January 15, 2002

I was the translator. The speaker was Guatemalan poet and theologian Julia Esquivel. The audience was a delegation representing several theological seminaries from North and Central America. The delegation wanted to know what was happening in Guatemala. Almost six years ago we signed Peace Accords that ended 36 years of civil war. That war left more than 200,000 people dead or disappeared; more than a million displaced people.

On this day, Julia told a story of hope. Here's the background to her story: The Roman Catholic Church in Guatemala has been through a rough patch in recent years. Bishop Juan Gerardi was murdered by army intelligence specialists in 1998, hours after he presented to the public the church's massive and authoritative report on human rights violations during the war.

That murder caused the church hierarchy to regroup and assume a lower profile in its decades-old confrontation with Guatemala's armed forces. Meanwhile, bishops like Julio Cabrera in El Quiché and Álvaro Ramazzinni in San Marcos have continued locally to address conflictive social and pastoral issues: land reform, racism, impunity.

Earlier this year the Vatican named Rodolfo Quezada Toruño to replace retiring archbishop Próspero Penados del Barrio. Many observers thought Cabrera might have been given the post. But Cabrera's pastoral ministry in El Quiché has been deeply rooted in Mayan culture. He has put great energy into healing the wounds of war in a context where many prefer to pretend that the conflict never happened.

Quezada, on the other hand, a skilled and well-connected diplomat who was key to the peace process, represents the Catholic Church as a powerful cultural institution. Shortly after Quezada was named Archbishop, the Vatican moved Cabrera to the diocese of Jalapa, Guatemala's mestizo Wild West, culturally about as far as one can get from El Quiché and still be in Guatemala.

This is where Julia Esquivel, a long-time friend of Cabrera, began her story. She went to Cabrera's installation as bishop of Jalapa. The plaza was filled with buses from El Quiché. The church was filled with Mayans. Surrounding the altar were all the church dignitaries: the Papal Nuncio, the Archbishop, the bishops, the clergy. As the ceremony ended, several dozen Mayan women approached the altar. They did not ask permission; they just came. On their heads they carried baskets filled with flowers. Red, yellow, purple, white, the flowers were those used in Mayan rites.

As the dignitaries looked on, the women formed a circle around Cabrera, and he kneeled. With the flowers the Mayan women marked out on the floor the cardinal points of the Mayan cross. As Cabrera kneeled, the women prayed in K'iché. They prayed in thanksgiving for a man and his ministry. They prayed in hope. They bestowed upon him their blessing.

Then, with enormous grace, with the authority granted by the ages, they anointed Julio Cabrera with flowers. Baskets full of colored petals showered down on his head and shoulders and fluttered around the altar.

Then the women got on their buses and went home, to tend to the needs of the living and the dead.

This, Julia said, is a legacy of God's Reign. This is the world we are building. This is a sign of hope.

A good book

For a disturbing, perceptive look at human warfare, check out Chris Hedges' new book War Is A Force That Gives Us Meaning (Public Affairs, 2002). Hedges, a reporter for the New York Times, has spent the last 15 years covering armed conflicts ranging from El Salvador to Bosnia, from the Sudan to Iraq. This book will get you thinking.

Home again, home again

We returned home to Guatemala on January 13. In three months of itineration, I visited churches in Mississippi, Indiana, Iowa, Nebraska, Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Oregon. If I didn't get to see you this time around, we hope to be back in the fall of 2004. The boys had an excellent time renewing friendships and working on their English at Coquille Valley Christian Academy and Mari has enjoyed the relaxed pace of life in rural Oregon.

May God's grace be yours in 2003.

Under the Mercy,

Dennis A. Smith

The 2003 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, page 244