I’ve Learned Many Important Things in the Darndest Places

I’m currently sitting in Washington Reagan Airport waiting for my flight to Atlanta and reflecting back on the awesome weekend that just came to an end in D.C. This weekend was the Ignatian Family Teach-In for Justice (IFTJ), an annual gathering of Jesuit universities, high schools, parishes and lovers, this year number 1200 people. The focus this year was on immigration and the 4 Churchwomen killed in El Salvador in 1980 (Dorothy Kazel, Jean Donovan, Ita Ford, Maura Clarke). But, El Salvador is usually the central theme in each teach-in. On Saturday and Sunday, we had four keynote speakers and six to ten student speakers, on Sunday we had three keynotes and four to six student speakers, both days had breakout sessions and then Sunday had advocacy training. Today, there was a rally of maybe 150 people on the mall in front of the Capital building singing the names of those who were killed by graduates of the School of the Americas and listening to two more speakers. We left crosses with the names of some of the martyrs on the mall. Then we went off to speak to Congressmen and women about immigration, closing the SOA/WHINSEC (the School of the Americas was renamed Western Hemisphere Institute for Security Cooperation in 2001) or any other social justice issue.
The IFTJ is normally the highlight of my fall semester. Spring Hill never has many kids attending but we still come and have a lot of fun together. The things taught at the IFTJ go hand-in-hand with liberation theology, Jesuit teachings and social justice. The speakers and breakout sessions go in depth into issues that are at the core of being Ignatian. The first breakout I went to was a documentary on El Salvador, called Return to El Salvador. It is about three families (2 Salvadoran, 1 American) and an environmentalist during after the war in El Salvador from 1980-1992. One family had to flee to America because the death squads were after them for being labor organizers, the other were Christian missionaries from El Salvador who campaigned in the US for a stop to the war and explained what was going on in the country. The American family was a husband and wife, who traveled back and forth from El Salvador to their home in the States to help refugees. The three families returned to El Salvador, one for the first time since the war, and visited places special to each person. Director Jamie Moffett was supposed to meet with an environmentalist battling the development of mines in El Salvador. However, Marcelo Rivera was forcibly disappeared two days earlier; his body was found twelve days later dumped down a well at the edge of a corn field, brutally tortured. The mining company, Pacific Rim a Canadian group, is suspected of assassinating him, but even with FMLN President Mauricio Funes in power, the government will not say what truly happened.
The second breakout session I attended was a lecture on the history of Jesuits and social justice, a tradition dating back to at least the sixteenth century. The priest, who is also a medical doctor which is a rare breed in the Church, outlined the Jesuits’ treatment of women, their focus on education, healthcare (at one point only Jesuits could be both priests and doctors) and help for the poor. The Jesuits of the past and of today fight for the rights of men and women who have been neglected by the bourgeoisie and aristocrats. Jesuits in Latin America were martyred for their work with the poor in promoting the dignity of man. The Jesuits were the first to open orphanages for AIDS orphans and suffers in Kenya (Nyumbani in Nairobi)The Jesuits are a great order to be around because of their work and beliefs; one cannot help but work for and with the poor when being influenced by the Jesuits.
Saturday night at the IFTJ, the last speaker of the night – the headliner if you will – was Sister Helen Prejean, the nun made famous for her work with death row inmates in Louisiana as depicted by Susan Sarandon in the movie Dead Man Walking. Helen spoke of an awakening in her life to the troubles of the world around her. She grew up in Jim Crow Baton Rouge, Louisiana and then lived in a convent in a housing project in St. Bernard’s Parish, New Orleans. She used to vote against helping the poor and oppressed because “we’re just nuns what can we do?” Then one day, she woke up. She wrote a letter to a death row inmate, who wrote back to her and she eventually went to go visit him. This opened her eyes to a brand new world and she began to work for the abolishment of the death penalty because it is a racist, classist punishment. If a white person is killed, the accused will be put to death, if the accused is poor they will be put to death, if a rich white person is killed then by all means the accused will put to death. Being from Texas, this struck me. Texas is the state that executes the most people in the United States. Well, first let me say the fact that the US is one of, if not the only developed nation with corporeal punishment. Then being from Texas, the state with the most deaths, the death penalty is important to me and I hope with all of my being for the end of it. Helen’s speech was incredible and my memory of it does not do it justice. If she is ever speaking I implore you to listen to her and the hope she brings in a fight to end a grave injustice.
Sunday, two 7th graders from New Orleans spoke of their lives in post-Katrina New Orleans. Both stayed in NOLA during the hurricane, one at an office, the other at his house. Their houses survived the storm, and then the levees broke. The National Guard came in; one child and his mother were almost shot by a soldier for crossing a street. This family then left for Houston. In 2006, on Mardi Gras they returned for good. They are now in 7th grade and are ready to go on to a good high school and are looking into their future. They are proud of the efforts NOLA has made to grow and they hope one day the city can be completely healed from the scars left by the 2005 hurricane.
That night, we had mass. Fr. Ted Gabrielli and I stood on the altar in front of the 1200 attendees all joined in solidarity. At the end of communion the entire room was on their feet clapping and singing to We Are One Body, an annual occurrence that never ceases to amaze me. That room at that time is the picture of solidarity. All 1200 people standing singing and having fun without a care as to who our neighbor is or what is going on back on campus. Singing was nothing new to our crowd, as all weekend we were singing No Mas! No More! and Caminando and This Little Light of Mine. All songs about social justice. All songs about speaking truth and spreading and working for justice. There is something about singing in a large group that makes the room feel more connected to each other and as one

Presente!

group instead of different delegations in the same room.
Now that I’ve given an almost play-by-play of the weekend, I leave you with a poem read at the IFTJ called The Low Road by Marge Piercy.
Alone, you can fight,
you can refuse, you can
take what revenge you can
but they roll over you.

But two people fighting
back to back can cut through
a mob, a snake-dancing file
can break a cordon, an army
can meet an army.

Two people can keep each other
sane, can give support, conviction,
love, massage, hope, sex.
Three people are a delegation,
a committee, a wedge. With four
you can play bridge and start
an organization. With six
you can rent a whole house,
eat pie for dinner with no
seconds, and hold a fund raising party.
A dozen makes a demonstration.
A hundred fill a hall.
A thousand have solidarity and your own newsletter;
ten thousand, power and your own paper;
a hundred thousand, your own media;
ten million, your own country.

It goes on one at a time,
It starts when you care
to act, it starts when you do
it again after they said no,
it starts when you say We
and know who you mean, and each
day you mean one more.