Come Follow Me ...

Over the past five years I have been blessed with the opportunity to twice visit my churches’ sister parish in San Salvador, called Veinte Dos De Abril. I decided to go on these trips with my church group for a couple of reasons: (1) I had never been to Central America, (2) I was intrigued by the fact that we weren’t going there to dig ditches or build houses, but to live in community with our hosts, and (3) to learn about the social and financial trials the people of El Salvador have endured over the last 50 years.

Looking back on the experience now, our group wasn’t exactly going to El Salvador as tourists, not as pilgrims, nor as relief workers. We went to El Salvador as disciples. In the same way that Jesus ate with sinners and tax collectors and shared intimate moments with adulterers and lepers - - we were going to eat, talk, and sleep in the homes of our Salvadoran guests. We didn’t have a messiah complex that we were there to show them how cultured, educated, and wealthy we were - - we were there to be humble, listen, observe, live simply and just be present. This is the type of friend I imagine Jesus being to others in his day: an intent listener with bright eyes who is present and absorbed in the conversation at hand, making those present feel like they are the most important person in the room whatever their race, age, sex, or personal history might be.

As Lawrence Cunningham talks about, the goal of discipleship is to follow the person of Jesus in his highs and lows, ups and downs, in community, in the desert, and in the Eucharist. It’s funny, however, because the only specifics Jesus gives us in this walk is to: “follow me,” “obey the commandments,” and “love one another as I have loved you.” For example, when the rich man asks Jesus, “What must I do to have eternal life,” Jesus says, “Sell everything you own and come follow me.” So it’s really that simple to be a disciple, but we make it more difficult on ourselves because of our many possessions and worries.

In this context, my visits to El Salvador taught me something I didn’t expect. I didn’t have to DO anything necessarily to be a disciple, I just had to BE - - and by BEING, I was making a statement in my solidarity with the Salvadoran people and their struggle for social justice. As Cunningham says, “The disciple of Jesus follows the person, and in following the person, the teachings and the deeds make sense.” During my trips to El Salvador, I visited sweatshops where workers were paid 60 cents an hour to make Lands End T-shirts, subsistence farms where farmers were taught the basics of crop rotation, a university where Jesuit priests were martyred, and a memorial to the thousands of men and women who were murdered in the 1980s and ‘90s by government troops. In all these travels and experiences I was a witness to the paschal mystery playing out in the lives of the Salvadoran people up to the present day. I wasn’t necessarily DOING anything, but the Holy Spirit was DOING its work in me and my heart, growing my love and compassion for the people I met and was living in community with.

Following my first trip to El Salvador, I read an intriguing book called, Memories in Mosaic, about the life and death of Archbishop Oscar Romero. Being present to Romero’s story and my own personal experience in El Salvador inspired me to write a song about the struggle of the Salvadoran people in the ‘80s and ‘90s, called “The Streets of El Salvador.” I was grateful for the privilege of performing that song last time I was in San Salvador at our final community gathering in Veinte Dos De Abril. Other actions I’ve taken in response to my experience on these trips are to share my story with others, invite others to participate, and sponsor and exchange letters with a 6 year old child in El Salvador through Compassion International.