For more than 100 years, Catholics suffered at the hands of tyrannical rulers, who forced their way to power by any means necessary, often gunning down political enemies.
The bloody saga all began after Napoleon Bonaparte (1769-1821) – excommunicated Catholic, first emperor of France, destroyer of the Holy Roman Empire – forced the abdication, in 1808, of the King of Spain, Ferdinand VII (1784-1833), and Crown over what was then the Viceroyalty of New Spain. The military genius then installed his own brother Joseph-Napoleon Bonaparte (1768-1844) as Spain’s new sovereign, on May 6, 1808.
Napoleon planned to export his Revolutionary, anti-Catholic policy to the territories.
When Francisco Javier Venegas de Saavedra y Raminez de Arenzana (1754-1838) arrived ceremoniously in New Spain, on September 14, 1810, to accept his role as newly appointed viceroy, devout Catholics in the territory demanded independence rather than be ruled over by the secular French who had seized the Spanish throne.
Two days after Venegas’ assumption of power, Roman Catholic priest Father Miguel Gregorio Antonio Ignacio Hidalgo y Costilla y Gallaga Mandarte Villasenor (1753-1811) protested the takeover and urged Catholics to defend their religion and to fight the French, anti-Catholic government, in a New World extension of the Peninsular War (1807-14) raging in the Old World’s Iberian Peninsula against its French invaders.
A true Revolutionary, prior to his inauguration, Calles traveled to Germany and the birthplace of Socialism: France, to study their ideology and labor movements.
After celebrating Sunday Mass, in Dolores, Guanajuato, Hidalgo delivered El Grito de Dolores, the address in which he encouraged fellow Catholics to join him in a rebellion against the government usurpers, and to do so in the name of their deposed King Ferdinand VII, held captive by Emperor Napoleon I, in France’s Chateau de Valencay.
Hidalgo’s cry, on September 16, 1810, triggered the Mexican War of Independence that lasted until September 27, 1821.
From the territory’s independence, in 1821, to the presidential election, in 1920, of Alvaro Obregon Salido (1880-1928), chaos ruled supreme in the bourgeoning Mexican governing bodies that were often rabidly anti-Catholic. In 99 years, there were an estimated 84 transfers of power – often bloody – to various individuals and regencies, with some losing and regaining power, despite a head-spinning number of coups and executions to keep former leaders from re-grabbing control.
Obregon was a survivor. A wealthy garbanzo farmer and a former general in the Mexican Revolution, he nearly died when his right arm was blown off, during the 1915 Battle of Celaya, in which he dealt major blows to his former comrade in arms, Pancho Villa (born Jose Doroteo Arango Arambula, 1878-1923).
During his four years in office, Catholics were often targeted.
On November 14, 1921, Luciano Perez Carpio – an employee of the private secretariat of Obregon – planted several sticks of dynamite tucked into flowers below the altar in the Basilica of Santa Maria of Guadalupe. Only feet away from the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, the ensuing blast bent a metal altar crucifix and altar candlesticks, but did no harm to the image.
A diplomatic incident occurred when Bishop Ernesto Eugenio Filippi (1879-1951), apostolic nuncio, was expelled from Mexico for conducting a religious service in ceremonial garb, in public, offending Article 33 of the 1917 Political Constitution of the United Mexican States. The bishop had officiated over the celebration of Christ proclaimed Rey de la Nacion, King of the Nation, atop the summit of Cerro del Cubilete, in Silao, Guanajuato, the approximate geographic center of Mexico, where a reported 40,000 faithful attended the national ceremony, on January 11, 1923.
As the end of Obregon’s presidency neared, he faced a mandatory office term limit. Since he could not run, he pushed as his successor Calles, who won, in 1924.
A true Revolutionary, prior to his inauguration, Calles traveled to Germany and the birthplace of Socialism: France, to study their ideology and labor movements. And not only was Calles the first leader in the Western Hemisphere to establish relations, in 1924, with the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, but he also went on to be one of the founders of Mexico’s National Revolutionary Party, on March 4, 1929.
With the tyrannical ascendency to the presidency of Christophobic Calles – another veteran general of the Mexican Revolution – tension between the State and the Church intensified, with frequent descensions into violence, often at the hands of Callistas, such as the Regional Mexican Workers Confederation.
Headed by Luis Morones Negrete (1890-1964), Secretary of Industry, Commerce and Labor, the labor union spearheaded the founding of the state-sponsored Mexican Catholic Apostolic Church, in February 1925, that culminated in riots between the Roman Catholics and the schismatics of the State-ruled Church of Santa Cruz and la Soledad, originally consecrated in 1792, in Mexico City.
Then in 1926, the megalomaniac Calles began the big push against Catholics. Born a bastard and orphaned at a young age, he was raised by a maternal aunt and an atheist uncle, who inculcated in him a great hatred for the Church.
On June 14, 1926, Calles signed the Law for Reforming the Penal Code – the commonly called Calles Law – that was to take effect, on July 31, 1926. Posted on all church doors, the 33 extra articles of law added, outlined and enforced restrictions targeting the Catholic Church, such as dissolving religious orders and delcaring all Church property belonged to the State.
During the last week of February 1926, he ordered governors to enforce the articles on religion, as written in the 1917 Constitution:
Article 3 banned religious schools and demanded secular education only;
Article 5 forbade the establishment of monastic orders;
Article 24 outlawed acts of public worship, which were ordered to be held only in churches under the strict supervision of civil, not religious, authorities;
Article 27, a continuation of the Agrarian Reform Decree of January 6, 1915, permitted the government confiscation of land owned by the Catholic Church and prohibited the Church from owning land;
And Article 130 mandated that only native-born Mexicans could be priests; that only state legislatures could determine the number of priests; that matrimony was exclusively a contract under the auspices of civil authorities; that Catholic churches were to be controlled by the Ministry of the Interior; that spoken and written criticism of the government by religious was absolutely prohibited; and that spiritual formation of priests was forbidden.
Those five articles were in conformity with the Reform Laws, anti-Catholic laws enacted between 1855 and 1863 and elevated to Constitutional status, with the Act of September 25, 1874, which outlined the separation of Church and State; mandated marriage a civil contract; prohibited any religious institution from acquiring property; repealed the religious oath; and banned the establishment of monastic orders.
On March 5, 1926, Calles delivered a speech in which he described the Revolution as an effort to build a new Mexico, as a way to break away from the old Mexico and its religious past, “that past, which I strongly wish to see liquidated,” he noted.
On April 3, he expressed revolutionary ideology: “We have to undertake today a terrible struggle, a struggle against the past, a struggle against the things which we must hope will disappear forever from the earth. Certain rich people and certain aristocrats want to obstacle our progress! It is incredible that there are still reactionaries in this country who consider it possible, in our century of social revolution, to raise the standard of religion and to provoke a new civil war. But the government is resolved to carry out its program without taking the slightest account of the grimaces of the sacristans, or of the protestations of the lazy monks.”
Then, on June 14, 1926, he signed the Law for Reforming the Penal Code – the commonly called Calles Law – that was to take effect, on July 31, 1926. Posted on all church doors, the 33 extra articles of law added, outlined and enforced restrictions targeting the Catholic Church, such as:
Article 6 immediately dissolved all religious orders;
Article 18 prohibited the wearing of religious clothing outside of churches;
And Article 22 declared all Church property to be property of the State.
***
Jose Ramon Miguel Agustin Pro Juarez was born, on January 13, 1891, the eldest son of devout Catholics, Miguel Pro Romo and Maria Josefa de la Concepcion Juarez Munguia. His father, as head of the house, worked as a successful mining engineer. His mother, as heart of the house, served as a charitable role model for the children and led by example, including the founding of a hospital to treat the sick.
As a youth, Miguelito was a good boy, fun to be around, naturally witty, a prankster and popular with the girls. He was also a talented guitarist, caricaturist and multilinguist. Never had he given much thought about a religious vocation, until around the age of 16, when he attended a mission held by the Jesuits, where he participated in its meditations and contemplations, as described in the “Spiritual Exercises,” by Saint Ignatius of Loyola (1491-1556), who founded the Society of Jesus, in 1540.
“On the day of my ordination,” he later confided to a confrere, “I simply asked Our Lord that I be useful to souls.”
Like others, he found the exercises inspirational, and it was then that he first heard the whisper in his heart. But he did not seriously think about the priesthood until two of his favorite sisters, Maria de la Concepcion Pro Juarez (1888-1944) and Maria de la Luz Pro Juarez (?-?), entered a cloistered convent, the Sisters of the Good Shepherd.
At first furious at the Jesuits, the spiritual directors of his sisters, his anger, eventually, subsided.
Why shouldn’t I do the same thing? he pondered.
Soon thereafter, at the age of 20, he entered the novitiate of the Society of Jesus, in El Llano, Aguascalientes, on August 10, 1911. Three years later, on August 13, 1913, he declared his First Vows, the perpetual simple vows of poverty, chastity and obedience to the Holy Roman Pontiff. Promoted to scholastic, he began his preparation for the priesthood with studies that included philosophy and theology. To commemorate the day, he received a crucifix that remained with him until the day of his execution.
Prior to joining the religious community, he had not completed his secondary education, so he compensated for his lack of book knowledge by immersing himself in holy endeavors, prayers, for grace, for the perfection of his soul. His spiritual ways impressed his confreres so much so that they described him as “the brother who is convinced God wants him to be a saint.”
At that time, the Revolution, ignited in 1910, still raged through Mexico.
Revolutionary coalition rebels in the north fought under the command of the former governor of the state of Coahuila, Jose Venustiano Carranza de la Garza (1859-1920), designated as Primer Jefe, the First Boss. His men mobilized to depose Jose Victoriano Huerta Marquez (1850-1916), who had assumed the presidency after he orchestrated a coup d’etat and the assassination of Francisco Ignacio Madero Gonzalez (1873-1913), a democratically elected president.
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Carranza’s men drew up a plan of attack: a three-pronged march to Mexico City. From the north, Pablo Gonzalez Garza (1879-1950) advanced southerly along the eastern railroad, Pancho Villa along the central railroad, and Obregon along the western railroad.
Along the way, Revolutionaries ransacked and plundered whatever treasures they could find to fill their pockets and to fund their Revolution. They imprisoned the rich and assassinated their political enemies – including Catholics, whom they randomly accused of supporting Huerta. Rape and torture were common torments inflicted by the Socialist soldiers, including Villa, who bragged about nailing a priest inside a coffin and leaving him inside to die.
Carranza’s search-and-destroy march, which began in April 1914, ended on August 20, 1914, when he and 18,000 of his armed forces filed triumphantly into Mexico City, having defeated Huerta, who had abdicated on July 15. The victors carried flags with slogans, including: clergy is obscurantism; freedom is light! Only six years later, Carranza would be gunned down – in bed – making way for Obregon to run for president.
But before his victory and ultimate bloody demise, Carranza ordered the pillaging and desecration of churches, convents and seminaries, including the Jesuit community, in El Llano, which was along the route of destruction.
On July 30 – the day before the clerics were to vacate the churches – Pro’s priestly assignment was to hear confessions from a long line of those seeking absolution from their sins. From 5:30 a.m. to 11 a.m. and again from 3 p.m. to 8 p.m., he listened and absolved the penitents, which so exhausted him, he was removed twice from the confessional.
On August 5, 1914, Revolutionaries attacked the Jesuit’s main house and burned the library, just one of the countless casualties of the Revolution. The rector ordered the seminarians to remove their cassocks, replace them with street clothing and head for a safehouse in Guadalajara. Dressed as a peasant, to pass undeterred by the rebels who were everywhere, Pro fled, on August 15, the Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin. He arrived in the city, on September 2, to find his mother, three brothers and one of his sisters nearly destitute. Carrancistas had stripped his family of all possessions and chased them from their home, in Saltillo. His mother’s only possession: a picture of the Sacred Heart.
A few weeks later, Pro and his confreres received word to make their way to the Jesuit novitiate in Los Gatos, California, in the United States of America. After a solemn Mass and Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament on a First Friday, the refugees crossed the border and arrived at their destination, in October 1914. Welcomed, the exiled Catholics were offered the fourth floor of a building for their use.
Pro remained for a year before leaving with 15 confreres, on June 21, 1915, to pursue his studies in Granada, Spain, where he survived the 1917-18 Spanish Flu epidemic. Ten years after his arrival in Europe, he received the Sacrament of Holy Orders, in Enghien, Belgium, on August 31, 1925, bestowed upon him by Bishop Charles-Albert-Joseph Lecomte (1867-1934), bishop of Amiens, France. That day, his ascendance unto the altar, with the priestly character imprinted on his soul by the Holy Ghost, gave birth to his divine and spiritual life.
“On the day of my ordination,” he later confided to a confrere, “I simply asked Our Lord that I be useful to souls.”
But being so far from his family for so long was difficult.
His mother wrote to him, “I am getting older every day. I am afraid that you will no longer find me here on earth when you return to Mexico. I believe that the good Lord is asking me for the sacrifice of never seeing you at the altar.”
Shortly after her death, on February 8, 1926, a few days after writing her last letter, her eldest son finally received permission to return to his homeland, nearly 12 years after his departure. On June 20, 1926, he boarded a ship in the port city of Saint-Nazaire, France, headed home, arrived in the port of Veracruz, on July 7, 1926, and settled in Mexico City, with family who had moved to the capital city.
By the time of his return, the stringently anti-Catholic Calles Law was set to take effect on July 31. As a result, the Mexican bishops penned a collective pastoral letter, on July 25, expressing their desire for reform of the laws and announcing the withdrawal of clergy and the Blessed Sacrament from the churches on the same day that the legislation would become law.
In response, the faithful flocked to churches to receive the Sacraments before the native priests went underground and the foreign priests were forced out of Mexico. Penitents sought the last Mass, the last Absolution, the last Blessing. Pilgrims of penance walked barefoot. Hymns and prayers filled the air.
On July 30 – the day before the clerics were to vacate the churches – Pro’s priestly assignment was to hear confessions from a long line of those seeking absolution from their sins. From 5:30 a.m. to 11 a.m. and again from 3 p.m. to 8 p.m., he listened and absolved the penitents, which so exhausted him, he was removed twice from the confessional.
On July 31, the Feast of Saint Ignatius of Loyola, the clergy withdrew. Altars abandoned. Ciboriums wiped clean. Patens put away. Linens folded. Tabernacles emptied. Sanctuary lamps snuffed. Bells silenced.
The government remained steadfast and ignored the bishops’ request to reform the anti-Catholic laws.
Pro refused to let the estimated 10,000-plus secret police agents in Mexico City intimidate him. He baptized, presided at marriages, took Viaticum to the dying, performed Extreme Unction, found homes for abandoned babies. He heard confessions of those incarcerated in jails and brought them food, money, cigars, blankets, pillows. He organized traveling confessionals and Communion Stations, where he dispensed 300 to 400 daily Holy Communions. And on First Fridays, Communions surpassed 1,000.
On August 2, 1926, Obregon blamed the victims: “The conflict will automatically disappear when the directors of the Catholic Church in Mexico subordinate their vanity, now injured, and declare their willingness to obey the laws and the authorities in charge of ensuring compliance, and advise this course of conduct to all believers.”
The bishops refused, and Catholics continued practicing their faith.
On October 31, 1926, for the celebration of the very first Feast of Christ the King, throngs of pilgrims arrived at the Basilica, many barefoot, some with crowns of thorns atop their heads, some progressed on their knees praying the rosary. From 4 in the morning to 7:30 that night, a steady stream of faithful passed before the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Even the Archbishop of Mexico, Jose Mora y del Rio (1854-1928) arrived around 4 in the afternoon, although Cruz and fists-ready firefighters tried to shut down the event.
In his day-to-day life, Pro refused to let the estimated 10,000-plus secret police agents in Mexico City intimidate him. He baptized, presided at marriages, took Viaticum to the dying, performed Extreme Unction, found homes for abandoned babies. He heard confessions of those incarcerated in jails and brought them food, money, cigars, blankets, pillows. He organized traveling confessionals and Communion Stations, where he dispensed 300 to 400 daily Holy Communions. And on First Fridays, Communions surpassed 1,000.
Unable to wear his cassock, he resorted to wearing disguises: student, shoeshine man, sometimes riding a bicycle, sometimes walking with a cane, sometimes strolling with his pet police dog at his heels. One time to give a retreat, in a courtyard surrounded by scrap metal, he concealed his priestly identity by dressing as a mechanic; his 50 retreatants were drivers, most wearing Texan cowboy hats.
And he had help, lots of help. An angel of mercy to those in need, he managed to set up food pantries in vacant houses around the city, helped along by small armies who went out – gathered beans, rice, sugar, coffee, flour, live chickens and whatever else – and returned all to the safehouses and then distributed to hungry families.
He wrote to one of his cousins: “All my personnel are reduced to half a dozen pious women and half a dozen pious men without jobs. In public, I call the former: Investigation and Supply Section! Between us, I call them: Beggars on the Lookout! They creep everywhere like rats, and every month they fill my well-flattened bags with coffee, corn, rice, sugar and fat. When the 25th or the 28th arrives, the bags no longer contain a single grain, a single crumb, although they are pressed and twisted without pity. The men, I call them in public: the Management Committee. Between us, I honor them with the pompous title of Resourceless Unemployed, because they do not miss an opportunity to beg from the first comer who presents himself, to support the royal family of God who live only on unemployment.”
And there were close calls.
One morning, at 6 a.m., in the midst of distributing the Holy Eucharist at one of the Communion Stations, he was interrupted.
“Police!” alerted a servant girl.
Terror filled the Communicants.
“Be quiet,” warned the priest dressed in a gray suit. “Hide your veils, scatter through the rooms and don’t make any noise.”
With the Blessed Sacrament hidden near his heart, he went to speak with the authorities.
“There is public worship here,” they told him.
“No, there is not,” he answered.
“But there is, Sir, there is public worship here.”
“Well, then, they have deceived you, gentlemen.”
“I saw a priest enter,” said one.
Another said, “We have orders to search the house. Follow us.”
“Well, I like that! I follow you? At whose order? Let me see my name. Go through the house, and when you find public worship, come and tell me, so that I may hear Mass.”
Through the house the authorities searched, room by room, accompanied by Pro, until, eventually, their hunt was exhausted, and they stood guard at the entrance to the house.
“If I didn’t have something else to do, I should remain with you, until you seize the bold priest who made sport of the extraordinary vigilance of such keen-sighted policemen,” he told them.
When they left, he quietly finished distributing Communion.
Another time, as he neared the home where he was to say Mass, he saw two soldiers standing guard at the entrance. Afraid to go ahead, for fear of arrest, and afraid to turn around, for fear of abandoning the faithful, which would have been shameful, he jotted down the number of the house in his notebook, gathered all his courage and continued, straight ahead, exhibiting confidence. Nearing the soldiers, he opened his vest, as if showing them his secret police badge.
“There must surely be a rat trapped here,” he said with a wink to the soldiers.
To which they responded by giving him military salutes, permitting him to pass.
Pro ran up the stairs, saying to himself, “Right now, here’s a rat trapped!”
But amidst the persecution, he felt his life had a purpose. In the first weeks of November, he celebrated Mass at a convent. During the Unbloody Sacrifice of Calvary, he prayed that God would take his life, for he believed that a true blood sacrifice, the blood of priests, his blood, was needed for the salvation of Mexico.
After Mass, he shared with the Mother Superior, “I feel that my offering was accepted.”
***
This story is part 2 of a 3-part weekend series from The Remnant Newspaper.
See the first installment HERE and check back on Sunday, May 14, for the 3rd and final.
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