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As
the years went by other missionaries took up the work of the martyred one –
they built a church, which still stands although more than two centuries have
intervened. When the church was finished
the Indians wanted to bury the body of their beloved priest within its walls,
but when they started to dig on in the sands to bring up the body for reburial,
they found to their amazement that the trough, or rough coffin they had buried
the priest in had risen to the surface of the earth. This legend was oft repeated by the Indians,
so Bishop Daeger of Santa Fe, one of the few Franciscan Bishops in the United
States decided to have an investigation made.
He accordingly called together a number of the clergy, newspaper men,
lawyers, and towns people of Albuquerque and nearby territory, and I will tell
you of the Phenomenon, just as the Father related it to me that day.
He told me that the trough, made from the
cottonwood tree, was as well preserved as though it had recently been buried,
although according to science the soft wood of the cottonwood tree should have
rotted and crumbled away after it was under ground for a good length of
time. When they opened the trough they
found the body of the priest in a mummified state, which means an unusually
well preserved condition of the dead body.
He was buried in the clothes he had been murdered in. The cloth in his clothes was of a very coarse
weave, like basket cloth, and was immediately confiscated by the people
assembled there, to be treasured as a relic of this martyred priest who lost
his life in the cause of religion.
Father (blank) showed me several pieces of the cloth that he had encased
in a little golden reliquary – he told me that he was delegated by the Bishop
to wash the body of the priest and prepare him for a Christian burial in
priestly vestments, so he brought a basin of water and some clean linen cloths
and proceeded with the washing of the body.
When he told me this I exclaimed, Father, you don’t mean to tell me that
a body buried 350 years was still intact and that you were able to wash
it? Yes he said, he was I a perfect
mummified condition. He said that he
raised one arm and washed it, then the other and finally turned him over so as
to wash his back – all this being done in the presence of City Officials and
Newspaper Men, who had gathered there with the clergy and people to witness the
investigation.
He said that when he went to wash his
back, he noticed a small hole right under the left shoulder blade where the
poisoned arrow had entered and pierced his heart. Out of this hole three little red worms
wiggled – he took them I the palm of his hand and showed them to the bishop –
he then crushed them and gave them no further thought. After finishing the washing of the body, he
dressed it in new priestly robes and they enclosed it in a new casket and
buried it down 10 feet, putting large stones on top, to weight the casket down,
hoping that after this Christian burial his body would rest at peace. I have been told that the church officials
have since started an appeal to Rome, to have the martyred priest canonized a
Saint.
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The little Father told me that three days
after this Phenomenon took place, his hand and arm began to swell and a bad
case of blood poisoning set I – they rushed him to the hospital and the doctors
despaired of saving his arm, or even his life.
He begged them not to amputate his arm and he prayed very fervently to
God to spare him so that he could go back to work among the Indians, with whom
he had been for over thirty five years.
He spoke their language fluently and was a great favorite with
them. He was a young French Priest,
whose health was failing him in the old world, and the doctors ordered him to
go to where the climate was high and dry and he would overcome the lung trouble
he had; hence his arrival in New Mexico among the Indians with whom he remained
all these years.
After a long siege the doctors were able
to save him without having to amputate his arm.
He returned to Isleta and began to ponder on what caused his
illness. He remembered the three little
worms and figured one of them bit him, when he held them in his hand while
washing the priest’s body. He finally
concluded, however, that he was afflicted because his hands were unworthy to
touch the body of a Saint, which the martyred priest undoubtedly was. Be this as it may, the worms originating in
the hole where the poisoned arrow entered, must have been deadly poison for the
Indians in those days used to extract poison from the head of venomous snakes
to poison their arrows with - that
poison never dies; consequently the worms were poison. There is a law in the Western Country that
anyone killing a rattler must bury the head, so that nothing can come in
contact with it. As far as the little
priest being unworthy I think that a priest who could live among the Indians
for thirty five years, speaking their language and teaching them the word of
God must be a pretty good saint himself.
Before I departed he showed me a “Special
Decoration” he had received, a few months previous, from the King of Belgium,
who with his Queen visited the United States shortly after the World War was
over. The King and Queen heard Mass in
this same little Indian Church and was so impressed that he presented the “Special
Decoration” to the pastor – he was very proud of this honor from the King.
I thanked him for his kindness in giving
the information I sought and after receiving his blessing joined my friends who
were waiting on the outside. On our way
back to Albuquerque I gave serious thought to things that had been told me, and
I shall never regret my trip over the Old Indian Trail to Isleta. A few seasons later I learned that this little
Father had lost his sight entirely, and shortly thereafter passed away on to
his eternal reward. May he rest in
peace.
And now dear Gloria, I will bid you good
night, thankful for the opportunity of refreshing my memory regarding one of
the most interesting experiences of my life.
When you read this little story in the years to come think kindly of
your Aunt and remember me in your prayers.
Sincerely,
Auntie
Auntie
