"Shouldn't kids living in these types of environments be given a chance to succeed?"

Yesterday was a very special anniversary for me.  


It was 20 years ago that I stood on the campus of the University of Central America (UCA) here in San Salvador attending a mass to honor six Jesuits and Elba, their housekeeper and her daughter Celina, who had been brutally murdered two years prior on November 16, 1989.  It was 1991 and I had only been in El Salvador a day or two.  


Little did I imagine what that first experience would lead to, or that I would participate in the same commemorative anniversary mass at the UCA twenty years later.


The gospel reading was taken from Luke chapter 4.   Jesus "stood up to read, unrolled the scroll, and found the passage where it was written: 'The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor.  He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.'  Sitting down, Jesus startled his listeners by saying, “Today this scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.”    Then, Jesus warned the people that prophets are not often accepted in their own land.   "When the people in the synagogue heard this, they were all filled with fury.  They rose up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town had been built, to hurl him down headlong."  To his death.



In El Salvador, Rutilio Grande was the first native Salvadoran prophet of liberation.  Archbishop Oscar Romero would become God's voice. The many catechists, prophets to their communities.  The UCA Jesuits, leading theologians and practitioners of their faith.  As were the 75,000 murdered and disappeared.  These victims reflected Christ crucified.


When they stood up to proclaim the will of God for Salvadorans they were led to the brow of the hill on which their town had been built and hurled down headlong.  To their deaths.

And today, in 2011, what do I "see" here in El Salvador?


Padre Andreu Oliva, Rector of the UCA, became our prophet for tonight's mass as he stood up to speak.  What we see so boldly hitting us in the face each day is violence, poverty, lack of employment, underemployment, organized crime, hopelessness and despair, the powerful seemingly disinterested in doing anything that might change their status and power, and governments impotent to act with any autonomy and power.


Here, we don't talk about the "common good."   


Here, we live out the "common bad."

Violence?  A few weeks ago, the UN labeled El Salvador the most violent country in the world.  The weekend the report is issued 46 people are killed.  The nation continues to average 12 murders per day. Upwards of 4000 killed each year.  What you hear and read about are those killings attributed to the gangs.  Yet, only 40 to 60 percent are gang related.  And the rest?   Domestic violence, street violence, violence hidden from the public eye and not widely reported.  Violence means more than death by a gun.


Violence is not a recent phenomenon in El Salvador.  There has been brutal violence inflicted upon the population since Columbus and his gang got here.   And the last 80 to 100 years have been disastrous. 


Violence is big business here.   First you create a fear in the minds and hearts of the people by bombarding them with news of gang killings and violence.  The media focuses big time on this dimension of Salvadoran life.   Then, former military create over 300 private companies to provide security to business and neighborhoods, charging high prices while paying $0.50 an hour to their security guards.


Poverty?  Jobs?   Economic opportunities?  This country has an informal "business sector" that comes together every morning throughout the city to set up their small little stalls in hopes of selling a few tomatoes, trinkets, snacks, toys, DVDs, CDs, and a miriad of other products.   And, then at the end of the day, often hours after dark, a "rush hour" occurs as these poor folks head home with all their products on their backs.   A really good day at the "office" is when you might earn $5.00.   Most are lucky to earn $2.00 a day.  Some won't sell a thing.   Forty-eight percent of Salvadoran jobs fall into this category.   These are the "street" workers.


Minimum Wage?  Try $224.00 a month in the city, $182.50 in the countryside.   For a family of four.   Here, a sizable percentage of the population lives in extreme poverty.


Housing?  The country needs 500,000 decent homes to replace the tin shacks people are calling home. 


What is there about the Salvadoran reality that is not so readily apparent, not so easy to "see"?  The imprisoned.   The vast numbers of mostly young men jammed into a few Salvadoran prisons.  Many of them victims who turned on their own, thereby becoming victimizers.   They are the fruit of a world that has marginalized them and left them as so much trash in the gutters of the streets. 


Exploitation?   Corruption?  Impunity?  External debt?  Water?  Health care?  The list is endless.   Every aspect of Salvadoran life is in crisis.


When an ecological disaster hits El Salvador, as happened with the October eleven-day period of torrential rains, the country is knocked to its knees.  People die, crops and homes and roads and bridges are destroyed.  The country is set back once again.  And the poor bear the brunt of the burden.


This reality is what continues to force Salvadorans to leave their families and homelands heading to "el norte" for real job opportunities.  Migration is part of the neoliberal business plan.


Salvadorans living and working in "el norte" continue to sustain their homeland by sending money back to family and friends.  The media tends to ignore these dimensions of Salvadoran reality.


Salvadoran prophets always speak, first and foremost, of the human "costs" of this reality.


Emmigrants forced to leave their country to find jobs, jobs of their fathers and mothers, taken away by "free" trade agreements and transnational corporations.   Youthful gang members abandoned and condemned by those in power, then labeled as the cause of all the violence.   The imprisioned, victims of an oppressive system.   And the resulting human physical and psychological damage to those who somehow manage to survive another day, another week.


The Jesuits died here speaking out for the human rights of their countrymen.   Romero died because he was the voice for those without voice.  Catechists died because they dared open the most subversive book ever written.  And thousands upon thousands of poor Salvadorans died because, well, they were poor campesinos who only wanted more than one tortilla and a few beans as payment for their labor. 


We called them communists, which somehow justified their annihilation from the face of the earth. Today we call them gangs, and "illegals." Or, we don't call them at all.


These are the victims who reflect Christ crucified.


"Shouldn't kids living in these types of environments be given a chance to succeed?" posits James Causey in the Crossroads section of today's Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.  (Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, Sunday, November 13, 2011, Prison costs more than higher ed, Crossroads, page J1)  


Excellent question!  But, we can't afford to limit our analysis and response just to Milwaukee.  Our world is too connected, too intertwined.  Especially between the US and El Salvador with upwards of two million Salvadorans as our neighbors.



Twenty years.   Over these years I've been blessed with brief glimpses into the Salvadoran reality.   I've gained some small sense of their reality, their struggles, their martyrs, their pastors, their hospitality, their hopes and determination, and their faith.


Twenty years.  Almost as many trips.  A few days here, a week there, some years without a visit, occasionally a few Salvadorans visiting my home in Milwaukee, all since that first memorial mass at the UCA in November 1991.


El Salvador is different now.  So am I.


It's true, what Padre Dean Brackley once told me during a visit to the UCA over Easter 2000.  


"What happens to us when we come here?  Did you discover a world that is much worse than you had ever dreamed or suspected?  The more we hear about the country the worse it seems.  Our world gets blown apart.  We are shaken to our foundations.  Let it sink in.  


"But, something else is going on.  Did you also discover a world of faith, hope, love, joy, generosity, and humanity more than you ever dreamed or suspected?


"In spite of everything, we find faith, hope and love here.  We fall in love.  We lose control.  We enter into a broader world.


"Here there is crucifixion on every corner.  But, there is also resurrection.  There is dying, but there is also rising.


"This is about finding your way - the purpose of your life - your real self.  Coming to El salvador is not just a trip.  It's a pilgrimage.  It's like coming to the well for water.  It's an invitation to spend your life in love.  Reflect on and share your experiences."


He was right.  Come here and you will fall in love.  And be "ruined for life."
  
I am.  And I'll be back next year.