DON MARCELO: FATHER AND SHEPHERD
The first time I saw Don Marcelo was in my village, when I was a young
altar server. I remember it vividly. It was a Saturday morning, after a
wedding had taken place. When we had finished tidying up and were about
to head home, a car stopped in front of the church door, and we saw some
gentlemen step out. I only recall the joy of our parish priest as he greeted
and welcomed those strangers, among whom was Don Marcelo, a former
classmate at the Diocesan Seminary of Valladolid and, at that time, Archbishop of Toledo
and Primate of Spain. We had all heard of him in that rural setting, but
none of us knew him.
You can imagine the joy and excitement that spread through that small village in
Castile when it became known that one of the most prominent figures of the Church in Spain
had been there, even if briefly and unexpectedly.
Don Marcelo was passing along the road on his way to Salamanca and, upon realizing how close
my village was, he remembered his old seminary companion and had the
kindness to detour in order to spend a few minutes with a humble priest
forgotten in a small village of his former archdiocese.
Years later, I was able to see and hear Don Marcelo in Toledo and Valladolid; but
it was especially during my studies in Rome that I had the
opportunity to get to know him much better. He resided at the Pontifical Spanish College, which
he visited frequently. There I met Don Santiago Calvo, who one day
approached me to say that His Eminence the Cardinal had invited the students from the
Archdiocese of Toledo—quite a few of them—a priest from Astorga, and me—the only seminarian from Valladolid—to lunch outside the
College.
I still remember his kindness, warmth, and interest in getting to know me and updating his
knowledge of people and events in the Archdiocese of Valladolid; but
I was also struck by his concern for each and every person present, shown through
his words and gestures.
I must admit I was deeply moved and grateful for that Roman encounter,
not only with the great Cardinal Primate of Spain, but with Don Marcelo,
the man I had heard so much about in the rural setting of my childhood, spoken of with great
fervor and a certain provincial pride.
After completing my studies in Rome, I was sent as a parish priest to several villages in the
Monte Torozos region. There I began my priestly ministry, dividing my time and
responsibilities between the two parishes entrusted to me and the many scattered farms
across the vast plain of oak trees and fields. One day, on the eve of the
Epiphany of the Lord, as I was returning at dusk from one of the parishes
to my home in Villalba de los Alcores, a neighbor approached me, visibly upset and concerned.
She told me that two people had come to my door and had been
lingering around the church, despite the cold, for quite some time, asking for me.
She informed them that I was celebrating Mass at the other
parish, attending to the usual pastoral duties on the eve of Epiphany. The neighbor didn’t
know who they were, but after several explanations, I realized it was Don
Marcelo and his secretary, Don Santiago, who, on their way to Fuentes de Nava, had
stopped in the village to greet me. You can imagine the joy of a
twenty-seven-year-old priest receiving such news and a visit like that!
The next day, I tried to find the Cardinal’s phone number by calling the bar in
Fuentes de Nava, and eventually I was able to reach him. He invited me to come that same afternoon
for coffee at his house, and from then on, every time I went to Fuentes de
Nava during the Christmas and summer holidays, he would call me to enjoy
some time together in conversation—always enriching—along with other priests
from the village, including my good brother and friend, Mons. Manuel Sánchez Monge.
There I also witnessed his final moments, when he had already lost
his physical and mental strength; and I was the first priest to pray before his body,
laid out in the living room of his home, at the invitation of Mons. Rafael Palmero, who was
present.
Why do I remember all this? Because the memory Don Marcelo leaves me with, among
many others, is not only that of a great ecclesial figure of the twentieth century—whose legacy
history will surely magnify—but also that of a pastor who was attentive and diligent
with everyone; and a father, especially sensitive to seminarians and priests.
Thank you, Don Marcelo—you were truly a father and a shepherd!
Aurelio García Macías
Titular Bishop of Rotdon
Undersecretary of the Dicastery for Divine Worship
and the Discipline of the Sacraments