Reflections on the Church in El Salvador by Chris Hedge

Imagine this scenario. A young gang member from Lebanon High School, or WEBO, or Pike, or Zionsville is murdered. Many of the youth from our church knew this young man. They saw him in the halls of their school every day. So, our kids go to the Catholic Church for his funeral to pay their respects. During the funeral, the police swarm the church - rounding up and arresting all the young people in that sanctuary. The next day the newspapers report that in a crackdown on gang violence - 194 gang members have been arrested. You read the article - thinking great! They got 194 dangerous criminals off the streets. Nowhere does it say that these young people were arrested in a church sanctuary. Nowhere does it say that police assumed they were all gang members because they were attending the funeral of a gang member. The only place you will get that news is from the pulpit of your church on Sunday morning.

How would you react? How would it feel to have one of our kids rounded up and arrested in a church and accused of being a gang member just because of where he was or who she was sitting with?

This is what happened the week before we left for El Salvador. The news we got in the states was that dangerous street kids were rounded up and now were off the streets of San Salvador. But when we worshipped and studied with the members of the Resurrection Lutheran Church in San Salvador we heard the rest of the story. That gang members and good kids alike were rounded up in a church during a funeral. The sermon that was delivered by Bishop Gomez when we visited his congregation openly chastised the government for entering a church and arresting people. HIS SERMON called the governement to task for recent price hikes in bus fares and electric bills that unduly burdened the poor. He spoke for the people of his community and seemed to be reminding the government that they too should be advocates for the poor. We learned that Bishop Gomez has weekly press conferences and makes radio addresses. He reminded me of Jiminy Cricket in the old Disney version of Pinocchio. He speaks as the conscience of his country. The voice for the voiceless. This is the role of the church in El Salvador today. To speak for social justice, to point out the sins of the political elite and government, and to help alleviate poverty and hunger.

Bishop Gomez who we had the honor to meet is a current day prophet. He is continuing the work of the church in El Salvador that began in the 1970s with the Catholic Archbishop Oscar Romero. Both of these men see the mission of the church as being the voice, the hands and the feet of Christ in today's world.

Here is what Archbishop Romero said about what it means to be church in 1978:

This is the mission entrusted to the church, a hard mission: to uproot sins from history, to uproot sins from the political order, to uproot sins from the economy, to uproot sins wherever they are...

If you were alive during the 1970s and 80s you might remember the civil war in El Salvador and the brutal assassinations of Jesuit priests, nuns and 10s of thousands of citizens. The church under the leadership of Oscar Romero spoke out against the repression of the people, against the kidnappings and human rights abuses of the government. Our trip to El Salvador included visits to the places where these murders occurred and to the church where Oscar Romero was assassinated while celebrating mass. It was a sobering day for all of us to see where people lost their lives trying to live out the gospels.

The church's place is by the side of the poor, of the outraged, of the rejected.

Today as in the 1970s the church is the conscience of El Salvador. The night we had dinner at the home of Bishop Gomez he told us the story of his kidnapping by death squads, in the 1980s, and how he avoided assassination numerous times. In 1989, his Lutheran congregation wrote the sins of the government on a cross. This cross was kidnapped along with 15 brothers and sisters in Christ and labeled "a subversive cross" by the government. Today that subversive cross stands at the front of the sanctuary as a reminder for the church to continue to be the conscience of the nation.

Lorna's Reflections on the People of Puente Azul

It was Monday. We had been in El Salvador since Thursday just hanging out, learning about the culture and just being well tourists. But now it was time to start what we came here to do, work. None of us knew where we were going or what exactly we would be doing. When we got there we were all filled with a mix of excitement and nervousness. When the hot bus finally came to a stop we all sat up and looked out the windows, only to see the worst poverty that anyone had ever experienced. As we stepped off the bus and into the hot humid air we were greeted by a group of kids (most of which weren’t fully dressed). None of us new what to say we just kind of stood there. Marco went up to one of the men and started talking to him. He was an older gentleman but was obviously the one who would be guiding us. We had brought bags of toys for the children but weren’t really sure at first how to give them or even introduce ourselves to them. We decided to just get them out and see how it went from there. Chris with the crayons, jacks and a matching game successfully attracted and occupied the younger kids. I decided that since Uno was such a big hit at the Synod that it couldn’t go wrong here. Me and about 5 other older children sat down. Using my newly learned Spanish numbers I tried really hard to explain it. But the language barrier got in the way yet again. They were looking at me like I was dumb, yes me dumb, I know it’s hard to believe but they were. I passed out the cards and they had no idea what to do. I realized that maybe a ball would be a better idea, and it was. I don’t remember exactly when the little wide-eyed, smiling girl, named Christina took my hand and led me inside the church. They had set up the plastic chairs in a circle. Christina was so desperately trying to tell me they wanted me to play duck, duck, goose. Finally I understood that Pato, Pato, Gonzo meant duck, duck, goose. So I sat down not really knowing how this was going to work, but before I knew it, I was running around the circle trying not to step on Nappo and catch them! The little boy who had picked me...this was fun...finally a game we can play. It was probably the 20th time I had run around the circle, I was soaked with sweat and tired, that I realized that I hated pato, pato, gonzo. Then I saw their little smiles, I mean everybody was laughing and screaming in joy. I knew I couldn’t go take a water break by the bus or even work outside for a little bit because that moment was way too precious. Who would have thought that I would go to El Salvador to play Pato, Pato, and Gonzo? IT was at the end of our stay, Friday. We had bought these two HUGE piñata’s one chicken little and the other was a yellow dinosaur. We stuffed them with the McDonalds toys that my little sisters still have noticed were missing, and candy. There were a ton of kids all gathered around, but before we could have fun and let them play with them we had a worship service to attend. The small concrete church was packed! (most of them being children) After the almost blind man sang, the preacher talked for a little while, and I struggled through the presentation of the gifts we had bought for pastor Luis (a bed, portable shower, pillows, blankets and a few lanterns). It was time to line the many kinds up so they could hit the piñatas. It was a huge success, as soon as the piñata broke it was like seagulls on a piece of bread. I was crazy. For the second piñata Dale broke it. And again it was a frenzy. It was finally time to leave. As we all said our tearful goodbyes to the children and the people of Puente Azul and made sure that everybody was on the bus we pulled away from the village. All of the children were waving as we left. While we were sitting on the bus I think that we all felt an overwhelming feeling of satisfaction and sadness. We watched the sudden poverty change back into the city as the bus rocked over the terrible roads. We were finally going home probably never to return again. Or were we? Was this goodbye forever? Probably not, definitely not?! Maybe we should have been saying see ya later.

Reflecting on the City of San Salvador

Psalm 119:156-157

Your compassion is great, O LORD; in accord with your edicts give me life.
Though my persecutors and foes are many I do not turn from your decrees.

San Salvador is the capital of El Salvador, and it is home to about half a million people. It's the fourth largest city in Central America. It's in the center of the country at several thousand feet in elevation. Weather was hot but comfortable. The city was vibrant and busy, with nice views of the surrounding hills and volcanoes. There is lots of chaotic traffic.

Like all big cities, San Salvador has poverty and wealth. We saw corrugated-tin shanties along the river banks, poor neighborhoods near where we stayed, and on our way to church a youth passed out, sprawled in the middle of a major road. Marco said that he was probably unconscious from huffing chemicals. We also saw nice restaurants, a university, good neighborhoods, upscale shopping districts, malls, modern grocery stores, and super-walmart-style retail. One thing that stood out right away is the security and defenses. Most buildings had metal bars and concertina or barbed wire around the roof. Most stores had armed security with pistols, shotguns, or machetes, including the grocery stores and hardware stores. The souvenir market where we shopped was completely enclosed by a concrete wall and security fence, along with armed guards.

Another set of experiences we had in San Salvador related to the events of the civil war. One of our first visits outside the Synod was to the chapel at a university. The chapel was fairly typical, until we noticed the very large chalk drawings on the back wall, which depicted mutilated, naked, tortured bodies. From the Internet I found this explanation:

The Stations of the Cross in the chapel at the University of Central America, a Jesuit college in San Salvador, El Salvador, are especially graphic. They portray in unflinching detail, the torture visited upon Salvadorans by right wing death squads and the U. S. backed government during that country's civil war in the 1980s. These stations serve as a reminder that many people walk the way of the cross every day, denied justice and dignity as Christ was, by powerful political forces.

The university was home to six Jesuits who spoke out on behalf of the Salvadoran poor, and advocated a negotiated settlement to the war. On November 16, 1989, these men were dragged from their beds by Salvadoran soldiers and shot in the head with high-powered rifles. The Jesuits' housekeeper and her 15-year-old daughter were also shot to death.

While at the University, we saw the memorial museum and rose garden for these victims, which was at the place where they lived and died. We also viewed photo albums of the scenes of their murders. The skulls and brains and blood were a terrible assault on my senses, made worse by the fact that these people were slain for speaking out for justice and peace. One impression that has stuck with me was a diagram in the museum showing the location of the military troops as they took up positions around the priests' residence. They were evenly spread out in what I'm sure was the proper tactics for attacking a building and preventing escape. It stuck with me because it showed the cold and efficient result of society that had become a culture of death, in which someone decided it was a good idea to send a squad of soldiers to kill a house of priests and others.

We visited the church and home of Oscar Romero. Romero is the most famous martyr from the war, and also preached the message of peace and justice. For this he was eventually shot to death during mass in his church.

While in San Salvador we saw the Archibishop Gomez and his wife several times. Marco taught me that we could call him Obispo, which is Spanish for bishop. On Sunday we attended his church. He preached about the government, injustice, and recent events related to gang arrests. He sang happy birthday to Sherry and Denise, and Dale helped serve communion. Several other clergy and mission teams were there from France and Las Vegas. The bishop hosted a reception for all the guests in the courtyard of the church, and our group presented his church with the gift of a guitar.

Near the end of our trip, Bishop Gomez and his wife hosted a dinner party for us at their house. The food and entertainment were excellent. We were served traditional Salvadoran food. Before dinner we all squeezed into the house for a conversation with the Bishop. He talked of his family, and he also shared the story with us about his own kidnapping in 1984 by the death squads. He was held for three days until international pressure secured his release.

Finally, we had a fun night in San Salvador when Marco and Gus took us to a popular pupuseria on a mountainside overlooking the city. A pupuseria is a restaurants that serves pupusas, which seems to be *the* national dish. The restaurant was on a street full of people, music, and artists. We had a great night view of the city lights.

Overall, the city was exciting, depressing, energetic, dangerous, safe, modern, poor, wealthy, saddening, sobering, and fun. Many of the people we encountered there, mainly through the Synod, spoke about the problems their country faces, but demonstrated a passion, hope, and faith in positive changes for the country.

Some Work Pictures from Puente Azul

Here are some pictures that illustrate Eric's reflections on the work we did in Puente Azul. John Saalwaechter is the photographer.

Eric Ostby's Reflections on Working at Puente Azul

What follows are the reflections of Eric Ostby that he shared in worship on Sunday, October 8, 2006, at Central Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), Lebanon, Indiana.

When we arrived at the worksite, we saw an old one-room church from which we would build a parsonage off of. A brief celebration was held, at which time we began clearing the site. First, we brought down two trees. However, one stump took some extra effort to remove, so it stayed a while longer. During this time, we dug up and removed some huge boulders from the ground. Finally , the stump was pulled from the ground. Around this time, we realized that we would need a trench dug for the foundation. We took most of the dirt that had already been moved out and put it back into the middle to form the trenches. That finished our first day of work.

The second day was quite a bit like our own airport time: Hurry up and wait. We only had a few shovels and pickaxes, so a handful of us began breaking up rocks for later use. The soon-to-be-infamous cry of "Rock me!" was created during this use of time. The rebar triangles used to stabilize the walls were also constructed as the trench progressed.

Day 3 was more trench-digging, but the foundation was almost ready. The trenches all had to be 90 centimeters (about 3 feet) deep, and most were there by the end of this day. A few even had rebar in them.

The final day of work was strenuous, but everyone was satisfied by the end. The rebar had been laid in the ground, rocks had been placed to hold them in position, and concrete was being poured as fast as it could be made and passed. Other pieces of rebar were sticking up so blocks could be placed later. Even though we were told that this would be our starting point, we felt like we had done good things, and left this parsonage in a reasonable state.

Since our return to the States, the walls of the parsonage have gone up. While not all of our experiences may have been happy, we won't forget or trade them for anything else. This trip was an experience of a lifetime that everyone should have.

More of John's Pictures

John Saalwaechter has posted many of his pictures on a photo hosting site and they can be accessed at http://www.pbase.com/saalwaechter/elsalvador2006. He added this address to his comment on the post that included the group picture. They are great pictures and I encourage you to take a look at them. I can't wait to see everyone's pictures.

Our Group and Friends We Made Along the Way

We took this picture just before departing San Salvador for the airport. John Saalwaechter is the photographer. It is a great picture among many others that he and Becky Robinson took along the way. I hope they will chose to post some more of their pictures as stories and reflections are added to the blog.