News 21 -- January 2001

“I was caught in the midst of a lynching. A word with its own interpretation here in Guatemala. A lynching here means taking the law into one´s own hands and killing those caught robbing or found guilty (by the lynching mob) of a ‘serious’ crime.”

[In some of his letters Larry used the word womyn as his way of expressing the equality of women and men. campo = farm field or farm region. Campesino(a) = peasant farmer]

NEWS- 21
January 2001

Guatemala

Belated Christmas and Joy-filled New Year Greetings.

How will I be able to put down all, if any, of what this Jubilee Year, a year of grace, has brought my way? But since Advent and the coming of the Christmas season indicates new life, birth and light in the midst of (tinieblas) darkness, it is my desire to try to bring this theme across to you in this newsletter.

SOME LIGHTNESS—At 6:30 this Saturday morning, I heard a voice below my window on the second floor “Buenos Dias, Padre, Buenos Dias.” Since there are two other ‘Padres’ living below me on the 1st floor, I waited hopefully that one of them would respond to whomever it was greeting us and stirring us from our early morning slumber.
Ruben did hear the call and went to attend our visitor. But two minutes later I hear him calling “Lorenzo, you have a visitor.” With this I arose and made my way down to the front door. There was a youth holding a duck in his lap and saying “Padre Lorenzo, here is the duck Maria Elizabeth sent for your ‘despedida’ (departure) from Guatemala.

It’s true that earlier this year I was brought to a certain clarity about my life and stay in Guatemala. I have passed the 65 year old mark in my life. Our parish will continue advancing and bringing to our Indigenous community opportunities to observe, to judge and to act in front of the difficult circumstances of social injustices and violence that surface everywhere, if not more so, since the signing of the Peace Accords in December 1996.

However, a certain inner voice now seems to be directing me in another direction. Our founder of the Oblates of Mary Immaculate, St. Eugene De Mazenod, on being ordained in the early 1800’s asked to be freed from parish structures and be given the liberty to respond to the harsh conditions of poverty and oppression brought on by the Napoleon revolution of his time.

In more recent years, my heart too yearns for the liberty to yield to the Spirit’s flow and to a life where the Contemplative takes priority over the active – or, better -- the Contemplative way of life directs one to move where the body of Christ seems to be hurting the most.

I have no idea what this will mean in the future, but have faith enough to believe that from past experience, that the first step must be taken in order to realize this desire moving within me.

So, a womyn brought me the beautiful duck after a recent Eucharistic celebration in one of the small villages and another campesino came with a bright yellow towel wrapped in a black plastic bag, while still another man slipped me 20 quetzales saying, “for you, Padre.” Before I knew what was happening I saw several womyn uncovering baskets filled with hot tamales and then passing them out to all those present. The word had slipped out about my departure in December and they wished to express their sentiments.

However, the duck arrived early this morning since I couldn’t see walking the hillsides for two days carrying this bright eyed creature in my backpack.
Arriving in another village, a womyn came into the sacristy where I was hearing confessions, knelt down and said, “Padre, I’ve come to bestow my blessing upon you. I want to thank you for the years you spent trekking through the mud and the rain and over the treacherous hillsides to baptize the babies and witness to our marriages. May God bless you every step into the future.” WOW !!

And Now, THE DARK SIDE, OR -- LAS TINIEBLAS
On September 25th I went to a community to celebrate the Eucharist. It was about 3:15 pm when I was passing through the small village called “Eden.” The rain was pouring down. I looked out my side window and noticed a rather large number of people standing under a shelter of a small store and thought perhaps they were on their way to the Mass in the adjoining village of Cari. I went on my way not giving it a second thought. The rain came down through most of the celebration. At the end of the Mass everone was in a joyful mood as we parted company.

It was about 6:30 pm when I entered Eden once again only to be met by the military police accompanied by several soldiers in uniform. “Padre, don’t go any further. There is a manifestation going on up ahead. It’s best you return to Cari until things calm down.” It was pitch dark outside. I pulled the Toyota to the side of the road behind what seemed to be 10 or 12 other trucks and cars stopped for the same reason.

I got out of the car as if to rest a few minutes. The police and soldiers disappeared into the darkness. Out of curiosity, I made my way up the road to where I saw a crowd of what I guessed to be between two or three hundred people standing in a huge circle. As I drew near I began to hear shouts and distinguished the word “gasolina” (gasoline) which brought me to my senses. I was caught in the midst of a lynching. A word with its own interpretation here in Guatemala. A lynching here means taking the law into one´s own hands and killing those caught robbing or found guilty (by the lynching mob) of a ‘serious’ crime.

In this case, five young womyn walking on a path to a nearby village were stopped by four men with their faces painted in various colors. The men managed to take two of the young teenagers into custody and then rape them. Three of the womyn were able to break away , return to Eden, inform their parents and name the men responsible since the men were from the same small pueblo of Eden.

In Eden, the parents united, notified the National Police who in turn informed the soldiers at the military base close by. Arriving in Eden, the soldiers accompanied by the National Police were directed to house the assailants, who by this time had returned to their homes. Capturing three of the four men, the police put them into their vehicles and proceeded to leave the village, only to be stopped in their tracks by an angry mob waiting for them. With the overpowering force of the mob and the threats to the life of the local judge accompanying the police, the three men were released to the crowd and the lynching began.

When I arrived on the scene an hour and a half later, the three men were bound with ropes tied around their ankles. One of the men was still kneeling with his arms outstretched pleading for his life, while the other two in exhaustion had fallen to the ground. For some reason known only to God, I instinctively pushed my way through the crowd to within a foot or two of the kneeling man.

Looking directly into his eyes with the shouts of the crowd bearing down on us allowed me, if for only a moment, to feel the anguish of the man before me.
After that I remember only turning and pushing my way to the outskirts of the crowd. In a numbed condition I began to focus on those present. I felt a number of sensations all at once. Unbelief—that this really could be happening. Fear—of the totally uncontrolled emotions of the crowd about me.

I managed to begin a conversation with a catechist in charge of the liturgy of the local community. Slowly the pieces began to fit into place.

Ever since the war ended four years ago, organized crime in the form of armed robberies, shootings, bombings, raping of womyn, spread throughout the countryside. In our diocese of Quiche, the reaction to these crimes committed began to take the form of lynching. The people would explain that the word ‘justice’ was without meaning in this country. That if one was arrested for a criminal act, even for murder, he or she needed only to pay a bribe and was released and back on the streets in no time. The argument carried with it much truth.

Looking at the history of Guatemala, within the last 36 years of civil war, it is not hard then to imagine the effects on the human psyche and consciousness of its people. With little difficulty, it is easy now to understand how this wave of lynchings has swept across Guatemala and countries the world over who have been through similar experiences of war.

As I stood there in the middle of the crowd, I sensed the atmosphere of that of a sports spectacle. Cheers and whistling and hissing sounds could be heard from the crowd with the landing of each stone thrown, or the crashing blow of a 2 x 4. Finally, around 11 pm the word ‘agonia’ was heard passing from one to another. A word used to describe a person in his or her last stages before dying. Death, in fact, had taken its toll. Then a father with a young child in hand, approached one of the bodies as if it were the natural thing to do--the correct manner to introduce death to an innocent child.

Not until 4am the next morning would those of us driving cars or trucks be allowed to leave. I walked back to the car and decided to pull up alongside the small Catholic Church.

Sitting numb alone in the darkness of the night, I spontaneously began to pray. I began reciting the rosary ...the Sorrowful Mysteries. Never in my life had I come to grips with what Jesus’ death was all about as I did that night in Eden. Jesus too was ‘lynched’ by a mob gone mad and yet Jesus´ death was followed by his resurrection, and that too is the hope for the people of Eden and throughout Guatemala.

Reconciliation not only in Eden but throughout Guatemala is what we all must be about. How and where to begin is and has been the question, especially within the Church, since the signing of the Peace Accords.

I think now that I better be about closing this ‘belated’ Christmas greeting to you before Holy Week and Easter arrive...

PS
It is Tuesday January 23rd. I am writing from Aix-en-Provence, France. I guess you might say I am on a Sabbatical of sorts.

An opportunity arose for me to participate in an Oblate program called ‘Oblate Experience’. A three month stay here in Aix where Eugene De Mazenod founded our Congregation—Missionary Oblates of Mary Immaculate. We are living these three months out with twenty Oblates from around the globe: South Africa, Sri Lanka, Argentina, Brazil, Guatemala, France and several other countries. We age from 42 to 78.

Now in our second week, we feel this may be one of the best things that has ever happened to us. To discover who we are as persons, as Oblates and people desiring to be renewed in body and soul as we set foot on the path of the New Millennium.
Please, Friends, be with us in prayer and love as we too are with you.

Adios sisters and brothers,

Lorenzo