Study:
Richard Rohr, A New Cosmology: Nature as the First Bible
(2009), CD, MP3 download
Richard Rohr, In the Footsteps of Francis: Awakening to
Creation (2010) CD, MP3 download
Romero: ‘the voice of those who had no voice’
Using many of Archbishop Romero’s own words, Michael Campbell-Johnston SJ gives an account of the public life of the modern martyr whose anniversary is celebrated on Friday 24th. How did the formerly conservative priest ‘rediscover his roots’ and become a champion of the cause of the oppressed? The original article can be found here
On 24 March 2017, people all over the world will be celebrating the 37th anniversary of the assassination of Archbishop Oscar Romero of San Salvador. He was shot, by orders of the government, while celebrating Mass in the chapel of the hospital for incurables where, as Archbishop, he lived. The previous day he had preached what was to be his last Sunday sermon in the cathedral. In it he made an appeal to the ordinary soldiers in the army and low-ranking policeman, calling on them not to obey immoral orders from their officers. His words were moving:
Brothers, you come from our own people. You are killing your own brother peasants when any human order to kill must be subordinate to the law of God which says ‘Thou shalt not kill’. No soldier is obliged to obey an order contrary to the law of God. No one has to obey an immoral law. It is high time you recovered your consciences and obeyed your consciences rather than a sinful order. The church, the defender of the rights of God, of human dignity, of the person, cannot remain silent before such an abomination. We want the government to face the fact that reforms are valueless if they are to be carried out at the cost of so much blood. In the name of God, in the name of this suffering people whose cries rise to heaven more loudly each day, I implore you, I beg you, I order you in the name of God: stop the repression.
The following day, a sniper was sent to shoot him while he was offering Mass. Little did the authorities realise that, instead of silencing his voice, this would spread it to the four corners of the earth, and that his message would give hope and inspiration to thousands.
When Romero’s predecessor, Archbishop Chávez y González retired after 38 years, neither he nor the majority of his priests wanted Romero to succeed him. Timid, retiring, hesitant, conservative in thought and action, he seemed the last person they needed at that particular moment of El Salvador’s history. They wanted Bishop Rivera y Damas, auxiliary of San Salvador, a firm supporter of the post-Medellín Church who was not frightened to speak out. But Romero was the candidate nominated by the Nuncio, who had consulted the government, the military, business circles and society ladies who felt he would be ‘one of ours whom we could control’. They even offered him a luxurious mansion and a large new car, both of which he refused.
The story of Romero’s conversion, though he himself preferred to speak of rediscovering his roots, is well known but bears repetition. While its importance should not be exaggerated, an event which occurred only three weeks after Romero had taken over as Archbishop had a profound and lasting effect on him. Rutilio Grande, a young Salvadoran Jesuit priest, was assassinated, together with an old man and a 15-year-old boy as they were on their way to celebrate Mass in the small village church of El Paisnal some 30 miles north of the capital. Romero and Rutilio had come to know each other ten years previously when both were living in the diocesan seminary, Romero as secretary to the Bishops’ Conference and Rutilio as teacher and prefect of the students. As soon as he heard of the assassination, Romero left the city and went to the church in Aguilares where the three bodies were laid out. There he celebrated Mass with the Jesuit Provincial and then, with peasants who had come in from many surrounding villages, spent part of the night in prayer and part seeking advice on what should be done.
As Romero recounted afterwards, that night he read the Gospel message anew through the eyes of the poor and oppressed. He began to understand what Jesus has to say, and therefore what he as Archbishop should also be saying to the despised, the persecuted and the underprivileged. As he put it later to César Jerez, the Jesuit Provincial: ‘When I looked at Rutilio lying there dead, I thought: if they killed him for doing what he did, then I too have to walk the same path.’[1] When morning came, he returned to the capital, summoned his priests and advisers and decided after long and sometimes difficult discussions, to boycott all state occasions and meetings with the president until an official investigation into Rutilio’s death was carried out. It never was, and throughout his time as Archbishop, Romero did not attend a single state occasion, not even the swearing-in of the new president. He also decided to close all Catholic schools for three days, inviting both pupils and teachers to reflect on what had happened. Finally, in the face of strong ecclesiastical opposition from the Papal Nuncio, he decided to suspend all Masses in the capital the following Sunday and celebrate just one Mass in the Cathedral with all his priests, both as a sign of protest to the Government and of solidarity with Rutilio and the cause for which he died. Over 150 priests concelebrated the Mass which was attended by an estimated 100,000 people, one of the biggest crowds ever seen in the country. And in the streets around the Cathedral, long lines queued up to go to confession. For many, and not just Romero, it marked a turning point.
The rest, as the saying goes, is history. Over the next three years, Romero, visibly growing in strength and conviction, became the defender of the oppressed, ‘the voice of those who had no voice’, the conscience of a nation. His Sunday sermons in the cathedral – which, towards the end of his life lasted 1½ hours – were, when the diocesan radio station was functioning and hadn’t been sabotaged, listened to by friend and foe alike throughout the country, and by many abroad. To his enemies he was an agitator, a communist, a false priest, an ambitious schemer out for himself. Some such attacks – and this hurt him most – came from his fellow bishops who accused him of being politicised and preaching erroneous theology. But Rome also lent an ear to these accusations. No less than three apostolic visitors were sent to examine him in a little over a year while the Congregation of Bishops, under Cardinal Baggio, considered imposing on him an apostolic administrator with full powers to run the diocese. It is common knowledge that, whereas he felt confirmed in his ministry after meeting Pope Paul VI, his first encounter with Pope John Paul II left him sad and disheartened. And, as we have seen, to the government and the military, Romero was a permanent threat, a thorn in the side, a subversive voice that had to be silenced.
A month before his assassination, Archbishop Romero received a warning from the Papal Nuncio in Costa Rica that there were new death threats against him and that he should be very careful. This warning was repeated shortly afterwards by the Nuncio in El Salvador just as Romero was beginning his annual retreat with a group of diocesan priests. It is not surprising therefore that, during this retreat, Romero tried to come to terms with the prospect of his assassination. He was clearly frightened. He wrote in his retreat notes: ‘I feel afraid of violence against my person. I fear for the weakness of my flesh but I beg the Lord to give me serenity and perseverance.’[2] And a little further on: ‘My disposition should be to offer my life to God, whatever way it may end. He helped the martyrs and, if need be, I will feel Him very near as I offer him my last breath.’ And then comes his full acceptance: ‘I accept with faith in Him my death, however hard it be.’ He ends with a firm act of faith: ‘For me to be happy and confident, it is sufficient to know with assurance that in Him is my life and my death, that in spite of my sins I have placed my trust in Him and shall not be disappointed, and others will carry on with greater wisdom and holiness the works of the Church and the nation.’
It was certainly the grace of this retreat and the strength Romero found through his prayer that enabled him to reply two weeks later to a Mexican journalist, who asked him if he was afraid of death:
I have often been threatened with death. I have to say, as a Christian, that I don't believe in death without resurrection: if they kill me, I will rise again in the Salvadoran people. I tell you this without any boasting, with the greatest humility. As pastor, I am obliged, by divine command, to give my life for those I love, who are all Salvadorans, even for those who are going to assassinate me. If the threats are carried out, even now I offer my blood to God for the redemption and resurrection of El Salvador. Martyrdom is a grace of God I don’t think I deserve. But if God accepts the sacrifice of my life, may my blood be the seed of liberty and the sign that hope will soon become reality. May my death, if accepted by God, be for the freedom of my people and as a witness to hope in the future. You can say, if they come to kill me, that I forgive and bless those who do it. Hopefully they may realise that they will be wasting their time. A bishop will die, but the Church of God, which is the people, will never perish.[3]
These great words express the real nature of martyrdom: and not just the martyrdom of Romero but of hundreds and thousands of ordinary people who, throughout the ages, have offered their lives in defence of what they believe. For that is the essence of martyrdom: to give witness to the truth through the offering of one’s life.
This man, who offered his life, is venerated across the world by Christians and non-Christians. His statue, along with those of nine other twentieth century martyrs, sits atop the west entrance to Westminster Abbey. There are many reasons for such devotion to Archbishop Romero, but I would like to emphasise three.
First of all, he was a simple and humble man who not only remained in touch with the poor, but went out of his way to listen to and learn from them. As his Vicar-General, Mons Urioste explained, at the age of 60 he went back to school. But his teachers were not university professors or professional theologians. They were the simple uneducated peasants who flocked to his office from all over the country to explain their situation to him and seek his understanding and support. He was always ready to receive them and gave them priority over the many VIPs who also sought to see him. In this he resembled Jesus himself. A new life published for his 30thanniversary[4] makes this point very clearly and describes the remarkable similarity between his life and that of Jesus of Nazareth.
Both were born into conditions of poverty in the province of a small and insignificant country. Both lived a life of profound intimacy with God and prayed by night. Both learned the trade of a carpenter. For both, the assassination of a good friend became a decisive event in their lives. They became public figures through their preaching, proclaiming the goodness of God and announcing the coming of the kingdom of God as a new order of love among all people. Both took sides with the poor and those who were socially excluded. Following the tradition of the prophets of Israel, they denounced injustice and corruption. In time, all the important social groups were allied against them. They were accused of being traitors who tried to upset the established order. Both confronted the imperialist powers of their day, and their public life lasted a mere three years.
Secondly, as several incidents in his life show, he sought advice from many people and, being a man of deep prayer, spent hours on his knees in the presence of God before deciding on a particular course of action or what to say in his weekly homilies, listened to by thousands all over the country. Romero was always ready to admit his mistakes and ask forgiveness for them. But once his mind was made up, he was fearless in speaking out, denouncing corruption and evil with no regard for his own personal safety. As he put it, ‘if I denounce and condemn injustice, it is because this is my duty as pastor of an oppressed and downtrodden people. The Gospel enjoins me to do this and, in its name, I am ready to go before the courts, to prison and to death.’[5]This was one of the reasons why he himself claimed that his word would not die but would live on in the hearts of those who have wished to receive it. For it was not his word but the word of Christ speaking through him. Describing one of his early sermons, a witness reports: ‘At the beginning of Mass, I noticed Monseñor Romero nervous, pale, perspiring. And when the homily started, he seemed slow, without his usual eloquence, as if doubting to enter the door history and God were opening for him. But after five minutes, I felt that the Spirit of God had descended on him.’[6]
Finally, his message is still valid today and needed as much as it was 30 years ago. The core of it, as he repeated many times, was the call of the Latin American bishops at their 1968 conference in Medellín, repeated in his presence at Puebla in 1979, for ‘the conversion of the whole church to a preferential option for the poor with a view to their integral liberation.’[7]In a country torn apart by violence and bloodshed, he saw quite clearly where the root of the problem lay:
I will not tire of declaring that if we really want an effective end to the violence, we must remove the violence that lies at the root of all violence: structural violence, social injustice, the exclusion of citizens from the management of the country, repression. All this is what constitutes the primal cause, from which the rest flows naturally.[8]
From this it follows that it is the duty of the Church and all its members ‘to know the mechanisms that generate poverty, to struggle for a more just world, to support the workers and peasants in their claims and in their right to organise, and to be close to the people.’[9]
The present situation in El Salvador has hardly changed in this respect and, though open hostilities have ceased and a new government more open to justice issues been put in place, the suffering of the poor and discrimination against them continue. And on the whole they are the same people and their situation has not improved. Globally, wealthy countries continue to impose harsh structural adjustment programmes on debt-ridden and defenceless nations, who have no option but to accept and endeavour to implement them, knowing full well that most of their own citizens will be the first to suffer.
So what Romero has to teach us about being a genuine follower of Christ is still relevant to all of us. He doesn’t mince his words: ‘It is inconceivable to call oneself a Christian without making, like Christ, a preferential option for the poor.’[10]; ‘A Christian who defends unjust situations is no longer a Christian’[11]; ‘The wealthy person who kneels before his money, even though he goes to Mass, is an idolater and not a Christian.’[12] And finally a warning: ‘It is a caricature of love to cover over with alms what is lacking in justice, to patch over with an appearance of benevolence when social justice is missing.’[13]
Because of Romero’s forthright stand, the example he gave and the sort of person he was, the poor in El Salvador and many other countries still look to him as their saviour, their father. I would like to end this brief account with the testimony of a witness who went into the cathedral early one morning to pray at his tomb.
One winter’s morning, the sky dark with rain, a man in rags, covered in dust, his shirt in shreds, was carefully cleaning Romero’s tomb, using one of his rags. It was barely light but he was already active and awake. And though the rag was filthy with grease and age, he was giving a polish to the stone. On finishing, he smiled contentedly. At that early hour he had seen no one. And no one had seen him except me. When he went out onto the street, I felt I had to speak with him. ‘You, why are you doing that?’ ‘Doing what?’ he replied. ‘Cleaning Monseñor’s tomb.’ ‘Because he was my father.’ ‘How was that?’ ‘I’m no more than a poor beggar. Sometimes I’m a carrier in the market with a cart, other times I beg, and sometimes I spend everything on liquor and lie senseless in the gutter. But I never lose hope. I had a father. He made me feel somebody. Because people like me, he loved and didn’t turn up his nose. He spoke to us, touched us, asked us questions. He trusted us. He let it be seen the love he had for me. Like the love of a father. That’s why I clean his tomb. As a son would.’ [14]
Fr Michael Campbell-Johnston SJ is former Provincial of the British Jesuits. He is now a member of the Jesuit community at Farm Street, Central London. He is the author of the recent, Just Faith: A Jesuit Striving for Social Justice (Way Books, 2010).
[1] Piezas para un Retrato, María López Vigil, UCA Editores, 3a Ed., 1995, p. 149
[2] El ultimo retiro spiritual de Monseñor Romero, Revista Latinoamericana de Teología, V, No. 13, enero-abril 1988, pp. 4-7.
[3] La voz de los sin voz: La palabra viva de Monseñor Romero, UCA Editores, 2a Ed., 1986, p. 62 and p. 461.
[4] Scott Wright, Oscar Romero and the Communion of the Saints (Orbis Books, 2009)
[5] Homilias, 14 May 1978: Vol. IV, p.47
[6] Piezas, op. Cit., pp. 108-109
[7] Puebla: La evangelización en el presente y en el futuro de América Latina, UCA Editores, 3a Ed., 1985, p. 223: §1134.
[8] Homilias, 23 September 1979: Vol. VII, p.294
[9] Ibid., 6 August 1979: Vol VII, p.153
[10] Ibid., 9 September 1979: Vol VII, p.236
[11] Ibid., 16 September 1979: Vol VII, p.262
[12] Ibid., 11 November 1979: Vol VII, p.426
[13] Ibid., 12 April 1979: Vol VI, p.276
[14] Piezas, op. cit., p. 398
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