United We Stand (Sometimes)
I've been thinking lately of how we should get together just like in France and stand up for our rights. But Spaniards rarely form a solid front on anything. Except on a local scale.
The largest parish in our township is Taragoña. During the years of famine and afterwards, until 1968, they had a priest that was the model priest of a small parish in those times. He charged everyone for everything. It didn't matter to him that a family didn't have enough money to pay for a funeral or a baptism or anything else. One way or another, he had to be paid. Any official paper he had to sign also had to be paid, doubly. First, the best part of the pig butchering or the largest eggs the hens lay, and then the amount of money that paper cost. And back then you couldn't do almost anything without a paper attesting to a neighbor's good standing in the parish signed by the priest.
Eventually, that priest died and went to wherever he deserved to go, and a new priest was assigned to the parish in 1968. Prepared for another of the same ilk, the parishioners were surprised by this new man of the cloth. To begin with, he didn't charge for any services. At all. He neither required a part of the harvest nor the money the villagers had been accustomed to pay. And he helped the poorer parishioners with their needs. He took up special collections so that the poorest could pay to install electricity in their houses. He would give them food, if necessary. In fact, one of the stories goes that, digging up the weed-filled kitchen garden next to the rectory to plant potatoes for the neediest of his neighbors, the new priest found a mound of rotten eggs buried in the field. Apparently, the old priest preferred to let eggs he had been given rot rather than distribute them to the needy or even sell them at a small price.
Not charging for ceremonies, however, led to a small revolt within the archdiocese. In late 1970 the priest was removed and sent to the parish of Sobrado dos Monxes, all the way out in Lugo. The parishioners revolted against the bishop.
The greater part of the parish stopped going to Mass. The poor priest who had been installed couldn't do anything about it. The people wanted their "Red" priest back and decided to boycott the parish church until he was sent back. All those against the new priest simply went elsewhere for their ceremonies, such as weddings, baptisms, and communions. Funerals were a problem because the local priest is the one who says Mass over whoever is to be buried in the churchyard. So people stopped having funeral Masses. The departed were simply carried to the churchyard, prayed over and slid into the niche. If the family was very religious, they would have a memorial Mass in another parish.
Some even went as far as taking up a collection to set up a Protestant Evangelical Church in Taragoña if their priest wasn't sent back. I assume, though, that Catholic beliefs were still too deep-seated because the Evangelical church never materialized. But the Archdiocese didn't send back the beloved priest, either. So the boycott continued.
That began in 1970. My godmother, from Taragoña, died in 2004, if I remember correctly. She was one of those who joined the boycott. She didn't have a funeral Mass. Even today there are some families that will not set foot over the threshold of their church because of the way their parish had been treated. Or perhaps the elder members will not enter. It has been the case that a grandparent has not attended the wedding of a grandchild because of that ancient feud.
Now if we could only get together to change the country!
The largest parish in our township is Taragoña. During the years of famine and afterwards, until 1968, they had a priest that was the model priest of a small parish in those times. He charged everyone for everything. It didn't matter to him that a family didn't have enough money to pay for a funeral or a baptism or anything else. One way or another, he had to be paid. Any official paper he had to sign also had to be paid, doubly. First, the best part of the pig butchering or the largest eggs the hens lay, and then the amount of money that paper cost. And back then you couldn't do almost anything without a paper attesting to a neighbor's good standing in the parish signed by the priest.
Eventually, that priest died and went to wherever he deserved to go, and a new priest was assigned to the parish in 1968. Prepared for another of the same ilk, the parishioners were surprised by this new man of the cloth. To begin with, he didn't charge for any services. At all. He neither required a part of the harvest nor the money the villagers had been accustomed to pay. And he helped the poorer parishioners with their needs. He took up special collections so that the poorest could pay to install electricity in their houses. He would give them food, if necessary. In fact, one of the stories goes that, digging up the weed-filled kitchen garden next to the rectory to plant potatoes for the neediest of his neighbors, the new priest found a mound of rotten eggs buried in the field. Apparently, the old priest preferred to let eggs he had been given rot rather than distribute them to the needy or even sell them at a small price.
Not charging for ceremonies, however, led to a small revolt within the archdiocese. In late 1970 the priest was removed and sent to the parish of Sobrado dos Monxes, all the way out in Lugo. The parishioners revolted against the bishop.
The greater part of the parish stopped going to Mass. The poor priest who had been installed couldn't do anything about it. The people wanted their "Red" priest back and decided to boycott the parish church until he was sent back. All those against the new priest simply went elsewhere for their ceremonies, such as weddings, baptisms, and communions. Funerals were a problem because the local priest is the one who says Mass over whoever is to be buried in the churchyard. So people stopped having funeral Masses. The departed were simply carried to the churchyard, prayed over and slid into the niche. If the family was very religious, they would have a memorial Mass in another parish.
Some even went as far as taking up a collection to set up a Protestant Evangelical Church in Taragoña if their priest wasn't sent back. I assume, though, that Catholic beliefs were still too deep-seated because the Evangelical church never materialized. But the Archdiocese didn't send back the beloved priest, either. So the boycott continued.
That began in 1970. My godmother, from Taragoña, died in 2004, if I remember correctly. She was one of those who joined the boycott. She didn't have a funeral Mass. Even today there are some families that will not set foot over the threshold of their church because of the way their parish had been treated. Or perhaps the elder members will not enter. It has been the case that a grandparent has not attended the wedding of a grandchild because of that ancient feud.
Now if we could only get together to change the country!
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