A Litany for Alex: Remembering his Contributions to Pastoral Theology

Alex Pondering the Light, July 22, 2010, Photo by Kevin Burke, S.J.

The reminders of Alejandro’s life and celebration of his sacred passing abound. Prominent on my bulletin board are the bilingual lyrics to “Amigo,” a song by Roberto Carlos which the choir at St. Leander’s Parish in San Leandro, California, dedicated to him at the wake. The phrase which catches my eye is “Aunque eres un hombre aún tienes el alma de niño” (Even though you are a man, you have the soul of a child).¹ That was our dear Alex—always open to what an adventure in the garden of God would bring. Among these lyrics, a very Cuban-looking Alex wearing a Panamanian hat appears in a snapshot, one in which he is holding what seems to be a glass of red wine. I pointed out the prominence of that libation in the photo. His response to me: “A sign of great things to come.” When I thank God for the gift of my brother, I recall with great gratitude that he was a people’s theologian, one whose Thursday night Bible study group wanted to serenade with “Amigo,” along with vibrant Aztec dancers who embodied not only our grief but also our hope in the resurrection.

I have been asked to write about Alejandro García-Rivera’s contributions to pastoral theology, especially as it relates to popular religiosity and liturgy. When I came back to the Jesuit School of Theology at Berkeley in 1997, this time as an instructor, Alex had already been on the faculty for four years. We worked together for 13 years and in many ways, this creative theologian became my mentor, older brother, and amigo del alma, or soulmate. He showed much interest in my ongoing projects and on more than one occasion, because of his ability to see the larger picture, was very instrumental in my being able to obtain grants for my research. His help with the writing and publishing of James Empereur and my La Vida Sacra: Contemporary Hispanic Sacramental Theology (2006)² was invaluable. Lamenting what he saw as a tragic division and mistrust between systematic and pastoral theologians, a split much to the detriment of each, he reminded us that such a work on sacramental theology would be a bridge between the two theological areas. He and other theologians, among them Roberto Goizueta, urged us to write, not another “how to” book—that is, a book aimed at guiding pastoral ministers in the preparation and celebration of Hispanic popular rituals and how they relate to more official liturgical ones, as valuable as these books have been—but rather a work which would explore what was behind these faith practices. Such explorations awakened our awareness of cosmic sacramentality, the sense that Creation, and indeed the entire cosmos, is infused with God’s grace, and how this sense of the Sacred still permeates these Hispanic rituals. It is for that reason precisely that I went back to the index of La Vida Sacra where I found that we drew on Alex’s work for seventeen different topics. While we were writing the book, I can still recall sitting in the back patio of one of the Jesuit residences in Berkeley with Alex, taping his answers to our questions, some of them having to do with what he had written in his articles and books.

Knowing Alex’s love and respect for poor people’s piety, I want to make my contribution of this reflection in a way that they would understand: a litany! My earliest memories of litanies are those we prayed as children after the rosary on hot summer evenings in El Paso with my mother. I was unaware at the time of how creatively they engage the call and response format we sometimes hear in Black churches. Some of the Old Testament psalms and canticles, such as that found in the Book of Daniel, chapter 3, repeat, again and again, such evocative phrases as...