Feast of Oscar Romero. 40 Years. Compassion.

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In those days when there was again a great crowd without anything to eat, he called his disciples and said to them, I have compassion for the crowd, because they have been with me now for three days and have nothing to eat. If I send them away hungry to their homes, they will faint on the way—and some of them have come from a great distance.’ Mark 8:1-10

 Today is a special day in that it has been 40 years since the murder of one of my heroes. I still remember that day I heard the news. I was 15 1/2 and returning from school. Gloom and sadness enveloped me like a wet and suffocating shroud.  My dream was to be with those Bishop’s and Priests walking with the poor in body, spirit, and mind. To be with all the faithful during their times of sadness and joy. To have the blessed opportunity to proclaim the Good News of Jesus Christ and live the life of holy compassion. On that day, hate and a bullet seemingly ripped those dreams from my hands.  

 That evening I walked to church and sat inside. For some reason, I could not sit and walked around and began looking at the stations of the cross that lined the walls of the church. I did not pray them because my mind kept going back to the death of my hero. I stopped at the 6th station where St. Veronica wipes the faces of Jesus. At that moment, I realized compassion is genuinely holy, compassion is part of our divine DNA.   Compassion, the compassion of Archbishop Romero that is modeled in Jesus Christ, can only be realized if it is part of our lives.  We must give compassion and must be willing to receive the compassion of others.  

 The readings assigned for today for Archbishop Romero struck me, in the same way, I was moved long ago. Slowly read this paragraph from Mark. Notice that Jesus says, “ I have compassion for all these beautiful children of God, they have been with me, and they are hungry.”  I can’t send them away without taking care of them. I cannot take one more step, or say another word until I know they are well. The power and depth of the love he has for them and for us. Guess what? He was innovative, resourceful, and then he asked others to search, bring him whatever small gifts they had, work with one another, and then place them in his hands so that the miracle could occur. 

 Isn’t this the situation we find ourselves in right now? We have been with Christ, and we are hungry for faith, community, human interaction, some sense of normalcy. Now, let us be resourceful and place whatever small gifts we have at our disposal into in his hands so we will not faint. Jesus will not send us away hungry while in our homes. He is performing miracles, and it is comforting knowing the deep compassion he has for each one of us.  

 It also fills my heart when I think of the sixth station of the cross. The heart of Jesus was filled with compassion and notice that he allows Veronica to be compassionate with him during his time of enormous suffering. I imagine she was hungry that day described in the Gospel of Mark. She watched Jesus, perhaps overheard his words, “I have compassion,” and in his darkest hours reached out to him in love. I believe this is the compassion and love that guided Archbishop Romero as he had the example in Jesus Christ. He lived it, so let us live it today, tomorrow and all the days that will follow.

 We have Jesus, and this is the light and compassion that will guide us on this path. 

 One of my prayers is that after we journey through this time together, one of our new identities as a people and a diocese is that we will be a new community of compassion. A radical, loving, and compassionate community that serves as a beacon for all Christianity. I leave you with this old story: “a woman overwhelmed by grief after the death of her son. When she goes to the holy man for advice, he tells her, “Fetch me a mustard seed from a home that has never known sorrow. We will use it to drive the sorrow out of your life.” The tale recounts how the woman goes from house to house, asking if the home has known sorrow. Each one has, of course, and the woman lingers to comfort her hosts until, at last, the act of ministering to others drives the sorrow from her life.”
God bless you and know that I love you.  Let us be a new community of compassion.

 St. Veronica painting by M. McGrath.

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