from Travel Seminar in El Salvador
The Continuing Struggle For Peace -- (see Romero)
Two decades after a peace accord officially ended El
Salvador's 12-year civil war, in many ways peace still eludes this nation named
in honor of the Prince of Peace. Already
mentioned in previous posts are the ongoing violent confrontations between
warring gangs. While there is widespread
hope that a fragile temporary truce
between them may become permanent, police and military forces remain on high
alert. Our group of pilgrims experienced
this first hand yesterday on the return from Cara Sucia when our van was
stopped by national guard officers who demanded to review our driver's license
and credentials. While the street scene
in San Salvador's downtown and more upscale neighborhoods seems as safe on the
surface as in any major U.S. city, many areas remain off limits for Salvadorans
and visitors concerned about personal safety.
We awaken each morning to the shrill whistles of a private security
guard who periodically signals to his clients--neighborhood homeowners who band
together to employ him--that he is on duty providing protection. 
Today's morning visit to San Salvador's imposing
cathedral provided a stark reminder that streets and gangland turf are not the
only arenas of contested space. As I
write this reflection twelve hours later, I still find it difficult to absorb
the change since I last visited the final resting place of Archbishop Oscar
Arnulfo Romero. A quarter century ago,
Romero's grave held prominent place in the cathedral's main transept. In the fashion of medieval cathedrals, the
common people would stop by for a brief visit en route to work, at lunchtime or
whenever the spirit would move them to pray and draw strength in remembering
their beloved slain spiritual giant.
Today one has to descend to the cathedral basement to visit Romero's
tomb and view his portrait. Upstairs in
the main sanctuary is displayed a portrait of a prominent leader of Opus Dei,
the Roman Catholic group regarded by El Salvador's poor as the extreme
reactionary fringe. A few years ago, the
current Archbishop of San Salvador ordered removed from the cathedral's
external walls the compelling folk art panels painted during the war years by
artists of the world-famous La Palma community.
Clearly, the central see of El Salvador's predominant ecclesial community
remains highly contested space.
Following our visit to the downtown cathedral, our group
of pilgrims boarded our minibus for the ride to the cancer patient hospice
where Romero lived for the duration of his ministry as Archbishop. We were welcomed warmly by the sisters who
steward the humble house where he took up residence after refusing to abide in
the more luxurious official bishop's palace.
Then, following a brief reflection on a reading from the book of
Hebrews, we sat for a prolonged period of silence in the hospital's chapel
where Romero was gunned down while celebrating mass with some family
friends.
As I ponder all that I have experienced during three
sojourns in this land of "The Savior," which now span the period of
nearly 30 years, the overarching feelings are of humble gratitude and fervent
hope. For if, as we profess, the
greatest glory comes only from the most contested space the world has
known--the cross of the Savior for whom El Salvador is named--then we have been
privileged to spend these few days on this turf surrounded by those both living and departed who
constitute what Hebrews calls the "great cloud of witnesses." And as the polarization that underlies
Salvador's continuing violence continues to cause so much suffering for so
many, we must continue our fervent prayers that contested space here and
everywhere may be ever-shrinking.
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