Sarah Bueter, a Maryknoll lay missioner in El Salvador, reflects on the murder of Honduran environmental defender Juan Lopez and her recent visit to his grieving community of Tocoa as part of an emergency delegation organized by the SHARE Foundation.
27 September 2024
It was only when I saw his photo up on the wall, a blown-up image of his dark obsidian eyes and penetrating gaze, that it fully hit me: Juan López was gone, really gone.
On September 14, Juan was shot dead as he was leaving church, eerily reminiscent of the martyrdom of Monseñor Romero, of whom Juan was an ardent devotee. At first, I couldn’t believe it, but the news poured in: a prominent environmental defender was murdered in Honduras.
The SHARE Foundation organized an emergency delegation to join with Juan’s family and community in the city of Tocoa in their grief and very real fear. Having known the community for several years, I joined in solidarity and in representation of the Maryknoll Office for Global Concerns.
A group of independent UN experts on Sept. 24 described Juan’s murder as “part of a series of attacks, intimidation and criminalization of human rights defenders who are members of the Municipal Committee for the Defense of Common and Public Goods (CMDBCP) and who speak about the negative consequences of the activities of the mining company Inversiones los Pinares (formerly EMCO Mining Company) in the [Carlos Escaleras] National Park and of the steel company Inversiones ECOTEK.”
As coordinator of CMDBCP, Juan advocated for the protection of the Guapinol and San Pedro rivers from contamination caused by extractive activities. Since the start of a megaproject in 2015, Juan’s community also has suffered from state-backed violence: violent land eviction and theft, slander campaigns, criminalization, and even the killing of family members of those who defend their land. These crimes have not been brought to justice.
The purpose of the U.S. delegation was to witness to the grief Juan’s family and community endured, and to offer solidarity. We revisited places where Juan so often met us. But this time, his face was plastered on a poster and we placed candles underneath it.
In the mornings, we sat in a large circle with community members, with no agenda other than to hold space and listen. In the evenings, we joined his Christian base community’s nine-day prayer vigil. The large attendance blocked up the street. Voices sang out into the night while dark figures in military fatigue patrolled nearby.
We prayed. Comfort for Juan’s wife and two daughters. Gratitude for his community. Forgiveness toward the intellectual authors of the crime. Justice amid impunity. Strength to continue in la lucha.
The Gospel was Matthew 5: “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” I felt my heart being ripped up inside.
You see, Juan’s life was rooted in love. People showed us photos: Juan wrapped in the arms of family, Juan sharing cake at a first communion party, Juan speaking at a townhall meeting. People shared with us his public speeches, homilies, and canticles that celebrated the beauty of creation. Juan worked against death, but even more so, he worked for life.
“Love for life is written into human DNA,” Juan wrote. “It is the most beautiful thing and it is worth living for.”
We believe this as Maryknoll missioners. We bind together with those who work on behalf of peace, social justice, and the integrity of creation.
In Maryknoll, we most commonly express love through our mission work. But, as Pope Francis writes, “Love, overflowing with small gestures of mutual care, is also civic and political, and it makes itself felt in every action that seeks to build a better world” (Laudato Si, 231). We, like Juan López, express our love in the civic and political world.
Extractive industries are a global reality and threat. Where I live in El Salvador as a lay missioner, people living in poverty who defend their territory against abuse by extractive activities often are met with repression. Projects by extractive companies in places where there is weak rule of law, impunity, and corruption, often trigger or escalate violence. Many mining companies in Latin America are subsidiaries of U.S. and Canadian companies that benefit from policies that maintain the underlying conditions that foment violence and impunity.
Even still, steeped in grief and fear, Juan’s community pledges to continue to defend its rivers, its land, its life. “Juan is not dead,” the community chanted, “He is multiplied in us.” Juan’s spirit lives on in the community. And the community needs me, needs us all, just as we need this community to teach us what “love for life” looks like. It looks like this. It is written into human DNA. “It is the most beautiful thing, and it is worth living for.”
Photo: People light candles and pray before a poster of Juan Lopez in Tocoa, Honduras, September 24, 2024. Photo by Mary Anne Perrone.