What the executioner saw: The death of Blessed Miguel Pro

When the five members of his firing squad took aim at José Ramón Miguel Agustín Pro Juárez on November 23, 1927, what did they see? What would a Mexican soldier have noticed about the man now known as Blessed Miguel Pro?

It is very rare for a Catholic saint to be photographed in the final moments of his life. While the journalists and photographers who showed up to watch Miguel’s execution were simply hoping for something newsworthy for the front pages of their newspapers, the Mexican authorities were hoping for something else. They wanted the Cristeros rebels throughout Mexico to find out what would happen to anyone who tried to assassinate their former president, Álvaro Obregón Salido, or otherwise oppose the actions of their anti-Catholic government. They probably also hoped that the Catholic men being executed would grovel in fear before the cameras, proving the weakness of the Christian faith to newspaper readers all over the world.

It is true that two of the men executed that day did participate in the attack on the former president. Luis Segura Vilchis threw two homemade bombs into Obregón’s car and was captured. Following a car chase and shootout, one of Luis’ companions, Juan Tirado, was arrested when he sought medical help in a hospital. Both men were executed, although none of the five accused men were ever granted a trial.

Miguel Pro and his two brothers, Humberto and Roberto, had nothing to do with the attack at all. Humberto had just sold his car to Luis—the getaway car used by Luis—and that was sufficient evidence for the three Pro brothers to be arrested. The Pro brothers, like Luis and Juan, were also members of the National League for the Defense of Religious Liberty, which advocated peaceful resistance to the anti-Catholic revolutionary government.

Miguel Pro (1891-1927) had grown up in a well-off family of faithful Catholics. Two of his sisters eventually became nuns. His father was a mining engineer with a gift for finding lost mineral veins, a respected government employee, and the owner of two mines of his own. His devout mother gave birth to eleven children, although four died young. She also opened a hospital to care for injured miners.

His family and tutors recognized that Miguel had an exceptional memory, although his grades were never exceptional. He was intelligent and serious, but he was also a born actor who was able to carry off practical jokes, dance around the living room with his sisters, and bluff his way out of trouble when his father caught him smoking cigarettes. To keep him busy, his father asked fifteen-year-old Miguel to work as a clerk in his office. Miguel showed himself to be a hard worker and was very helpful to his father through his ability to memorize complicated details about the business.

But when Miguel’s favorite sister left to enter a convent, his mother noticed a change in his behavior. He suddenly became uncommunicative, was uninterested in religion, and no longer regularly attended Mass. Underneath his brusque exterior, Miguel was suffering a crisis of faith.

In the end, Jesus Christ won Miguel’s heart. But just as he decided to become a Jesuit priest, the Mexican Revolution broke out.

From 1910 to 1920, a bitter armed struggle enveloped Mexico, pitting anti-Catholic revolutionary leaders against the Cristeros rebels. During this period, Miguel’s father had to run away to escape revolutionary mobs, while the rest of his family lived in poverty and danger. Miguel’s Jesuit seminary was initially unscathed, but eventually no area of Mexico was safe for faithful Catholics. He and his fellow seminaries lived in hiding for a time, but they were then forced into exile.

Miguel lived in Los Gatos, California, where he picked up some American slang, before being sent to complete his Jesuit training in Granada, Spain. While he was a good student of languages, he found philosophy much more difficult, and his ordination was delayed because of this scholastic weakness and his frequent and painful stomach ailments. When the Jesuits sent him to minister to workers in Belgium and Nicaragua, his sense of humor and natural ability to connect with people helped him befriend communists, socialists, and others who opposed God and religion.

The 1917 Constitution of Mexico outlawed monastic religious orders, prohibited the Church from participating in the education of children, forbade public worship outside churches, and prohibited priests and religious from wearing habits or even voting. These oppressive measures against the Catholic faith continued for decades. When Miguel was sent back to Mexico in 1926, he knew that if he was found to be a priest, he would, at best, be immediately arrested. However, on the voyage to his native land, he made no secret of the fact that he was a Catholic priest as he ministered to his fellow passengers. Some of the items in his personal luggage, if found, would have clearly identified him as a priest. By a seeming miracle, the authorities did not inspect his belongings, and he re-entered Mexico.

For the next two years, his life was always in danger. But he seemed to revel in pulling the wool over the eyes of the local police. He said Mass (in secret), gave lectures about the faith (in secret), and heard confessions (in secret). He stood in public places, dressed as a layman, of course, where he surreptitiously distributed Communion to up to 300 people each day.

Miguel often used ordinary but ingenious disguises to escape detection. On one occasion, he impersonated a police officer to enter a home that was being guarded by policemen. He simply flashed an imaginary badge and then entered the building to offer the sacraments to the Catholic family inside. Then he nonchalantly walked out. During this period, he was arrested a few times, but the police somehow never realized that they had captured a notorious Catholic priest and let him go.

After he was falsely arrested with his brothers in connection with the assassination attempt, all three men were all placed in a filthy, stinking prison cell. Miguel, who was always so serious except when he was cheering up other people, led the other prisoners in prayer, encouraged them, and even sang songs.

However, Miguel had been yearning to die a martyr for Christ and for his flock for years. In the prison, he seemed to have a presentiment of his impending execution, but witnesses also reported he seemed completely at peace. One of his brothers, Humberto, was executed with Miguel, while the other brother, Roberto, was inexplicably released.

When Miguel himself was marched to face the firing squad, he was asked if he had any final wishes. He asked for time to pray. He then spent two minutes kneeling on the ground before he stood and spread his arms wide, with a crucifix in one hand and a rosary in the other. His last words were “Viva Cristo Rey!” or “Long live Christ the King!”

What were those five Mexican soldiers thinking as they shot Miguel Pro? Although he was dressed as a layman because of the anti-Catholic laws, they knew that they were killing a priest. How many times had they seen prisoners curse, cry, beg, or need to be dragged to the place of execution? But this calm, peaceful young man, standing in a cruciform position, must have looked to them just as our Lord looked when he hung on the Cross.

Whatever those soldiers thought on November 23, 1927, they and other revolutionary soldiers would see the same sight again and again in the future. Blessed Miguel Pro inspired courage among the Cristeros rebels and faithfulness among Catholics all over Mexico. For years afterward, when faithful Catholics were arrested and taken to be executed, they too shouted “Viva Cristo Rey!” And very often they carried copies of photographs of brave and holy Blessed Miguel Pro with them to their deaths.