http://web.stanford.edu/class/e297a/Oscar Romero.htm

EDGE

6/4/2003

Oscar Romero, Liberation Theology and the Catholic Church

By Robby Wellington and Prof. Lusignan

In the post-World War II era, the globe was polarized by two idealistically divergent superpowers; the United States and the Soviet Union, two nations that strived to promote capitalism and communism, respectively, throughout the globe.  Nowhere was this struggle more apparent than in developing countries with shaky political and economic backbones.  Specifically, in Latin America the old, corrupt and often totalitarian regimes were threatened by grassroots liberation movements whose ideas of land reform and shaking up the status quo were often perceived as Marxism.  The Catholic Church, which had traditionally supported the wealthy ruling class, began to change its beliefs in the late 1960s and slowly increased its support for the oppressed working class.  This trend gained momentum in the 1970s and 80s and became known as Liberation Theology.  Although not officially supported and often chastised by the Vatican, Liberation Theology became prevalent throughout Latin America and violent revolutions sprang up in Brazil, Nicaragua, El Salvador and Mexico, sometimes with the tacit blessing of important religious leaders.  By the early 1990s, however, this aggressive brand of Liberation Theology and the political uprisings that often went hand in hand were more or less dead.  Pope John Paul II had condemned the use of the pulpit for political purposes and many of the more virulent religious leaders had been forcibly removed by the Vatican from their respective posts.

Today, the Catholic Church appears to be ambivalent towards the current political and economic situation in Latin America.  While Pope John Paul II condemns what he has referred to as “savage capitalism” in the Western hemisphere and called for a reevaluation of the uneven allocation of wealth in so-called banana republics, he has also stymied efforts by the church  to help out those that are being socially marginalized.  One important indicator on the Catholic Church’s stance on Liberation Theology and general social activism in Latin America will be to see if Archbishop Oscar Romero is accepted into sainthood.  The iconic and controversial religious leader worked tirelessly to help the lower-class in El Salvador.  His teachings and beliefs that the marginalized peasants should be treated justly made him a living legend among his countrymen and isolated him from the nation’s corrupt elites.  Although he never specifically condoned violence, his sermons played no small part in fomenting a bloody peasant uprising and civil war that raged for over a decade.  In the last few years, a strong effort has been made to canonize Romero.  Although he is revered not only in his own country but throughout the world, there exist a few issues that could possibly preclude him for becoming a saint.  He is still strongly disliked by the vast majority of the wealthy and powerful ruling class of El Salvador, he, indirectly and inadvertently, helped bring about a violent conflict that ravaged his nation and, perhaps most importantly, his canonization may appear to be a carte blanche validation of Liberation Theology and the Marxist uprisings that were often associated with the movement.  The canonization of Oscar Romero will redefine the seminal ideal of a modern-day saint and could quite possibly redefine the role of the Catholic Church in Latin America and throughout the Third World.

The Catholic Church has been a fundamental institution throughout Latin America since the Spanish conquests of the early sixteenth century.  Millions of the indigenous people were killed, tortured, marginalized and relegated to the level of slaves, all in the name of the Catholic Church.  As Latin America was colonized and “civilized,” the rich European landowners were recognized as the default economic and political leaders by the Vatican.  Even in the 19th century, as Latin America began to separate into different independent nations, the wealth and power firmly rested on the shoulders of the non-indigenous oligopoly.  The great economic development of the 20th century was felt very little by working class Latin Americans.  Any financial windfall coming into the continent benefited only the very rich.  By the 1960s even the Catholic Church had had enough.  Within the span of only a few years, Catholic authorities throughout Latin America were making concerted efforts to assist the poor from Brazil to Venezuela up to Mexico.  Sometimes the churches efforts were confused with Marxists rebels like the Sandinistas in Nicaragua who succeeded in overthrowing the government in 1979.  Despite protests from many affluent western capitalists and even on occasion the Vatican, the Liberation Theology movement was in full swing.         

Archbishop Oscar Arnulfo Romero is one of the most powerful and controversial figures in 20th century El Salvador and is recognized as one of the dominant figures of the Liberation Theology movement in the 1970s.  Despite only serving as his country’s archbishop for three years, he had a profound impact on the social, economic and political status quo in El Salvador.  Romero came to power in 1977, at a time where there existed a mounting tension between the country’s two distinct social classes.  As in many other countries, for years the poor indigenous population had been oppressed by a powerful oligopoly of wealthy landowners.  The nation’s military aided the elite in forcefully suppressing uprisings.  In the 1970s, the Catholic Church, which had always been a passive observer of social injustice in El Salvador and the rest of Latin America, took a more active stance on the side of the poor.  Oscar Romero was the most powerful and vocal of his nation’s church figures and he was soon known as “The People’s Saint.”  Romero’s public denouncement of military violence in part led to a revolution and eventual social change.  He was assassinated for his beliefs, in church while praying, in 1980.  Still, more than twenty years after his death, Romero is an omnipresent figure in El Salvador, giving the impoverished hope for a better life.

El Salvador, like many other Latin American countries, has a longstanding history of social and political turmoil.  There exists a profound separation between the rich landowners and the poor peasants of the nation.  During Oscar Romero’s short tenure as archbishop of El Salvador, fourteen families controlled over 60 percent of the country’s arable land.  This inequity of land and wealth dates back to the Spanish conquest.  The indigenous people of El Salvador were robbed of their land, what little was left was effectively taken away in 1881 when the nation’s financially elite abolished indigenous communal land rights (Dennis p. 9).  Throughout the 20th century, the economy of El Salvador has relied heavily on the production of a handful of large coffee producers who are personally guarded and protected by the nation’s army.  In 1932, the marginalized peasants rose up against the military and were viciously cut down in what is now known as “The Massacre.”  An estimated 30,000 people were brutally slain in just over a month.  From that point on, the poor began to lose an increasing amount of land to the rich.  When Oscar Romero was installed as archbishop of San Salvador, the situation was reaching a crisis level as a bloody civil appeared to be imminent.

Oscar Arnulfo Romero was born in Ciudad Barrios, a small remote town in the eastern part of El Salvador on August 15, 1917.  His parents, Santos and Guadalupe, were a post office worker and housemaker, respectively (Erdozáin p. 15).  He received a basic education and then worked as an apprentice to a local carpenter.  Despite the fact that Romero’s family was not very religious, he had a deep desire to enter the seminary.  After brief studies in San Miguel, Romero continued his education as a seminarian in Rome where he was ordained on April 4, 1942.  For the next 25 years, Romero served various pastoral roles throughout eastern El Salvador.  He was always a “shy, conservative and stubbornly moralistic” (Woodward p. 41) man who “was careful to root his message in the daily experience of the faithful people who listened “ (Dennis 8).  In 1967, Romero was named executive secretary of the ‘Central American Bishops Conference as well as an auxiliary bishop in San Salvador.  The next year Romero attended a gathering in Medellín, Colombia of all the Latin American bishops.  This was a landmark convention that was integral in establishing the concept of “Liberation Theology,” the belief that the Catholic Church has a moral obligation to assist those who are poop, persecuted or oppressed.  Romero was somewhat disturbed by this new ideology.  He assumed that “the pursuit of social justice and liberation too often seemed to lead to division and conflict” (Dennis p. 8).  He had always believed in the basic goodness of those who were in power in El Salvador and was worried that the consequences of the convention would bring into question the nation’s social, economic and political status quo.  However, Romero’s passive nature and naïve view of the inequitable social situation in his home country would soon change.

Romero was named bishop of Santiago de María in Usulután, a town in southeast El Salvador.  It was there that he was exposed to the horrible oppression and violence perpetrated against the poor rural citizens of the country.  The mistreated and impoverished clergy of his diocese helped Romero to better grasp the extent of social injustices in El Salvador.  He began to speak out against these injustices but was predictably ignored by the government.  Romero “began to feel the fire of righteous anger stir in his soul and to distance himself from the powerful ones who maintained the status quo” Dennis p.9).  Despite this, Romero was viewed both by the Vatican and the government of El Salvador as the safe choice for the position of the country’s archbishop.  He was installed as a puppet-like figure by the government; Romero was not viewed as someone who would speak out against the traditional power structure in El Salvador.

Three weeks after Romero’s installation, an incident occurred which, he later said, triggered a profound change in his social outlook (Woodward p.41).  Father Rutilo Grande, a Jesuit priest and personal friend of Romero’s, was murdered by right-wing guerillas.  The government did very little to investigate into the slaying because they viewed Grande as a terrorist due to his efforts to help the poor.  Romero was deeply saddened and discouraged at the government’s failure to support the church.  This was the beginning of numerous acts of violence against the Catholic Church.  Within months, numerous pastoral agents and priest Alfonso Navarro were brutally assassinated by “death squads” closely associated with the national army.  The government had always oppressed the lower class, and the church had always been a passive spectator of the exploitation.  However, as the concept of Liberation Theology became increasingly popular among the bishops of El Salvador, the government began to feel threatened by the Catholic Church.  The violent assassinations of Catholic officials were simply a government backlash of the Liberation Theology movement and anyone who tried to emulate its ideal. 

In 1978 and 1979, violence against the church escalated.  Father Ernesto Barrera died in what the government labeled a hostile shootout.  It appears, however, that Barrera was dragged from his house, beaten severely and then shot in the head, execution style (Brockman, p.137).  On January 20, 1979, a group of approximately thirty young men gathering for a “young people’s Christian initiation gathering” were attacked by a killing squad in an armored car.  Father Octavio Ortiz, the man in charge of the gathering, was dragged from his bed and repeatedly run over the vehicle (Brockman p.141).  In a feeble cover-up attempt, dead teenagers were then dragged to the roof of a building and pistols were placed in their hands.  Two other priests, Father Raphael Palacios and Father Alirio Napoleon Macías were assassinated later that year.  The upper class had portrayed the Catholic Church, in its efforts to practice Liberation Theology, as a subversive Communist force that threatened the very existence of El Salvador’s “democracy.”  Buildings in the capital city of San Salvador were littered with anti-church graffiti urging citizens to “be a patriot, kill a priest!” (Dennis p. 8).

Throughout all this violence, Oscar Romero was the most influential opponent of the government’s oppression of the poor.  Thousands of people attended his sermons, many of which were broadcast on the radio.  In one sermon, Romero described his proactive stance towards religion and social advancement by saying: “I am a shepherd who, with his people, has begun to learn a beautiful and difficult truth: our Christian faith requires that we submerge ourselves in the world” (Erdozaín p.40.)  Despite receiving numerous death threats, Romero did not shy away form the public gatherings or other events that posed a grave threat to his personal safety.  During the first few months, his sermons became more and more passionate in their opposition to governmental and military violence as well as other forms of oppression.  At six in the evening of March 24, 1980, Romero was praying in a chapel near his home.  Just as he finished the homily, Romero was shot once in the chest by a sniper from a car across the street.  Ten minutes later, Romero was pronounced dead.  It is presumed that he was assassinated by a member of the Salvadoran military, an organization which, just the day before, Romero had denounced by saying, “No soldier is obligated to obey an order contrary to the law of God.  It is time that you come to your senses and obey your conscience rather than follow sinful commands” (Woodward p.37). 

Shortly after Romero’s death, the bloody civil war in El Salvador took form and intensified, raging on for a decade.  The struggle for social betterment would not have been possible without Romero.  Even today, the presence of the great archbishop is still felt as he is cherished throughout El Salvador.  He is recognized as “the People’s Saint” and the “Martyr of El Salvador” yet in the official eyes of Pope John Paul II and the Vatican, he is only a borderline consideration for canonization.

The process of canonization is a complicated and arduous one.  The Vatican is like all other bureaucracies, deliberate and slow moving.  First, there is a five-year waiting period after the person’s death.  This allows the individual’s case to be examined objectively.  A sponsoring group applies to the current of the diocese where the candidate died.  Once this meets the approval of the Vatican, it is the bishop’s responsibility to set up a committee to review testimony and other forms of evidence of the candidate’s virtue.  They then complete a file, which is forwarded to the Vatican’s special sainthood arm, the Congregation for the Causes of Saints.  The file of documentation is then placed before a panel of theologians that vote on its validity.  Then it is reviewed by a panel of cardinals and bishops in the Vatican and, finally, the pope declares the “heroic virtue” of the candidate.  This is an incredibly complex and laborious process; there are nearly 2,000 canonization cases pending in the Vatican, many of which are for people who died centuries ago. 

Canonization is not to be confused with the similar process of beautification, a process that has traditionally been reserved to figures that have had very minimal influence outside of their particular geographical region (Woodward, p.378).  Although the two processes have recently become blurred and are often considered one in the same, canonization is a far greater honor.  A beautified individual is not considered a saint and is not guaranteed a spot in heaven.  To be beautified, the candidate must have performed one miracle during their lifetime.  Saints must have either performed two miracles or died for their Christian beliefs and be considered martyrs.

The church in El Salvador, surprisingly, has been slow to initiate the canonization process.  Archbishop Arturo Rivera y Damas is the man who replaced Romero as the head of the church of El Salvador.  He is also the man responsible for initiating the canonization process for Romero.  In a 1987 interview with Kenneth L. Woodward, Rivera outlined what was at the time, his reluctance to push for the sainthood of Romero.  “The problem is that his name is still being used by some people for political purposes. . .now you have different groups on the left saying that the was a martyr for their particular political causes, and that makes it harder to show that he was a martyr for the church,” (Woodward, p.43).  Rivera is referring to such groups as the Farbundo Martí Liberation Front (FMLN), a Marxist guerilla movement that fought against the unfair social and political system in El Salvador, much like Romero, but with different means and different goals in mind.  Today, the FMLN still exists; its primary activity is kidnapping the children of the wealthy for ransom.  Organizations like the FMLN that may have had some legitimacy 15 years ago should not be allowed to prosper or gain support for illicit actions through the canonization of Romero.  Rivera argued that as long as Romero can be used as a powerful political tool, he should probably not be canonized.

During Romero’s brief tenure as archbishop of El Salvador, he was met with opposition from within his own church.  Four of his six bishops strongly disagreed with his support of non-violent leftist movements and twice Pope John Paul II privately chastised the archbishop.  His unwillingness to conform and passively watch the social injustices of his country made Romero unpopular with the hierarchy of the Catholic Church and hated by many wealthy El Salvadorans.  That brings about another issue.  Romero, while respected and even idolized by a majority of the well-off Salvadoran youth of today, still breeds contempt among their parents.  His canonization could very well stir up unnecessary class violence in the country.

The overwhelming majority of El Salvadorans and Latin Americans feel that Romero deserves to be canonized, the sooner the better.  They argue that he is one of the most celebrated churchmen in the Western Hemisphere.  He has bettered the lives and had a profound influence on millions of Salvadorans.  One such proponent of Romero’s rapid canonization is Jon Sobrino, a theologian at Central American University in San Salvador.  Sobrino, in his book, Monseñor Romero, argues that if Romero is not canonized within the next fifty years, the public will lose historical perspective on the importance of this man.  Sobrino compares Romero to Jesus Christ himself, stating that both were brave, selfless and controversial men who worked closely with the poor.

“Most saints do not get into direct contact with the people the way Jesus did.  That was not the case with Romero.  Archbishop Romero gave the people hope at a time when there was no hope.  He gave them back their dignity and self-esteem, and for all those reasons, he is at once a Christian saint and a Salvadoran hero” (Woodward p.47).  Sobrino believes that the Catholic Church is unwilling to honor a man who was and still is such a great source of controversy.

The early 1990s marked the collapse of the Soviet Union and, not coincidentally, Liberation Theology.  Pope John Paul II removed from power many religious leaders that had been proponents of the movement and denounced its Marxist ties.  Being Polish, the pope has a strong aversion to any movement that evokes memories of Stalinism.  The Catholic Church went back to being an institution that was controlled by and catered to the affluent and politically powerful.  Although Liberation Theology was officially pronounced dead by the church and public alike, there existed a new generation of people, taught primarily by Jesuits in schools created in the 1970s to educate the poor, that were intelligent, morally responsible and, most importantly, unattached to the traditional Latin American upper class.  Many Latin American nations ushered in new governments that appear to be more in tune to the needs of the poor; “land reform” has been a catchphrase from Mexico down to Brazil.  Capitalism with a conscience is slowly starting to develop.

Whether or not Pope John Paul II will approve the canonization of Oscar Romero remains in question.  Romero’s alleged ties to Marxists organizations and political activism were both brought into question by the Vatican and the church of El Salvador as well.  The pope certainly has never made anyone a saint who was as widely loved and hated as Romero.  Then again, he has canonized over 300 saints during his 25 year tenure, by far the most by any pope.  The primary motivation behind the frequency of these acts perhaps lies in the waning popularity of the Catholic Church itself.  There is no better way to maintain loyal and devout members than to turn their hero into an official, bona-fide saint.  However, over the years, John Paul has publicly and strongly disagreed with Romero and other Liberation Theologists and it is doubtful that he would approve, at least wholeheartedly, the canonization of Romero.

Pope John Paul II’s opinion on Romero and Liberation Theology as a whole, while interesting, may be completely moot, at least as far as the archbishop’s canonization is concerned.  Oscar Romero will probably not make his way through the canonization obstacle course within the next five years and by that time, the Vatican will most likely have appointed a new pope.  It is important, however, that Romero is eventually recognized and honored by the Catholic Church.  Passivity and complacence have been two of the church’s biggest problems in the past twenty years.  The Catholic Church holds a great deal of power and influence in Latin America and has the opportunity to help make immense progress in the name of social equity and justice.  The official strategy of the Vatican, to avoid becoming politicized, is a good rule of thumb policy.  However, the church must not let that policy stand in the way of protecting the oppressed and practicing the concept of common Christian decency.  Oscar Romero never promoted violence, in fact he denounced it almost daily from behind the pulpit.  He took his position of power and used it to try and correct social inequities and better the lives of millions.  Hopefully, Oscar Romero will be canonized for his love, compassion, bravery and proactive stance against socially unjust situations.  He should be exemplified as a model for Catholic officials in Third World countries for decades to come.

Works Cited

Brockman, James R.  Romero, A Life.  Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1989.

Cavada, Miguel.  Romero.  San Salvador: Asociación Equipo Maíz, 2000.

Dennis, Marie.  Oscar Romero.  Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2000.

Erdozaín, Plácido.  Archbishop Romero, Martyr of Salvador.  Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1981.

Rhodes, Ron.  “Christian Revolution in Latin America: The Changing Face of Liberation Theology.  http://home.earthlink.net/~ronrhodes/Liberation.html

Sobrino, Jon.  Monseñor Romero.  San Salvador: UCA Editores, 1989.

Tamayo, Juan O.  “Church Revisits Option for the Poor,” in The Miami Herald, January 21, 1999. http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~delacova/theo/revisits.htm

Tombs, David.  Latin American Liberation Theology.  Boston, MA: Brill Academic Publishers, Inc., 2002.

Woodward, Kenneth L.  Making Saints : How the Catholic Church Determines Who Becomes a Saint, Who Doesn't, and Why.  New York, NY : Simon & Schuster, 1996.