A few poor, clumsy, very limited words about my cousin Marcos.
«Yes, Rafa, the great thing about the Lord is that he can strike oil even in a pile of muck…» – Marcos said to me cheerfully, with that mixture of mysticism and down-to-earth realism, of humour and depth, of affection, that made him so human.
It was 2009 or 2010, and the older cousins were gathered in a bar on Major de Sarrià. A «pouada», taking advantage of a visit of mine to Barcelona. And I was telling them about certain very painful events and situations out of which, nevertheless, God was drawing much good. That was when he came out with that jocular reply, which gave us a good laugh and plenty to think about.
I remembered this and other anecdotes during the endless hours of travel that separated Rome from Barcelona last weekend. When news like Sunday’s reaches you, every cliché falls short, and all you can do is raise your eyes to heaven. Of course, one could turn to the classical saying that «muore giovane chi è caro agli dei», or to what Seneca said: «the more brightly the fire has blazed, the sooner it goes out (…) so it is with souls: the more brilliant they are, for that very reason they last less». And it would be true. Because a great fire really did consume him, a fire that showed itself in his conversations and in his messages. I have spent many years away from home, and in recent times I have not had so many chances to talk with Marcos. During my years in Salamanca, however, we wrote to each other fairly often, we would sometimes speak on the phone, and we never failed to meet up for a drink when I passed through Barcelona, either on our own or with other cousins of mine. It was above all in those years that I was able to glimpse a little of that fire he carried within and that was transforming him, when I heard him speak with such ardour about his encounter with Christ, about the experience of his friendship and his love, about that desire that was being born in him to respond to him and to give himself to the Lord. But none of this is enough to understand.
It would also be true to say that he will remain forever in our memory, but that would be little, very little, far too little. And it would be revoltingly easy to get away with saying that «he had fulfilled his mission». But no… nothing of the sort! A brilliant guy, brimming with life, with his whole life ahead of him, just given over to the Lord when he entered the seminary in Barcelona… and that’s it? No. I don’t think so. I believe his mission had only just begun. What is more, it is just beginning. I have thought a great deal about St Thérèse of Lisieux, patroness of the missions, who died at the age of 24, only one year older than Marcos. This Doctor of the Church said that she would spend her Heaven doing good on Earth, that now, with death, her mission was truly beginning. That was when she could fulfil her desire to be a missionary until the end of time, bringing souls to God. And so I am sure that Marcos is going to be more active than ever from now on. Touching our consciences from God’s side, obtaining graces for us and awakening our hearts with the example of his life given over to him. Our lives cannot go on as before.
The fact is that all too often we think of the mission of priests and of people consecrated to God… in terms of what they do or say. Not that there is anything wrong with that. But it is not enough. We forget that far more important is their vocation to be signs. To be a finger pointing towards Heaven. To be, even with their limitations and failings, a fire reflecting something of the light of the Risen Christ, a flash of him to remind us that he is there, that God loves us, that only in Christ will we find the infinite happiness to which our heart aspires, that it is worth giving everything for him. Marcos’s life and death have been a message from God to Barcelona, a message from God for me and for you, written in bold, in capitals and double underlined. And if God has chosen to allow the seed of his life to fall and die in order to bear fruit, and his blood to be the seed of new Christians… the worst betrayal we could commit would be not to welcome that message into our hearts, not to let it bear fruit, not to receive the life he wants to communicate to us. That, I think, is what the liturgy of Lent speaks to us about when it repeats: «If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts». Marcos’s life is a testimony and a challenge, a light, a call and a summons. It is a gauntlet thrown down at our door. With a gift like Marcos there is no point in talking about «understanding». It has to be welcomed. And lived.
Machine translation. If you spot a mistake, do write to us.