ome
time ago I received a letter from Fr. Benedito with whom I collaborated during
my seven years in Sao Paulo, Brazil. Fr.
Benedito worked then with street kids, providing them with a place to shower and
to have a meal, organizing them as shoe shiners, and, for the girls, setting up
arts and crafts shops. The youth of
my parish, Santa Rosa de Lima, collected food and clothing for the kids and
helped as big brothers and sisters. Soon
after I returned to the States, a scene of terror took place in Sapopemba, Fr.
Benedito’s area. His letter
provides me with the occasion to share what happened then and after.
May 3, 1988. Night. The neighborhood of Sapopemba lives a scene of terror. For some time a group of neighbor had been meeting for they wanted to form a Catholic Community named after St. Rita. The ‘lord of the street’ did not like people organizing themselves in any way. To show everyone who was boss there, they decided to send a brutal message. Elizete 5 years-old, Elionete 7, and Eliete 9, are kidnapped, tortured and murdered under the terrified eyes of their parents, Sebastiao and Maria das Neves, who was several months pregnant, and who were killed last. (It brings to my mind the Bible story of the mother and her seven sons – Maccabees). The family of Sebastiao and Maria, who were leaders among those who wished to form a Christian Community, paid dearly for their dream.
One of the rosebushes had broken through the bricks of the wall and blossomed inside the house. There, a branch topped by three beautiful roses was hovering right over the spot where the children’s bodies had been found. It seemed like a miracle.
Several days after the massacre an ecumenical act took place. The Catholic, the Baptist and the Presbyterian Churches and the Assembly of God united to form the Cry of Martyrs. At first the gathering was tense with a strong sense of indignation and revolt. But then the common prayer infused in all the will to transform the tragedy into the beginning of new life.
Eventually an idea matured in their heads, and so they sent a chosen group to their Bishop, Dom Decio Pereira. They want his help to buy the house of the murdered family and make of it the Center of the Community. The Bishop, without hesitation, offers to pay for it himself.
“On the night of the crime, even the birds in their cages were killed, and the flowers in the garden were stamped on,” recalls Fr. Benedito who follows the new community. “What a surprise they got when, on entering the house which had been boarded up for over a year, they found a sign of life. One of the rosebushes had broken through the bricks of the wall and blossomed inside the house. There, a branch topped by three beautiful roses was hovering right over the spot where the children’s bodies had been found. It seemed like a miracle. The community gained a new name: Nossa Senhora dos Martires do Vale (Our Lady of the Martyrs of the Valley). There was no way now to contain their determination: in their valley of so much innocent blood spilled, the blood of so many other Elietes, Elionetes, and Elizetes, the new community was officially dedicated on Christmas day. The people came numerous and joyful. And now, after more than ten years of community life, a new church has been built and dedicated. “The inauguration of a church is always an important moment for the life of a community,” explains Fr. Benedito. “But there is a stronger reason for the feast here. For the community and for the people of the neighborhood, the new church is, above all, a sign of the struggle against death, against fear, and against killing. Where violence took place, today people celebrate life and the resurrection.”
At the end of the Mass of inauguration, a friend of Maria das Neves approaches Fr. Benedito. She has something important to tell him: “What is it, my lady?” he asks. The woman answers, her eyes shining: “Now Maria das Neves and Sebastiao with their children are looking down upon us from heaven, and they are smiling.”
(From Xaverian Mission Newsletter)