Twenty years ago this month, six Jesuits, their housekeeper and her sixteen-year-old daughter were murdered in San Salvador.
Prior to their murder they had been threatened through phone calls, anonymous letters, and tirades against them in the media. They were targeted because they preached the Gospel of justice and reconciliation. One Jesuit from that community, Jon Sobrino, was spared because he happened to be out of the country giving a series of lectures at a conference.
There are special dates, times and events that we all remember. They are held in the memory because they are significant or important in some way. One such memory for me is of the morning following the murder of the six Jesuits and the two women. On that morning I listened to the only survivor, the one who was not there, speak about what had happened.
That was twenty years ago this month. Should we remember them and their murder? Yes, we should. Not for any reason of nostalgia but principally because they were faithful. They were faithful to the God they proclaimed and to the church they belonged to.
What does fidelity mean? We know from the Bible that God is faithful, keeps his promises and invites us to keep ours. In more practical terms being faithful means not only remembering the past but also projecting into the future. In remembering yesterday it helps us risk for tomorrow, to move ahead, to travel by unknown ways. Fidelity invites us to change, to plan new undertakings and to walk new ways.
The fidelity of these eight martyrs is a living example for us that should serve both as a stimulus and an inspiration. Shortly after the murders in a letter to a friend I said these eight had left me with three precious gifts and challenges. Firstly, they opened me to see the world through the eyes of others, even though at times I want to shut my eyes to the horror of what I see. They call me to solidarity with the crucified of this world, to carry their crosses and to allow myself be infected with their hope, creativity and love.
Secondly, they have broadened my understanding of what ‘good news’ means. Even though the event I am recalling is tragic, they show me that despite all the darkness it is possible to experience the blessings and joys of the Beatitudes. Thirdly, they challenge me to face God’s eternal question to us as human beings: what have you done to your brother and sister?
As a Christian I often feel powerless in the face of the enormity of the problems that beset our world. I feel my contribution is insignificant, so small to make it irrelevant. The problems seem so huge, I ask, what can I do? Yet my faith challenges me to help ‘the widow and the orphan’, to defend the poor and to fight for justice. At times this can feel a bit too difficult in my ordinary everyday life. Yet I am encouraged by the words of another El Salvadorian martyr, Archbishop Oscar Romero, who said that I should not worry about whether I am effective or not, rather I should worry about what is possible for me to do and that is often more than I imagine.
As I remember this tragic event of twenty years ago I recognise that throughout history we have celebrated and held high those who have given their lives for their faith in Jesus. For most, if not all of us, we will not be asked to make this ultimate sacrifice. Yet sacrifice is required for those of us who choose to follow the path laid down by Jesus. These eight people I remember this month are showing me the way, inviting me and you to love as they loved, to respond as they did, to see in each one, but especially in the forgotten, the marginalised and the excluded the face of the Living God.