Courage Journey

Certain words in the English language – or any language – evoke powerful feelings and emotions. One such word for me is courage. Rooted in the Latin word for “heart” (cor), courage – and its Spanish equivalent “coraje” – is a word that stops me in my tracks when I hear it and sense its presence, causing me to ponder its significance for the moment and for me.

In late August, twelve individuals, including Sue and me, representing Virginia, DC and Maryland churches traveled in two groups to El Salvador sponsored by CBF Virginia and Mid-Atlantic CBF. For years, a growing number of immigrants from El Salvador and other countries have moved into their neighborhoods, raised their families, and contributed to the region’s growing diversity. We felt it was time to know these neighbors better by traveling to their home country and observing, indeed experiencing, their country’s reality.

El Salvador was a natural choice for a visit, being that many of our immigrant neighbors hail from there. Our local hosts were American Baptist missionaries Molly and Eliberto Juarez. Eliberto is native to El Salvador, and both he and Molly have lived and served there for many years. Their task was to help us understand the Salvadoran context, both past and present, and introduce us to individuals whose acts of courage and compassion made and are making a difference in the lives of so many.

So we learned of individuals such as Saint Oscar Romero, affectionately called “Monsignor,” the archbishop of San Salvador. We journeyed to the hospice chapel where, in 1980, assassins ordered by the country's right-wing government assassinated him while he was saying mass simply because he demanded they cease their violence against El Salvador’s poor.

We also walked the campus of the University of Central America where in 1989 soldiers of the same government murdered and left exposed the bodies of four Jesuit priests, all working for justice for the country’s poor and disadvantaged, alongside a mother and daughter taking shelter there overnight.

But courage, not being a relic of history in this small Central American country, vividly came to life time and again as we talked with attorneys, journalists, theologians and faith leaders who actively oppose the alleged human-rights abuses of today’s increasingly authoritarian government in its attempt to eliminate El Salvador’s gang presence.

And while it’s true that the government has sharply curtailed violence and mayhem caused by gangs – of which large majorities of the population wholeheartedly approve – another sad result of almost 80,000 gang arrests over the past 18 months that we were told of has been the increasing numbers of innocents who are arrested, tortured, raped and convicted (and sometimes killed) while in the country’s overcrowded prisons.

In these voices, both past and present, I encountered true courage. The courage to call out and stand up to leaders for their abuse of innocent people. The courage to stand alongside victims of suffering and violence. The courage to do the hard work of gathering facts, interviewing witnesses and speaking on behalf of victims when their work is not popular among their fellow citizens.

I’ll not name the individuals we met with, even though they do not hide but openly oppose unjust government actions through their legal work representing victims of abuse, or through their journalistic reporting, or their interactions with local and national leaders. I’ll only say that, when asked by members of our group about the dangers they faced, each said they accepted the risks for the sake of the victims about whom they wrote, spoke or represented, and for the sake of their country which they love.

And, for those who unambiguously embraced their Catholic or Christian faith, they acknowledged their dependence on the Christ who welcomes the poor.

Traveling to El Salvador was, for me and I suspect for us all, a courage journey. I don’t say “courageous journey” so as not to mistakenly convey that traveling to El Salvador was somehow courageous on my part. Interestingly, before I left on the trip, several well-meaning friends questioned whether I should visit such an “unsafe” country. I could almost hear them thinking out loud either how brave or how stupid I was to travel there.

There was nothing courageous about going to El Salvador. This was a “courage journey” in that it spotlighted for me clear signposts of courage on display by remarkable women and men as we traveled the country’s rural and city roads. Women and men with great heart, with hearts bold enough and expansive enough to love God and love neighbor through their work in the defense of their neighbor.

And in observing these signposts, I came away with two thoughts. One, I left the country understanding its people better. Our immigrant neighbors down the street or across town come from brave and courageous stock. Many escaped violence and death with resolve and heart to put down new roots with hope of a better life. The men and women we talked with on our trip demonstrated the same clear courage in the face of current and very real dangers.

And two, my interactions there caused me to stop and take stock about my faith and my community of faith considering the courage of those who have faced and are facing risks to their professions, their livelihoods, even their lives. Will I have heart sufficient to leave a marker of courage for the sake of God’s just kingdom?

May it be so.