"Soon after the Argentinean Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio was named Pope Francis, he declared he had 'unblocked' the canonization process for Romero, effectively admitting that the process had been blocked by the hierarchies of the previous papacies. Early this year, Monsignor Vincenzo Paglia, the bishop of the Italian diocese of Terni and the official postulator of the cause for Romero's sainthood, revealed that three Salvadoran ambassadors to the Vatican--he refused to name them--had actively lobbied against the canonization process, arguing that Romero was still a politically divisive figure in El Salvador and that his elevation to the altars could be manipulated by the leftist groups."

(The Beatification of Oscar Romero, by Carlos Dada, The New Yorker, May 19, 2015)

This past Saturday, to the joy of the people of El Salvador, Oscar Romero, the assassinated Archbishop of San Salvador, was officially declared a blessed of the Catholic Church, placing him one step away from being proclaimed a member of the company of the saints. Already in the hearts and minds of most El Salvadorans, especially the peasants, as well as of many other people around the world, this simple and humble man who loved the poor and preached peace and justice for his fellow citizens has belonged to "the litany of the saints" from the moment he was killed by members belonging to the paramilitary death squad that had been plotting his annihilation for some time.

Romero was born into a large, poor family on August 15, 1917. His tiny house had no electricity or running water. His father, a carpenter, trained him in the skills of his profession. However, Oscar entered the minor diocesan seminary run by the Jesuits and eventually was ordained a priest in 1942. He soon distinguished himself for his care of the poor and his administrative abilities. In 1970 he was appointed an auxiliary bishop of the Archdiocese of San Salvador and in 1974 Bishop of Santiago de Maria. Because he was considered conservative politically and was against priests being involved in social issues and movements that were in opposition to the government, he seemed to be the ideal choice to return to the country's capital city to become its next archbishop in 1977. To the enthusiasm of the ruling class of El Salvador's 14 wealthy families, Romero was installed as the new local ordinary of the Archdiocese of San Salvador.

However, in the face of the growing social, political and military turmoil in many parts of the country, he began to express concern over the increasing disappearance of persons, the mounting oppression of the peasants, and the growing number of killings of teachers, catechists and organization group leaders.  Just one month after his becoming Archbishop, he received word about the murder of his close friend, the Jesuit priest, Father Rutilio Grande, on March 12, 1977. Shocked by the brutal slaying of this first priest to be assassinated in the country, Romero ordered all the churches of his diocese to be closed and invited all parishioners to attend a single Mass at the cathedral. 100,000 people turned out for the funeral service. For Romero it was the turning point of his life. He now clearly understood the truth of what was happening throughout the country. Henceforth, he would become for his people the voice of the voiceless. 

By 1979, with more than 3,000 people being slain every month, Romero was preaching homilies every Sunday from his cathedral, demanding that the government, the military and the elite put an end to the hostilities. Calling for a stop to the blood bath that had overtaken the nation, he sent an open letter in February 1980 to President Jimmy Carter to discontinue all military aid to the regime. On March 23, 1980, the night before being murdered, he addressed the military by radio, exhorting them, "In the name of God, and in the name of the suffering people whose cries rise to heaven more loudly each day, I beg you, I implore you, I order you...in the name of God, stop the repression." The next evening while he was raising the host in the middle of Mass a single shot range out. The bullet pierced Romero's heart. The archbishop fell to the foot of the altar and died.

Though the people of this long-suffering country were stunned by the announcement of the archbishop's assassination, no one was amazed that it had actually happened. As Carlos Dada wrote in his New Yorker essay, "During those days (1977-1978), Romero received his first death threats, from death squads with names such as La Falange and the White Warriors Union. They sent him letters warning that he was at the front of 'a group of clergymen that at any moment will receive thirty bullets in their faces and chests.' It became common knowledge that Romero could be killed at any moment, as so many other priests had been."

However, what was also apparent to everyone who heard the news of their beloved archbishop's death was that they now had a saint at God's side watching over them and praying for them. Though it took 35 years, the people's conviction about Romero's sanctity finally received official affirmation by the Church this past Saturday. For further background about this great 20th century saint among the poor, please click here.

Gratefully in the Crucified Risen Christ,