March 28, 2010

The Rev. Rob Fisher

St. Dunstan’s, Carmel Valley

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.

Just a few days ago, we commemorated the Feast Day of Oscar Romero.

We celebrated it here in this sanctuary at the Wednesday morning Eucharist, and yesterday there was a large service in Grace Cathedral with the Episcopal bishop of El Salvador present.  This year marks the thirtieth anniversary of Romero’s death on March 24th, 1980.

Romero made his home on the grounds of a cancer hospital in San Salvador that was, and still is, run by a group of nuns.  I had the privilege of visiting this place nearly five years ago.  One of the nuns met us in the chapel and told us about Romero’s life.

The nun showed us around, and the first place she took us was the tiny sacristy room behind the chapel.

Although Oscar Romero was the Roman Catholic Archbishop of San Salvador, he insisted on making his home in this little room.  The nuns were appalled!  They did not approve.

Apparently, after insisting for quite a while, they convinced him to move into a small three-room residence, that they call his “casita.”

Our tour guide took us to this modest, three-room building, which is where he lived right up until his death.  She unlocked the door and let us in.  It has been preserved essentially as it was, with his typewriter on his writing desk, his bed, his books, and his closet.

When I crouched down and looked through the protective Plexiglas window that covered his open closet door, I saw his trademark rimmed glasses on a low shelf.  Below these, I saw the box that he used to store his collars.  They were stained from his sweat.

The nun then took us to the place where Romero died.  At an afternoon Mass in the chapel, Romero was standing at the altar saying the Eucharistic prayer, when a gunman entered the sanctuary and shot him in the heart with a single bullet.

***

Only days before he was killed, Oscar Romero had told a reporter:

“You can tell the people that if they succeed in killing me, that I forgive and bless those who do it.”

Romero died as he lived—serving the people and walking in faith.

***

This morning we began the service by shouting “Hosanna!” to hail Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem.  Then, soon after we read the account of his passion, and the words that led to his death – “Crucify him!”

It is a sharp turn-around.  It feels very strange to utter both sentiments, one right after the other.

But the shouting of “Hosanna!” at the beginning of the service doesn’t elevate us.  And likewise, the crying of “Crucify him!” doesn’t damn us.

The power lies not so much in what we say, but rather in how Jesus responds.

No matter what we say – His response is with loving arms opened wide.

This response of Christ boggles our mind.

We live in the world, and the way of the world is that if someone strikes you – you strike back.  If someone attacks your reputation – you attack theirs!

This escalates to where killings breed greater killings, until everyone has blood on their hands – both the blood of their enemies’ and their own.

But Jesus does not strike back.

Instead, like Romero, Jesus says: “forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do.”

***

Holy Week is now upon us.  This week you will have the opportunity to meditate on the journey leading to Christ’s profound gift to us on the cross.  And even if you aren’t able to attend the services, I invite you to take time this week for especially intentional prayer and contemplation on your own.

At the end of this journey is the Gift.

For God to give us this gift is not so much a choice that God makes.

To give this gift is who God is.

God in Christ turns to the world for whom He is to die, and opens His arms wide.

As the theologian Miroslav Volf puts it,  “Christ stands before the closed door of a grace-resistant heart and knocks gently with a nail-pierced hand.”

I pray that we here at St. Dunstan’s, along with Christians everywhere, will meditate and learn the meaning of God’s gift offered to us, and that we will not only hear his knocking upon the closed doors of our hearts, but will open them and receive him in. —Amen