Occasionally someone in the world dies---sometimes a famous person---and I regret that I never had a chance to meet him or her. One such death has occurred. The famous Nicaraguan poet, Ernesto Cardenal, left this world at age ninety-five. Cardenal was a poet and a Catholic priest. And it also fair to say, he was very political. In fact, more people will remember him for his political involvements than will remember him for his poetry.
Those of us old enough know the whole Latin American scene was a hotbed of revolutionary action, particularly in the 1980s. Part of this scene was the rule of dictators, who often were supported, if not propped up, by American money and interests. This was especially true in Nicaragua, which is still a rather poor country. I recall visiting that country and its capital city, Managua, nearly two decades ago when my daughter spent a number of months working in an internship at a women’s health center. The poverty was palpable. There were still signs of the revolutionary times.
Reading the article about his death reminded me of things I had forgotten about Cardenal. For example, “On the Solentiname Islands in Lake Nicaragua, he founded a community of peasants, poets and painters in 1966 that came to symbolize artistic opposition to the dictatorship of Anastasio Somoza, who was overthrown in 1979 by Sandinista rebels.” Cardenal supported the Sandinista regime and this support troubled Pope John Paul II. The Catholic Church was part of the power system of that area and so much of Latin America. To folks like the Sandinistas, the Catholic Church was part of the oppressive system. To them Cardenal was a prophet among Catholics. To the Catholic hierarchy, he was disobedient.
Late in 1983 Pope John Paul II suspended Cardenal from being a priest. In effect, he became an outcast. But this did not quiet him. This suspension was only lifted recently in Pope Francis’ time. With a long memory some of us can recall the Sandinista leader, Daniel Ortega, became the ruler in Nicaragua and became oppressive in his own right. Ortega reappeared in 2007 as the President of Nicaragua. Cardenal distances himself from this former revolutionary. Still with that old spirit, yet an old man, we read, “…in 2018, when anti-government protests broke out that posed the biggest challenge to Ortega's increasingly authoritarian hold on power, Cardenal quickly aligned himself with the opposition.” Cardenal was obedient to God as he discerned God’s desire for himself and his homeland.
I think Cardenal was driven by his vision of the kingdom which was preached by Jesus. And I am sure he thought Jesus was political in his own way. I like the final words by Cardenal, which the article includes. He says, “I try to live with the message of the gospel…which is a political message, which is changing the world so that there is a better world after 100,000 years of inequality.” I appreciate that because I also would like to try to live with the message of the gospel. Indeed, the operative word is “try.” At least we can try!
I was aware of Cardenal from my early acquaintance with what came to be known as Liberation Theology. This particular form of theology was birthed in Central and South American, primarily within the Catholic community. It focused first of all on justice. If there were not justice, there could be no authentic religious life. That was the problem with the dictators: they were unjust. And to the degree the Catholic hierarchy was complicit with this form of government, they were also not just.
All this is still relevant in our world today. I am very aware of what is called the “haves” and the “have nots.” As a country, America is one of the “haves;” often we are linked with the so-called first world. There are other countries around the globe that have so little means that poverty is a sad way of life. And it is tragic when you think about the youth of that country. And that, we know, is often a breeding ground for resentment, turmoil and then rebellion. Even in our own country, there are people living on so little as to be embarrassing to those of us with more than enough. The inequity of it is startling.
I need an Ernesto Cardenal in my life to remind me that I say my primary commitment is to that same gospel message he wanted to proclaim. It is not likely I will write poetry. But I can do my part. I do recall my favorite monk, Thomas Merton, interacting with Cardenal. Merton wanted to take seriously the call to action which Cardenal posed to all spiritual women and men. It is that same call I want to head and heed. It did not cause Merton to leave his monastery in Kentucky.
I won’t leave my own situation, either. But there are things I can do. There are ways to be public---even in my own place where I live---and maybe even be political. If I say, either explicitly or implicitly, there is nothing we can do, then we are condemned by the very gospel we want to proclaim. Can you imagine Jesus lamenting, throwing up his hands, only to say there is nothing we can do?
Thanks be to Ernest Cardenal. May his spirit rest in peace.
Those of us old enough know the whole Latin American scene was a hotbed of revolutionary action, particularly in the 1980s. Part of this scene was the rule of dictators, who often were supported, if not propped up, by American money and interests. This was especially true in Nicaragua, which is still a rather poor country. I recall visiting that country and its capital city, Managua, nearly two decades ago when my daughter spent a number of months working in an internship at a women’s health center. The poverty was palpable. There were still signs of the revolutionary times.
Reading the article about his death reminded me of things I had forgotten about Cardenal. For example, “On the Solentiname Islands in Lake Nicaragua, he founded a community of peasants, poets and painters in 1966 that came to symbolize artistic opposition to the dictatorship of Anastasio Somoza, who was overthrown in 1979 by Sandinista rebels.” Cardenal supported the Sandinista regime and this support troubled Pope John Paul II. The Catholic Church was part of the power system of that area and so much of Latin America. To folks like the Sandinistas, the Catholic Church was part of the oppressive system. To them Cardenal was a prophet among Catholics. To the Catholic hierarchy, he was disobedient.
Late in 1983 Pope John Paul II suspended Cardenal from being a priest. In effect, he became an outcast. But this did not quiet him. This suspension was only lifted recently in Pope Francis’ time. With a long memory some of us can recall the Sandinista leader, Daniel Ortega, became the ruler in Nicaragua and became oppressive in his own right. Ortega reappeared in 2007 as the President of Nicaragua. Cardenal distances himself from this former revolutionary. Still with that old spirit, yet an old man, we read, “…in 2018, when anti-government protests broke out that posed the biggest challenge to Ortega's increasingly authoritarian hold on power, Cardenal quickly aligned himself with the opposition.” Cardenal was obedient to God as he discerned God’s desire for himself and his homeland.
I think Cardenal was driven by his vision of the kingdom which was preached by Jesus. And I am sure he thought Jesus was political in his own way. I like the final words by Cardenal, which the article includes. He says, “I try to live with the message of the gospel…which is a political message, which is changing the world so that there is a better world after 100,000 years of inequality.” I appreciate that because I also would like to try to live with the message of the gospel. Indeed, the operative word is “try.” At least we can try!
I was aware of Cardenal from my early acquaintance with what came to be known as Liberation Theology. This particular form of theology was birthed in Central and South American, primarily within the Catholic community. It focused first of all on justice. If there were not justice, there could be no authentic religious life. That was the problem with the dictators: they were unjust. And to the degree the Catholic hierarchy was complicit with this form of government, they were also not just.
All this is still relevant in our world today. I am very aware of what is called the “haves” and the “have nots.” As a country, America is one of the “haves;” often we are linked with the so-called first world. There are other countries around the globe that have so little means that poverty is a sad way of life. And it is tragic when you think about the youth of that country. And that, we know, is often a breeding ground for resentment, turmoil and then rebellion. Even in our own country, there are people living on so little as to be embarrassing to those of us with more than enough. The inequity of it is startling.
I need an Ernesto Cardenal in my life to remind me that I say my primary commitment is to that same gospel message he wanted to proclaim. It is not likely I will write poetry. But I can do my part. I do recall my favorite monk, Thomas Merton, interacting with Cardenal. Merton wanted to take seriously the call to action which Cardenal posed to all spiritual women and men. It is that same call I want to head and heed. It did not cause Merton to leave his monastery in Kentucky.
I won’t leave my own situation, either. But there are things I can do. There are ways to be public---even in my own place where I live---and maybe even be political. If I say, either explicitly or implicitly, there is nothing we can do, then we are condemned by the very gospel we want to proclaim. Can you imagine Jesus lamenting, throwing up his hands, only to say there is nothing we can do?
Thanks be to Ernest Cardenal. May his spirit rest in peace.
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