Facts Yet To Be Discovered
While in Seminary
Upon my visit to the Archivos Históricos Ave María del Arquidiócesis de Guadalajara in July 2016, when I presented to the chief archivist a letter of introduction from Rafael Leon Villegas, Bishop of the Diocese of Ciudad Guzman, Jalisco. Thanks to the Bishop’s kind assistance I was allowed to review a certain limited number of documents, such as letters exchanged between the Archbishop of Guadalajara and Fr. Francisco. Within those letters I learned some interesting facts in addition to those I have already mentioned. Here is one of them:
While still a seminary student in Guadalajara Fr. Francisco requested permission (permission was granted) to travel to his home town, to help one of his ill sisters, a widow with seven children, who was having financial troubles as well as being gravely ill. The sister had been administering one of his father’s businesses, a power company (probably providing electrical energy for the small village) and someone needed to put certain issues affecting the company back in order. He eventually returned to the seminary to continue his studies. I make two observations from this incident: First, my grand-uncle was seen by his family as very capable in business matters and so it fell to him after the death of his father, to handle family business issues. Second, he saw no need to use this incident as an excuse to abandon his vocation. In his letter to the archbishop asking for permission to leave the seminary he requests to be considered a “supernumerary” – that is, a seminarian who continues his links with the seminary while continuing the usual practices of a seminarian but residing outside the physical confines of the seminary proper. Permission was granted and he soon returned to his studies in the seminary.
Fr. Francisco between 1927 and 1930
There remains a gap in my knowledge of Fr. Francisco’s life – “What happened to him, what did he do, and where did he go between April 1927, when he was called away from his parish and 1930 when he returned’”?
As related with more detail earlier in this NOTE, in 1927, the Archbishop of Guadalajara ordered Fr. Francisco to leave his parish in Tototlan, Jalisco and to travel to Guadalajara to help the Archbishop. During his absence, the parochial vicar whom he left in charge was arrested, tortured, and executed, the priest’s body left in the Tototlan cemetery for the townspeople to find the next day.
So, why did the Archbishop call Fr. Francisco away from his parish in Tototlan? Some written reports by persons who knew him in Zapotiltic say that my grand uncle – who was tall and presented a formidable appearance – was called to Guadalajara to help safeguard the personal safety of the Archbishop of Guadalajara, and perhaps two other Bishops.
From the official records, we have learned of either another or a complementary reason for being called away – that the Mexican army was searching for Fr. Francisco. He had been falsely accused of bring involved in the traffic of weapons for use against the Government.
Some stories I have heard say that Fr. Francisco hid and used a pseudonym. The stories say that he was known by the nom de guerre “Don Nacho,” a mild-mannered textile weaver, selling Mexican sarapes during the day, and serving the spiritual needs of the faithful by holding liturgy services and administering the Sacraments where needed. I have a picture apparently taken in a professional photographic studio showing my grand-uncle, wearing civilian clothes, sporting a moustache, seated between two other unnamed men. A sarape is draped nearby. Don Nacho? Is it really Fr. Francisco (opps, I mean “Don Nacho”) in the picture? Could this have been how he appeared when “off duty” from guarding the Archbishop’s safety? I repeat, I have not yet found credible sources regarding Fr. Francisco’s whereabouts between 1927 and 1930.
The dates 1926 to 1929 are commonly used as the time period of the Cristero War, but historians write that there really is no firm start date nor an end date to this terrible time in Mexico’s history. The book Matar Y Morir por Cristo Rey by Fernando M. Gonzalez, published 2001, leaves the impression from documents and people’s letters that at first, in 1929, people just did not believe President Calles with his “Leyes Calles” truly meant to completely shut down all churches and to extirpate every priest from Mexican soil. Then, toward the end of the violence it took an equally long time for feelings of animosity on all sides to subside. Historical documents show that negotiation regarding the “Arreglos” (Understandings or Agreements) between the Mexican Government and key representatives began toward the middle of 1929, but they did not exactly settle the animosity toward the Catholic Church. Feelings were still raw even until the mid 1930’s and perhaps later.
Fr. Francisco returns to Tototlan parish
As with any civil disturbance where feelings on either side have been inflamed, peaceful co-existence arrives little by little; certainly never all at once. So, by February 1930 the people of Tototlan, indeed, all Mexico, were still suffering from the violence of the Cristero War. That is when Fr. Francisco who had been absent from his parish since 1927, returned to Tototlan, eager to, in this way, get his parish back to normal operations. He did not stay long. Someone assaulted him. The reasons for the assault are not stated in the letters I could find. Hearing of the incident the Archbishop wrote to my grand-uncle on February 18, 1930 (A-553/30 ma/sf in the Historical Archives of the Archdiocese) that he should come to Guadalajara to tell why he had been assaulted and to remain in Guadalajara “to get away from your enemies.” Later that year, in letters dated October 15 and November 25 the Archbishop tells Fr. Francisco – still the designated Pastor of Tototlan but residing in Guadalajara – to stop mailing out large printed notices to Tototlan’s parishioners calling for a fund-raising effort to pay for the re-building of the war-torn church in Tototlan. The Archbishop tells Fr. Francisco it would be best if Fr. Francisco allowed the newly assigned parochial vicar to handle this delicate matter, locally, among the people of Tototlan.
Fr. Francisco is ordered to describe the death of his parochial vicar
This gut-wrenching event that occurred during his absence from the parish – the martyrdom of his brave and saintly parochial vicar – despite the fact that his absence was at the insistence of the archbishop, may have depressed my grand-uncle. It is reasonable to think his new assignment in Guadalajara, involving Fr. Sagas’ death, may have been the cause of additional guilt-ridden angst.
Following the Cristero War, the Mexican Bishops decided to petition Rome for permission to begin an examination of the events surrounding the execution of Catholic priests by the Government of Mexico for purposes of suggesting Sainthood of those who were martyred during the Cristero War. The Auxiliary Bishop in charge called my grand-uncle away from his parish to travel to Guadalajara. His assignment was to gather eye-witness accounts from his former parish, Tototlan concerning the events surrounding the martyrdom of Fr. Sábas. He was to tell everything he could find regarding the killing of his own parochial vicar with all the agonizing and explicit details surrounding the 14 days of torture and killing by the Mexican army of the man Fr. Francisco had left in charge of his parish. It is only natural for me to wonder. Did my uncle ask himself, as he interviewed witness after witness in 1935, “What might have happened if the Archbishop had not called me away from Tototlan in 1927?” “Did God have more plans for me, so is that why he spared my life?”