Introduction

[Manuel]

Mexican Martyrdom is a series of true stories of the terrible anti-Catholic persecutions which took place in Mexico in the 1920s. Told by the Jesuit priest, Fr. Wilfrid Parson, these stories are based upon cases he had seen himself or that had been described to him personally by the people who had undergone the atrocities of those times.

Between the conquest of Mexico by Cortes in 1521, and the Mexican Independence from Spain in 1821, Spain created in Mexico a great Catholic civilization to rival that of any nation in Europe. But when the Great Mexican Revolution began in 1810, this flourishing country began to wither and die. That Revolution was not to end until 1928, with the end of the brutal rule of President Plutarco Elias Calles, though in many ways it continues still. The heroic resistance of Mexican Catholics during this persecution is a great inspiration to Catholics today.

[Steven R.]

The book is not really what I was expecting. I was looking for more information on specific Martyrs. This is far more a history of the political state.

[Manuel]

Steven R. wrote: "The book is not really what I was expecting. I was looking for more information on specific Martyrs. This is far more a history of the political state."

Remember that this book was written in 1936. At that time the Church had not declared officially any martyrs. Also, this was written when the persecution was far from having ended, so probably the political situation that had given rise to it was the most important point to be explained, especially to the U.S. readers the author (an American Jesuit priest) is mainly addressing.

Today most of this is history, but when the book was written it was current affairs.

[Jill]

I'm wondering what the current situation of the faith in Mexico is, and how they got from the 30s to the present. Seems like the faith in Our Lady of Guadalupe's land can't be eradicated. Why does the author feel elections could never work in Mexico, dictatorship is the only conceivable form of government?

I found the permission to self-communicate interesting.

I was impressed by the sense of humor many of the martyrs displayed.

I love the story of the priest being chosen chief bandit.

Why would Mussolini support a religious college in Mexico?

[Manuel]

Jill wrote: "Why would Mussolini support a religious college in Mexico?"

I suppose, because the Salesian were founded by an Italian (Saint Giovanni Bosco), and Mussolini himself went for some time to a Salesian boarding school. Although he was expelled later, perhaps he was left with a good opinion of the Salesian schools.

[Mariangel]

Jill wrote: "I'm wondering what the current situation of the faith in Mexico is, and how they got from the 30s to the present. "

I read this book a few months ago: My heart lies south: The story of my Mexican marriage, the biography of Elizabeth Borton de Treviño (author of Newbery winner I, Juan de Pareja.

She married a Mexican and moved to Monterrey in 1935, and she describes the life and customs for her US readers. She mentions that her husband family's had escaped to the US at the start of the Revolution, when her husband was a kid. Her father-in-law was an engineer who spoke English and was able to find a job in an engineering firm in Texas, and support his large family in the US till they were able to return. Elizabeth met her husband while visiting Monterrey as a reporter for the Boston Herald, and his family was already already living back in Mexico.

One of the first things she describes upon settling in Mexico is the sound church bells call 3 times for mass early in the morning, so it appears that churches were open again soon after her marriage.

"The strangest thing about my new life, at first, was getting used the sounds. I had long been conditioned to the morning roar of trucks up the hill, the clatter of milk cans, the underground thunder of subways, ceaseless hooting of automobile horns. Now I heard the solemn peal of church bells through the long sleepy afternoons, the early-morning chants of ambulatory vendors, laughing of burros, scolding of parrots in nearby patios, distant or closer music of serenades.

My little house in Morelos street was half a block from the cathedral. At five in the morning deep-toned bells rumbled through the half-dark calling to early mass. The bells toll a constant clangor, then pause a moment, and peal once. This means, "First call. You have thirty minutes to get up and get dressed and get here." Fifteen minutes later the same clangor, then two single peals, well spaced. "Second call. You should be putting on your mass veil, taking up your rosary and prayer book, for you have only fifteen minutes to run through the gray light toward the dark bulk of the church. Then comes the last clangor and three peals. Mass is about to begin. Preceded by his altar boys, the priest is about to go to the altar.

The mellowed-toned bells rang for mass all the morning. In the afternoon they called to Rosary and Holy Hour. And sometimes they tolled mournfully for funeral masses. In times gone by, the big bell in the church tower called people to the square to hear important news; if that bell were to clang imperiously even now, the people would congregate in the plaza, wondering and fearful, to learn what had happened."

[Manuel]

Mariangel wrote: "The bells toll a constant clangor, then pause a moment, and peal once. This means, "First call. You have thirty minutes to get up and get dressed and get here." Fifteen minutes later the same clangor, then two single peals, well spaced. "Second call. You should be putting on your mass veil, taking up your rosary and prayer book, for you have only fifteen minutes to run through the gray light toward the dark bulk of the church. Then comes the last clangor and three peals. Mass is about to begin. Preceded by his altar boys, the priest is about to go to the altar."

When I was a kid, this was also the custom in Spain.