THE SEMINARY

July 1956


At 14, I had just completed the second year of high school at The Junior Seminary of Our Mother Mary in Riobamba (a small city in the mountains in Ecuador, South America), where carefully chosen high school catholic students were “readied” in six years for the college level Seminary, from which, upon graduation (after six years of intense studying of philosophy and Theology) they would be ordained as Catholic Priests. Our school was the “dream come true” of Bishop Leonidas Proano, a high ranking Catholic bishop whose controversial views of the church’s role in society were in those days seen by many within and without the church, as a threat to the establishment.


Highly influenced by the Brazilian bishop Elder Camara the founder of a so called “Social Doctrine of the Church”, Proano though that the role of the Catholic Church should not be only spiritual and addressed to save souls for heaven, but more proactive in the formation of a new type of individual for society. He thought that the church should take a leading role not only in evangelizing people, but in forming leaders who would eventually help change the profoundly unjust Ecuadorian society into one where there would be more justice, or, to put it in another way, less injustice for the poor, and particularly for the Native Indians.


Proano was especially concerned about the millions of Indians living in sub-human conditions up in the far away, windiest, highest and coldest parts of the Sierra, where the Spanish Conquistadors first, and then the rich Creole land owners had thrown them to live and work to barely survive. Going in this direction, Proano founded and run what he called the “Radiophonic Schools”, whose main purpose was to alphabetize and evangelize those Indians through radio broadcastings, as well as to let them know that they were human beings with social rights, just as any other citizen of the country, and not “working beasts” as they had been treated for centuries. It was with the purpose of forming such leaders that Proano created the Junior Seminary of Our Mother Mary in Riobamba, a school he thought was going to become “the Jewel of The Crown”.


This day, the formal ceremony closing the first academic year of our school was taking place in the ample, well illuminated auditorium where images of our Holy Mother Mary, her cousin St. Elizabeth and the twelve apostles hanged from three of the four large walls. A three foot crucifix hanged from the wall behind the presiding table. The School’s Rector and his academic staff chaired the event. "Good luck", "enjoy your vacations" and "see you soon" speeches had been already heard, and award medals were being delivered to some students for their academic as well as sporting performances.


I was sitting in the second row of the auditorium, almost oblivious to what was happening in this big room, daydreaming and picturing my mother's happy face upon my return from school for a three month holiday, when suddenly, my name was called. Classmates sitting next to me actually awakened me to go to the podium and receive my awards: one for best languages’ student (Latin, Greek, French and English) and one (the big price), for the best student’s academic performance of the year. The audience enthusiastically applauded while the Rector as well as the other five ecclesiastic teachers embraced me and congratulated me. I felt emotionally overwhelmed and happy, but at the same time I was somewhat disappointed that I did not get any of the annual awards for sporting performance. Once again I felt kind of envious of my classmate Ricardo Estrada who got the “best soccer, volley ball and basket ball player of the year” awards. He was just a great athlete and I really admired him for all his achievements. I have never seen Ricardo since.


At about seven in the evening in this ice cold, windy and moonlit night, in this nine thousand feet high Andean city of Riobamba, the school’s year end closing ceremony came to an end, and the hallways were almost empty as most students hurried up to the dining room. I was slowly walking towards the dining room located about a hundred feet away, retaking my daydreaming abruptly interrupted a moment ago to go receive the academic awards. This time, however it was not my classmates but father Gonzalez, the School’s Rector who brought me back to reality.


Gonzalez was in his mid fifties, fair skinned, perfectly shaved, almost red white round faced, with his black hair just beginning to grey above and around his ears while beginning to lose hair in the top of his head. This impressive, 5’10”, 240 Lbs. man had been born in Spain and educated in France, following the most traditional academic and religious indoctrination procedures dictated by the Roman Catholic Church. He held top academic credentials and was never shy to mention it. He had been especially “imported” from Spain to make our Seminary the “best in the country” as commanded by Monsignor Leonidas Proano. Gonzalez was in charge of fulfilling Bishop Proano’s wishes and he was determined to do it.


“Rafael, I need to talk to you, please come to my office right after dinner”, he said as he placed his big hand over my right shoulder for a second or two, and off he went up the stairs to the second floor of the three story building (which was meant to house a total of 200 students, but was now, in its second year, occupied by only 33 students), where the Rector’s office was located. I did not eat much at dinner time, and as requested by father Gonzalez, I went up to his office, thinking that perhaps he was going to follow up on the awards thing, and maybe even give a small amount of money (which I badly needed), as an additional and very welcome prize for my academic performance.


The loud laughter of jubilant thirteen and fourteen year old children feeling free to go home after nine months in boarding school could be heard in the background and throughout the hallways in the entire building as they came out of the dining room in this one night before going home for summer holidays.


The school’s building sat atop a hill in the southern end of the dusty and cold city of Riobamba, not very far from the city’s prison where 14 years back my father had been unjustly incarcerated for almost two years before being fully acquitted and released


Father Gonzalez’ office was a 20 by 20 feet room with wide windows looking toward the city, but this time the curtains were closed and no city lights could be seen. The room was soberly decorated with a five a by five foot picture of Our Mother Mary, the patron of the school hanging behind the rector’s desk and a same size picture of Monsignor Proano the Riobamba bishop and founder of the Seminary, on the right wall, while a picture of Pope Pious the XII, the head of the five hundred million Catholics in the world, hanged from the left wall. Gonzalez had always looked to me as an impressive individual and a great teacher, I had a very special chemistry with him, besides, he was admired by his colleagues in the school's staff, and for all the students for his knowledge and his ability to transmit it to his class, while at the same time he was feared for his explosive hot temper which could literally paralyze the whole school when released.


Father Gonzalez was always wearing his “million button” black cassock outfit, a perfectly ironed white, long sleeve shirt underneath the cassock, a plastic, bone white collar around his neck and ultra shiny black shoes. Hanging from his neck was a silver chain with a three inches long golden crucifix which he often rubbed with his left hand while slowly, but firmly walking in his classes or in the school’s corridors.


“Seat down dear Rafael”, he said after I entered his office and he shut the door locked for no interruptions. “Seat down here, right in front of me”, he said, and he made me seat on a chair so big my legs hanged almost half foot from the floor. I held myself from the two arms of the chair as if I was about to start a rollercoaster ride in the dark.


“I need to talk to you now, I can’t delay this conversation anymore because you are leaving tomorrow” he said, and added, “I didn’t feel like talking to you before this day so as not to negatively affect your performance in the final exams” and continued, “I now beg you to forget about my position in this school, as I want to have a one on one, frank but friendly dialog with you”. “Let’s talk man to man” he added, as he sat in the big chair behind his desk. I began to have the chills as it all started to sound kind of weird, like something very serious was going to be said.


Gonzalez must have noticed I was getting nervous as he made his introductory speech, so he tried to calm me down by standing up and walking around his desk while putting his hand over my shoulders as he passed by, then he handed me a delicious Swiss chocolate candy, one of those he always kept hiding somewhere in his desk and never shared with anyone. Suddenly, after he took a deep breathing, he started out asking me if I was pleased the school year was over and for having been awarded the best student diplomas, "which you very much deserved", he said. “Yes, of course I am pleased, father Gonzalez”, I said, and added, “My parents are going to be very proud of me, just as I am proud of them”. “In this three month vacation from school I intend to do many things in Pallatanga, my home town, but more than anything, help my mother in her bakery "I love doing that", I said; "I will help my father harvesting his corn crops and enjoy horse riding with my brothers, cousins and friends; and, of course I will visit and play with my friends and relatives, you know?” I was trying to sound serene, but I really wasn’t, something smelled bad around all of this, I could smell it, I could feel it and I was just about to hear it too.


“Of course” he said, and added “Rafael, you know how much we appreciate your academic performance, there is no doubt you are our best student, but” and he stopped for awhile, “the reason I want to talk to you tonight is that, although you far exceed the academic requirements of this school, I deeply regret to inform you that we have decided to ask you NOT to come back to our school next year”. He was not looking to me in the eyes; he was obviously disturbed and felt he was doing something he would rather not do. He stopped for at least a minute and added “you know, Rafael, this is a Seminary, a school to form future priests, disciplined ministers of the church who will lead people’s souls and hearts under strict boundaries of obedience and piety”, and he went on “I know you will be good at anything you decide to do in your life Rafael, I have no question about it”, what’s more, Rafael, I’m sure you will be a successful man and will have a happy family”, and then he added, “but we surely know you are not going to be a good priest, a humble shepherd of souls, so, please tell your parents that the scholarship we gave you is over, and they should find you another school for the next school year”.


Suddenly I felt like a high fever was invading all my body, I felt like hundreds of little ants were walking all over my head and started to invade my whole body. I felt like the school building was collapsing over me and I could not move, I didn’t know what to say, and yet I was able to articulate two words coming right out of my stomach: “but why?” The priest was obviously feeling very uncomfortable as he fulfilled his duty and answered in a calmed and ceremonious way, “we are sure Rafael that you are not going to fully understand me now, neither did most of our faculty, but we are sure you eventually will, and when you do, we are pretty sure you will agree, and maybe even thank us for what we are doing with you tonight”.


Gonzalez stopped for a moment and then continued, “Rafael, you are just too much of a free thinker, quite frequently you tend to make comments and ask questions that fall far out of the boundaries of what is acceptable in our deeply religious school, and we are afraid your kind of free thinking might spread to other students and destroy the very concept of blind obedience we are trying to teach our pupils here”. “More than anything, Rafael, I believe (this was the first time he spoke in first person), you are not pious enough to become a priest”, in sum, he added, “neither the Bishop, nor me, believe you have a vocation to be a priest and you know this is a school where we educate young people to become priests, to later go out and preach the Divine Gospel to the people, a gospel of humility, of blind obedience to the mandates of God and His Church”.


Once he had said what he had to say, Gonzalez seemed to feel relieved, but he was very sad and didn’t want to prolong what must have been a mentally torturous moment for him. He stood up from his chair and approached me very tenderly and said “God The Almighty and His Mother Mary, our patron, bless you and bless whatever you do in your life” and, almost whispering in my ear he added “Good luck my dear Rafael, I’ll miss you very much, my whole faculty will miss you, your class mates will miss you” His final words were “I wish you the best in your life Rafael, good bye and may God the Almighty bless you always.


In my next posting: HOW WILLI CONVEY THE MESSAGE TO MY PARENTS?