Walking With El Salvador

On the twelfth day of Christmas, all across the globe, Christians celebrate the first day of Epiphany.  Epiphany means revelation.  The story of God revealing little Jesus as the King of Kings to the world outside of land of Bethlehem is recorded in the Bible, in the Book of Matthew.  We are told that magi from the east interpreted the appearance of a new star in the sky as a sign of the birth of a king.  Following the star, the magi eventually end up at a house, where Mary is with the little child Jesus.  The foreign visitors bow down to worship the child and present gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.  Theologians reflect on the meaning of this revelation -Jesus who was born in humble circumstances is identified as the King of the Jews, sent not only for the salvation of the chosen people of Israel, but for all the world beyond. In a mix of theological symbolism and legend, "magi" became three "wise men" named Melchior, Caspar and Balthazar, who...

I have a new journal.  It was a gift from a friend in El Salvador during February of this year.  The cover is royal blue over cream-colored pages.  This morning, before placing my journal into my bag,  I slid the elastic band off of the front cover and opened it up.  The humidity is giving the pages a bit of a wavy feel.  Only the first page had writing on it, front and back.  I slipped the band over the cover and decided it's time to put a little more writing into that journal. Sometimes, it just feels silly to write about ordinary things. Sometimes, life is such a mess that there is no time to write. Sometimes, life's experiences are so mysterious or so gut-wrenching that it takes a good long while to process them into words. We sat in the back of the church this morning.  That's where our friends from the community were seated.  Bishop Gomez gave a greeting and invited everyone to pay attention to the first portion of today's worsh...

The country was occupied.  Soldiers marched in the streets.  The occupying government ordered the people to report to officials in their home towns.  María and José had no choice.  They had to go.  It didn't matter that they were poor.  It didn't matter that María was pregnant.  The expectant couple  packed up a few belongings for the journey, and they went.  Lots of people were on the move.  When they were close to their destination, Maria went into labor.  José frantically searched for a room.  He knocked on doors.  No one wanted to let him in.  He was an outsider.  His accent was different.  He was dirty from traveling.  Finally a kind person gave welcome, and guided María and José to an animal stall.  Was there time to find a midwife?  Maybe José and María were on their own. The baby boy was born and José named Jesús.  There was no crib.  José made a little bed of hay in the ...

On Friday night, a young man and a teenage boy were killed.  No, they were assassinated.  They were targeted and shot in their heads, in a home.  The young man struggled his whole life to live with a chronic disease and to work when he could to help support his mom.  The boy was a good student.  Why them? On Saturday afternoon families and friends gathered for a vigil. Teenage girls and boys were inconsolable over the loss of their friends and in the realization that they might be the next targets.  This did not make sense.  Children cried because grown-ups cried.  The crowd would sit with the bodies until it was time to go to the cemetery.  Twenty-four hours.  The loved ones must be with their boys until they are sleeping in the earth. On Sunday morning a small group gathered for worship in the Lutheran Church.  The 5-month calm had been broken.  A community which seemed to be rising up into a peace and sense of hopefulnes...