Che Guevara and Loving well

Matt and I watched a documentary on Ernesto Che Guevara last night, called "Motorcycle Diaries." In the early 50's, Che traveled across South and Central America before his final year in medical school. He traveled mostly on foot and first hand experienced the injustice of political and social oppression toward the millions of indigenous Indians who had, at one time, built and sustained their land with dignity and care, prior to the Spanish colonization. Take Machu Picchu for example. In Costa Rica, even now, there are Indian reservations, similar to that of the U.S., who are scraping to preserve their native languages, customs and traditions, with marginalized governmental assistance, and many reserves without electricity and running water.

Che eventually moved to Cuba and is most renowned for his role in the Cuban communist revolution, but his passion and fire for indigenous justice and equally dispersed wealth set all of Latin America ablaze. He was murdered, with the help of North America's CIA in the late 60s in Bolivia.

I couldn't help but admire how well Che loved. He gave up his potential wealthy and comfortable life for the most outrageous hope: world revolution against capitalism, for the sake of justice. I am sure it is justifiable to argue his tactics, maybe even argue his political logic, but I do believe his love is inarguable. At least the love portrayed in the documentary.

He loved like Jesus, sitting with the leper, listening to the widow, giving of his monetary gains to those with less. He even had disciples-if you can call guerilla attack groups that (?). I cried countless times, not because I idolize Che, but because I idolize his love. That kind of love is Jesus love, and I too often feel like I cheapen it. I keep more than I give. I give of my time when it is convenient...

Shame on me, on us, that our standards are so low. When we went to Cuba we would often see Fidel and Che's face next to one another. I wonder if Che would be disgraced by that now, if he could see that the revolution has left Cuba in probably a worse off state. The revolution is 52 years old, and the country looks like it froze in 1959, the same cars, same buildings, same streets, poverty, dictatorship and religious oppression. We praise the spirit of Mother Theresa, but have little desire to be her. We put Che's face on our t-shirts and wear it to the mall.