My first three years as Regional Vicar of the Opus Dei in Argentina, Paraguay and Bolivia ran parallel to Cardinal Bergoglio's last three years as Archbishop of Buenos Aires. This circumstance allowed me to meet him on several occasions and a precious friendship was forged that lasts until today.
Treating the Pope as a friend through letters, personal encounters and Eucharistic concelebrations has allowed me to witness live and direct what I consider a defining feature of his personality: simple self-forgetfulness. Moreover, on that basis of humility, I have been able to sense his touching piety, his concern for priests, and his evident predilection for the poor and vulnerable.
I was with him for the first time during a multitudinous Mass in the Cathedral of Buenos Aires. He was presiding and I was concelebrating. It was on June 26, 2010, the feast of St. Josemaría. Along with being at ease, surrounded by the affection of so many of the faithful of the Prelature of Opus Dei, I saw it as an opportunity for me to be at ease. tucked away in the mystery: pious, recollected, spreading to all those present the vibration of his faith and the impetus of his apostolic fire.
Before the celebration began, he took a very sincere interest in me and in the work that awaited me: I had just arrived in Buenos Aires. I then accompanied him to two more Masses for St. Josemaría, in 2011 and 2012, where I was able to admire once again his priestly temperament. That temperament that, so to speak, was sacramentally configured on a day like today, June 27, 1992, when he received his episcopal ordination from the hands of Cardinal Antonio Quarracino.
I saw his piety shine forth in all the Masses I concelebrated with him, both in the intimacy of his oratory in Santa Marta and in the open air in Paraguay, surrounded by a million and a half people. As if isolated from his surroundings, I always saw him attentive to the Lord in the Eucharist.
Drinking tereré
During that three-year period in Buenos Aires, I felt supported by his virtues as a good shepherd: always very fatherly, always very close. Until March 13, 2013, when we saw him appear in St. Peter's Square dressed in white.
That day I experienced what every Argentinean probably experienced: emotion, amazement, happy surprise, and the feeling that nothing would ever be the same again, that I might never see him again.
But I was wrong. Just two years later, in March 2015, I traveled to Rome and was with him at the conclusion of a general audience. I knew that the following July he would visit Paraguay. For that reason, and because I also knew that he professes a particular affection for that country, I dared to offer him "a tereré".
The photo of the Pope enjoying this typical Paraguayan drink, made of yerba mate and almost frozen water, was quickly spread by the Paraguayan media: it was the prelude to what would be an unforgettable trip, marked by the enthusiasm and emotions of a people who love Francis with all the fibers of their soul.
In the Pope's pocket
I believe, without fear of exaggeration, that the way in which the Paraguayan people received the Pope with such affection is an example for the whole world. And I, by the grace of God, had the immense good fortune to be received alone for a few minutes during those exhausting days. It was on Saturday, July 11, 2015, at the Nunciature.
At the end of our talk, intimate and intense, from son to father, from priest to priest, from friend to friend, from compatriot to compatriot, I gave him a rare and very small Stations of the Cross: with its stations carved in silver, it is an ancient miniature owned by a Paraguayan family who generously offered it to the Pope with all their heart.
I have to say that I gave him this authentic work of art with the well-founded fear that he would leave it in other hands, as he usually does with the many gifts he receives, but this time I was wrong. In very quick sequence, having that treasure already in his hands, his face lit up, he immediately put it in his pocket, and visibly moved, he told me: "I'll keep this!", adding that it would be very useful for him to review it every day.
It has been eight years that this valuable piece is still there, in the Pope's pocket. He has even shown it in public meetings to explain that the Cross, apparent "failure of God," is in reality his great victory. "With these two things, I do not lose hope," he went so far as to say, for example, in Kenya, on November 27, 2015, showing the crowd a rosary and the Paraguayan Stations of the Cross.
Handwritten answers
In 2020, in the midst of the pandemic, I wrote him my first letter. I wanted to ask him for pastoral advice on how to better serve the people who depended most directly on my work as Regional Vicar.
His brief reply, in his own handwriting, never failed to move me. He encouraged me to have patience, and patience, and more patience; to cultivate an understanding and hopeful gaze toward each soul; and he begged me to please pray for him and his intentions as he would pray for me and mine.
Our correspondence now totals twenty letters: mine, digital; those of Francis, handwritten. I keep them as relics and they all end the same, with the simple request that I pray for him. This fact, in itself, is really impressive and I cannot understand why: the Pope does not have to answer me and yet he has not failed to answer a single one of my letters. But what surprises me most is another detail: the reply usually arrives the same day I write to him, or the following day. This is something extraordinary and can only be explained by his generous dedication.
Among the last lines I wrote to him in March 2023, I told him that I was about to undergo spinal surgery. As is now incredibly usual, he replied the same day, assuring me that he was praying for my speedy recovery. Then, a month later, I told him that I was already better, recovering, and he answered me again, as fast as always and adding the usual: "don't forget to pray for me; I pray for you".
"Don't get soggy with chipa"
In October 2021 I wrote to him to tell him an important news: I was saying goodbye to Buenos Aires and returning to Asunción to take up my post as Vicar of Opus Dei in Paraguay. Faced with this new challenge, I begged him to offer me some guidance or suggestions.
He wrote to me rejoicing that I am returning to this country that he carries so deep in his priestly heart and, apparently, he judged that I did not need advice because he limited himself to playing a joke on me: "Don't get soaked with chipa!
For those who are not familiar with Paraguayan gastronomy, it should be explained that chipa is a very popular bread made with manioc starch and, as the Pope knows well, it is almost irresistible. So, on the face of it, this is a piece of advice that hides more wisdom than it appears at first glance.
"How did you get here?"
In the middle of 2021, due to the duties of my pastoral assignment, I had to travel to Rome. And by the grace of God, the Pope received me in his office. He was most affectionate and the first thing he asked me, more than intrigued, was, "How did you get here?"
The question was not an idle one because in those days of rampant global pandemic crossing the Atlantic was an impossible undertaking. I was able to do so by a surprising and providential constellation of factors: I would say by miracle.
In that meeting something unthinkable happened: I had to suspend it! Francis, forgetful of himself, dedicated his time to me as if he had no agenda, as if we were lifelong friends. I, who clearly do not deserve such treatment, felt that I could not take any more advantage of the Pope's kindness and after 45 minutes I suggested to him that it was time for me to leave.
I now conclude my account of my memories: I have undeservedly received, as if without seeking it, the gift and privilege of friendship with the Pope. And today, from my humble position as a priest, on the anniversary of his episcopal ordination, I intend to redouble my prayers for him and his intentions. May I ask you, dear reader, to also say a prayer for Francis?
Vicar of Opus Dei in Paraguay
