Peace, Peace (No Video)
- Shane Montoya
- Jan 21
- 4 min read
Updated: Jan 27
Sermon Notes: Some prophets make it out and through the crowd that seeks to lynch them. Others don't.
On March 12, 1977, Father Rutilio Grande was traveling back to his hometown of El Paisnal, El Salvador. Traveling with him were his sacristan, 72 year old Manuel Solorzano, and 16 year old Nelson Lemus, a local youth who would help out his local priests, and ring the church bells. On the back of their car, a small rugged convertible, were three local kids who wanted a ride on the dirt roads through the fields of rural El Salvador.
Father Grande was a known quantity in the area. A former seminary professor and parish priest, he was equally at home with theology and philosophy and talking to people in the villages. He strongly believed in the dignity of all, especially the poor, and while a professor, he sought specifically for seminarians to directly encounter the rural poor, not as a pastor, but as a person in a human encounter. In local parish life, he was known for his prophetic voice: in February of 1977, he preached a sermon alleging that if Jesus were to show up in El Salvador, he would not be allowed to enter, and be accused of being an agitator.
A pickup truck trailed the car, and the boys in the back started to notice groups of men standing in the fields, watching them. As they entered one small town, gunfire erupted from all sides; the three boys in the back ran, screaming. Those up front died in the hail of gunfire.
Yet Father Grande's story does not end there.
His boss was the new Archbishop of El Salvador, Oscar Romero. Only appointed some 2 weeks beforehand, he was known as a conservative, and his appointment was welcomed by the brutal government.
The martyrdom of his friend, Fr. Grande, was the first crisis he faced as archbishop. Later he would say, ""When I looked at Rutilio lying there dead I thought, 'If they have killed him for doing what he did, then I too have to walk the same path.'"
And so he did: He began to use his pulpit and his sermons, broadcast over the radio, as one of the only sources of information in the country not controlled in the government. The church's weekly newspaper carried increasing news of the widespread torture and repression being carried out in the country.
Three years after the death of Fr. Grande, Fr. Romero preached that soldiers ought to lay down their arms, that poor Christians should not be shooting each other.
The very next day, he was killed, shot in the heart while celebrating mass. His funeral mass brought out some 250,000 people, perhaps the largest political gathering in the country's history.
As I was reading and learning about these men, and then encountering our bible reading this week, that of Jesus' return to Nazareth, I could not help but struggle in considering: where is the grace in our text? In our world? Why did Jesus make it out through the crowd, and these men did not? What modern prophets have not made it out through the crowds? I cannot say that Grande and Romero needed more peace or love or faith in their hearts. Perhaps our world is simply a crueler place than that of the gospel. Perhaps it is only for God to know.
Yet I think I know where we might find . Most of us in this story do not play the same role as Jesus; if you do so consciously, then I do recommend you find as much peace and love in your heart as you can. Most of us, most of the time, find ourselves in the role of the crowd. I identified two things to consider as we navigate our future. 1) You don't have to go to every fight you're invited too. There are lots of voices out there that feed on and welcome anger and invective. That pretend to be profound yet are only base vitriol. That seek nothing more than verbal and then physical violence. Rob them of their power. Ignore them. If a prophet has no love, she is no prophet of God.
2) If you see someone moving through a (metaphorical) crowd that means them harm, especially if they did not choose to be there, and are instead being singled out for who they are: for their race, gender, sexuality, religion, or appearance is to rise and walk with them through the crowd. Those of us who can are called to interrupt the cycles of violence, stop the scapegoating that we are all so, so good at.
One last thing that I thought about after the service was concluded: It is no coincidence that after this story, Jesus begins to recruit his disciples. I believe that through this experience, he recognizes that he cannot do this work alone. There is power in community, in friendship, in connection. There's safety in numbers.
If you're feeling scared, or nervous, or anxious, cling together. Draw closer to each other and God. May we be the community we need. Amen.
I got most of the information about Fr. Grande and Fr. Oscar Romero from their wikipedia pages. I found this look at the life of Oscar Romero to be compelling, gripping reading: https://elfaro.net/en/202003/el_salvador/24088/A-5-Millimeter-Hole.htm