Nothing came easily for Padre Cruz Aka "The Precursor"

S

ervant of God Fr Francisco Rodrigues da Cruz SJ (29 July 1859—1 October 1948)—Padre Cruz, as he was commonly called—was already eighty-one when he finally pronounced his first vows as a Jesuit. Before entering the Society of Jesus, he had been a diocesan priest for fifty-eight years.

Even becoming a priest was difficult. As his ordination approached, his health deteriorated so badly that there was concern whether he could endure the ceremony itself. Yet he persevered, recovered enough strength, and was eventually ordained.

But that was only the first difficulty. His health continued to limit what he could do. His demanding teaching schedule became too much, so he gave it up and took on the less strenuous work of directing an orphanage.

One might think: perhaps this was finally the work suited for him. But even that did not last. After six years, his health forced him to give up the orphanage. This pattern would repeat itself: just when one path seemed to open, another difficulty seemed to close it.

But those closed doors were teaching Padre Cruz something. Many of us might see such experiences simply as limitations. Padre Cruz learned to listen to them differently. In the unexpected twists and turns of his journey, he began to discern where God was quietly leading him.

Fr Arturo Sosa once wrote to the Society of Jesus:

Don’t dismiss an idea that may seem a little extreme: it may be the one that the Holy Spirit is nudging us to embrace. The Pope uses the word squilibrato, which means “off balanced.” We don’t like to feel off balance. But sometimes the Holy Spirit unbalances us in order to push us to change.

This seems to have happened repeatedly to Padre Cruz. In 1925, the Cardinal wanted to appoint him a canon of the cathedral chapter—an honor many priests would have gladly accepted. Padre Cruz declined. He believed God was calling him instead to minister to “the wretched and the afflicted.” One thing had become clear: he simply wanted to serve the poorest of the poor.

His fellow priests were also particularly close to his heart. Whenever someone needed a substitute, a preacher, or simply a helping hand, Padre Cruz was available. He often went ahead of the Archbishop during parish visits, giving a triduum to prepare the people. He did this so frequently that his brother priests jokingly called him “the precursor.” He was always preparing the way for someone else.

One beautiful example happened in Fátima. Padre Cruz met a six-year-old girl who was heartbroken because she was considered too young to receive First Communion. He examined her on the catechism and discovered that she understood the faith remarkably well. He then went to the parish priest and assured him that the little girl was ready.

And so, at six years old, the little girl received her First Holy Communion. Her name was Lúcia dos Santos. Four years later, the world would know her as Sister Lúcia of Fátima, one of the three shepherd children associated with the apparitions of Our Lady in 1917.

There is an expression: “Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.” Perhaps for Padre Cruz we could say: always the precursor, never the hero. Again and again, he helped other people arrive somewhere.

But there was one place where he himself longed to arrive: the Society of Jesus.

In 1929, Father General Włodzimierz Ledóchowski obtained an indult or permission from Pope Pius XI allowing Padre Cruz to pronounce Jesuit vows—but only on his deathbed. From then on, he carried the Jesuit vow formula wherever he went. He carried in his pocket the words of the promise he had spent a lifetime waiting to make.

Then came 1940. After a lifetime of waiting, Padre Cruz was finally granted permission by Pope Pius XII to pronounce his Jesuit vows without making the novitiate. He was eighty-one years old.

One might think that this was the moment Padre Cruz finally became what he had always wanted to be. And formally, of course, it was.

And yet, perhaps the deeper truth is that the vows simply confirmed what his life had already become. To me, Padre Cruz had been living as a true Jesuit long before he pronounced his religious vows—perhaps, in some ways, even more deeply because he had learned to live the substance without possessing the title.

He did not need to be the hero. He did not need the formal or social recognition of being a bona fide member of the Society of Jesus in order to seek God’s greater glory. His vows finally gave a name to something his life had already been saying in deeds and not merely in words.

A big lesson not only for Jesuits but for all of us. What matters most is not the title we carry, the recognition we receive, or even whether life unfolds according to our plans. What matters is that we keep listening and keep following wherever God may be calling us.

Padre Cruz spent much of his life as “the precursor.” He only needed to point the way to God.

Lord, when you lead us along unexpected paths, give us the freedom to keep listening, the courage to keep following, and the grace, like Padre Cruz, to point others toward you. Amen. Fr JM Manzano SJ