The Martyrdom ofSaint Toribio Romo

Patron of Immigrants

James Murphy

Imprimi Potest:Thomas D. Picton, C.Ss.R.

Provincial, Denver ProvinceThe Redemptorists

© 2007, Liguori PublicationsLiguori, Missouri 63057-9999

ISBN 978-0-7648-1666-6Printed in the United States of America

07 08 09 10 11 5 4 3 2 1

All rights reserved. No part of thispublication may be reproduced, stored in aretrieval system, or transmitted in any formor by any means except for brief quotationsin printed reviews without the priorwritten permission of Liguori Publications.

Photographs in this book were available

due to the kindness of Teresita and JesúsRomo and the Diocese of San Juan de losLagos with the assistance of Rev. JoséGuadalupe Prado Guevara.

An important source for this text has beenthe biography of Toribio Romo written byhis brother, Father Román Romo, andprinted in Guadalajara, Jalisco, Mexico, in1949.

Liguori Publications, a nonprofitcorporation, is an apostolate of theRedemptorists. To learn more about theRedemptorists, visit Redemptorists.com.

To order, call 800-325-9521www.liguori.org

Contents

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Chapter 1 Born in a Time ofPeace

Chapter 2 Well Adjusted in theSeminary

Chapter 3 Given DifficultAssignments

Chapter 4 Lived Like the EarlyChristians

Chapter 5 Suffered UnderPlutarco Calles

Chapter 6 Obedient UntoDeath

IAcknowledgments

am indebted to my bishop,William Weigand, ofSacramento, who

encouraged me to write thisbooklet. I am also indebted tomany members of the Romofamily—cousins of ToribioRomo—for their help with theresearch: Jesus and TeresitaRomo, Susanna Romo, MariaElena Gutierrez, and Teresa

Navarrete. I am also grateful tothe many others who madehelpful comments on themanuscript: Dr. FaustoAvendano, Sister MariaCampos, Barbara Debevec,Father Rudolfo Delgado, FatherOscar Figueroa, DeniseFracchia, Felipe Hermosillo,Father Francisco Hernandez,Carol Hogan, Bishop JesusMadera, Dr. Gerry andKathleen Murphy, RosaPalacio, Fernando Perez,

Sandra Perez, Dr. HollyPeterson, Julie Sly, Jorge Usi,Roberto Vellanoweth, andFather Octavio Ventura, LC.

OIntroduction

ne of the conundrums ofMexican history is how acountry that is 90 percent

Catholic could haveexperienced such a brutalpersecution of the Church inthe twentieth century. Justsouth of our border in the1920s and 1930s, priests werehunted down and shot, Churchproperty was confiscated, and

the teaching of religion wasforbidden—even in the privacyof the home. In some placesagents of the governmentburned statues and religiousworks of art in the streets, thendanced around the fire whilewearing Mass vestments theyfound in the sacristy.

All this happened in one ofthe great Catholic nations ofLatin America, a civilizationthat was producingarchitectural masterpieces by

the thousands when NorthAmerica was still a wilderness.Construction of GuadalajaraCathedral began more thantwo hundred years before theFounding Fathers of the UnitedStates signed the Declaration ofIndependence. WilliamShakespeare wasn’t yet bornwhen the first library appearedin Mexico’s capital in 1551.The first university in Americawas founded not in Harvard in1636 but in Mexico City in

1553.What went wrong, then, in

this five-hundred-year-oldculture that had reached suchheights of art and learning?How could a country so deeplyCatholic become so alienatedfrom its roots that itsgovernment would try tostamp out Catholicism forever?And how did ordinary Catholicssurvive under such fanaticalpolicies?

The following pages willchronicle the life and times ofToribio Romo, one of thevictims of this tragedy whomPope John Paul II canonized in2000. In recent years SaintToribio has become wellknown in the U.S., especiallyamong Mexican immigrants,many of whom see him as theirprotector at a time whenincreased security has madesmuggling immigrants acrossthe U.S.-Mexican border more

deadly. In 2002 The New YorkTimes reported on numerousstories circulating amongunderground immigrants abouta mysterious figure dressed indark clothing guiding famishedsouls safely across the borderto a new life in the U.S. Theonly payment this strangerasked was a visit to him inSanta Ana, Jalisco, someday.When many of theseimmigrants finally did make itto Santa Ana to thank him,

according to the lore, theywere stunned to recognize theface of the stranger in thephoto of Saint Toribio in thechapel there. As stories like thisincrease, so do the pilgrimswho visit Toribio’s shrine inSanta Ana—and so do calls tohave him officially declared thepatron saint of immigrants.

This booklet will reconstructthe world in which Toribiolived before he was murderedin 1928 in Tequila, Mexico,

and examine the tumultuousrelationship between churchand state that created thatworld. His is a story of couragein the face of terrorism and anexample of how persecutingthe Church usually has theopposite effect to thatintended. Throughout historymartyrdom has made theChurch stronger, and Mexico iscertainly an example of that.

CHAPTER 1

HBorn in a Time of Peace

istorian Enrique Krauzebegins his fascinatingbook Mexico: Biography of

Power with the description ofan important fiesta that tookplace in Mexico City inSeptember 1910. There wasdouble cause for celebrationthat year—the centenary of theWar of Independence and theeightieth birthday of the sitting

president, Porfirio Díaz—andlavish ceremonies were held incities across the nation toremind the public of Mexico’sglorious history and DonPorfirio’s role in it. Thepresident had been dictator forthirty-four years, and most whoattended the ceremoniesagreed that he had broughtpeace to Mexico and prosperityto at least some people.

The family of Toribio Romoprobably was not present at

those centenary celebrations—such folk would have beenmuch too poor to get invited.But even they were likely notunhappy with Don Porfirio’srecord, if for no other reasonthan that he left the Churchalone. There was no religiouspersecution, and for that theywere thankful. Older folk couldremember days when thingswere very different—inparticular the War of theReform, when radicals took up

pickaxes to destroy churchesand attack priests. But that wasin the distant past, and priestswere now serving their peoplewithout interference.

During this interval of peaceToribio Romo was born on asmall plot of land in SantaAna, Jalisco, on April 16, 1900.His parents, Patricio Romo andJuana González, weredescendants of Spanish familieswho had moved to the areasome two hundred years

earlier. They were simple folkwho eked out a living from thesoil, raising seven children(Toribio was the fifth) on a dietof corn, beans, chili, onions—and meat once in a while. Thefood was adequate but boring,as was the way they dressed.Everyone (children and adults)wore the same thing: a shirtand pants made from a cheapoff-white cotton material calledmanta and a hat made fromcactus fiber. Like all children,

Toribio went barefoot duringthe week, wearing his sandals,called huaraches, only forspecial occasions like attendingMass.

Santa Ana was too small tohave its own church, so itsresidents belonged to theparish of Jalostotlitlan (knownsimply as Jalos) some twohours’ journey on foot—longerif you brought children along.Every Sunday people walked toMass there without complaint,

and many of them went backon first Fridays to honor theSacred Heart. The comfortingdevotions of the Churchbrought both structure andmeaning to their lives:devotions to Our Lady ofRefuge in June and July,prayers to Our Lady of theRosary in October, outdoorprocessions to honor Saint Annduring the rainy season.Practically every family prayedthe rosary every night, and

during Lent they fastedreligiously. Like so many ruralcommunities in Mexico, thepeople of Santa Ana loved theChurch, and they were thankfulthat they could practice theirfaith without interference fromthe state.

The priests from Jalos cameto Santa Ana as often as theycould to hear confessions andvisit the sick, and when theystayed overnight, they foundlodging at the home of the

Romo family. That is how theseed of Toribio’s vocation wassown. Up to that time nobodyfrom Santa Ana had ever eventhought of entering thepriesthood, but from a youngage Toribio showed signs thathe might be the one to breakthat barrier. He couldn’t takehis eyes off the visiting priest,who sat and engaged the adultsin conversation, and when heobserved his sisters making analb—the long white vestment

priests used at Mass—it madehis young mind wonder.

“Do you think I will everwear a garment like that?” heasked.

“No,” his sister Hipólitaanswered dismissively. “Honeyis not made for the mouth ofan ass.” (This was a Spanishexpression similar to “castingpearls before swine.”)

“True, honey is not made forthe mouth of an ass,” another

sister, Quica, interjected, “butsomeday you will wear agarment like this, Toribio.”

Quica’s confident predictionmay have been based onsomething she observed.Toribio loved to play priestwith his friends when theywere alone in the fields,pretending to celebrate Masson a makeshift altar with littlechalices he had made fromclay. His friends went alongwith the fantasy, although not

without jokes and lots ofplayful kidding. “When you areordained,” one of them said, “Iwill be the turkey for yourordination dinner.” Others saidhis interest in the priesthoodwas his way of avoidinghaving to work. Toribio tookthe kidding in good humor andcontinued to be an influenceon his peers. He didn’t do thecruel things they did, likethrowing stones at birds orstray dogs (some of them were

quite deadly at hitting themark), and he often played therole of peacemaker when fightsbroke out. Despite his youngage, Toribio showed signs ofleadership.

There is a story told about aconversation he had with Quicawhen he was very young. Onenight while both were admiringthe starlit sky and ponderingthe grandeur of God, Toribiopointed to a table-shaped hillnearby and said, “Quica, I

think heaven is right there onthat mesita.” Years later thestory took on addedsignificance: when people ofthe area were looking for asuitable place to build achurch, they chose the top ofthat same hill, and ToribioRomo eventually celebrated thefirst Mass in that new church.

But that was a long way off.For now, Toribio needed to goto school, and because SantaAna had no schools (most

people there were illiterate),he had to move to Jalos for hiselementary education. It wasat this point that Quica made asurprising announcement tothe family. She intended tobreak off her engagement to bemarried, she told them, andmove to Jalos to help herbrother with his studies. It wasa remarkable sacrifice and thebeginning of a relationshipthat would last throughoutToribio’s life as a priest.

When brother and sisterfinally got to Jalos, however,they found the school to bemediocre. It was owned by asingle lady who ran theoperation in her backyard, aramshackle patio with cagedcanaries along the wall andbaskets full of tobacco andpaper on the desk; she wasearning extra money rollingcigarettes for the local stores.But Quica and Toribio madethe best of their situation and

stayed at school.Quica and her kid brother

earned their money the hardway. She washed clothes andmade tortillas for theneighbors, and he pitched inafter school deliveringpackages. Nevertheless, theyfound time for prayer: theywent to Mass every morning,made a visit to the BlessedSacrament during the day, andprayed the rosary together atnight. Eventually the whole

family moved to Jalos, andthings became a little easier.Toribio became an altar boy inthe local church, and Quicabecame more confident thather brother would be a priestsomeday.

CHAPTER 2

A

Well Adjusted in the

Seminary

t age twelve, to Quica’sgreat joy, Toribio took thefirst step to the priesthood

by entering the minorseminary in San Juan de losLagos, famous for its shrine toour Lady. It must have been aculture shock for the countryboy from Santa Ana, but by all

accounts these were happydays for him. He loved thedaily rhythm of study andprayer, and he basked in thecare of his superiors as much asthe friendship of hisclassmates. His Spanishappearance made him standout (he was tall and lightskinned, with blue eyes), buthe had little interest in beingtidy and well groomed. Hisdisheveled appearance justadded to his charm among the

students.Academically, Toribio was at

the top of his class. He had aspecial love of Latin and usedto take over the class when theprofessor could not make it, arole that earned him thenickname of Maestro(“teacher”). Not surprisingly,he was elected class president.But the most noteworthy thingabout these years was hisprofound interest in RerumNovarum, the encyclical of

Pope Leo XIII on the rights ofworkers. Toribio was chairmanof a student group that met tostudy that encyclical, and theseseminarians did more than justread the pages of the text. Theyorganized classes for workersin the town, opening theirminds to the social teaching ofthe Church. Years later thisinterest in social justice wouldget Toribio Romo in troublewith his superiors.

As soon as the seminary

closed for the summer, theseminarian from Santa Anareturned to the place of hisroots, where he enjoyed theadmiration of his family andthe curiosity of his neighbors.Children were fascinated bythe native who had made it tothe seminary, and he organizedan outdoor catechism class toteach them about the faith andpray the rosary. (The mesquitetree that provided shade forthose classes is still there

today.) After class they playedgames and enjoyed his good-natured teasing. Many yearslater one of Toribio’s studentsstill laughed about the surprisethey got one day when they atethe “candies” he brought them;they turned out to be hotchilies.

In 1920, Toribio entered themajor seminary in Guadalajarato complete his studies. At firstthe students there joked aboutthe rancherito (boy from the

country), but his friendlypersonality and simplicity soonwon the students over. To thefaculty, it was apparent that hewas able to roll with thepunches and didn’t takehimself too seriously—animportant quality in a diocesanpriest.

Finally, on December 22,1922, he was ordained to thepriesthood. For Toribio, it wasa proud day in more ways thanone: he had reached his life’s

goal, and he had brought greatjoy to his parents, whotraveled to Guadalajara for theceremony. But he must alsohave felt pride in kneelingbefore the great ArchbishopFrancisco Orozco, ofGuadalajara, who was theordaining prelate that day andwould now be his superior. Afew years earlier Toribio hadbeen the student representativechosen to welcome this famouschurchman to the seminary for

a visit.Orozco was one of the giants

of the Church in Mexico, abearded patriarch who wasadmired by all for hisleadership during a time ofpersecution. Yes, persecution!By this time the peace betweenchurch and state was longover. Three presidents hadcome and gone since the daysof Porfirio Díaz, and theatrocities of the past were backwith a vengeance. Out-of-

control government troopswere drinking beer out ofchalices, shooting up sacredimages, and forcibly takingover church buildings asbarracks. Archbishop Orozcowas a particular target of thiscampaign; at one point in1918, the government exiledhim to the U.S.

“Do you promise obedienceto me and my successors?” thearchbishop asked youngToribio in the ordination

ceremony that day. “Yes, I do,”Toribio responded, knowingfull well he was entering thepriesthood in troubled times.

Two weeks later (travel tooktime in those days), Toribiowas back in the place of hisbirth for a Mass ofthanksgiving, and was it ever acelebration! Cousins came fromall over to be present for thebig occasion: from San Juan delos Lagos, Aguascalientes,Leon, and Guadalajara in

Mexico, and even from the U.S.Years later Toribio’s brotherRomán, who followed him tothe seminary, wrote that inevery house in the community,“people were praying, singing,and commenting on the greatevent of the ordination of thefirst priest from Santa Ana.”

Just hours before the Mass,the last stone was put in placein the newly built church.Emotional cheers filled the airduring the Mass that day, and

hundreds of people waited inlong lines afterward to receivea blessing from the hands ofthe newly ordained priest.Then all had a plentiful mealof turkey and chicken in soupsand mole ranchero at hisgrandparents’ house.

Such were the simplebeginnings of priesthood forToribio Romo as he immersedhimself in the love of familyand friends that day inJanuary 1923. If there were

dark clouds on the horizon,nobody dwelled on them. Theyleft such things in the hands ofGod.

Saint Toribio Romo

A panoramic view of SantaAna

Commemorative card of the25th anniversary of the firstMass of Father Toribio Romo

Statue of Father Toribio inSanta Ana

Chapel marking ToribioRomo’s birthplace

Toribio Romo with his fellowseminarians

Father Toribio and one of thechildren he prepared for his

first Communion

Father Toribio Romo with agroup of children on their first

Communion day

First biography of Saint ToribioRomo, written by his brother,

Father Román Romo

CHAPTER 3

T

Given Difficult

Assignments

oribio Romo had fiveassignments in his fiveyears of priesthood, and all

of them were painful in oneway or another. He began inSayula, where he lasted onlyone year because the pastor didnot like him, despite the factthat this pastor had baptized

him twenty-three years earlierand probably stayed at hisparents’ house. We don’t knowthe exact circumstances of thedispute, but we do know thatthe pastor made this admissionyears later: “How I made himsuffer; I understood too late.”

Whatever the problem was,it wasn’t an unwillingness towork. Father Toribioimmediately threw himself intothe task of teaching thechildren catechism, and before

long he was running aprogram for two hundredchildren—a considerableachievement in a tiny ruralcommunity. He and aclassmate, who was also newlyordained and assigned to thatparish, organized classes forworkers on the encyclicalRerum Novarum, much like theyhad done as seminarians in SanJuan de los Lagos.

His second assignment wasto Tuxpan, where again he

threw himself into the work ofteaching the children the basicsof the faith. But thisassignment also lasted onlyone year, and again we don’tknow precisely why he wasmoved so soon. Theparishioners who accompaniedhim to the station on the day ofhis departure saw him cry as hegot on the train.

The third assignment toYahualica was even briefer—afew months—and it would be

the most painful so far. “PadreToribio was ordered to stayshut in his house and wasprohibited from praying therosary in public or sayingMass,” his brother Románwrote later. Unfortunately,Román doesn’t explain why thepastor would resort to suchsevere punishment. What hedoes mention is that FatherToribio went to Father JustinoOrona, the neighboring pastorin Cuquio, to unburden his

soul. Father Orona took FatherToribio under his wing andeven wrote a letter on hisbehalf to the office of thearchbishop—an attempt atadvocacy that failed becausethe pastor of Yahualica got tothe archbishop’s office first. Adiocesan official reprimandedFather Toribio and told him hewould be moved. The silverlining to this crisis was thatFather Toribio ended up beingassigned to Father Orona, who

had become his friend andadvocate.

Descendents of FatherToribio’s family in Sacramentoand priests from the Diocese ofSan Juan de los Lagos believethe dispute in Yahualica (andperhaps in the other parishes)may have been sparked byFather Toribio’s interest in theencyclical Rerum Novarum.That encyclical was aprogressive letter published byPope Leo XIII some thirty-five

years earlier on the rights ofworkers to unionize anddemand a living wage. Someconservative pastors in thediocese probably still resistedthe teaching of that encyclical—with the encouragement ofwealthy landowners, who alsodisagreed with it.

Whatever the exact cause ofthe dispute, Father Toribio’sassignment to Father Orona inCuquio was a happier one—thehappiest in his priestly

ministry. Finally he was with apastor who understood himand gave him broad latitude towork with the poor. The ironyis that this assignment waspainful in another way: he andhis pastor worked underconstant threat to their livesbecause of increasinggovernment persecution. Butthat didn’t stop the two priestsfrom doing their work. Toribiolaunched into the catechismwork he loved so much,

establishing centers of religiousinstruction for the children inthe parish and a school forcatechists as well. And, ofcourse, he set up study groupsfor the laborers on the teachingof Pope Leo XIII. UnionPopular, a labor movementthat had recently been foundedin Guadalajara, was alsoflourishing in Cuquio throughhis efforts. Several young menfrom the area entered theseminary at this time, a sure

indication of Toribio’seffectiveness among youngpeople.

It was at this time that anominous development inMexican history intersectedwith the life of Toribio Romoand must be mentioned here.In July 1926 a mass uprisingbroke out against thegovernment of Plutarco Calles,the military strongman whowas president of Mexico at thistime. The insurgents, known as

Cristeros because of their battlecry, “Viva Cristo Rey” (“Longlive Christ the King”), wereCatholic laypeople who werefed up with the persecution oftheir Church by the Callesgovernment. Although they didnot have the official support ofthe Church, their rebellionspread fast and eventuallyattracted some seventy-fivethousand insurgents acrossthirteen states in central andwestern Mexico. More than

seventy thousand people losttheir lives in this war, andmany more were displaced inthe turmoil. (The immigrationof Mexicans to Californiabegan at this time.)

The parish of Cuquio, whereFather Toribio was assigned,was well known for its supportof the Cristeros. In this town,people said, young men whowere passive Catholics atnightfall were Cristeros bymorning (a reference to the

suddenness with whichsympathizers joined themovement). And it was in thistown that a famous open-airMass was celebrated on a hilloutside the town on the feast ofChrist the King in 1925.Fathers Toribio and Oronaorganized that Mass, andpeople came from miles around—some fifteen thousand in all—in a kind of public defianceof the government’s policy ofpersecution. It was a “heavenly

experience,” Toribio’s brotherRomán recalled, as “themountains vibrated with thecries of ‘Viva Cristo Rey.’”During exposition of theBlessed Sacrament that day,the people took an oath todefend the faith even with theirlives. Father Toribio joined inthat oath, as did Father Orona.The act would prove propheticfor both priests.

The following year thatdefiance went a step further

when three hundred Cristerostook over city hall in Cuquioand held it for several monthswith the support of the people.Neither Father Toribio norFather Orona was directlyinvolved in the uprising, ofcourse, but just living inCuquio during this time wasenough evidence to convict apriest in the eyes of infuriatedgovernment agents. The twopriests became marked men.

Meanwhile, news of the

atrocities of the Callesgovernment was reaching theU.S., where American Catholicswere pressuring PresidentCalvin Coolidge to dosomething about them.Coolidge eventually did, andCalles, who by now waschastened by the success of therebellion, accepted hisintervention and agreed toback off on the confiscation ofChurch property and banningof religious instruction in

public schools.This concession settled the

war, but it didn’t please theCristeros, who felt betrayed bythe bishops. Actually, theCristeros had felt that way allalong. To them, the bishopswere too passive, leaders whodefended the people withwords but refused to stand upand fight. One can imagine thediscussions that must havetaken place between Toribioand his friends about how to

respond to the Cristero call toarms: When is violencejustified in self-defense? Shouldpriests publicly support theCristero cause even if someCristero extremists were asguilty of atrocities as thegovernment? Should theyperhaps join in the rebellionthemselves? (One or tworadical priests actually did.)

Whatever their privateinclinations, the instructions ofthe Mexican bishops to the

priests and people were clear.They preached a message ofstrict Christian pacifism,warning their people instatements against “eventhinking of raising the religiousbanner urging to arms.” But ifthe bishops insisted onpassivism, they were equallyinsistent that priests notabandon their people, urgingthem “to do all the goodpossible for the faithfulentrusted to them” short of

taking up arms. And it is to thecredit of the priests andbishops of the time that theydid stand by their people witha saintly determination thatcan be seen in the recordedstatements of the day.

“Listen to me, rulers of theState of Vera Cruz,” one bishopwrote to local authorities. “Youcan continue to multiply yourcrimes, to destroy the lives ofpriests and honorable citizens,and to despoil them of their

temporal good. By brute forceand acts of savagery you canhinder them from givingworship to God within theconfines of the churches…[But]you can rest assured that notfor one moment will I abandonthe children whom I love somuch and whom Jesus Christplaced under my care.”

In return, the Catholicpeople were equally loyal totheir leaders, turning out bythe thousands to whatever

religious services wereavailable, even if it was onlyCommunion stations. One dayin Guadalajara, a city of180,000, more than 60,000people received Communion. Ifthe intention had been tostamp out Catholicism inMexico, the plan was failingmiserably.

CHAPTER 4

O

Lived Like the Early

Christians

ne can admire the courageand determinationdemonstrated by priests

and people during thepresidency of Plutarco Calles,but one should not concludethat life was easy. It was not.Priests were hiding likefugitives, and parishioners who

harbored them did so at therisk of their lives. The fewbrave Catholics who dared hosta secret Mass in their homessurvived by paying off thepolice and hoping for the best.If they were unlucky, theycould see their land holdingsconfiscated and given to armyofficers, maybe even to someturncoat who had been a paidhand on that hacienda a fewweeks earlier. It was like livingin the Roman Empire during

the reign of Nero.Of course, hostility between

conservative priests (many ofwhom were influenced by therich) and liberal politicians(many of whom wereinfluenced by the Masons andthe European Enlightenment)was not new in Mexico, andanticlericalism had escalatedinto periods of persecutionbefore, but the lengths to whichthe government went to takeover the Church during this

period were unprecedented.One date in particular wasburned into the memory ofToribio and his fellow priests:February 1927. During thatmonth Calles ordered everypriest in the country to reportto Mexico City—to beregistered for ministry! Fromnow on, he said, priests wouldhave to be licensed by thegovernment, like doctors andother professionals, and tominister without that license

would constitute a breach ofthe law. It was a brazen effortto bring the Church directlyunder the control of the state,and not surprisingly, thepriests refused to go along withit. They simply ignored theorder and hoped for the best.

Ten years of tension hadcome to a shocking climax, butfor Father Toribio and hisfellow priests in Guadalajara itcould not have come as asurprise, because their

archbishop had already been inhiding for several months. InOctober of the previous year,Calles had ordered ArchbishopFrancisco Orozco and otherrepresentatives of the bishopsto come to Mexico City todiscuss the worsening crisis,but Orozco decided not to showup. He feared the governmentwould send him into exileagain (which it eventually did),so he went into hiding.

For the next year Orozco

lived in the most remoteregions of his spread-outdiocese, spending his nights inthe dwellings of indigenousfamilies rather than thehaciendas of the rich, becauseit would be harder to find him.In one of his letters hedescribes reading a book bycandlelight one night in thehouse of a poor family when henoticed a poisonous snakecrawling over his feet. He triedto remain calm, and eventually

the unwelcome visitor movedon.

Throughout this time thearchbishop maintained contactwith his diocese with the helpof a faithful young Indian whotraveled to the city once aweek on foot with dispatchesfrom his boss in hiding. Thatwas how the archbishop madeassignments. For priests likeToribio Romo, it must havebeen a strange world in whichto minister.

One piece of good news outof Mexico City at this point didencourage Father Toribio,however. An attempt wasmade to bomb the image ofOur Lady of Guadalupe in itsshrine in the capital, but whiledamage was done to theshrine, the image miraculouslyescaped. (The twisted metalcross is on display to this dayin the rebuilt shrine.)Ironically, a decorative silkcurtain that had been rolled up

above the picture unfolded inthe blast that day. It hungdown in front of the Virgin asif to shield her eyes from themayhem around her and send amessage to those who woulddestroy her.

Meanwhile, like thearchbishop, Father Toribiowent about his work as best hecould, risking his life everytime he ministered thesacraments. He celebratedMass in secret, well aware of

the risks to himself and hishosts. He heard confessions,knowing how the governmentcould abuse that sacrament. (Inone rural parish, governmentagents posed as priests, thenused the information gained inthe confessional to arrest theparishioners.) And hedistributed Communion many,many times. That was the mostcommon form of Eucharisticworship at the time because thebishops had closed all the

churches in the nation eighteenmonths earlier in protestagainst governmentpersecution. People flocked toCommunion stations becausethey were all they had.

It is difficult for us today toimagine a diocese functioningunder conditions like these, butsuch were the conditions underwhich Father Toribio and hisfellow priests ministeredduring this period in Mexicanhistory. And these conditions

are historically linked to apolitical figure mentioned onlyin passing so far, about whommore must now be said. Hisname was Plutarco EliasCalles.

CHAPTER 5

T

Suffered Under Plutarco

Calles

he politician responsiblefor the killing of ToribioRomo wasn’t all bad. In

fact, were it not for thereligion issue, Plutarco Callesmight be considered one of thebetter presidents of Mexico. Hehad deep convictions aboutjustice and equality, and he

expanded governmentprograms for thedisadvantaged in a nation thathas always had a gap betweenthe haves and the have-nots.“Who should be able to reachout a hand to the poor?” heasked a reporter once, thenanswered the question himself:“Only one agency—thegovernment.”

During his time as president,the government did indeedextend a hand to the poor.

Calles made education moreavailable by expanding thenetwork of schools (he hadbeen a teacher himself once);organized housing projects andpublic health programs;accelerated the breakup oflarge haciendas, includingChurch-owned lands; and madetravel a lot easier by buildingmore railroads. He evenconducted a campaign againstalcoholism.

Most importantly, he

institutionalized the successionof power in Mexico. Up to thattime, changes in office hadbeen marked by violentrevolutions and shakycoalitions, and the country hadbeen run by militarystrongmen. But Calles had adeeper respect for the law thanmost strongmen, and heunderstood that the way to putan end to militarygovernments was a strongerpolitical system. With that end

in mind, he founded a politicalparty, the predecessor oftoday’s InstitutionalRevolutionary Party, or PRI, inMexico. By the time he left thepublic stage, Calles hadimplemented a system in whichthe succession of power inMexico was determined by agroup of leaders rather than byindividual strongmen. As onehistorian put it, the politicalparty he founded provided acivilized conclave in which

generals could resolve theirdifferences without drawingtheir revolvers.

But those are not thequalities for which PlutarcoCalles is remembered. Whathas endured in the memory ofthe Mexican people are hishang-up about religion and thenumber of innocent people likeToribio Romo who weremurdered in cold blood becauseof him. He was an atheist, likemany of his fellow politicians

(“When I was an altar boy, Istole the alms to buy candy,”he once boasted), and likemany politicians of the time,he believed sincerely that the“fanaticism” and “superstition”of religion should be replacedwith “pure reason.” But Calles’dislike of the Catholic Churchwent deeper than that; it wasvisceral, and he was willing togo to considerable lengths toget rid of religion altogether.When he was governor of

Sonora, he made theunprecedented decision to banevery Catholic priest from thestate! The Americanambassador was so takenaback by this that he wrote tothe Secretary of State about itin 1926: “The president hasbecome so violent on thereligious question that he haslost control of himself. Whenthis topic has been dealt within his presence, his face turnsred and he has hit the table to

express his hate and profoundhostility towards the practiceof religion.”

To understand this mindset,some historians point to Calles’childhood. His father was analcoholic (remember thatcampaign against alcoholism)who showed no interest inraising his children, and Calles,raised by a maternal aunt,grew up resenting his father.Worse, he resented the originsof his birth. He had been born

out of wedlock, and in thosedays being illegitimate carriedconsiderable social stigma.That stigma followed himthrough life—even at theheight of his power there wererumors about his ancestry—and he blamed the Church forthe pain that caused him.Denying the authority ofreligion may have been hisattempt to deal with it.

Either way, the subsequenthistory of Mexico demonstrates

how miserably he failed in hiscampaign against religion.Calles didn’t understand thatkilling people like ToribioRomo only made the faithstronger. For all his brillianceas an administrator, hemiscalculated his adversary. Astriking example of thatmiscalculation can be seen inhis reaction to the Mexicanbishops in July 1926, whenthey ordered all the churches ofMexico closed in protest

against the persecution. “Eachweek without religiousceremonies,” he smuglycommented to an associate,“will cost the Catholic religiontwo percent of its faithful.”

Of course, it didn’t. Quite thecontrary! But it did cost him hisplace in history, while themartyrs he created won theadmiration of millions. Theirony is that for all his furyagainst priests like FatherToribio, Calles ended his years

searching for a supreme beingwho would give meaning to hislife of wealth and leisure. Forsome months before he died, heattended spiritualist meetingsin an effort to communicatewith those on the other side ofthe grave. By that time, ToribioRomo had already been deadseveral years, and people werecommunicating with himthrough prayer.

T

CHAPTER 6

Obedient Unto Death

equila, in the state ofJalisco, has given its nameto the famous drink made

from the cactus plant, andthousands of tourists visit thereevery year to tour factorieswith famous brand names likeSauza and Jose Cuervo. But anincreasing number of visitors

to Tequila these days ask fordirections to another tequilafactory—an abandoned one ina remote canyon some distanceoutside the town. It was in thishidden place that FatherToribio Romo spent his lastfive months of priestlyministry. Even today it takesthirty minutes to climb downthere on foot from the road.

Father Toribio did not wantto move to Tequila in 1927because he liked Father Orona

and was happy in Cuquio. Infact, Father Orona wrote to thearchbishop petitioning thatFather Toribio be allowed tostay in Cuquio. It didn’t work,of course. The people ofTequila needed him, thearchbishop explained, andFather Toribio was reminded ofhis promise of obedience to hisbishop, made almost five yearsearlier at his ordination. Therewas one bright side to this newassignment, however. His

brother Román, who hadrecently been ordained to thepriesthood, was assigned withhim, and his favorite sister,Quica, was also planning tolive with him and help in theparish.

We don’t know where thepastor of Tequila lived duringthese dangerous times, butFather Toribio and his siblingslived in this abandonedwarehouse, presumablybecause it was safer than living

in town. So the three siblingsturned it into a makeshiftparish plant, using two smallrooms as sleeping quarters andthe warehouse as a temporarychapel. The people who ownedthe warehouse provided themwith food and even took careof their laundry—at the risk ofbeing caught, of course.

As usual, Father Toribio setup centers for catechisminstruction in homes on nearbyranches. Many nights he went

into town to visit the sick andcelebrate Mass in the homes ofthose brave enough to allow it.The priests worked quietly in akind of stealth ministry, hopingnobody would say or doanything to attract theattention of the authorities.

That went on for five monthswithout any problems, but thenone night they got a fright.Word passed around thatsoldiers would be searching thearea, so Father Toribio and his

siblings decided to hide underbushes in the canyon until thedanger passed. Early thefollowing morning the threesiblings, who had been up allnight, came out of hiding tocelebrate Mass in thewarehouse. Not surprisingly,they found the peopleanxiously waiting. It was AshWednesday, and Father Toribiopreached about Lent and themeaning of the ashes.Throughout that day people

continued to come for ashes, aspeople do everywhere on AshWednesday, and everyonerelaxed because the dangerseemed to have passed. Ofcourse, it hadn’t, as thingsturned out.

Looking back now, it is clearthat Father Toribio sensedsomething sinister at this point,but he didn’t talk about it. Infact, his siblings thought hewas acting rather strangely.Out of the blue on Wednesday

night, he told Román to get tobed early because he wouldhave to go to Guadalajara thenext day. When Román askedwhy, Father Toribio refused toexplain, simply saying,“Brother, I am ordering youbecause I am your superiorhere.” And sure enough, afterMass the following morning, asaddled horse was waiting totake Román to Guadalajara.But before his brother coulddepart, Toribio asked him to

hear his confession and gavehim a sealed letter, instructinghim not to open it until he wastold to. Father Toribio thenreturned to the makeshiftchapel, and Romándisappeared up the trail out ofthe canyon as his puzzled sisterlooked on.

All through that day and thefollowing one Father Toribiowas pensive, saying little andpreoccupied with his thoughts.One has to wonder what he

thought about during thesefinal hours. Certainly theprevious twelve months didnothing to brighten his mood.They had been like a year outof hell: the closing of thechurches, the harassment of thearchbishop, the order for allpriests to report to MexicoCity, the murder of so manypriests, including many heknew personally. Those priestswere martyrs for the faith, thepeople kept saying to him, and

now he would probably benumbered among them himself.He must have asked God togive him the strength to go on.

Meanwhile, Toribio kepthimself occupied throughoutFriday recording baptisms andweddings and writing outcertificates for families whohad celebrated the sacramentsin recent days. He continuedworking into the night,occasionally taking naps orbrief breaks but never going to

bed. On Saturday at 4:00 AM,he woke Quica, who had fallenasleep on the floor near him,and asked her to prepare thealtar for Mass. The Eucharist—the celebration of Christ’sdeath and resurrection—hadalways been the central pillarof his spirituality and would beespecially comforting in a timeof crisis such as this. “Lord, donot leave me, nor permit a dayof my life to pass without mysaying the Mass,” he had often

prayed, “without my receivingyour embrace in Communion.”

But when he got to thechapel that morning, he toldQuica he was too tired even tocelebrate Mass. He returned tohis room, took off his alb,threw himself on the bed, andfinally fell asleep.

About an hour later federaltroops found him there in apeaceful slumber, one armcovering his face. A soldier

moved his arm from his faceand yelled, “This is the priest!Kill him!” Father Toribio wokeup, sat up in the bed, and said,“I am the priest, but do not killme.” Before he could say anymore, a shot rang out alongwith cheers of “Kill the priest!”He got up and staggered adozen steps out of the buildingbefore a second shot rang outand he fell into the arms of hishorrified sister, who hadfollowed him. Quica looked

into his anguished eyes one lasttime, and he died. She hadsupported her brother’svocation in both childhood andadulthood, and now God hadgiven her the privilege ofholding him in her arms duringhis last agony.

What happened next couldbe considered a small gestureof mercy. The officer in chargeof the troops allowed thepeople to put Father Toribio’sbody on an improvised

stretcher and carry it inprocession to Tequila. Thegesture was soon diminished,however, when unruly soldiersbegan to whistle and singvulgar songs along the way.Quica ignored the insults andwalked barefoot behind thebody, praying the rosary.

In Tequila the time for kindgestures was over. Soldiersdumped the body in front ofcity hall and forced the weakand pale Quica to walk

barefoot to the barracks, wherethey subjected her to hungerand ridicule for three daysbefore releasing her. But whenshe later joined her family inGuadalajara, she was the oneon whom they leaned. “Weshould not cry,” she told hershocked siblings. “PadreToribio is in heaven.” WhenRomán finally opened thesealed letter his brother hadgiven him, he found a finaltestament requesting that he

“please take care of our dearand aging parents” and similarexpressions of concern for hissiblings.

The body of the twenty-seven-year-old Father Toribiowas buried in the cemetery inTequila, where it remained fortwenty years. Eventually thefamily moved it to Santa Ana,to the chapel on the mesita,where it lies today. FatherRomán became pastor of SantaTeresita Church in

Guadalajara, where he servedfor almost fifty years,becoming a highly respectedleader in the city. He died in1981 at the age of seventy-sixand is buried in his church.

Toribio Romo’s story calls tomind a statement made bybiographer Christopher Hollisabout Thomas More, thebrilliant and saintly chancellorof England whom King HenryVIII killed because he got in theway of the king’s plans for

divorce. Commenting on theeffects of More’s execution onthe English nation, Holliswrote: “They killed holiness.Before that colossal fact all theexcuses and the explanationsfade into nothing…there wasno room in England for bothsuch a man and the Tudorstate.”

True. There was no room inMexico for both a man such asToribio Romo and the Callesstate either. And today there is

no room for doubt about theeffects of Father Toribio’s deathon the Mexican nation. He andhis fellow martyrs gaveMexicans the depth of faith wehave come to admire.

Prayer to Saint Toribio

Loving Father,you have made Saint Toribio

an inspiration for your people.Help us to follow his example

of self-sacrifice in the service ofothers,

his commitment to justicefor those who are least important,

and his steadfast couragein the face of threats to his life.

May his prayers turn our

weakness into strengthso that we may turn our crosses

into signs of your glory.We ask this through Christ, our

Lord.Amen.

Note to the reader

The author is working on alarger book on this subject. Ifyou or your relatives havepersonal memories of theCristero rebellion or thebrutality of the Callesgovernment, please send themto jmurphy-cristeros@hotmail.com.