The last time I saw the Rev. Francisco de Vasconcelos Ximenes was in the airport in Dili, capital of East Timor, sometime in August 1997. Francisco, as our ecumenical delegation called him, had been our gracious and tireless host for four days, and he was there to see us off.

Our group, from the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. (NCCCUSA), was headed by Bishop Melvin G. Talbert, the council's president at the time. Our trip, designed to coincide with the 1998-1999 ecumenical mission study on Indonesia, included visits to Bali, Yogyakarta, Jakarta, and East Timor. In East Timor our hosts were the Gereja Kristen di Timor Timur (GKTT), or the Christian Church of East Timor, and the Roman Catholic Bishop Carlos Ximenes Belo, the 1996 Nobel Peace co-laureate.

As general secretary of GKTT, Francisco was in charge of organizing our visit and coordinating it with Bishop Belo's staff. He and some members of his church drove us around to visit such officials as the military commander and the vice-governor of East Timor. We also visited the University of East Timor, some Catholic seminaries, churches, schools, and development organizations. Francisco took us to meet leaders of small GKTT rural churches as well as those of the very large Hosana church in Dili, with eight pastors, four worship services, and 7,000 members, of whom approximately 95 percent came from regions outside East Timor.

With a membership of approximately 35,000, the Protestant religious community in East Timor constitutes only a small percentage of the total population, which is 96 percent Roman Catholic. But with its large Indonesian constituency, the issue of the East Timorese people's quest for self-determination has been an especially difficult and complex matter for the Protestant church. Francisco spoke with passion as he explained the dilemma posed for its leaders.

As Francisco lingered with us at the airport to say goodbye, I wanted to convey my sense of solidarity with his struggles and those of his people. But I dared not endanger him by verbalizing my intent. Throughout our entire visit in East Timor, our group had felt itself to be highly visible. Some of us sensed that we were being closely watched. Thus, the level of our conversations did not go much beyond what social convention and our perception of the security situation allowed. For underneath the placid appearance of things we were aware of an immense bottled-up energy seeking to be released.

So I scribbled some words in my little notebook and showed them to Francisco: "If you really want to hear what we are saying," I wrote, "listen closely to what we are not allowed to say." This quote grew out of the political struggles against the Marcos dictatorship in the Philippines during the 1970s and 1980s. Francisco acknowledged the quote with a bit of a smile. Or perhaps it was a nod.

Two years after that visit, a breakthrough in international negotiations finally opened a way for the people of East Timor to determine their political future. On August 30, 1999—almost 24 years after the Indonesian invasion of their land—98 per cent of the population went to the UN-sponsored poll to decide whether East Timor should remain a part of Indonesia.

On September 4, the UN announced that an overwhelming 78.5 per cent of East Timorese had voted to become independent. Immediately following the announcement, the militia, backed by the Indonesian military, massively intensified the bloodbath and campaign of terror, targeting suspected pro-independence supporters through abductions, killings, burnings, and looting, and forcibly driving people from their homes. To date, according to media reports, nearly half of East Timor's population of 800,000 has been uprooted, while casualty figures have run in the thousands.

Even before the horrifying escalation of violence, as many as 100 refugees were taking shelter at Hosana Church. According to a report from the Australia based East Timor Human Rights Centre, a truckload of Indonesian police came to the church and ordered the refugees to go to the police station. Rather than risk the danger of such a move, Francisco and the refugees left Dili.

On September 10, somewhere on the way to the town of Baucau, Francisco was shot by militia in the company of Indonesian police. He died the next day, with these last words: "Please voice our voices."

Recalling the rich and moving moments he had shared with Francisco, Bishop Talbert said, "I am deeply grieved to hear that our brother, the Reverend Francisco de Vasconcelos Ximenes, has been killed. Yet his death is a testimony to his life and faith. His whole life was reaching out in service to others. He died being faithful to the call in his life. Thanks be to God for the privilege of knowing him even for such a brief time."

As of this writing, we have no news of Francisco's wife, who is also a pastor.