Sainthood for political activist?

By Colleen Sinsky

Monsignor Oscar Romero was the outspoken protector of El Salvador's poor during the brutally violent civil war, in which tens of thousands of impoverished "campesinos"- farm workers- were tortured, murdered and went missing. Romero gave hope to millions through his weekly radio sermons, interceded on behalf of his oppressed flock, and refused to be silenced by death threats or government intimidation. He was a stalwart voice for the voiceless and embodied the Jesuit goal of solidarity with the poor. Accused of subverting the Church with communism, Romero was an unpopular figure among the wealthy conservatives and powerful Salvadoran army. On March 24th, 1980, while celebrating mass, Romero was shot in the heart by an unidentified assassin. He died within minutes.

What his killers didn't realize was that by killing him, they had created a saint. Romero had been a loved celebrity, and in death, he was instantly hailed by the Latin American poor as a martyr and saint. A few weeks before he was killed, Romero publicly prophesized "If they kill me, I will rise again in the Salvadoran people." Thirty years after his death, his presence and paternal image still pervade El Salvador. He is on holy cards, t-shirts, oil paintings and statues and is referred to in the loving, familiar way people talk about grandparents. Romero died for noble reasons, but the question of his canonization is debated in Catholicism.

In 1997, a case for his beatification and sainthood was opened, and Pope John Paul II gave him the honorary title "Servant of God," but process hasn't moved since then. Controversy stems from the distinction between a religious martyr and a political martyr. Romero bridged the controversial gap by preaching liberation theology and getting involved in politics to defend the poor. His defense of working outside the strict realm of the Church was that it was his duty to stand with and protect his people. The issues that caused the war between the elites and poor masses remain controversial topics today, and the Church has chosen to stay removed from the problem by ignoring the question of canonization.

Historically, it has been difficult for radicals to be canonized.

In Romero's case, it may be that it is too difficult to separate his religious practices with his political activism. The more radical aspects of an individual need to be softened before they can be initiated into sainthood, and controversy can slow or stop the process. While he was truly a saint to millions, he remains a seditious communist to others, and criticisms range from politicizing the Church to inciting rebellion against the government. Canonizing Romero would legitimize his political cause as much as it would his memory in the view of the Catholic Church. Monsignor Romero is already considered a saint in El Salvador and the unofficial patron saint of Latin America. When I was in El Salvador recently, I heard criticisms of the Catholic Church for brushing off "San Romero," and refusing to acknowledge his work and sacrifice. When the canonization process was halted, one Salvadoran woman I talked to said, "Monsignor is already a saint in El Salvador. We don't care about the official canonization."

A Jesuit priest in El Salvador called Romero a "Father of the Church; a model of what the Church has to do, which is to walk with the victims."

Canonization would reinforce Romero as an official model for the direction that the Church needs to take. In a lecture on campus by Jon Sobrino, S.J., last week, he blamed Romero's not being a saint on the fact that, "The people in charge in the Vatican just don't know what to do with him."

The issue of Monsignor Romero's canonization will remain unsolved and perhaps it's a good thing. Saints, while they are great people, are not supposed to be political figures. Romero lived in a time and place where being a great person required political action. Initiating him into sainthood would mean separating him from what he fought for, and it is a compliment to Romero's passion that it is impossible to do so.

Colleen Sinsky is a senior economics major.