The death of a confrere, death of Missionary Servant.
A question that frequently chases after me is quite simply, “what does this mean?” The facts are there, but meaning needs to be sought after. Meaning will not be found in the barren facts, it will be found somewhere close to that place that is called the heart.
At the hour of death, his full name is Jesús Samuel Palomares Vega, S.T. mystery of the Virgin of Mount Carmel. He was born on Christmas eve, December 24, 1963, he was teased enough about being “baby Jesus”. He died on February 16, probably around 4:30 in the afternoon. He was 33 years a religious, a priest 29 years. In his 58 years of life, there is much to be remembered. Once, he inclined towards medical school, but God called him to be a Missionary Servant. He was a city boy, he spent most of his ministry in rural seƫngs. The youngest in his family lost his mother at an early age. When it came to choosing a mystery – a devotion that would guide his life of faith – He chose, the mystery of the Virgin of Mount Carmel. It was his mother’s devotion.
Meaning takes shape as I remember him as a seminarian, always willing to share with those who had less. He held in his arms the dying friend and fellow seminarian, Roberto Bello. His songs of missionary life inspired many when he was a vocation promoter. The stubborn streak that seems to be part of all of us, he learned how to temper by walking away and not making matters worse. Sometimes it pained him to see envy and jealousy, mixed in with peƫness, cause parish life to flounder. His experience of rejection, a bitter pill that he swallowed, ended up cultivating in him a sense of gratitude for the many who graced and charmed his life. Bossy as he was, he never lacked a friend who would not have dinner with him and then give him a ride to wherever he needed to be.
Meaning is woven with the threads that stand for Missionary Servant. A willingness to go and serve in the most tangled portion of the Lord’s vineyard. His mission cross was not a shiny object that was part of the décor in his room. His mission cross has the scruff of one who has walked a mile and then some, to reach the place where God led him. It also has the salty scruff of tears and sweat, the meat and potatoes of a missionary. It is said that Christ died at 33 years of age, it can’t be a coincidence that Jesús died after 33 years in religious life. Jesús was a man that many got to know, but there was no one that knew him better, and no one that he allowed to know him better, except his Lord.
Meaning is also to be found in the simple word, confrere. Jesus was my brother, I miss him.
My prayer to God, is who will you now send? Who will be the next missionary who will receive the mission cross that Jesus lived with for more than 30 years?
Father Francisco Gómez, S.T.