In these Lenten weeks of electronic worship and prayers we are staying faithful to our observance of what we in the Episcopal church call “The Lectionary of Holy People.”  The week during which I am writing (March 23-27), the 4th week of Lent, venerates significant witnesses, perhaps the best known of whom is Oscar Romero. We remember Romero and the Martyrs of El Salvador on March 24. I want to offer Oscar Romero and his transformation as a lesson in the gift of suffering, as someone we might look to for inspiration and reminders about who we are meant to be in this terrifying and treacherous time. 

Oscar Romero was canonized as a saint in October 2018, 38 years after his assassination in San Salvador on March 24, 1980. The measure of Romero’s life is seen in his time as Archbishop of San Salvador; Romero was installed in February of 1977 and lived a lifetime in his three years as Archbishop. That is why his transformation and witness are so extraordinary.

Romero began his time as Archbishop widely viewed as an apolitical social conservative. But in early March (1977), a little more than three weeks after his installation, Romero’s close friend, the Jesuit priest Rutilio Grande, who worked with the poor of El Salvador, was assassinated. Romero said at the time, “When I looked at Rutilio lying there I thought, ‘If they have killed him for what he did, then I too have to walk the same path.’” Romero came to know why Rutilio was murdered and by whom, and thus began to live and preach an activism that had not been apparent before he became Archbishop, speaking out strongly against poverty, discrimination, other forms of social injustice, repression, assassinations and torture.

As Archbishop Romero was transformed, he became a marked man. As he wrote: “I have frequently been threatened with death. I must say that, as a Christian, I do not believe in death but in the resurrection. If they kill me, I shall rise again in the Salvadoran people. Martyrdom is a great gift from God that I do not believe that I have earned. But if God accepts the sacrifice of my life, then my blood will be like the seed of liberty, and a sign of the hope that will soon become a reality.”  

Oscar Romero credited his transformation to the power of the Gospel. Look at this remarkable statement about his church from this traditional and mostly conservative Archbishop in the late 20th century in Central America: “A church that doesn’t provoke any crises, a Gospel that doesn’t unsettle, a word of God that doesn’t get under anyone’s skin, a word of God that doesn’t touch the real sin of the society in which it is being proclaimed—what Gospel is that?”

**Note the Gospel lesson for today’s Liturgy; John 12: 23-32

About nine months after Oscar Romero’s assassination, four women, three of whom were religious, were murdered as they went about their work of service to the poor. Their assassins were members of the El Salvadoran army. Nine years later, six Jesuit priests, their housekeeper and her daughter were murdered, also by the El Salvadoran army. These 12 victims are the “Martyrs of El Salvador” and are venerated with Oscar Romero. 

As we move toward Holy Week and whatever external shape it takes, our prayers lead us to the meaning of Saint Oscar Arnulfo Romero y Galdamez and his life, prayers that can be guided by the words from the assigned collect for his commemoration: Almighty God, you called your servant Oscar Romero to be a voice for the voiceless poor, and to give his life as a seed of freedom and a sign of hope: Grant that, inspired by his sacrifice and the example of the martyrs of El Salvador, we may without fear or favor witness to your Word…

Saint Oscar Romero—pray for—and with—us in this time of anxiety, suffering and loss.

—Father Peter Kountz

About Friday Reflections:

Every Friday, Father Peter and Suzanne Glover Lindsay share written reflections highlighting a particular theme. This week's Friday Reflection explores the Power of the Gospel/The Gospel in Action. Check out Friday Reflection Part II, where St. Stephen’s historian and curator Suzanne Glover Lindsay considers one rector’s courage in a historic Philadelphia riot.