Yesterday was a whirlwind day that did not seem to allow any time for blogging. It did include our mid-week Eucharist at St. Francis, which fell on the thirtieth anniversary of the assassination of Archbishop Oscar Romero. He has been on my mind a lot lately, as have the people of El Salvador. The decision by the Texas Board of Education to "disappear" Archbishop Romero from high school text books has been both stunning and unsettling for me. The point came home to me when a parishioner posted on her Facebook page last night that she was thinking about Oscar Romero and got several comments: "who is he?" (If you are reading this blog and don't know, then please Google him and get educated so you can tell your children and your children's children.)
It is up to the Church to tell his story and the story of others like him in this highly politicized American context in which we find ourselves, even if Glenn Beck or Rush Limbaugh call us "Marxists" for remembering courageous followers of Jesus Christ. We are living in dangerous times. It helps in such times to step back, as Oscar Romero himself understood. His prayer is one I seek to make my own as I begin this new day.
It helps, now and then, to step back
and take the long view.
The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of
the magnificent enterprise that is God's work.
Nothing we do is complete,
which is another way of saying
that the kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No programme accomplishes the church's mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
This is what we are about:
We plant seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces effects beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything
and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.
This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for God's grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results,
but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders,
ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.
It is up to the Church to tell his story and the story of others like him in this highly politicized American context in which we find ourselves, even if Glenn Beck or Rush Limbaugh call us "Marxists" for remembering courageous followers of Jesus Christ. We are living in dangerous times. It helps in such times to step back, as Oscar Romero himself understood. His prayer is one I seek to make my own as I begin this new day.
It helps, now and then, to step back
and take the long view.
The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of
the magnificent enterprise that is God's work.
Nothing we do is complete,
which is another way of saying
that the kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No programme accomplishes the church's mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
This is what we are about:
We plant seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces effects beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything
and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.
This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for God's grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results,
but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders,
ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.
Rich,
ReplyDeleteThis is an important witness to one of the significant Christian leaders of the 20th century. Like Dr. King, Archbishop Romero spoke to injustice in the face of guns and violence.
The violence that killed Romero extended to Jean Donovan and three other women who were gunned down at Christmas time that same year.
Sadly, the violence in El Salvador continues to this day. Those who do not know about the attempted assassination of Anglican Archbishop Martin Barhona this month, would do well to inform themselves on this as well.
Thank you for speaking up. We need to tell the stories of those who have gone before and those who still walk the path.
Peace,
Mark +
The church needs leaders and we need to stand with those leaders.
Thanks, Mark. For those who did not get the news on the attempted assassination of Bp. Martin Barhona, see the link on this same blog from last week, "Lucky Miss." It takes you to the Episcopal News Service. Mark is right, we have an obligation to speak up and get informed.
ReplyDeleteRich,
ReplyDeleteBishop Romero seemed to have struck a chord for many of us in the last day or two. Thanks, as always for your perspective.
In a time when bluster and shouting seem to be the coin of the realm, the Church "which is the people and will not perish", using Romero's own words, must continue to be the Voice of the Voiceless wherever injustice, oppression and the abuse of privilege and power hold sway.
Be well and keep up the good work.
--Warren
A Diomass trip to El Salvador and the site of Oscar Romero's assassination three years ago confirmed my decision to volunteer for mission work with The Episcopal Church. Archbishop Romero was a role model for us all, a quiet man who grew in (and held fast to) his faith during times of trial. Thank you for helping us keep his memory and our own faith alive, Rich.
ReplyDelete