Thanks

Originally published in Spanish by La Jornada
_______________________
Translated by irlandesa

Mass With a Political Flavor and A Demonstration Aloud

Hermann Bellinghausen, correspondent.
San Cristóbal de las Casas, Chiapas

Completing 40 years as Bishop of San Cristóbal de las Casas, and just as 
he turns 75, Samuel Ruiz García signed his letter of resignation from the
position, directing it to the Pope.  This midnight he privately signed a
message,  which was not made public, and which will travel to the 
Vatican
by those channels provided by the Lord.  All things lead to Rome, as it
were.  And there are still things in this world that cannot be sent by 
fax
or Internet.

The celebration was in this city's cathedral.  A mass that was also - as 
is
fitting with Ruiz García - a political act, a demonstration aloud by the
Indigenous Church, one of the more praiseworthy results of liberation
theology.

An uncomfortable figure, to say the least, for the political and
ecclesiastical hierarchies of the country, Don Samuel, Tatic, makes it
clear that he is one of those who will go down fighting.  Because, in 
case
the Pope does not yet know, he shall now be informed that the change of
bishops in the mountains of Chiapas is taking place within a state of 
war. 
That the labor for peace by the Diocese is not concluded.  The "Prayer 
of
the Faithful," read during the mass in the cathedral called "Peace" has
that tone of denunciation (that priests call "testimony"). Courageously
committed to the poor and the indigenous.

"We ask you, Lord, that our Church may know how to walk in the midst of
conflicts, tensions and death."  And also:

"That our Indigenous Church might grow, that we might bear fruit and 
that
we may be recognized by the Vicar of Christ."

Read afterwards in Tzeltal by a deacon, the prayer also asks "for all 
those
brothers who have suffered persecution because of their faith and who 
are
now living displaced."  The request for grace also reaches the country's
authorities, "so that they may carry out the Accords signed in San 
Andres."

In compliance with canonical law, which he himself helped reform in the
seventies during the second Vatican Council, and on the date of San 
Martín
de Porres, Ruiz García left the position, but it does not remain empty. 
His enemies, who are many up there, still have no cause for celebration.
Tatic's mark is too deep, and his influence very much alive, for the
absence of his person to be enough to erase it.

An old sea dog, Don Samuel did not resign in front of the eager eyes of 
the
electronic and written media, which is not infrequently hostile to him. 
Representing more than a headache for the PRI governments, the bishop of
the indigenous leaves behind him an extraordinary structure that 
sustains
the profound diocese of the Mayan peoples of Chiapas.  He has been often
criticized as being responsible for the zapatista uprising in 1994, 
because
of his having created an organization of deacons, pastoral agents and 
base
communities, of a solidity and legitimacy that the State never dreamed 
of
achieving.

The Fast Bishop

The Traveler, as he is called, and as he always calls himself, traveled
tirelessly through the Sierras and Selva of Chiapas.  There were times 
when
he arrived on foot or by burro wherever he went, he lived out in the 
open,
and he earned the reputation for being a fast driver.  Traveling with 
him,
or following him on the road, was an absolute adventure.

In 1994, the routines changed.  Since then, an escort of bodyguards has
accompanied and taken him.  They are also here today, around the altar, 
his
"guardian angels."  He even officiated at one of their marriages.

Few public figures have suffered as many attacks and threats as Don 
Samuel
has.  And also so much international recognition.  As can be remembered, 
he
was very close to receiving the Nobel Peace Prize.

There are so many things that they will not forgive of the one who
fostered, in this same cathedral, the peace dialogues with the EZLN, and
who then presided over the Conai, until the government itself stifled 
that
independent mediation body.

Today, among canticles and the sounds of a marimba placed on a carpet of
fresh reeds, Ruiz García asked forgiveness from the Christian god for 
their
individual and collective sins, and for participating in "the evil of 
the
world."  When he included himself among the penitents, the bishop was
absolved by the three bishops who were accompanying him today:  his
coadjutant bishop and possible successor, Raúl Vera, the Bishop of San
Marcos (Guatemala) and the Bishop of Tehuantepec, Arturo Lona.

The latter, in recognition of Don Samuel, removed his hat, his miter, 
that
is, in front of the hundreds of persons, mostly indigenous, who filled 
the
naves of the cathedral.  Chol, Tzotzil, Tojolabal, Zoque, Tzeltal and 
Mame
men and women, represented by the pastoral "teams" and agents ("his 
close
family," as Father Gonzalo Ituarte says, one of his closest 
collaborators
throughout these years). 

His homilies have been, at least for the last ten years, forceful, often
with moving public statements.  Among those who shall miss him the most 
are
the journalists.  Today, Ruiz García is reviewing his 39 years of 
carrying
responsibility "not on my shoulders, but rather in my heart."  He refers 
to
the constant learning experience, to the "evolutionary process," that 
his
closeness to the indigenous communities entailed, to those who have so 
much
to say to the world.

The stages of his bishopric, he says today, "are marked in the faces of
those I see here today."  Indigenous, parishioners and religious 
persons,
listen to him as attentively as ever.  "It was thought that the 
indigenous
languages were a hindrance to evangelization," he says.  He who, by
Indianizing the ecclesiastical functions, revindicated the cultures, the
community uses, and helped in the new flourishing of the Mayan 
languages.

These are all things that his enemies, the old caciques and the new
military and paramilitary invaders, cannot forgive him for.

Tatic relates how he discovered that the indigenous languages were not 
just
"different sounds."  They were concepts of the world, a cosmovision." 

He Still Has Bite

His efforts were directed toward revindicating what - until he arrived -
had been the religion of the victors, of the conquerors, as an 
indigenous
resource.  His liturgical robes, and those of the priests in the 
diocese,
adopted the Tzeltal embroidery, flowery and richly colored:  one more
expression of this Indigenous Church, of that "Indian theology" - which 
is
still received so badly in the Catholic establishment - which 
strengthened
the identity and resistance of centuries.

During his years he has had to face the expansion of reformist Christian
denominations (Evangelicals, Presbyterians, etcetera):  a test of the
tolerance that is not always a virtue of Catholic structures.  Another 
test
was the zapatista uprising, when an important part of his Church opted 
for
the armed path and who today live in resistance.

"Our diocese is a testimony that is moving," he says, and he receives
applause when he adds that, wherever he goes, "Chiapas will be with 
him." 
There will be no distant nostalgia.

Many events are centered here.  The Acteal killings, one of the most
serious and terrible moments for the Catholic indigenous.  And also the
long years of the Guatemalan exile to our country, in which Don Samuel 
also
played an important role.

His Guatemalan peer, speaking briefly, refers to solidarity as "the
tenderness of the peoples."

And the prayers and the songs of the mass have that special accent of 
their
"preferential option for the poor."

In them, the Christian god is asked:  "Give to us now of your body and
blood, give us fighting spirit."

The evangelical path that drove Samuel Ruiz García in the lands of the
chiapaneco Maya will continue being discussed, condemned and praised.  
One
more sign of his indelible impression.

He called attention to the absence of the other chiapaneco bishops, 
those
from Tuxtla Gutiérrez and Tapachula, with are always more conservative. 
Don Sam, as his friends and enemies have told him, all these years, 
still
has bite.