The Heretik: IMAGINING ROMERO

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June 05, 2005

IMAGINING ROMERO

IMAGINING ROMERO
I Imagine Myself as Another When I Cannot Find the Strength in Myself. I look for inspiration in simple lives for simple truths. Then complexity and conundrum, the doomed boats afloat on the Bay of Confusion, sink. And as the boats sink, I find my arms and legs indeed have strength and I again can swim toward the brighter shore.

God may be the light that brightens some people’s eyes. Why dark forces try to turn and twist that light toward a dark end I will never know, but forever try to fight, at least in some small way. How is it that a god that would unite us is made by men to divide us. This story of tragedy is written in the endless ink of blood. How is it that blood spilled for the Right Reasons always falls in the wrong place, on unholy grounds?

One could consider these things and fall beneath the waves in the Bay of Confusion, in sight of the shore, but drowning. If god exists, I sometimes think laughter must be his echo in this world. Not the cruel laughter of Kundera’s devils. No. A kinder laughter. Beyond cruel reality is a world more kind if we will see it. Imagination is the saving trick, to see what is not there, to see what might have been, and yet still might be.

So I imagine Romero. An archbishop of El Salvador, a knight without a horse or a sword, a knight who wore no armor, who knew his enemies knew where he was, but spoke with lancing words of decency demanded, who loved his people, who gave his all for some. Some say such martyrs are fools. The meaning of life is found in death. Death’s sentence has its punctuation. Period or question mark or exclamation point.

Death dark invades the land of life and light. Death’s forces take many forms. El Salvador in the Eighties knew many a demon. Some came in human form, inhuman in savagery. One man stood up against the darkness, a flicker of a flame in a seeming endless night. Oscar Romero was assassinated twenty five years ago. A single bullet blasted from a cowardly car as Romero said mass in a simple church. Martyrs may be fools. One man’s god may not be another’s. Some will not believe in a god at all when cruelty seems triumphant. If we cannot believe in god, perhaps it is enough to believe in saints. And if that is not what can be done, perhaps we see only darkness. Darkness though has its dawn with lights much like Romero.

I imagine Romero
On the altar the sacrificial altar,
Standing before the altar,
His Abraham and his Isaac
All in one, in one day his life.

I imagine Romero,
First name of Oscar.
Me llamo Oscar,
Mi vida es tu vida.
I imagine him, imagine me.

Imagine him, calling out
In silence, a song of dignity,
Wordless on the altar
So he stands alone
Romero, our Romero.

I imagine Romero
So he stands, never fallen
Priest and sacrifice both for all
To see and touch undoubting
In the house of life.

I imagine myself standing
in the house of life Romero
I call to death. You shall not come
No power have you
In this house of life.

I imagine myself Romero
Mi vida es tu vida
A simple man as death and a gun
Approach ablaze for but
A moment I am Romero

I am now Romero
Cold, cool and fallen on
The ground, my blood, his
Blood, our body on the ground
But he lives in his people

Death descends
But cannot divide
Romero who would die
Who laughs at death
Who echoes on in his people

"Imagining Romero"
Joe Ivory Mattingly

MORE ON THE LIFE AND DEATH OF OSCAR ROMERO: a Tale That Has Echos for Our Time
UN Truth Commission Report

June 05, 2005 at 07:19 AM in On Faith and Doubt, VOICES IN MY HEAD | Permalink

Comments

Beautiful work Joe. Romero's courage and bravery are indeed something to be admired. He was a simple man who put the needs of his people ahead of himself and the church institution. He spoke soon before his murder: "If they kill me, I will be resurrected in the Salvadoran people."

When I visited the church a few months ago it felt both eerie and immensely powerful. The inscription on the altar reads: En este altar Mons. Oscar A. Romero ofrendo su vida a dios por su pueblo.

A martyr for truth, peace and justice. I can't think of a life with any more virtue than that.

This line is deep:

God may be the light that brightens some people’s eyes. Why dark forces try to turn and twist that light toward a dark end I will never know, but forever try to fight, at least in some small way. How is it that a god that would unite us is made by men to divide us.

I've been thinking the same exact thing lately. How it is that spiritual truth can be perverted and used to justify war and suffering I have difficulty understanding.

Posted by: Commandante Agi T. Prop | June 05, 2005 at 10:18 AM

Oscar Romero begged for international intervention. He was alone. The people were alone.

Oscar gave his last homily on March 24. Moments before a sharpshooter felled him, reflecting on scripture, he said, "One must not love oneself so much, as to avoid getting involved in the risks of life that history demands of us, and those that fend off danger will lose their lives."

Posted by: Night Bird | June 05, 2005 at 01:35 PM

Great post! I am always pleased to see that people out there still remember this wonderful man and his bravery.

Posted by: cntodd | June 05, 2005 at 01:42 PM

CN, you are making your contribution. If each of us can do some small thing every day, what great problem could not be overcome?

Posted by: The Heretik | June 05, 2005 at 01:45 PM

My thoughts exactly.

But then I have conversations with my best friends like I did the other night who tell me that there is no point and why bother trying.

(The conversation was in relation to corporate control of government and society.)

At times I think the greatest obstacle we have to overcome is apathy.

Posted by: cntodd | June 05, 2005 at 04:58 PM

thank you Heretik, very moving.

Posted by: jen | June 05, 2005 at 10:51 PM

What a beatiful poem. Thank you.

Posted by: eRobin | June 06, 2005 at 06:08 AM

I hate to just echo what others have said, but I don't have anything original to say. Your poem for one of the most wonderful and socially oriented people in the 20th century is achingly beautiful. You think you are aware of what you've lost on the death of some individual, and then you read a poem such as yours. Thanks, many thanks.

Posted by: catherine | June 11, 2005 at 10:15 AM

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