VALENCIA, Spain, MAR. 9, 2001 (Zenit.org).- Archbishop Agustín García-Gasco of Valencia, writing on the occasion of this Sunday's beatification of 233 martyrs of the 1936 religious persecution, says "their witness to fidelity today maintains its timeliness and freshness."
In a pastoral letter, the archbishop said that, in affirming that they gave their life for Christ, the Church "does not judge or condemn anyone, rather it shows the integral Christian living of martyrdom in these persons." Most of the martyrs were from Valencia.
The archbishop noted "that someone might interpret" this beatification "in a biased or mistaken way," but "there is no interpretation other than that of understanding, beyond all opportunistic considerations, that the Christian fidelity of these martyrs, maintained until the end, is an admirable and courageous example of their belonging to Christ and his Church."
While "ideological and political systems pass, the sacrificial witness of the martyrs endures and is the seed of new believers," he concluded.
A Living Martyr of 1930s Spanish Persecution
Father Eugenio Laguarda, 90, Talks About Ordeal
Father Eugenio Laguarda might well have been among the 233 martyrs of the Spanish religious persecution whom John Paul II will beatify this Sunday.
His would-be murderers in the 1930s abandoned him, shot and bleeding, in a ravine. But a bus arrived in time to save his life.
Today, at age 90, Father Laguarda celebrates Mass daily at 7 a.m. in the Basilica of the Virgin of the Forsaken of Valencia, the diocese from which most of the martyrs come. After Mass, Father Laguarda spends most of the day hearing confessions.
Following is his account of the atmosphere in Spain during the civil war. According to Church data, between July 18, 1936, and April 1, 1937, no fewer than 6,832 priests, men and women religious, and 12 bishops were killed. The attack Father Laguarda recounts here occurred June 17, 1938.
I was very young. As I was already a priest, they sent me to a village of the province of Castellón. Fifteen months after I arrived in the village of Zucaina, the war began.
I kept abreast of the news, and hid all the parish images, in straw lofts, in private homes. I would leave my house [in the morning] and go to the church, but not ring the bell; many village priests had been killed.
One day a gang that went from village to village killing, came to kill me. When they arrived in Zucaina, they found some children playing in the square and asked them: "Have you seen the priest?" They answered that they did not know where he was, so they went to a bar thinking that the priest was no longer there. The owner of the bar got angry with them. "Why do you have to kill the priest? This priest is very good." They replied: "Suffice it he is a priest for us to kill him!" And they left.
They sent me a message, so that I would know what happened, and I prepared to hide that night in a farmhouse, which was over an hour and a half's walk from the village. The owner of the farm was Uncle Bernabé, an elderly man. It was dawn when I arrived, and I said to Uncle Bernabé: "You know why I have come, to hide." He answered me: "It is a very great risk to have you here, they could kill us all." I said: "Look, Uncle Bernabé, I have not told anyone that I was coming here. So, if you don't say anything to anyone, nothing will happen."
It was already daylight. Then, having heard us, the woman called out to her husband from her bed: "Bernabé, Bernabé, who is it? He said: "The priest." His wife asked: "The priest? But all of them have been killed. What does the priest want?"
Uncle Bernabé replied: "That we keep him hidden here until all this is over. I have told him he can stay seven or eight days, but no more, because it is a very great risk." She said: "Not just a few days ... but as long as necessary!" And as women had more say at home than men, they let me stay.
Nobody knew I was there but, as they were thinking of stationing two companies of soldiers on that farm, I left through the mountains, headed for Valencia. When I was near Segorbe, two soldiers caught me. They were looking for an escaped prisoner, and asked me: "Where are you going?" I said, "To Valencia." They immediately thought ill of me. "Tell us the truth! Who are you?" Then I told them I was a priest.
They took me by the arms, searched me, and found my breviary. One of them kicked me in the face, broke my nose, and left me with no sight out of my left eye for three months. I fell to the earth. They struck me and would make me get up again, until I could no longer move. Then, one of them shot me in the head. The bullet penetrated under my left eye, went through my palate, tongue, neck, and lodged in my lung.
The other told him to shoot me again, because I was alive, but he didn't. They threw me in a little ravine near the road. I could hear them going, laughing at me because I was praying to the Virgin.
When their voices faded, I tried to climb up to the road but when I stood up, I fell down. I was very ill, and said to myself: "I must climb up to the road." I crawled up, holding on to the grass, little by little, and finally I reached the road. Immediately, there was a pool of blood.
People went by and finally a bus arrived. It was midnight. As the road was somewhat narrow and the bus was wide, they stopped and got down. I told them I was a priest and that they had martyred me. They didn't know what to do; finally they put me on the bus and took me to Castellón to leave me in a hospital. I was seriously wounded.
As we passed through Naquera, at 1 o'clock in the morning, the two assailants were sitting on the road. They stopped the bus and spoke with the driver. I was in a passenger seat, dying. "Where are you going now?" they asked the driver. "I am going to the hospital to take someone who is wounded, whom I collected up there. A priest." They cried: "He is the priest we killed! Is he still alive? We must finish him off." However, the driver finally prevailed, and the two assailants stayed there. He took me to Castellón; I was received immediately by the hospital.
When the war ended, those two assailants were tried and condemned to death. Then, having returned to Zucaina, the father of one of them and the mother of the other came to see me, they knelt down and made the sign of the cross before me, saying: "Father, have compassion on our sons, who are in prison and are going to be killed for what they did to you."
I immediately took pen and paper in hand and wrote the judge, telling him that I was all right, and that I would like the death penalty lifted from them. When they saw the document with my signature, they commuted the sentence. I don't know if they are still living, much time has gone by. I am very grateful to Jesus because he saved my life. Now I am called the resurrected dead one.
Son Recalls His Father´s Martyrdom
Says He Forgives Killers From 1930s Spain
Among the pilgrims who will be in St. Peter's Square this Sunday for the beatification of 233 martyrs of the 1930s religious persecution in Spain, is José María Torres Pérez, son of one of the new blesseds.
He remembers his father getting into a dark car, outside his home, and his mother, in the background, crying to the militiamen, "Please don't take him."
José was 8 at the time. He had just returned from buying soda water for his father, who that night had suffered nephritic colic. It took less than a day for him to hear the news that his father, Pascual Torres Lloret of Carcaixent, had been killed.
That was September 1936. Sixty-five years later -- and despite the pain he lived through at the time -- José María Torres says, "Martyrdom is a gift and blessing from heaven. It is something that people without faith cannot understand, no matter how much you explain it."
His father was a work foreman. Asked why his father was killed, he said: "Because he was a Christian. My father was a man of prayer and daily Communion. He was authorized to give Communion, and did so in the parish and later, secretly, in the homes of the sick."
Torres continued: "One was persecuted if one went to Communion. I remember he hid the Hosts in a cloth napkin, which he left inside a purifier. On one occasion, this piece of cloth made it possible to have our father with us a bit longer [so to speak], because the Hosts, which were well wrapped, did not scatter after being handled by one of the militiamen, who dug through our belongings in search of money."
Is it possible to forgive? Torres answered unhesitatingly: "When I go to heaven, I would like to meet all my father's killers." In Heaven, he said, he would repeat his forgiveness to them.
"Everything that has happened, the tragedy we have lived through, has helped us to mature," said Torres, who is now a catechist for married couples in Valencia's St. Thomas Parish.
José Torres also mentioned his mother, whose memory is very present to him. "She was very happy, accepted everything," he recalled. "She was very affected when she heard the tragic news of his death. It was my eldest sister who told us that my father had been killed that night. She found out when she went to the prison in the morning to take him something to eat. From then on, my mother suffered from partial paraplegia."
Torres is in Rome with his brother, wife and three children for the beatifications.