“A Dangerous Christ”
(Oscar Romero)
Acts 7
April 20, 2008

For the first 300 years of its existence, the Church was in big trouble. The term “Christian” began as a label of mockery, but the early church, accused of turning the world upside down, soon became a threat to the established authorities. Being a Christian meant being against the power of the state, being against the misuse of wealth by the privileged few, being against the inhuman treatment of the poor and outcast; and being for the worship of the one true God, being for the poor, the sinners, the lepers, being for sharing wealth fairly in the community, seeing that the underprivileged had enough; being like the crucified and resurrected Lord, Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ. Claiming to be a Christian was to practically volunteer for persecution and even death. Stephen was only the first of many to be martyred for their faith.

We should all be thankful for the crowning of Constantine as the sole emperor in 324 CE. That is when the tables began to turn in our favor. Since Constantine was a Christian, and decided that everyone else should be also, the church grew in numbers, in wealth, and in power. Now the hungry would be fed, the sick healed, the homeless sheltered, the weak protected.

Now it was easy to be a Christian. If anyone threatened us, we could throw the not-so-golden rule at them: do unto others what they have done to you. By the middle ages we were persecuting paganism all over the world—killing Jews, Muslims, and heretics of all kinds. During the Reformation we were killing each other—Roman Catholics burning Anglicans, Anglicans burning Roman Catholics, Calvinists burning Anabaptists, Lutherans burning Mennonites. Christians turning the world upside down.

Today we are much more civilized. Nobody persecutes the church anymore. And the church doesn’t bother anyone else. We like to think we have tamed our part of the world, weaving Christianity into the fiber of government, business, and education, even politics! And we know our place—a good institution along side other good institutions. We are comfortable; we have enough money, enough buildings, enough visibility, enough respect, and enough clout.

I wonder what Stephen would say to us today. I wonder if he would agree that the world has turned the church upside down. I wonder what Stephen would find worth dying for today.

The word ‘martyr’ is Greek for ‘witness.’ The witness of those earliest Christians to their faith in Jesus Christ was so powerful that the word ‘witness’ became associated with death. In those days if the church wasn’t being persecuted, it wasn’t doing its job. What do we find worth dying for today?

Quiet, unassuming, conservative in temperament and regarded by the church and the dictatorship as safe, Oscar Romero was considered just another professional churchman who wouldn’t bother anyone. He was an administrator and a pleaser, someone who would not get in the way of the rich and powerful of El Salvador.

In 1977 Oscar was named Archbishop of San Salvador. At that time there was growing unrest in the country, as many people became aware of the great social injustices of the peasant economy. Nearly 40% of the land was owned by a tiny percentage of the population. The majority of ordinary people led impoverished and insecure lives.

Nearly 40 years ago Latin American Bishops formed a statement of solidarity with the oppressed poor and set forth a plan of action. Groups of Christians formed to engage in study, worship and group discussion, aiming to follow the gospels and their implications for society. Then US Vice President Rockefeller said that if the Church followed this plan for the poor, it would endanger US interests. A few years later President Reagan’s advisors drew up a document cautioning the Church about hurting US interests. Latin landowners became alarmed at the sight of uneducated peasants concerning themselves with social issues in the name of Christianity. Virulent press campaigns were conducted against them, with accusations of Marxism. Right-wing gangs emerged to carry out active persecution and killings. Men and women just vanished without trace or reason. Death squads roamed the countryside and soldiers attacked any protesters in the square of the capital. Bishop Romero protested the killing of men and women who had “taken to the streets in orderly fashion to petition for justice and liberty.” There were, of course, those who sought change through violence, seizing land and giving landowners cause to react, but Oscar Romero condemned all forms of what he called ‘the mysticism of violence.’

One priest, Fr. Rutilio Grande, a friend of Romero’s, was particularly outspoken in denouncing the injustices against the 30,000 peasants working thirty-five sugar-cane farms in his area. In March 1977, Fr. Grande and two companions, an old man and a boy, were murdered. Archbishop Romero was summoned to view the bodies - a hint of what happens to meddlesome priests. This and the lack of any official enquiry convinced him that the government employed - or at least supported - people who killed for political convenience. It was Romero’s second conversion. He could no longer ignore what was happening to the poor in his country. He responded by prohibiting the celebration of Mass anywhere in the country on the following Sunday except at his own Cathedral, a celebration to which all the faithful were invited - and came - overflowing in their thousands into the plaza outside. The event served to unite the faithful and remove any doubts about Romero’s commitment to justice. Something had changed him. He was no longer the obedient church administrator and supporter of the status quo. “From a once timid and conventional cleric, there emerged a fearless and outspoken champion of justice.”

In January of 1978 he wrote “A church that suffers no persecution but enjoys the privileges and support of the things of the earth - beware! - is not the true church of Jesus Christ. A preaching that makes sinners feel good, so that they are secured in their sinful state, betrays the gospel’s call.”

Again he spoke out: “Peace is not the product of terror or fear. Peace is not the silence of cemeteries. Peace is not the silent result of violent repression. Peace is the generous, tranquil contribution of all to the good of all. Peace is dynamism. Peace is generosity. It is right and it is duty.”

In a newspaper in early March of 1980 these words appeared. “I am bound, as a pastor, by divine command to give my life for those whom I love, and that is all Salvadorans, even those who are going to kill me.”

On March 23, 1980, Archbishop Romero made the following appeal to the men of the armed forces: “Brothers, you came from our own people. You are killing your own brothers. Any human order to kill must be subordinate to the law of God, which says, ‘Thou shalt not kill’. No soldier is obliged to obey an order contrary to the law of God. No one has to obey an immoral law. It is high time you obeyed your consciences rather than sinful orders. The church cannot remain silent before such an abomination. ...In the name of God, in the name of this suffering people whose cry rises to heaven more loudly each day, I implore you, I beg you, I order you: stop the repression.”

It is now March 24, 1980, and Bishop Romero is celebrating Mass in the chapel of the Carmelite Sisters’ cancer hospital where he lived. In the sermon, Archbishop Romero reminds his congregation of the parable of the wheat. “Those who surrender to the service of the poor through love of Christ, will live like the grains of wheat that dies. It only apparently dies. If it were not to die, it would remain a solitary grain. The harvest comes because of the grain that dies We know that every effort to improve society, above all when society is so full of injustice and sin, is an effort that God blesses; that God wants; that God demands of us.” As he was raising the cup of Christ’s blood in Holy Communion, a single rifle shot was fired from the rear of the chapel. Romero was struck in the heart and died within minutes. It was the first time a bishop had been slain at the altar since Thomas Becket in the 12^th century.

On the day Romero was buried 40 Salvadorans were murdered by the same government thugs. Those forty we don’t remember, but Bishop  Romero was immediately acclaimed by the people of El Salvador, and indeed the poor throughout Latin America, as a true martyr and a saint.  In an interview two weeks before his assassination he said “I have frequently been threatened with death. I must say that, as a Christian, I do not believe in death but in the resurrection. If they kill me, I shall rise again in the Salvadoran people. A bishop will die, but the church of God—the people—will never die.”

I don’t believe God wants us to be killed for our faith. But martyrs do teach us that our faith is something worth dying for. Dr. Martin Luther King spoke of the higher value of truth. “I can’t promise you that it won’t get you beaten. I can’t promise you that it won’t get your home bombed. I can’t promise you won’t get scarred up a bit—but we must stand up for what is right. If you haven’t discovered something that is worth dying for, you haven’t found anything worth living for.”

What are we willing to die for? Our United Methodist vows of membership have some pretty strong language. “Do you reject the spiritual forces of wickedness, the evil powers of this world, and the bondage of sin? Do you accept the freedom and power God gives you to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves?”

Remember our Easter faith—we are called to new life. We are called to be vulnerable to ridicule because we love the unlovable. We are called to risk our secure status because there are so many hurting people who need our resources. We are called to share the dangerous gospel, the good news that God loves the whole world, even our enemies. God wants us to live, not to die. God gives us strength for the task, and will never leave us alone.

Above all, we are called to Christian hope. We are called to look beyond the stones being thrown at us and, with Stephen, see the heavens opened and Jesus standing with us, leading in the proclamation of justice, compassion, love and forgiveness.