Fellow Brothers and Sisters in Christ, fellow US citizens,
I deeply lament the delay at which I have arrived at this conclusion, but I’m here now, compelled to act and to no longer remain silent.
I sit this morning with a new understanding of MLK’s words in his “Letter From Birmingham Jail.” He proclaims, “justice too long delayed, is justice denied.” So I am trying to sit with an open mind, open heart, and open hands to understand the weight of his words and what that means as I think about genocide — both past and present day.
In the words of Desmond Tutu, archbishop of South Africa and a voice for truth, justice, peace and reconciliation in post-Apartheid South Africa, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.”
Both MLK and Desmond Tutu’s words and example have taken on new meaning for me over this last month returning to Guatemala. One cannot arrive in Guatemala seeking to learn about its social, political, economic, religious, and cultural aspects of the present day without coming to know the history of oppression of the Mayan indigenous people and the story of genocide. The genocide in Guatemala in 1960-1996 was devastating. And it is still devastating. The history of atrocity has undoubtedly shaped the entire country in ways both seen and unseen.
As one comes to learn about the diversity of indigenous communities and each unique expression of indigenous identity in Guatemala today, there also exists the haunting stories of the days of the civil war. The horrific impacts of these stories were not just lived in the past, but are still evident in the living, breathing, indigenous communities today.
Individual and communal trauma has bound these communities together. Resilience binds them together too.
I think about the three days that I spent in the Ixil community of Nebaj 2 years ago — the epicenter of the genocide. I am still haunted by the stories that I heard there. I’m haunted by the symbols of resistance and remembrance that I saw there too. Tiny wooden crosses lined the back wall of the Catholic church with dates and names of members of the community that were disappeared and martyred by the US-backed Guatemalan military government under the pretense of suspicion of guerrilla activity and in the name of combatting the spread of “communism.”
Each indigenous community has their own traje típico (traditional wear) that expresses the unique identity of the community. The traje of Nebaj is a bright and vibrant red — red, representing the blood that was shed during the civil war. As you walk through the sea of people in the mercado (market), you find yourself in a sea of red. I can’t help but to imagine myself in a sea of blood — the blood of fellow human beings who were brutally murdered for fear of their “communist” activity.
In the sea of red
The killing of people from these indigenous communities was systematic — carried out in a “Scorched Earth Campaign.” The military government had specific communities to target, entering into villages and not only brutally murdering members of the community, but also setting fire to their fields and homes, eliminating every resource that stood for their survival. Swaths of people had to flee even higher up into the mountains, forced to hide there with no access to food or water. Creating a fire for warmth was basically a death sentence because the smoke would give away their location — so they ate chili peppers to keep warm, as one woman María, who was a young girl during the war, shared with me. Every non-indigenous voice that tried to speak out against the unjust systematic killing of entire indigenous communities was silenced too, with shots ringing out in the dark night or via method of “disappearing” — this person never to be heard from again. The bodies of the “disappeared” were often discovered later on, tortured and thrown into clandestine graves.
With María in Nebaj 2 years ago
Even though the resilience of these communities is evident in things today like the many women’s weaving cooperatives that exist in the country (their husbands were killed in the genocide, also leaving the women and their families with no economic means to survive), their communal trauma is undoubtedly evident too.
Trama textiles is a women's weaving cooperative in Xela
Guatemala Nunca Más is a work that was published on April 24, 1998 which told a more complete history of the conflict, specifically including detailed accounts of the violence that indigenous communities suffered. It is an account filled with not only lists of the number of people who were massacred in the indigenous towns, but also includes stories and horrific images. This expositional work of gathering stories and detailing the number of people who were killed was, as one can imagine, not popular with those who held power in the country and who had carried out the Scorched Earth Campaign. Catholic priest Juan Gerardí was one of the main leaders of this project and two days after the work was published, he was assassinated. As I flipped through the pages of this book with my language teacher, Henry Estrada, who was a Catholic priest during the war and took part in the peace accord process to end the conflict, my eyes kept scanning the images and stories and I just kept thinking about the images and stories and videos that I’m seeing come out of Gaza right now.
Crosses with the names of the martyred, including Juan Gerardí
So as I have continued to sit and listen to the stories of the war and the genocide while in Guatemala, I also am in anguish thinking about the violence that is happening against the people of Gaza in this moment. I can’t keep looking at what is happening without seeing how the systematic killing of a people group is taking place. It is not war, it is with genocidal intent that the Israeli army is carrying out many forms of violence against Palestinian civilians — bombings, burning of homes, torture of those imprisoned. And our US government continues to send money to the Israeli military. Under the legal definitions of international law, Palestinians are experiencing apartheid and military occupation. To condemn the actions of the Israeli military is to by no means condone the violence of the Hamas attack on October 7. All violence is contrary to the life and witness of our Nonviolent Savior, the Prince of Peace, Jesus of Nazareth.
Jesus,
Teach us to lament.
Teach our bodies to pray.
Teach us to praise and to protest.
May these things be the oil of our worship — our incense offered up to you.
And the Lord heard my plea… the Gaza Ceasefire Pilgrimage: “a network of autonomous Christian groups with shared convictions who are engaging in a prayerful show of solidarity in cities around the world, where people during Lent will walk the length of the Gaza strip.”
As the season of Lent quickly draws near, I extend the invitation to you also, that you might consider what it might mean to engage in this act of solidarity with our Palestinian brothers and sisters…that we might learn that prayer is not just our words, but it includes our entire beings. Prayer is a life lived unto the Lord, in love and sacrifice for the world.
“Our prayer is that this Lent as we meditate on the life and passion of Jesus, we might deepen our solidarity with what our Palestinian sisters and brothers are experiencing daily.”
I would encourage you to check out the website, it is incredibly powerful and will give you more of an idea of logistics/ideas/vision/etc. of this pilgrimage. Hoping to share updates soon for how this pilgrimage takes shape during this season of Lent for me, students of our cohort, and in conjunction with the Casa Adobe community here in San José that I will be living with starting Sunday.
I recognize that this is just a step, and there are many ways that our lives might embody the call of Micah 6:8 to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God in concrete ways in our world today. Just as with each particular context, being a US citizen holds a certain weight and responsibility. The US was heavily involved in providing military support to the Guatemalan government that was carrying out a genocide against the Mayan people in the 60s-90s. Who is our US government supporting today?
Jesus,
Teach us your ways.
Teach us to walk humbly with you.
Teach us to be merciful.
Teach us to act according to your justice.
We confess, humble Christ, that we have sinned against you both by what we have done and what we have left undone. Move us from neutrality to stand in solidarity with the vulnerable, the powerless, and the oppressed.
You did.
You do.
Teach us to love our neighbors as ourselves.
Teach us to love our enemies.
Teach us to be peacemakers.
Teach us how to embody the ministry of reconciliation that you have called your Church to.
We long for the day in which justice rolls down and all things are made whole.
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