El Salvador Reflection
preached on Sunday, September 9, 2007 by Jenny Sawyer
As I sit down to write my reflection about my trip to Las Anonas, I feel like perhaps a better tribute would be to go take part in the block cleaning party going on outside. After all, didn’t the people of El Salvador make me understand the incredible value and importance of working together as a community to better our lives? I feel a strong sense of guilt creeping in as I acknowledge to myself that I have never once taken part in one of my block association’s block cleaning parties.
It is the same guilt I felt in Las Anonas when I realized how trivial my day-to-day concerns at home in Philadelphia seem when compared with the day-to-day concerns faced by the people of Las Anonas. Having lost fathers, sons, daughters, wives, husbands, mothers, and sometimes whole families to the war, the depth of their grief is such that I have never experienced. Having fought in bloody battles, endured torturous conditions in prisons, having lived on-the-run for years in mountain forests, eating dirt, grass and scavenged plants for food, most have endured physical and psychological hardships I can barely even imagine. Not to mention that they have no safety net. If their corn crop doesn’t produce as much food as they need, there are no food stamps. If their animals die of an illness, they have no insurance. If an old man is injured or sick and can no longer work in the fields, he cannot qualify for retirement benefits or disability. His children must drop out of school to take his place, otherwise the family might starve. And the list goes on….
Given the oppression and injustice they face, I found myself wondering, how they can go on living? Doesn’t despair over take them?
How is it that I, the more “privileged one,” am the one taking drugs for anxiety and depression?
Later, I hear of a conversation one of the delegation members had with a very friendly, jovial woman in the community named Maura. After replying to a friendly greeting by saying she was doing very well, she was asked how, after so many years of struggle and hardship, could she possibly keep her spirits high enough to feel like she was doing well. Among other things, she responded by saying “If you’re not doing well, you’re dead.”
Hearing this, it became clear to me that succumbing to despair is a middle class luxury and that all of my seemingly heavy burdens of trying to figure out what to do with my life all stem from the fact that I am incredibly privileged. I felt guilty, horrible, for not being more thankful for how lucky I am. I felt disappointed and angry with myself. How can I be so ungrateful?
Yet, now I realize that even succumbing to this guilt is a dangerous luxury of privilege. Why am I so afraid to admit that the reason I do not participate in my block association, or any number of other community organizations, is because I don’t have to? I don’t have to! It’s not necessary! I should be shouting from the rooftops! Thank you God, for making me so lucky! I am so thankful to have indoor plumbing, clean water, and lots of fruits and vegetables to eat! Thank you Lord for letting me live in a country where the military has never turned inward to indiscriminately maim and massacre thousands of it’s own citizens!
Would the people of Las Anonas want us to feel guilty for what we have, when much of it is what they want? Would God want us to feel guilty for the bounty God has bestowed upon us? I am doubtful. If we can't enjoy our good fortune, then what is the point of having it?
If there is anything I learned in El Salvador it is the true horror of violence and the real necessity of finding common ground and working for peace. Yet how are we to work for peace by forgiving others if we are not able to forgive ourselves? Peace begins inside each of our hearts. So let us begin by forgiving ourselves for being born into privilege. Let us proclaim how thankful we are and by doing so we will no longer take it for granted. Let us truly appreciate and enjoy the luxuries we have. Only then can we work towards peace and justice with open hearts and minds, able to forgive others, free from the violence of our own guilt.
After all, as a great aikido master once said, "One does not need buildings, money, or treasures to create peace. Heaven is where you are now and there is no better place to practice."
Las Anonas
- by Jenny Sawyer
I find sweet fruitsAre just like the town of the same name
Armored, prickly, strange on the outside
You have to really want to get in
Those determined enough to insist
Break through the brittle skin, revealing luscious creamy
Melt in your mouth sweetness
Such that you have never experienced anywhere else
But here
In this exotic tropical land
Where chickens stroll haphazardly across your path
Herds of cows stare down careening busfuls of children
Pigs snore outside your bedroom wall
And small brown hardworking people
Are so quick to smile you'd never know
The trouble they seen
After only a taste
We are all left with indelible fondness
When we ask if they are available in the United States
We are disappointed to find out
They don't export Las Anonas.
© 2007 by Jenny Sawyer. All rights reserved. Please consult the author at tabernacle@tabunited.org if you wish to use the text presented here, in whole or in part.
