She Went in Haste to the Mountain (Page 8)

Perhaps they also had premonitions that this could be the start of something still greater. Where else could they find refuge and protection, if not in the place that especially keeps the presence of God? Is that not also the best place to pray to Her who is His mother and their own, always so ready to help her poor children? But before going inside to pray, they had to pour out their tears on the walls outside.

Those walls, austere, strong, rising up above the little plateau on which Garabandal rests, have withstood the savage storms of the Cantabrian Mountains,(20) looking on century after century of days and nights, of good times and bad. Generations and generations of Garabandalinos have come there with their greatest joys, their most hidden sufferings, their final hopes . . . But never
had those walls seen such ineffable sobbing of children, such exceptional tears as those the four girls shed under their shelter, while the sun set forever on that day of June 18th, 1961.

There was no one there at the time to mount the church tower to signal the hour by ringing the bells; but with the tears of the children, which were not sorrowful ones, a mystery would begin to sound out from Garabandal that would find a great echo in innumerable hearts.

We met some young girls who were playing, and when they saw us crying, they asked us, Why are you crying?
We told them, BECAUSE WE HAVE SEEN AN ANGEL.
They ran off to tell the school-mistress.(21)

20. This extends across almost all the northern part of Spain, running along the Cantabrian Sea, separating the narrow band of costal low lands from the wider and higher expanses in the interior country.

21. In Garabandal there were two state schools in the same building; one of them was for boys, and the other for girls. The first was taught by the schoolmaster from the garden with the apple tree; the second was presided over by a lady who now comes on the scene and will remain in the village for many years. Her name was Serafina Gómez González; she was a native of Cossío; a widow of Raimundo Rodríguez and had a daughter named Toñito.

She Went in Haste to the Mountain (Page 7)

“a very beautiful figure appeared to me”

In the language of a young village girl, poor in vocabulary and unaccustomed to the abuse of superlatives that permeates the news media, these concise expressions show extraordinary feelings. The figure that appeared, and the brilliance surrounding it, were beyond everything beautiful and impressive that could be seen here below.

The other girls, Jacinta, Loli and Mari Cruz, (later they would explain this about themselves) on seeing me in that state, thought I was having an attack, since I was saying with my hands joined together: Oh! . . . Oh! . . . Oh! . . .
As they were going to call my mother, they found themselves in the same state as I was.
And they exclaimed together: Oh, an Angel!
Then there was a short silence among the four of us, and he suddenly disappeared. (19)
And returning to normal, and very frightened, we ran toward the church—on the way passing the dance that was going on in the village.
Then a girl named Pili González said to us, How white and frightened you are! Where are you coming from?
Very ashamed in confessing the truth, we said to her, From picking apples.
And she said: For that . . . you are coming like this?
We answered together: IT IS BECAUSE WE HAVE SEEN AN ANGEL.
And she said: Is that true?
We: Yes, Yes . . .
And we continued on our way in the direction of the church; and the girl told this to the others.
Once at the door of the church, and
thinking it over better, we went behind it
to . . . CRY.

This portrait of the young girls appeals to me. Needing to express their indescribable feelings, they would find refuge behind the walls of the church in order to pour out their tears. A mysterious instinct in the Christian soul had brought them there. They could not explain what had just happened, but they sensed subconsciously that it was something very great.

19. The girl informs us as a participant in that visit from Heaven; but we are able to complete her report with some information from an observer, which we owe to the Police
Chief Juan Alvarez Seco:

«Some girls who were also playing in the area, on seeing the four girls in that strange attitude, began to throw stones at them. Then the Angel took them about 50 meters higher up in the same calleja. Once there, and while kneeling in their ecstatic position, an inhabitant of the village who was coming downhill from the mountain with a honeycomb wanted to pass between them. Seeing that they weren’t moving so he could pass, and not understanding what was happening, he became irritated by the poor training of those girls . . . After having passed by the girls in the direction of the village, the man turned to look back and was amazed to see that the girls were still there, exactly in the same position and posture as before. Mindful of this, he could hardly sleep during the night, thinking that all this was very strange. He told this to his wife, but she answered that it wasn’t important, "children’s affairs!" » (This man’s name was Vicente Mazón.)

She Went in Haste to the Mountain (Page 6)

However in spite of what Conchita writes in her diary, I would think that the schoolmaster’s apples, rather than being taken to satisfy their appetites, must have been an exciting escapade for the girls on a dull Sunday afternoon. I would imagine also that the apples, rather than being eaten voraciously, ended up half-eaten on the ground. Many years later, I heard from Mari Cruz herself in conversation with the Argentine counsel, Carlos Espina Rawson, that the apples of our story, rather than being taken for eating, were taken to be thrown as projectiles on the dancers in the square.

When we where enjoying ourselves eating the apples, we heard a loud noise, like thunder.
And we all shouted out: It seems to be thundering.

That must have been an unusual sounding thunder. And it surely frightened the girls; people fear a storm, especially when it surprises them in an open field in the stillness of nature. The girls were in the middle of that stillness, outside the village although very near to it. They looked up to search for the place where the thunder had come. But neither close by, nor far away toward the heights of Peña Sagra,(16) which so often showed its face surrounded by dark clouds, nor in the neighboring hills of Poniente where the thunderstorms gathered, could they find the least disturbance. What a strange thunder! What was going on?

In the Still of the Evening (Ad auram post meridiem)

In paradise, as soon as Adam and Eve, the first sinners, had eaten the forbidden fruit, they heard the sound of the footsteps of God, walking in Paradise in the still of the evening. (Gen. 3:8) (Ad auram post meridiem) On that mysterious late Sunday afternoon our young girls had just heard something, and not without fear. (Could it have been the sound of God’s special passage to mankind at Garabandal?) The sun was setting over the horizon. In Spain it was 8:30 in the evening.(17) Now with the thunder the breath of a new kind of inspiration comes to our four little sinners, whom the devil’s suggestion had so easily lured to a not exactly saintly garden escapade. The young author states immediately after:

Oh, what a shame.
Now that we have picked the apples, which didn’t belong to us, the devil will be pleased, and the poor Guardian Angel will be unhappy.
Then we began to gather stones and threw them with all our strength to the left side, where the devil is said to be.(18)

The recounting, in childlike simplicity, is noteworthy. The girls react strongly against the spirit of evil that had succeeded momentarily in seducing them. Opposing it, they place themselves resolutely on the side of the good angels whom they thought were watching on their right, leading them to God.

When we got tired of throwing stones, and were more satisfied with ourselves (the relief of conscience that follows a reaction against the devil), we began to play marbles with little stones on the ground.
Suddenly a very beautiful figure appeared to me, shining brilliantly, without hurting my eyes.

16. An imposing mountain range that closes off the Garabandal horizon toward the South. On the other side of the Peña Sagra mountains extended the varied landscape of Liébana, at the extreme southwest of the Provinces of Palencia, León, and Asturias. One of the attractions of the region of Liébana is the skyline formed by the imposing mountain tops of the Picos de Europa on their western face. But the real treasure of the region is the very ancient monastery of San Toribio, now restored and run by the Franciscans. Here is kept the largest remaining single fragment of the True Cross, that is, of the wood of the Cross of Our Lord. It can easily be understood why in the nearby land of Garabandal the Virgin came to remind men, Think of the Passion of Jesus.
17. Conchita notes the time in her diary.

18. A belief that I myself have observed in many villages in Spain where it is thought that the Guardian Angel stands on the right while the tempter or devil approaches from the left.

She Went in Haste to the Mountain (Page 5)

Loli & Jacinta

Mari Cruz

Seeing us picking the apples, Jacinta shouted out, Hey, Conchita, you are picking the apples.
Shut up, I told her, The school teacher’s wife will hear you, and will tell my mother.(11)

11. Aniceta González, whom we have already mentioned, was an old-fashioned Christian who brought up her children very strictly. Her first offspring were boys: Serafin, who knew the hard toil of the coal mines at Santa Lucía (León); Aniceto, nicknamed Cetuco, who would die at an early age in 1965; and Miguel. It was natural that Aniceta concentrated her care on the youngest of them all, her only daughter! And that she would try to protect her from harm because of her Christian faith and her obligation as a mother.

Then I hid among the potato plants and Mari Cruz started to run through the field.
Loli shouted out, Mari Cruz, stop running. We see you. We will tell this to the owner.
Then Mari Cruz returned and we left our hiding place so that we could all be together.(12)
While we were talking, someone called the little girl who had come with Jacinta and Loli, and she left.
The four of us remained alone; and giving it more thought, the four of us returned to pick the apples . . .
While we were having a good time, we heard the voice of the schoolteacher,(13) who on seeing the branches moving so much, thought it was the sheep, and said to his wife, Concesa, go to the garden. The sheep are wandering near the apple tree.
Hearing this, we burst out laughing.
When we had filled up our pockets, we hurried off to eat the apples more at peace in the street, that is in the calleja.(14)

Those apples in Garabandal certainly could not have been as enticing as the apples in the Garden of Eden. In places as high above sea level as Garabandal, apples in the month of June, even in years of an early spring, could not be anything more than half-ripe fruit, bitter, without juice, hard—suited to cause a toothache. But still they had an incredible power of seduction for the girls of the village who hardly ever saw any fruit other than that which the summers brought to the garden trees. Almost entirely deprived—at least during those years—of imported fruit, they eagerly went after the fruit from the village while it was still green.(15)

12. According to confidential statements Loli made to Father Manuel Antón, the pastor of San Claudio in the city of León, the four girls of our story were not always on the best terms with each other. They had recently quarreled among themselves, as happens frequently with children; and for some time had kept a certain coolness toward each other. They were accustomed to walk in pairs: Loli and Jacinta side by side, and Conchita side by side with Mari Cruz.

————
I finally had the chance to question Jacinta:
—For the Angel’s first visit, did all four of you girls find yourselves together by chance? Since it is certain that you didn’t get along very well, especially you and Conchita.
—Well, we were like children who quarrel as soon as they get together. We had certainly fought several days before the apparition.
13. Francisco Gómez, who was partially lame.
14. The Calleja is a steep, winding, unpaved trail, which goes from the back of the village to a hill where the Pines are situated.
15. The land containing the garden where the apple tree was growing, at the left of the unpaved Calleja that led to the Pines, was later purchased by the husband of Mrs. García Llorente-Gil Delgado from Seville. The garden was in bad condition. Her husband, believing in Garabandal, in 1968 built a beautiful stone house there that is the largest in the village. From the beginning of construction he took the greatest care to preserve the tree of our story, something which he could only do half-way, since of the two limbs coming from the trunk, one was already dying and withered, which he trimmed to save the other. And so the tree was there, sheltered by the new house, until the winter of 1975, when a strong wind knocked it down. Now there only remains a small dead tree stump which can be seen at the right of the entrance to the house. The García Llorentes told me that the last apple picking in September, 1974 was of magnificent quality, very delicious.

She Went in Haste to the Mountain (Page 4)

Conchita at 12 years old

The Apple Tree

Others wander down the paths to their homes chatting with one another, or sit down with their neighbors to pass the time on the stone seats next to the house doorways. The children, as usual, play . . . where they can and how they can. To get away from the calm silence and solitude, most of the boys and girls walk to the square. In this group the games and amusements must not have been very entertaining since one of them—a personable young brunette with braids—to escape the boredom ending the evening that Sunday like any other, suddenly got an idea which she swiftly whispered in the ear of the girl next to her . She herself would confess it months later.(6)

Temptation at Dusk
It was a Sunday evening, and we were with all the young girls playing in the plaza.(7)
Suddenly Mari Cruz(8) and I thought of going to pick apples.

6. Conchita González was her name. She was the last child, the only girl among the offspring of Aniceta González, a woman from the village who had lost her husband prematurely.
At the beginning of our story Conchita was twelve years old; she was a gracious young girl, very observant, with a quick mind. However in education she was backward like all the young girls in Garabandal. Her culture could not advance much beyond what she learned at the school in her secluded little village.
On someone’s recommendation, Conchita started writing her diary in 1962. In it, in the language of a child, short and to the point, she would tell things that she could not blot out from her memory. I have in my hands photocopies of the original. The pages are large, on a school notebook, written down in wobbly penmanship, with many faults in spelling; but truly charming in what they say.
Her diary begins like this:

I am going to tell in this book about my apparitions and my daily life.
The most important happening in my life occurred on June 18, 1961, in San Sebastián . . .
It happened in the following way . . .

····················································· Note: All excerpts from Conchita’s Diary will be recognizable in this book by the usage of this extra-bold type. ·····················································

And we set off straight to the place where they were, without telling anyone that we were going to pick the apples.

The idea of picking apples was a real temptation. The apples did not belong either to Mari Cruz or to Conchita; so that this was an actual theft, that is to say, the sin of stealing. During those evening hours, the devil was in action among the inhabitants of Garabandal. He was luring two young adolescent girls to the tree of forbidden fruit—almost as in the beginning of time. We do not know if they, like Eve in the beginning, showed resistance to the tempter’s suggestions; if there was any resistance, it had to be very weak.

The girls, seeing that the two of us were going away alone, asked us, Where are you going?
And we answered, Over there . . .
And we continued on our way, thinking about how we were going to manage to pick them.
Once there,(9) we started to pick the apples.
And while we were having a good time, we saw Loli, Jacinta,(10) and another young girl coming to see if they could find us.

7. The Plaza is the name given to this place in the center of the village, since it is an open area from which many streets and alleys take their origin. But it should not be imagined that it is the same type of plaza as in a big city; the ground is unpaved and uncared for, dusty or muddy when it rains, full of loose stones, and covered with debris from the constant passage of men, wagons and animals. 8. Mari Cruz González was the daughter of Escolástico and Pilar. She was 11 years old at the time, thin and dark-skinned and wore her hair very short. 9. This place was a small garden leading out from the village in the direction of the Pines. Apparently the garden was not the property of the teacher, but of a woman called Pilar Cuenca. 10. Loli (María Dolores Mazón) was the second daughter of Ceferino and Julia, who had a large family. Ceferino was the mayor of the village, and besides having pastures for farming like everyone else in Garabandal, also owned a little store or tavern. Jacinta had the last name of González too, just like Conchita and Mari Cruz. Jacinta’s parents were María and Simón, two Christians of strong faith who bore with dignity the life of sacrifice imposed on them by an existence deprived of material possessions. Loli and Jacinta were 12 years old, and were likable children. The girl who came with them was Virginia, whom everyone called Ginia.

She Went in Haste to the Mountain (Page 3)

In times past over the trails that wind around Garabandal, many a time the country song had rung out, I don’t know what holds me to my village, nor why it delights me so, nor why it attracts me. But today the young people were feeling different attractions, wanting to get away from this place where they saw no future, and to get out into the outside world that could offer opportunities. The old people still remained attached to the village, sometimes by affection and sometimes by necessity; with a desire to persevere, or a noble resignation to maintaining the inheritance of their fathers. As for the young children, they amused themselves as children do all over the world, exchanging gifts or playing games like hide and seek.

In the days when our story starts, the chief of police in the district of Rio Nansa was Juan Alvarez Seco. This is his description:

«Garabandal is a little mountain town made up of about seventy families. The customs of its inhabitants are primarily religious. For example they never forget to recite the Angelus as soon as the clock shows twelve noon. In the evening they always recite the holy rosary in the church. This is led by the parish priest if he is present; if not, the schoolteacher or another villager leads it. As night falls, Jacinta’s mother, the wife of Simón, goes around the village with a lantern and bell to call the people to pray for the dead and say the last prayers of the day. On Sundays after assisting at Holy Mass in the ancient simple church, the people take a little recreation. In the evening the young people gather under the porch roofs or the open sky and sing or amuse themselves to the sound of a tambourine.»

SundayJune 18, 1961
The day starts very early as there are many daylight hours at the start of summer. The early June mornings radiate enchantment. The climate is caressing, the air pure, with light softly shining through the clouds, awakening the birds, brightly outlining things with an array of colors. Dawn is known only too well by the inhabitants of Garabandal due to the demand of their work as cattle raisers and farmers; so they do not get up early to enjoy the Sunday mornings. Most of them arise later than usual, since the Lord’s Day was made for rest. The men wash and shave, something they do not do everyday. The women bustle around, busier than on other mornings, arranging their family’s clothes, since no one is going to go to Sunday Mass without their dress being cleaned or their suit pressed. When the bells peal out from the massive church tower to awaken the village, the sounds of a festival day fill the air. The harsh music from the bells bounces off the tile roofs, reverberating through the narrow streets to be lost far away in the fields and prairies, in the streams and riverbeds, finally absorbed in the trees and shrubs dotting the hills surrounding the village. The bells ring out first for the Mass, later for the rosary. Without a Mass or a rosary crowded with participants, how could one picture a feast day in Garabandal?

Father Valentín Marichalar, the pastor from Cossío, who is also in charge of the parish of San Sebastián, arrives for Mass after traveling up six kilometers of bad road. The rosary is led by any one of the faithful who can say it without making mistakes in the mysteries or the litany that follows. The Mass can take place at any time according to the disposition of the pastor. But the rosary is said a little after dinner, since everyone is free at that hour, and there will be time left over for the people to relax and amuse themselves. On this evening the young people are organizing a little dance on Caballera Street, although some of them are talking about going down to Cossío or Puente Nansa. (There was no movie theater, television set, or town hall in Garabandal.) Some of the men cluster together to talk; others dispute loudly in the tavern. Some women, many of whom wear the black widow’s dress, remain in the church.
·····················································
Note: A large part of this book is direct testimony from eye-witnesses. European quotation marks « » and this slightly bolder type have been used to aid the reader in separating this testimony from the general text. ·····················································

She Went in Haste to the Mountain (Page 2)

Though mankind is struck with amazement by its own discoveries and power, it often raises anxious questions about the present evolution of the world, about the purpose and mission of man himself in the universe, about the meaning of his individual and collective efforts, and about the final fate of existence and humanity. History itself is undergoing such a process of acceleration that it is hardly possible for man to follow it. We all pursue the same fate, and we are not able to disassociate ourselves into individual cases. Such a rapid change, realized in the upset, gives birth to or increases the contradictions and disorder. So the modern world appears at the same time both powerful and weak, capable of the best and the worst, for there is a choice between the road to liberty and that to slavery, toward progress or toward decay, toward love or toward hate. These disorders are related to another disorder, truly fundamental, which finds its roots in the very heart of each man . . . A weak and sinful creature who often does what he does not wish to do and neglects what he ought to do and ought to accomplish.(4)

4. Catechism of Modern Man.

In that grave hour of history when so many things were happening or were about to happen in the world, it would never have occurred to anyone that something important could take place at San Sebastián de Garabandal. This village seemed buried in oblivion, lost in the distance. Life there was continuing the same as it had for years, perhaps for centuries. Today, like yesterday; tomorrow, like today. And always the same. A gray sky.(5) Of course the sky in San Sebastián was not always gray, even though it is near to the rainy Cantabrian Mountains; but the life of its inhabitants was certainly gray and monotonous. Always the same cows and stables, the same fields and harvests, with nothing changing except the seasons. Here the people still gathered in the homes and assembled as Christians in the house of God, the main building in the village, linked closely to it. Here the latest news involved everyone: Carmen had a baby, Pili is going to get married, Juan’s son is returning from the military, the bells will soon sound the death of Uncle Gervasio.

5. Poem of Gustavo Bécquer, a Spanish poet (1836-1870).