It was July 1939. I was 12 years old. In Mexico and Spain the
persecution against the Catholic religion had ceased. Saying farewell to my
family to continue following the calling of my priestly vocation was very
emotional. Leaving my beloved family, friends, and my country seemed like a
funeral, nevertheless I was smiling as if I were certain of professional
success. In the very depths of my heart I was listening to the voice of Jesus:
“Pedro, after the pain of carrying the cross and the radiant light of your
vocation, you will reach the victory of eternal glory.”
In the two preceding years, the Redemptorist Fathers had started a minor seminary, clandestine because it was prohibited by the government. We were a group of seven there, and I was the youngest. We started to learn the principles of theology and Latin, the sacred language of the liturgy. We knew that in going to Spain we risked being killed by the Republican army who, in 1936, had symbolically fired on the statue of Christ outside Madrid, at the start of the Spanish civil war.
Today, some 70 years later, it is easy to examine the opinions about the rights and wrongs of the Spanish civil war of 1936-1939 where the government tried to bring about far-reaching social reforms, fighting the right-wing military coup under General Franco, backed by Adolf Hitler and Benito Mussolini. On their side, the Nationalists believed just as passionately that they were fighting for civilization against anarchy and barbarism.
Both versions have much truth in them, but the reality is inevitably more complex. We seminarians ignored all these motives and concentrated on doing well in our studies; especially me, being the youngest, and perhaps lacking the necessary judgment to discern the real significance of being a priest. We were not fully aware of the dire circumstances of the Second World War and hardly imagined that in a few weeks later the war would begin.
We seminarians and our families were at the main train station in Mexico City. A long trip of four nights and five days lay ahead for the first part of our journey to New York. The second was a two-week voyage by ship from New York to Barcelona. And from this Catalonia city we travelled to the historical town of Burgos where a monastery, El Espino, built four centuries ago, was the cradle of our vocation.
It was not a very hospitable place. Meals were spartan because of the ravages of war, and for a boy of 12, the change from spicy Mexican food was cruel. When I left my plate untouched, the priest approached me and said: “Eat. Jesus wants you to be strong and healthy.” I wanted to say this was worse than what my dog at home ate, but I tried to taste the food and I vomited.
Another painful inconvenience was the lack of showers. We were only allowed to wash our feet once a month. Oh, how far I was from the luxury of my home! But this misery was completely different from the spiritual banquet of the Eucharist. Meditation before Mass guided me to contemplate the sublime life of Jesus. He gave me the strength and courage to follow him and accept all the difficulties, and six years passed away as rapidly as a ray in the sky.
After the elementary years, I started my education in superior studies – philosophy, theology, the sacred scriptures, and then… the immense divine joy when the bishop infused my soul with the divine words – “You are a priest forever!”
This great happiness was delayed because the canonical age for receiving priestly ordination is 25, and I was only 22 years old. With tears in my eyes, I followed the procession of my 29 fellow seminarians when they were ordained, but this sadness turned to celestial joy when I was allowed to be ordained at the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Guadalupe with my great family around me.
Two things made this possible. The bishop asked me to take a sabbatical year with my family, and obtained a concession from the Holy Father, Pius XII, for me to be ordained at 23 years of age.
Why do I write these memories? Because I feel that my human life is reaching its end, and that in a short time God will call me to my second life, where there will be no days, months, or centuries, but only eternal life.
Today, I thank God for his goodness, and for my priesthood which allowed me to grant the sacraments to thousands and thousands of people, to open the gates of heaven to them after forgiving their sins by the grace of Jesus, and to teach them to love our most dear and sweet mother, the Mother of Jesus.