Hearing Witnesses

On this day in 1989, six Jesuits working in El Salvador, along with their housekeeper and her daughter, were dragged from their residence and shot in the early morning hours by government soldiers. Their deaths came amidst a violent civil war that engulfed this Central American nation for many years, a conflict in which these Jesuits stood in solidarity with the working poor of the country, advocating an end to violence, a fair distribution of land and wealth, and the assurance of human rights and dignity for all people. Their witness to these values, and their concern for the well-being of not only the poor but also their entire nation, had drawn a long series of threats and attacks from the government and the military that culminated in their slaying.

Today, on the campuses of Jesuit schools around the country, these six priests and two women are honored as martyrs for their fellow Salvadorans, defenders of the poor and downtrodden, and figures whose voices have not been silenced by their deaths, but rather given far-reaching influence over the past twenty-two years. The memorial at Holy Cross, depicted here, was a modest arrangement of crosses and images of the deceased constructed along a well-traveled pathway connecting the student center, main library, and a key academic building. I spent some time there in the middle of the day, chatting with student organizers and observing the various ways in which members of the College community passed through the space. Some stopped to sign a petition and talk with the students overseeing the memorial, others paused briefly in silence, and some simply strode through, perhaps casting a passing glance at the crosses.

There's been much in the national news lately about police officers and city workers clearing out members of the Occupy movement and their encampments in downtown parks around the country. These individuals are also giving witness to a range of passionately held beliefs and opinions about the affairs of our country, the effects of various economic, social, and legislative policies, and the hardships being endured by my many Americans amidst various forms of inequality. In cities where the Occupy movement has a presence, I imagine that those passing by have a variety of responses– engaged interest or direct involvement, willful ignorance, or perhaps simply noticing their presence while moving along with their own affairs.

It's up to wiser minds to evaluate any relative linkages or disconnects between Jesuits in El Salvador standing with the poor in the midst of a violent civil war and Americans in the Occupy movement camping out and protesting against some significant economic woes and social ills in our country. In each instance, though, I'm drawn to the notion of giving witness– not only in speaking out, but also in whether or not anyone is listening. What forms of speech and action truly compel our attention and motivate our participation in efforts to build and maintain communities of justice and peace? What influences our choices to heed or ignore not only the high-profile and vocal witnesses but also the subtle expressions of truth and beauty that may gain our attention in any given moment? What attitudes and beliefs do we express, intentionally or otherwise, through our words and actions? When social media allows us to "comment" on anything, what is the content of the dialogue in which we are most genuinely engaged, and what is its practical outcome for the lives of our neighbors? These aren't easy or straightforward questions, yet lest we address them, I worry that the messages of the Jesuits in El Salvador, the Occupy protesters, and the people whom we daily meet may fall on ears that do not fully hear.