Standing against oppression

It is difficult to know how the growing tensions in Zimbabwe will end and increasingly difficult to hope that the end will be peaceful.

It is clear that the authorities in this beleaguered African country are less than happy with the assessment of the country’s Catholic bishops in their recently released pastoral letter, “God Hears the Cry of the Oppressed” ( see story).

Somewhere along the way, the Catholic leaders in Zimbabwe had to make a fundamental decision: whether being a Catholic community meant keeping their thoughts, prayers and experiences inside the sanctuary walls, or taking their analysis of sinful, oppressive structures to the public square and, in that tired but apt phrase, speaking truth to power.

They’ve done the latter, and life for many has become dangerous.

It is not a new phenomenon. We know ministers of various denominations whose faith has compelled them to not only help “the poor” but also to investigate the reasons people are poor, powerless, hungry. In the usual pattern, their Christianity eventually becomes a threat to the state.

It is true of now legendary figures, from Dom Hélder Câmara and Cardinal Paulo Evaristo Arns of Brazil to Archbishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador to Bishop Juan Gerardi Conedera of Guatemala and the countless lesser known bishops, priests, catechists and believers who were compelled by faith to confront the evil of social and state systems in Latin America. Many paid with their lives.

In Poland, priests and laypeople were not speaking out of the context of Latin American liberation theology, but their confrontation with the evils of communism required no less a fundamental decision about raising the demands of justice in the public square. The concept of Solidarity was no less dangerous.

It is easy to point to excesses in Latin America or disturbing compromises with the state by church officials in Poland. But in neither case does the lack of perfection diminish the power and truth of what was undertaken, motivated by faith, to liberate humans.

The complaint, of course, particularly from those with a large stake in the status quo, is that the church should not become political and worldly, but should remain spiritual and uninvolved. Believers’ rewards will come later. But then one runs into, as Garry Wills has put it in his book What Jesus Meant, the radical love of Christianity, “exigent, searing, terrifying,” inherent in the lines: “I hungered and you gave me food. I thirsted and you gave me drink. I was an alien and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was ill and you tended me, I was in prison and you came to me.”

Casting one’s lot with those words and with such people can make life difficult and dangerous.

We see it when our own beleaguered bishops approach the immigration debate without equivocation. All of the complications of U.S. immigration law and the complex dynamics of international trade recede before the mandate to love in so radical a way that the world at large has trouble comprehending it.

The price here ranges from funny looks to heated debate. The price in Zimbabwe could be far greater. The Zimbabwean bishops are walking a fine line. They encourage public prayer, but the piety is aimed at public “corruption” and “bad governance.”

In praying for an end to “further bloodshed” and to “avert a mass uprising,” the bishops also urge an end to the brutal regime of President Robert Mugabe.

Priests suspected of aiding in the distribution of the pastoral letter are receiving visits from security personnel. The threats to the Catholic community are imminent and ominous.

For further details on the situation, see the Human Rights Watch Web site or, if you want to be more directly involved, see the Amnesty International Web site. Under the Zimbabwe button you’ll find details on writing to Zimbabwean officials. As small as that act may seem, it has proven an effective strategy to let dictators know that the world, in the form of individuals from all over the planet, are concerned and are watching.

Writing and praying are small ways to join those who now face danger after making their fundamental decision to move, unarmed and vulnerable, against the oppression.

National Catholic Reporter, May 11, 2007