Thy Kingdom Come: Reflections on Syria and El Salvador

Twenty-five years ago today, in the war-torn country of El Salvador, U.S.-trained gunmen marched onto a college campus, dragged priests from their beds and shot them in the quad. Earlier this year, a masked man came to the door of the Jesuit residence in the Syrian city of Homs, asking to see the priest. When Fr. Frans van der Lugt emerged and sat down with his guest, the visitor shot him in the face.

The Jesuits, their housekeeper, and her daughter were murdered on November 17, 1989.
The Jesuits, their housekeeper, and her daughter were murdered on November 17, 1989.

On Thursday, the Georgetown community came together to commemorate the first of these attacks. The Mass, and particularly the Gospel reading, reminded me of the victim of the second.

In Luke 17:20-25, Jesus tells his followers and critics that the “kingdom of God” would not initially be established in the way they’d expected or hoped.  The third-century Church Father, Origen of Alexandria, quotes Jesus and explains the passage in his important work, On Prayer in The Liturgy of the Hours.

The kingdom of God, in the words of our Lord and Savior, does not come for all to see; nor shall they say: Behold, here it is, or behold, there it is; but the kingdom of God is within us, for the word of God is very near, in our mouth and in our heart. Thus it is clear that he who prays for the coming of God’s kingdom prays rightly to have it within himself, that there it may grow and bear fruit and become perfect. For God reigns in each of his holy ones…”

Contrary to our expectations and to those of Jesus’ companions, God’s kingdom will not simply come in some future time, where an earthly, political authority that will enforce peace and justice. God’s kingdom is here now. It is constantly created and renewed through the self-sacrificing love of God’s people. The kingdom is found among those who share in the struggle of another; who speak truth to power; who work for justice and understanding; and who practice radical forgiveness and non-violence.

Ignacio Ellacuria speaking in San Salvador.
Ignacio Ellacuria speaking in San Salvador.

The kingdom, then, was no doubt present in the war-weary San Salvador and in the besieged Old City of Homs. There, Ignacio, Segundo, Juan, Ignacio, Joaquin, Armando and Frans lived out the self-giving love, agape, that Jesus’ life and death ask of us. Frans, originally from the Netherlands, lived alongside the Syrian population—Christian and Muslim—for fifty years. Ignacio Ellacuria, a Spaniard strongly defended the poor, angering both sides of the conflict when he said, “I am not a Communist, I am a Christian.” In both Syria and El Salvador, the Jesuits refused to join the fight, a stance that proved so threatening they had to be silenced.

Fr. Frans during an interview about the siege and starvation of Homs.
Fr. Frans during an interview about the siege and starvation of Homs. He was known for his slogan “let’s move forward.”

Like these men, who died in their pursuit of building God’s kingdom, we too will not see the kingdom fully formed. But we still work, in our own communities, to make the kingdom present in small ways. The words of a prayer dedicated to Oscar Romero, another priest who was killed during El Salvador’s war, not only reflects the outlook undoubtedly shared by these Jesuits, but also compels us to “move forward.”

It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.
The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is even 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 a way of
saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us.

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 the Lord’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.

Fr. Frans was known for riding his bike around Homs, even after the war began.
Fr. Frans was known for riding his bike around Homs, even after the war began.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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If you are unfamiliar with the lives and deaths of these brave men and their companions, check out the following links.

 

The souls of our shoes: A reflection on Egypt

On Thursday night, as Mubarak defiantly refused to step down from the presidency, the demonstrators in Cairo’s Tahrir Square held their shoes high above their heads, making

Egyptians holding up their shoes in Tahrir Square on Thursday night.

visible their soles and directing them symbolically toward Mubarak.  In the Arab world, this action—showing someone the sole of your shoe— is a sign of upmost disrespect.  Raising these shoes seemed to be a final act of frustration in a thirty-year, and a three-week, struggle against the Mubarak regime.  And as we saw yesterday, Mubarak has left (Alhamdulilah!/Thank God!).

What is amazing about this revolution is that it wasn’t only the Egyptians holding up their shoes—the world was doing it with them. By Tweeting messages of solidarity, watching live Al-Jazeera coverage in Arabic class, and posting relevant articles on our Facebook pages, we were virtually shaking our shoes and shouting “Huria” (Freedom) along with the democracy protestors across Egypt.  If the Iranian protests of 2009 showed us the potential of social media in fighting oppression, Egypt showed us social media’s power in action.

Youtube clip: American girls protesting in solidarity

My favorite example of Internet solidarity was a YouTube video posted by an American family.  After watching the protests on TV, the man’s four daughters didn’t want to go sleep; they were too excited and wanted to participate in whatever way they could.  So these four little blonde girls marched around their living room with signs of support and shouting Arabic phrases, and their dad taped it. I almost cried while watching it.  I commend these parents so much for educating their young children about current events and the importance of standing in solidarity with others.  As a parent, I hope I can encourage this kind of curiosity and compassion in my kids.

While the Egyptian people did receive support from many Americans and others around the world, their movement lacked support from most democratic governments, most notably the US, who claims to be a beacon of democracy.  Our government has advocated democracy in word and in deed in other countries, yet regarding Egypt, the US government’s support of the democracy movement was weak.  The Obama Administration was unwilling to criticize Mubarak’s regime (an old ally), and the administration’s call for non-violence rightly fell on deaf ears when discarded tear gas canisters were found bearing the words “Made in the USA.”

Despite the fact that these demonstrations lacked institutional support and rejected violence except in cases of self-defense, the Egyptian people were able to successfully oust their president, the symbol of their oppressive regime.  This fact is utterly mind-blowing and gives me and so many others a renewed belief in the power of grassroots organizing and non-violent responses to oppression.

This event should also prove something to America and the West: that democracy can grow organically from within Arab countries; rather than being imposed on the West’s terms, internal efforts for democracy should be supported.  The US must realize and be willing to accept that the new Egyptian government is likely to be anti-American in some form.  If I were one of the Egyptians, who have experienced how American tear gas and tax dollars have been used to bolster the Mubarak regime for 30 years, I too would want my new government to have little to do with the US.

Many others and I have also been struck by the lack of formal ideology that has fueled this democracy movement.  The Muslim Brotherhood did not participate in the protests initially, and though they joined later on, they were not motivating the demonstrations.  The protesters were driven to stand in Tahrir for three weeks straight—some of them even living there—because of purely practical political, economic, and civil grievances.  Even if the democracy movement becomes more ideologically driven and affiliated with the Muslim Brotherhood, the West doesn’t need to worry as much as I expect it will.  The Brotherhood is portrayed in Western media as being more radical than they are, according to a Georgetown professor who talked a few weeks back on the Daily Show.

For me, the most powerful images of the past three weeks were these:

Qur'an and Cross held high in Tahrir Square
Christian+Muslim=Egypt
Christian and Muslim women in Tahrir. (Photo credit: Joel Carillet)

On Friday, February 4th, while Muslims prayed in Tahrir Square, the Christians made a human barrier around the worshipers, who then reciprocated for the Christians as they prayed on Sunday the 6th (which was dubbed “Day of the Martyrs”).  Throughout the demonstrations, Muslims and Christians have been standing aside one another, defending one another, in order to help achieve their common goal of a free and unified country.

We in America and the West must look to and learn from this example of solidarity. Despite the tense and dangerous situation in which they find themselves, the Egyptian people, both Christians and Muslims, are able to put aside their differences and become unified.  If they, while defending their lives in a violent and hostile environment, can come together in decency, respect, and friendship, why can’t we?

In this era of mistrust and hostility between Muslims and Christians in the West, I urge all of us to lower our shoes, which we’ve held up for so long in disrespect.  Instead, we must put our shoes back on and stand side by side, so our true souls can be seen.

 

Note: I’ve also wanted to write about the journalists who have bravely covered the protests, but that will probably come at another time.  In the meantime, I thank them for the sacrifices they made and the risks they took.  Many have been violently targeted because of their noble and important work.

Also, the events in Egypt and the rest of the Arab world may have massive implications for many college students’ study abroad plans–including my own.  Hopefully I’ll post on that topic as well.