Songs from the Olive Branch: Alguien Sabe de mi Dolor

Each of us carries our pain and our past. We need to tell our story. Once we have told our story, the story is shared. We are no longer alone.

I have heard a lot of stories lately. They are stories of unimaginable loss. Of torture, and of hope. It is hard for me to understand why some of us must suffer so much and others so little. But we all suffer. We must continue the journey, carrying our burdens with us.

Chris and I went to the University of Central America to a vigil for the Jesuit priests who were killed at the university during the war. From what I understand, they were killed because they were too progressive. In the El Salvadoran Civil War, wisdom and the pulpit were a dangerous combination. Many nuns and preists were killed, including the Archbishop Oscar Romero.

This vigil has gone on for 23 years. The people do not want to forget what has gone before.

We lit candles and walked together, thousands in the streets. There was a station to stop and remember each person who had died, including employees who helped care for the priests. Afterwards we celebrated a long mass, with television screens so the crowd could see. There were pupusarias and places to buy revolutionary t-shirts, but they remained closed throughout the mass.

At the time I just wanted to move on,1 hour is a long sermon, what is he talking about? Looking back, it was truly beautiful that time stopped for those couple of hours, and that so many people stayed out in the cold to worship together.

Then we learned about the free food. Bread, tamales, and coffee. We enjoyed a delicious dinner at 10:30PM. Salvadorans often drink coffee at night. I'm not sure how that works, but they say it doesn't affect them. Years of working with the coffee beans? I don't know.

There was a concert afterwards, with female drummers, a salsa band, an indie band. Beautiful art made of colored salt. Joy in the midst of grief.

In the museum at the university, the Jesuits clothes are held in glass cases for everyone to see the bullet holes and blood stains. It was in the morning when they were killed. They were wearing bath robes. There is something so human about that.

Sister Peggy is a nun who has lived in El Salvador for over 30 years. She is the director at Centro Arte para la Paz. Everyone loves her charisma and energy, she is quite famous in Suchitoto and around the country. She chose to move to El Salvador during the war. Can you imagine? She says it was because they had a classical radio station. A ray of hope?

She told us a powerful story about a woman who lost 5 of her sons during the war. One of her sons was beheaded by El Salvadoran soldiers. She was the one to tell her friend the news, that her son had died and that was all that was left of him. It was a painful memory for everyone.

Later that month Peggy was telling the story of a painting she had brought back from the states, of Mary and Elizabeth. They ended up talking about John the Baptist, and someone asked how John died.

She didn't want to tell the story. She knew her friend was there, the friend who had just lost her son. The women begged Peggy, "we want to know the story, tell us the story". So Peggy told the story, of how John the Baptist was persecuted and beheaded.

Tears began streaming down her friends face, along with a little smile. She began to laugh and cry at the same time, yelling and dancing. "Somebody knows my pain! Somebody knows my pain!"

So may it be for each of us, that someone knows our pain. That we might walk together on the journey.

I cannot make sense of any war, much less a Civil War in which the United States of America gave over 6 billion dollars to the El Salvadoran government. What I can make sense of is the strength and determination of Salvadorans to build a better life. To move forward with scars, grace, and laughter.

As one of my favorite songs about El Salvador, "Sombrero Azul" says:

En que venga la alegria,
a lavar el sufrimiento

And then the joy comes, to wash away the suffering.