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I just finished reading Oscar Romero: Reflections on His Life and Writings (Orbis) by Marie Dennis, Renny Golden, and Scott Wright, a short biography about someone too few in North America really know.

Romero was the archbishop of San Salvador from 1977 to 1980, and was killed in a hospital chapel during mass just before breaking the bread and sharing the wine. He was assassinated for opposing unspeakable government brutality against El Salvador’s poor during the country’s civil war. He never advocated violence, and refused to demonize his opponents; he even proactively forgave his assassins.

In this book, the authors tell the story of how this reserved, quiet, respectful man became archbishop, how his words and actions became bolder along the way, and how he lives on in the hearts of the Salvadoran people.

He has become a bit of a hero among Catholics across Latin America, but I think he has much to teach all of us, Catholic and Protestant, Latin American or otherwise.

Two or three times over the years I’ve read through a collection of his sayings and prayers called The Violence of Love (available as a free ebook here). One passage in particular has really stood out to me, and I think its applicability for largely comfortable and consumeristic church-goers (which is all too many of us, all too often, if we’re honest) will be clear:

God wants to save us in a people. He does not want to save us in isolation. And so today’s church more than ever is accentuating the idea of being a people.

The church therefore experiences conflicts, because it does not want a mass, it wants a people. A mass is a heap of persons, the drowsier the better, the more compliant the better.

The church rejects communism’s slander that it is the opium of the people. It has no intention of being the people’s opium. Those that create drowsy masses are others.

The church wants to rouse men and women to the true meaning of being a people. What is a people? A people is a community of persons where all cooperate for the common good. (January 15, 1978)

Of course, there is a definite individual aspect to salvation, and before we can be reconciled to each other we must first be reconciled to God. But it seems to me that many of us who are highly concerned with being saved seldom consider what we’re saved into and what we’re saved for. I’m grateful for clues to these questions in Oscar Romero’s life and words.

A brief online biography of Oscar Romero is available here.

[About the photo: A tribute to Oscar Romero at Eliana's, a Salvadoran restaurant in our neighborhood in Phoenix where Katie and I had lunch yesterday]

Chasing Francis

May 29, 2012 — 4 Comments


My pilgrimage to Assisi was perhaps an unconventional one. I was mapping out an itinerary for a two-week backpacking trip with two buddies during college, for what would be my first — and so far only — trip to Europe. Rome, Florence, Pisa, and Venice made the cut on the merits of their monuments, restaurants, and cathedrals. Cinque Terre, Como, and Bellagio were added for their waterfront beauty (and, in the case of the latter two, the vague hope we’d spot the Night Fox). For good measure, we scheduled a stop in Lugano, just to say we’d been to Switzerland.

While many devotees of Saint Francis travel to his hometown every year to pay homage, for us Assisi was simply a convenient stop between Rome and Florence. Prior to the trip, in order to learn more about Assisi’s most famous son, I read Julien Green’s classic biography. This proved helpful in deciphering why, in a stone carving in a nondescript alley outside our hostel, Francis was pictured calmly having a chat with a wolf.

We visited a lot of amazing places during our two weeks in Italy, but Assisi was special. I remember walking back from dinner that night in the quiet, misty rain (the hoards of day-trippers had earlier returned to their hotels in the big cities), and I felt like I just as well could have been walking the cobblestone streets in the thirteenth century, rather than the twenty-first.

Since that trip my interest in “God’s fool” has lead me to read a number of other books, including Chesterton’s, Paton’s, Murray’s, and of course, The Little Flowers. A Franciscan benediction worked its way into the speech I gave at my grad school commissioning ceremony, and a beautiful rendition of his prayer was sung at our wedding by my good friend Matty.

Needless to say, the fascination is ongoing. In recent years I started hearing a lot of good things about a novel called Chasing Francis: A Pilgrim’s Tale, written by Ian Morgan Cron, an author, speaker, and Episcopal priest. My friends Vince and Lisa (of Kitchen on the Street) recently loaned it to me, and then before I could read it, I won a signed copy from the author thanks to the magic of Twitter. I took all of that as a sign that it was time to read it.

The novel is unlike any of the other book I’ve read about Francis in that it is, well, a novel. It’s also original in the fact that it’s set in the present day, following Chase Falson, the pastor of a thriving evangelical megachurch in New England, through a very public crisis of faith. After the church’s elders make it clear he needs to get away for a while to sort things out, he finds himself visiting his uncle, a Franciscan priest who has moved to Assisi. What Falson learns about Francis helps him discover that there might be more to Christianity than the formulaic answers he’d learned in seminary and had recently found untenable (I’ll refrain from spoiling the story by revealing any more of the specifics).

One wonders how much of the book is truly fictional, or whether it’s a thinly veiled autobiography of the author, or even intended as an exploration of the shifts taking place within the contemporary North American church. Regardless, for the most part it’s wonderfully written and believable.

Like any good Protestant, though, I admit I do have my hang-ups when it comes to Catholic saints like Francis. The stories passed down about him preaching to birds, reasoning with a wolf, and receiving the stigmata seem a bit far-fetched and spooky, to say the least. Plus, I think he was a sinner like the rest of us, something not everyone seems particularly eager to admit.

Nonetheless, his example is one that all Christians — not just Catholics — would do well to consider. Most notably, turning his back on a self-centered life of hedonism in order to serve the poor and rebuild the church (both literally and figuratively) is instructive for us today; I don’t think I need to convince you of that. And as ambassadors of Christ’s reconciliation in a world that in some sobering ways is not unlike the world of the thirteenth century, I know of no better prayer outside of scripture than this one: “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.”

Even if you’re not ready to make the pilgrimage to Assisi, and even if you’re skeptical of (or merely disinterested in) all the standard biographies, do consider giving Chasing Francis a read. I’m glad I did.

[Image/photo credits: acerminaro.blogspot.com; roseohotelassisi.com]

While in Portland for a conference earlier this year, Katie and I got to visit the famed Powell’s Books, along with our friend Elise. We had a ridiculously tiny window of about 30 minutes to explore the place between conference sessions, while it would take a full day or two to do the place justice. Nonetheless, I split my time between the Religion and Latin America sections (no surprise, right?). I ended up buying a book dealing with both.

God and Production in a Guatemalan Town (University of Texas Press) was written by Sheldon Annis 25 years ago, and focuses on the rise of Protestantism in Guatemala by honing in on social and economic trends in San Antonio Aguas Calientes, a small village near Antigua, a big tourist town in Guatemala.

There’s a lot less God than production in the book’s pages. The author himself concedes as much, but I was disappointed with that lopsidedness nonetheless. Throughout the book Annis attributes the rise in Protestantism largely to economic, social, and political trends in the country during the mid-80s. Only at the end does he concede that there may be more going on than meets the researcher’s eye when it comes to dramatic shifts in religious belief and practice. I think Catholics and Protestants alike would agree that their deeply held beliefs aren’t explainable in merely socio-economic terms. Nonetheless, for those who are accustomed to exploring how religion shapes culture (or how it ought to shape it), it’s helpful to consider how culture possibly shapes religion as well.

German sociologist Max Weber famously argued that a “Protestant work ethic” lay behind the rise of capitalism and the rapid creation of wealth in the West, and Annis draws on this argument when he explores the simultaneous rise of Protestantism and changes in economic activity in San Antonio. He suggests that the typical village in Guatemala has found its identity largely in Catholicism and its sense of “Indianness,” both remnants of the country’s colonial past. Additionally, the traditional village revolves around the milpa, a small plot of land used for growing corn and beans. This system is reliable for subsistence farming and it contributes to a sense of community harmony, but it doesn’t really work for economic growth. As milpas become overcrowded, those on the margins find themselves rethinking traditions and considering new ways of life.

It is here, in Annis’s view, that Protestantism finds an opening. While most Protestants begin from a place of social exclusion and economic hardship, many become entrepreneurial and end up doing comparatively well for themselves. Having left behind the “milpa logic” of their Catholic neighbors, Annis says, Protestants now embrace a very different “rags to riches” sort of logic, not unlike Weber’s analysis.

Though the findings of this book are by now a bit dated, I find all of this to be especially important and timely food for thought for Christians, whether Protestant or Catholic, who are working in the field of development. Several big questions come to mind.

What’s gained when shifts like these take place? Equally important, what’s lost? Is economic growth the absolute goal, trumping all other values including the “community harmony” represented in the more traditional way of life? Could there be a way to preserve traditional values alongside economic growth? How do we understand the connection between faith and development? Does one explain the other? Is the relationship symbiotic?

Our answers to these important questions hinge on our definition of development and our vision of “the good life.” And as Christians, we can’t define these things apart from our understanding of who God is, how he relates to the world, and how he calls us to respond.

Ultimately, of course, outsiders can’t be the ones to determine how those in villages in San Antonio will live. The men and women of San Antonio must be the ones to make their own decisions because they will be the ones left to live with the outcomes.

Yet this book serves as a reminder of something crucial: Christian development practitioners must be able to think theologically about their work, even while affirming the central role of community residents in shaping their own future, lest we contribute not to the community’s development, but to its eventual ruin.

[Photo credit: ejfood.blogspot.com]

When the Pope visits Cuba next week, the world’s eyes will undoubtedly turn to the island nation, and questions about the current state of religious freedom will be raised. I wrote about the role of the church in Cuba last October, but it seems time to revisit the topic.

According to Mary Anastasia O’Grady with the Wall Street Journal, Christian human rights activists in Cuba are losing hope that the Pope has any intention of meeting with them, listening to them, or making any substantial pleas on their behalf. Instead, it seems Benedict XVI’s public plans are limited to three outdoor masses, meetings with Raul Castro and Cuban Catholic Church leaders (separately, of course), and a possible meeting with Fidel Castro. Fidel, interestingly enough, is rumored to be considering a return to the faith, though it’s hard to know for sure what to make of that.

In the past couple of years, we’ve seen slow and incremental easing of economic restrictions by Raul Castro, which has created some new opportunities, but has hardly been enough to turn the country around. It seems that there has been increased religious freedom as well, though according to the U.S. State Department, “in law and in practice, the government places restrictions on freedom of religion.” But according to Geoff Thale at the Washington Office on Latin America, a respected human rights and democracy think tank, Cuba’s religious communities are varied and thriving, despite state-imposed obstacles:

Conventional wisdom dictates that freedom of religion in Cuba is extremely limited; that churches are barely tolerated; that the relations between the Catholic Church and the Cuban Communist Party have improved little since the 1960s; that mutual hostility is the dominant motif in relations between churches and the state; that the Catholic Church in Cuba is eager to embrace the role that the Catholic Church played in Poland in the 1980s, serving as the spiritual voice for a nascent political opposition; and that the Catholic Church is not just the largest religious community in Cuba, but the only significant one. All of these assumptions are unfounded.

Thale has written an in-depth three part series exploring religion in Cuba. The first part of the series takes a look at religious communities in Cuba today, including the prominent Catholic Church, as well as Afro-Cuban traditional religions like Santeria, rapidly growing Protestant churches, ranging from traditional mainline denominations to evangelicals and Pentecostals, and other smaller religious groups.

In the second part, Thale writes about the country’s church-state relations and how they have evolved over the years, from the early days of the revolution, through the Cold War years, all the way to today. Over the last two decades, Thale writes, significant improvements in church-state relations have been made.

Finally, in the third part of the series, Thale says that while the state indeed still imposes restrictions, “most religious groups have been able to function within the government’s limitations.” Increasingly these groups have been taking a pro-active role in pushing the country to change. The Catholic Church has been able to publicly advocate on a number of social and political issues, and has been instrumental in the freeing of political prisoners.

I’d highly recommend reading all three parts of the series to better understand both the remarkable achievements of our Cuban brothers and sisters, as well as the challenges they continue to face. Yes, it’s right to continue to push Cuba to ease restrictions on religion, but we’d be wrong to espouse the narrative that the church in Cuba is simply being thwarted at every turn.

[Image credit: Fox News Latino]

The 2010 US census had some  important things to teach us about our country’s Latino/Hispanic population. Basically, it’s growing, and it’s growing fast:

[T]he Hispanic population increased by 15.2 million between 2000 and 2010 and accounted for more than half of the total U.S. population increase of 27.3 million. Between 2000 and 2010, the Hispanic population grew by 43 percent, or four times the nation’s 9.7 percent growth rate.

And no, they’re not primarily entering the country illegally:

Analysts [of the census] seized on data showing that the growth was propelled by a surge in births in the U.S., rather than immigration, pointing to a growing generational shift in which Hispanics continue to gain political clout and, by 2050, could make up a third of the U.S. population.

While the Latino population in the US is largely Catholic and evangelical and tends to be politically conservative on social issues, in 2008 Latinos voted for Obama by a two to one margin.

The GOP really needs the Latino vote if it is going to win in November (and beyond), though you wouldn’t know it by listening to the party’s presidential hopefuls. None of the candidates have done much to woo Latinos; instead their extreme rhetoric, particularly on immigration, has only served to further ostracize the Latino electorate. Romney won the Florida primary with strong Latino support, but should he be the party’s nominee in the fall, that victory might not mean much — the political motivations of Florida’s large (and highly influential) Cuban-American population is hardly representative of the US Latino population as a whole, especially in key swing states like Colorado, Nevada, New Mexico and Arizona.

Fortunately (both for the GOP and for the sake of civility in the public square), there are Republicans who recognize the problem and are urging their colleagues to stop making matters worse. In an op-ed for the Washington Post (which I shared on January 27), former Florida governor Jeb Bush wrote:

[W]e need to think of immigration reform as an economic issue, not just a border security issue. Numerous polls show that Hispanics agree with Republicans on the necessity of a secure border and enforceable and fair immigration laws to reduce illegal immigration and strengthen legal immigration. Hispanics recognize that Democrats have failed to deliver on immigration reform, having chosen to spend their political capital on other priorities. Republicans should reengage on this issue and reframe it.

A second Florida Republican has spoken up as well. It’s up-and-coming Senator Marco Rubio, a Cuban-American with strong support from his own demographic, but who also understands the broader issues impacting the country’s Latinos (and there’s been speculation that he could be a GOP running mate in November).

During his keynote address at the Hispanic Leadership Network’s conference in Miami just days before the Florida primary, Rubio was interrupted by DREAM Act supporters who had come in protest. Here’s the video of the speech, including the disruption and repeated pleas from Rubio for the protesters to be allowed to stay, followed by what I think is one of the most sensible articulations of the need for immigration reform I’ve heard from a Republican. I can’t say I vouch for Rubio on everything, but I do respect him for this:

[Photo credit: buschap/Flickr (Creative Commons) via SCPR.org]