Saint or sinner: Two paths, neither one easy

I have always had a liking for good quotes from great people. They help me put things in order and avoid the indecision of muddling through.

The great French writer and aviator Antoine de Saint-Exupery, for instance, is one of my favorites. Always romantic and reaching for the heavens, he wrote once about what a man or woman gains from the unusual life: "There is no buying the night flight, with its hundred thousand stars, its serenity and its moment of sovereignty."

The essential words are only two: "no buying." You have to earn that beauty, that engrossing peacefulness and that precious "moment of sovereignty."

Or one can always depend upon the voluminous writings of St. Augustine, who oversaw the Catholic Church on the north shores of Africa in Tunisia. To me, his most useful quotes say that it's most important to know the "order of the loves" - and thus, of course, to keep them in order and to know which came first or, perhaps, forever.

But of all of the wise men and women whose perspicaciousness we might enjoy, to our vast benefit, personally I hearken back to a great man, also a Catholic, whom I met in the brutal and fateful spring of 1979, when Central America was falling into the abyss of war without end. I speak, of course, of the towering figure of justice, Archbishop Oscar Romero.

When I met him in his study in a Catholic home in San Salvador, it was as if he glowed with peacefulness and harmony. Some people, even men, are "round" in figure and personality; but Archbishop Romero was "square." His face was strongly formed; his skin, a beautiful earthy brown. He was a handsome man, but apparently unaware of it.

We talked about "liberation theology" and how the far right in El Salvador accused him and many other liberal priests of embracing communism. It was tearing up the country. Finally I asked him: "Father Romero, you have put yourself in great danger with your embrace of the poor. Wouldn't it have been easier to take another route?"

He smiled a small smile, so personal and so beatific that I can re-create it in my memory even now. Then he said: "Of course, I could have. Of course. ... But that would not have been very EASY, either, would it?"

Father Romero's words come back to me now because, only this last week, the new Pope Francis, himself a Latin American priest from Argentina and a champion of the poor, beatified Archbishop Romero, beatification being the last step before sainthood. His words have also come back to me because many people today ARE eager to take that easy way out, not realizing, as he did, the terrible costs that supposed easiness can impose upon us.

Unfortunately, he was not alive to see the tens of thousands who gathered in the capital of San Salvador to joyously celebrate this great honor. Not long after I interviewed him, the archbishop was shot dead, on March 24, 1980, while celebrating Mass. He was certainly killed by the far right, who hated him so.

Another Christian - this one from halfway around the world - was also in the headlines this week. He was a man so seemingly different from Father Romero that one could hesitate to pair them in any way. And yet, they were both Christians who tried to play a moderating role in their torn countries.

I met Tariq Aziz, spokesman for the Iraqi strongman Saddam Hussein, when I first went to Iraq in 1980 to get the story of who had started the war between Iraq and Iran. It was of crucial importance because, with Iran having just been taken over by the Shiite clergyman Ayatollah Khomeini, the type of Islamic fanaticism that we see today in Syria and Iraq was then beginning.

When I entered Aziz's office in the ruling Revolutionary Command Council headquarters, an eerie and secretive group of buildings, I found a small man, of lean build, with cold, dark eyes that bespoke systematic thinking. But his Chaldean Christian faith was no accessory, nor was the fact that he grew up speaking Aramaic, the language of Jesus. In that Islamic country, his faith meant that he could not threaten the all-powerful Saddam.

But - the war, the war? Khomeini was "trying to throw the entire region into flames, to destroy the borders and to reignite the struggles of the sixth and seventh centuries," Aziz said, words so like those used today in Iraq.

"They must have sent a lot of agents," I continued.

"They sent hundreds of agents," he answered. "Most were hanged. Iraq is a very well-organized society."

When Saddam was going to invade Kuwait in 1990, it was Aziz who tried, unsuccessfully, to persuade Saddam not to do it. And his lack of success led directly to the collapse of the Middle East today.

So, two Christians. One, soon to be a saint; one, having died in prison this week, thought of as a sinner. Both chose a path that was anything but easy.

Georgie Anne Geyer can be reached at gigi_geyer@juno.com.

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