Being a deacon and the witness of the martyrs

This morning I awakened remembering a dream in which I reaffirmed my commitment as a deacon. It was very fitting since today is the feast of Saint Stephen, according to the tradition, the first deacon and the first martyr.

I will be preaching today at Mass in at least one village and so I spent a lot of time praying and meditating on the scriptures. (The homily in Spanish can be read here.)

What strikes me today is how much I feel the diaconate is connected to martyrdom. We deacons prepare the bread and wine, lift up the chalice with the Blood of Christ at the end of the Eucharistic prayer, and are ministers of the Eucharist, especially the Blood of Christ.

For me this year has been marked by Central American martyrs.

In January, Padre German, my pastor, and I made a pilgrimage to Santiago Atitlán, where we prayed in the room where Blessed Stanley Rother, Padre Aplas’, was killed and in the church where we celebrated the Eucharist – Padre presided and I served as a deacon. (An account here.) Padre Aplas’s commitment as a missionary from the US and his desire to stay with the people remind me of the importance of accompanying the people – not just for a short visit, but to share their lives, their joys and sorrows, and to let oneself be vulnerable. 

In October. Padre German and I went to Rome for the canonization of Monseñor Óscar Romero. As I was preparing for my diaconal ordination, I visited his tomb about two weeks before my ordination and dedicated my ordination to him. (My account of that visit is here.)

A month before his martyrdom, Monseñor Romero wrote this in his notebook:

“My disposition should be to give my life for God, however it should end. The grace of God will enable us to live through the unknown circumstances. He aided the martyrs and, if it should be necessary that I die as they did, I will feel him very close to me at the moment of breathing my last breath. But more important than the moment of death is to give him all my life and live for him and for my own mission.”

I will share these words in today’s homily – since we are all called to be martyrs, witnesses.

After coming back from the canonization and a short visit to Iowa, I went to the beatification of two Franciscans in Guatemala, an Italian missionary priest, Fray Tulio Maruzzo, and Luis Obdulio Arroyo, a lay Franciscan, catechist and helper in the parish. Another missionary martyr. But I was impressed by the simplicity and the commitment of Blessed Luis Obdulio, who helped in the parish and drove the sick to the hospital in the parish vehicle. (My reflection after the beatification Mass is here.)

This month, on December 8, nineteen martyrs of Algeria were beatified. When I first read the story of the Trappists monks of Tibhurine, I was touched by their commitment to be with the people in the midst of violence. The testament of Père Christian de Chergé, written before his death, is one of the most moving letters I’ve written, displaying his love and his willingness to embrace the person who might kill him in the future.  (You can download and read it from this site. Also, here’s a short reflection on their witness.)

The witness of these martyrs sustains me and give me courage hope in the midst of difficulties.

I have no desire to be a martyr, especially now that I have permanent residency here in Guatemala and want to enjoy that for many more years.

But the third century document Didascalia of the Apostles (chapter  XVI, iii, 13) notes:

“And know what the ministry is, according as our Lord and Savior said in the Gospel: Whoso among you desires to be chief, let him be your servant: even as the Son of Man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life as a ransom for many. So ought you the deacons also to do, if it falls to you to lay down your life for your brethren in the ministry which is due to them.” 

But laying own my life means dying every day – becoming more available for the poor, becoming more flexible, putting aside my desires to be in control or undisturbed.

So, today, I pray to Saint Stephen. May God make me a better deacon, a better servant, to be of service to God, to the church, and, most of all to people in need.

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The image of Saint Stephen is from the works of Ade Bethune whose drawings were often published in The Catholic Worker.  Saint Catherine University has a collection of here works.

Saint Bartholomew and the martyrs

Today, Catholics celebrate the feast of the apostle Bartholomew, of whose life we know very little. He is usually identified with the Nathaniel of John’s Gospel. The tradition is that he evangelized the East, even going as far as India, and that he was flayed alive in in Armenia. A graphic painting can be found in the Vatican Museum here.

On an island in the Tiber is a church which is not on the itinerary of many pilgrims or other visitors: the minor basilica of Saint Bartholomew. The church, built on the ruins of a Roman temple to Aesculapius, the Greek god of healing, dates back to the tenth century, though it’s a mélange of various architectural styles.

But it was, for me, an important pilgrimage site since it’s the church dedicated to the new martyrs of the twentieth century

Entering the church I was struck by the icon at the front – the icon of the new martyrs where one can discern many twentieth century martyrs – Catholic, Orthodox, and Protestant

Icon of the new martyrs

The side altars are dedicated to the martyrs with “relics” of many witnesses who are important for me:

On the altar of the new martyrs of Nazism there is a letter of Blessed Franz Jägerstätter to his family. Franz, an Austrian peasant, refused to serve in Hitler’s arm and was beheaded.

Letter from prison of Blessed Franz Jägerstätter to his wife

On the altar of the new martyrs of Africa is a letter of Dom Christian de Chergé, abbot of the Trappist monastery of Our Lady of Atlas in Algeria, who was among those killed by Islamic fundamentalists. Their story is portrayed in one of my favorite movies, Of Gods and Men.

The prayer beads of Father Aleksander Men, killed in Russia, are on the altar of martyrs of Communism, as well as a relic of the Polish preist, Blessed Jerzy Popielusko, who was a chaplain to Solidarity.

Reliquary of Blessed Jerzy Popielusko

On the altar of the new martyrs of the Americas is the missal Archbishop Oscar Romero used at the Mass at which he was martyred.

Altar of the martyrs of the Americas

I prayed and wept in that church, remembering the witness of these and many others who gave their lives for God, for the poor, and for the Truth of the Gospel.

Visiting that church renewed my commitment to my mission here in Honduras. Recalling it today gives me strength to continue – seeking to be of service to those most in need.

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Other blog posts on my visit to San Bartolomeo can be found here and here.
My blog on the movie Of Gods and Men can be found here.

Five pillars of peace - and mission

After finishing watching the film Of Gods and Men two weeks ago on the killing of seven Trappist monks in Algeria in 1996, I decided to re-read John W. Kiser’s book, The Monks of Tibhirine: Faith, Love, and Terror in Algeria, which I finished today.

The book is good, though it’s easy to get lost in the numerous persons and groups that provide the framework for understanding the lives and deaths of the monks.

But in Kiser's book, I came across a reference to a retreat that the prior, Christian De Chergé, gave just weeks before he was kidnapped.

He spoke of five pillars of peace which I found helpful – not just for understanding what peace is but also as five pillars for mission.

Today I found the talk in La esperanza invincible  [Unconquerable Hope], a book I bought a while ago but never got around to read. Here’s my translation of Dom Christian’s summary of the five pillars of peace:

I believe that without these five pillars no peace is possible. But peace is, above all, a gift of God. It is given to us. We do not say that peace doesn’t exist; it is there. Simply, we must work to let it emerge:

Patience – Patience

Poverty – Pauvreté

Presence – Présence

Prayer – Prière

Pardon /Forgiveness – Pardon

It just so happens that Forgiveness is the first name of God in the [Muslim] litany of the 99 [names of God],  Ar Rahman. And Patience is the last of the 99, Es Sabour. But God Himself is poor, God Himself is present, and God Himself is prayer.

Here is the peace which God give. Not as the peace the world gives.

That was what the monastery of Our Lady of Atlas in Tibhurine, Algeria, tried to live.

I think they also have a lot to say to me, a missionary in Honduras.

Patience is definitely needed. How many times have I felt the need for patience when I’m waiting for someone to show up or when I can’t understand what someone is saying. But I also need patience in relation to myself – my failures, my cultural faux pas, my faulty Spanish, and more. Patience helps me put things in perspective, not jumping as quickly to conclusions that are based in my background as a privileged inhabitant of this planet.

Poverty: In an extremely poor country, I can never be poor or seen as poor, but I can try to live a slightly austere life. Being a vegetarian helps. If I weren’t, the people would kill a chicken every time I visited a village, even though they themselves might eat meat less than five times a month. But taking small portions (partly because I can’t eat as much as many of these hard working people do) is also a part of trying to be closer to the poor. But, above all, poverty means recognizing the dignity and capacities of the poor. I may have more education, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that I really know more than many people I work with. We can learn together – sharing strengths and filling up each others’ weaknesses.

Presence is central. I am not here to save Honduras. I am here to accompany the people – in their joys and sorrows, in their struggles and their victories. That doesn’t mean I don’t have projects that I work on or that I don’t use my education and training in my work with educational projects. It does mean that I work to see that the people here, especially those poor and marginalized, become the protagonists of their life and work.

Prayer is absolutely needed. I need to pray to let my life be based in a relationship with the God of Love, who became flesh as a poor man in a country suffering oppression. Without a vision like this, I don’t think I’d be able to live with such faith and joy.

Pardon: At times I have to ask forgiveness due to my cultural ineptness. But I also need to learn to forgive when I see something as a snub, when it really may just be that my cultural expectations are not likely be met by a different. Forgiveness reminds me that we all are incomplete and need forgiveness. In this I remember Hannah Arendt’s analysis of forgiveness in  The Human Condition: forgiveness breaks the chain of the irreversibility past and enables us to act. We are not bound by what happened; we can go forward – and we can let others go forward.

These are just some preliminary thoughts, inspired by a martyr. I need to pray and reflect on these words since I believe they can help us understand better what  real mission means.

Of gods and men - the Trappist martyrs of Algeria

Last night I finished watching the movie “Of gods and men”  - “Des hommes et des dieux,” – on the Trappist monks killed in Algeria in 1996.

Ten years ago I read the book of John Kizer, The Monks of Tibhirine: Faith, Love, and Terror in Algeria, which affected me deeply. But though I had gotten the DVD about a year ago, I had only watched the first forty or so minutes. For some reason – fear, perhaps – I hadn’t stopped to finish watching the film.

What can I say?

I was deeply moved, at times to tears.

Here is a story of conflict – within the community when the prior, Frère Christian, seems to take a position without consulting the entire community (which the Rule of St. Benedict urges). It is a story also of inner conflict as Frère Christophe struggles over the decision of whether to stay or leave. It is also the story of the conflict with a form of fanatic Islam.

But it is also a story of courage, as the monks decide finally to stay despite the danger. It is a story of the courage of the monks to peacefully confront the armed rebels who invade the monastery on Christmas Eve. He even reminds the armed leader that that night was special – the birth of Jesus, the Prince of Peace.

It is also a story of love for the poor. Frère Luc, an elderly physician, attend the people who come to his dispensary for aid – sometimes more than 100 per day.

I noted above all the tenderness and fraternal love of the monks.

Frère Amédée massages the shoulders of Frère Christophe after the armed men leave the monastery on Christmas Eve.

When a government helicopter passes over the monastery grounds, the brothers, joined at that moment in prayer, embrace each others as they sing.

But the scene that most struck me was the “last supper,” a meal which comes just before they are taken hostage.

Frère Luc enters with two bottles of wine and puts on a tape of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. As the brothers sit and drink the wine,  you can see the joy and peace on their faces. It is replaced a bit later by seriousness, but a joy – mixed with tears (of joy or of tenderness) replaces the seriousness.

At one point when the community is discerning whether to stay or to leave monk says, “I am not afraid of death. I am a free man.”

I think that’s what the writer of the letter of the Hebrews (2:15) referred to when he says that Christ came to “free those who through fear of death had been subject to slavery all their life.”

These monks passed through the fear of death and lived, even though they were killed.

They lived and died, as one monk says when confronted with the option of leaving, as ‘frères de tous” – brothers of everyone.

The film ends with the monks in captivity with a voice over from Frère Christian’s letter, a letter that reveals a deep love even for the ones who would killed him. I believe he wrote it soon after the Christmas Eve visited of the armed rebels. It is a letter that should be read in light of the current events in Libya and the Muslim world.A translation can be found here.

I hope that many will take the time to watch the movie and read the book on the monks. Their witness may help us to live more fully – with others – as children of God.

Insha’ Allah – Ojalá – God willing.