I arrived in late June, 1999.  I didn’t imagine the events that would occur in my life.  Today, I treasure in my heart each moment that I lived on this beautiful, hospitable island where a people has for more than sixty years suffered the destruction of its land by an insensitive and inhuman military. 

When I arrived, the island was in the middle of a fight to expel the US Navy from their land.

The navy invaded our seas with ships, aircraft carriers, and nuclear submarines.  The arrival of troops increased prostitution, drug use, violent riots in the town, and hostile treatment of women, who were sexually assaulted and treated like prostitutes.  Occasionally, men and women had to use machetes to defend themselves against soldiers, who believed they owned the entire island. 

In Vieques there were many challenges I had to face erhaps the greatest the fact itself of going to Vieques at a moment so crucial as 1999 was. The Puerto Rico Methodist Church, of which I am an ordained minister, always spoke out against the military presence in Vieques in resolutions of the annual conferences.  But in 1999 it was I who was appointed pastor to a church that in 98 years had not had a woman pastor.  Thus I arrived in the community and came to know first hand the difficulties, the injuries, the insults and abuses of the U.S. Navy, and I could not remain neutral:  I openly took a position against the military.  I participated in marches, pickets, blockades at the gates of Camp Garcia, ecumenical activities, and actions with different community groups.

In October of 1999, the “Evangelical Obedience” camp was established in the firing range, an effort of the Evangelical Council of Puerto Rico, and I took on the coordination of this camp. I occasionally visited restricted areas to see to the needs of the members of the church who were taking turns acting as human shields, preventing the bombing.  I supplied them with food, water, and everything needed to survive there.  The churches that were members of the Council contributed the money necessary for camp supplies.  There I saw, made a reality, the brotherhood of the body of Christ.  To know that regardless of your religious beliefs or where you came from, you could go to the ecumenical chapel and share the love of God, or the supreme being, as some refer to him, with deep respect and solidarity.

All this occurred alongside my daily work in the church, which consisted of visits, services, activities with the congregation, sermons, and teaching bible study.  I incorporated the community activities and the actions related to the struggle to expel the U.S. Navy from our land.  This caused different reactions among the members of my congregation and also the Viequense religious community.  Some members of the congregation were happy because for the first time a pastor had come who identified with them and their own situation of injustice.  I remember one of the sisters of the camp came one Saturday morning to tell me that she’d decided to go to the restricted area after the mass removal of protesters on May 4, 2000.  We discuss the risks and consequences.  She was clear.  We prayed and embraced and entrusted ourselves to God because I also was planning to do the same thing at some future moment. On the other hand, there were brothers and sisters, fewer, who couldn’t conceive how their pastor was involved in “politics” with “communists” and “terrorists,” people who weren’t Christian from their point of view.

In this situation I had to manage amid the support of some and the rejection of others, to the point of seeing some people switch to the other Methodist church in La Esperanza neighborhood.  As for me, I was clear.  I had to give pastoral care and respect the opinion of those who opposed my actions, even though at times their rejection was painful.  Moreover, I faced other churches that criticized me for my position on this issue of the navy.  A pastor from one of the churches in Vieques was forbidden to invite me to preach because of the fact that I was opposed to the navy, had participated in various actions, and had stated my position clearly in the press and on television. 

Paradoxically, I sometimes received more respect from people of the community than from brothers and sisters in the Vieques church. In each person I grew close to, on the streets, in the picket lines, marches, or actions, I saw God and I knew He was with me.  By accompanying the people I told them, at times without speaking, that God was with them – with the people.

It was hard work during that year when we stopped the bombing of Vieques, together with brothers and sisters form the big island of Puerto Rico and other countries.  There were many experiences of love, solidarity, and commitment that marked my life as a human being.  My brothers and sisters are not only those that congregated with me in the temple.  Beyond the four walls of the temple there are many more who don’t come to church but love God and the earth He has given us.

Until I arrived in Vieques, I never thought I would go to prison, although I know that it is one of the challenges or costs in a people’s struggle for peace.  I was arrested .  They were moments filled with tension, but I was sure I was in the right place.  The first time was May 4, 2000.  That night, after worshipping in someone’s home, I went to the Justice and Peace Camp at the entrance to Camp Garcia.  There, with the people praying, singing, and waiting for the outcome of the threats and attempts to arrest.  I experienced the strength that one receives when one prays and devotes oneself to God in difficult moments. We didn’t know what would happen to us that night.  We were there, in front of the camp, when the military, bailiffs, and state police arrived at approximately 4 AM with clubs, shields, and all the available military force to attack if necessary.  But there we were.  People of peace, prepared, as Jesus was in the Gethsemane Orchard to be arrested without resisting.  Youths, adults, and the elderly, we were not prepared to give up when faced with an abusive, insensitive, and repressive military.

Again, on August 2, 2001, I entered a restricted area with a group of lawyers, a brother from a Pentecostal church, a brother from the Church of Christ’s disciples of Puerto Rico, the spokeswoman for the Vieques Women’s Alliance, and a fellow Puerto Rican Methodist pastor who lives in New York.  After being arrested, we were placed in the detention center and spent five days in prison.  On October 10, 2001, I was triedin the Federal Court of Puerto Rico, and was sentenced to a year of probation.  I had to provide monthly reports that included information from how much money I had in my bank account up to whom I met with or visited.  I was barred from leaving the country for matters relating to work or for a family emergency.  If it were necessary to leave, I would have to ask for authorization from the judge and inform them of the purpose of the trip, whom I would be with, and telephone numbers where I could be reached.  In addition to all this, the judge gave me 150 hours of community service working with the elderly.  During this year, three probation officers came to my house on two occasions.

I remember that on the day of the trial I went with my bible and of the Methodist Church of Puerto Rico, and I let the judge know this.  My lawyer gave arguments in my defense.  She submitted to the judge more than six pages of activities and proceedings, which demonstrated that entering the restricted area was the last option left to us.  I didn’t regret anything, and I made this clear to the judge.  On the contrary, today I think I could have done more, but the struggle continues.

Currently, Vieques continues to face the abuses of those who want to commercialize their lands, those who want to continue destroying our beaches uncontrollably, carelessly, and those who seek to “develop” Vieques without speaking to the Viequenses.  Thus, the struggle now continues on several fronts: to clean our land of the toxic chemicals the navy used for so many years, to ensure a careful and sustainable development process that takes into account the Viequense community, and to educate for peace and the well-being of all who live in Vieques.

Vieques changed my life.  It was extraordinary to share the struggle with fishermen, priests, nuns, pastors, artists, and women fighters.  I see how women like Judith Conde went to march and to picket with her small children, claiming a space in the struggle from a woman’s place.  To see women like Miriam Soba, Aleida Encarnación, Norma Torres, Nilda Medina, Doña Luisa Guadalupe, and others sit in front of the gates and prevent the military from entering; this shook my soul and I couldn’t resist committing myself as they did.  Many times I joined them and many others to stop the military trucks with the certainty that God was with us, night after night, sustaining us with His sacred spirit.

God taught me that my brothers and sisters are not only those who congregate in my temple.  I came to understand that my most important preaching is I live with the people everyday, involving myself in what gives them pain and what is important to them.  Letting them know that God is not separate or contrary to our struggles for a quality of life where respect and dignity matter and are valued.  I can preach beautifully from the pulpit, but I need to be immersed in what my community suffers to be part of them, and to raise my voice for those who cannot or dare not.  Jesus, our teacher of excellence, said, “As much as you’ve done for my smallest brother, you’ve done for me.”  Our words should be backed by commitments in the way we live our lives each day.

I only ask of God that He make me each day more brave, to take on the commitment every day for a world that is more united, more sensitive, and that lives in peace.  For this and more, as the Puerto Rican author Silvero Perez wrote, “I gave my heart and my courage to the people and the feeling of Vieques.”

I conclude by remembering the hymn that says, “I am sent from God, my hand ready to build a world of brotherhood.  Angels are not sent to change a world of pain to a world of peace.  It falls upon me to make this a reality help me, Lord, to do thy will.”