WE have just celebrated for the first time last May 12 the feast of
Blessed Alvaro del Portillo, the first successor of St. Josemaria
Escriva, founder of Opus Dei. He was beatified on September 27 last
year in Madrid.
He was a very holy man. I can personally attest to that as I lived
with him for at least two years in Rome. He was a very quiet, humble
man who, in spite of his position and the great human endowments he
had, always exuded both calmness and quickness of mind.
There was no doubt that his intelligence was very high though he never
flaunted it. His memory was tremendous. He could repeat verbatim the
words of the founder and, of course, texts and citations from the
gospel and many other documents. He had a very sharp sense of
observation.
The first time I met him was in Manila way back in January 1987 when
he visited our region. From the airport, he came directly to what can
be considered as our main house where I was one of those waiting for
him.
To my surprise, he went directly to the oratory and prayed aloud a
prayer of thanksgiving, and I could see how heartfelt he made that
prayer. I was moved to see him do that, since I imagined that after a
long trip the first thing one would do was to rest and fix himself.
No. He looked normal and fresh, again with that signature calm
composure he had and with a face that was always at the point of
smiling. He impressed me as very fatherly and as one whose character
and behavior was consistent either in public or in private. He did not
have one persona in public and another in private.
It was only much later on that I learned that he really exerted great
effort to be always with God and to be mindful and thoughtful of the
others. Even when he was in great physical pain or in some
disappointment, which I was aware of when I was with him in Rome, he
always managed to smile and to be of good disposition. He did not
allow irony or sarcasm to tinge his words.
On the few occasions I was privileged to be alone with him, I always
came out very impressed by the aura of simplicity and goodness that he
exuded. He frequently interspersed his responses to what I told him
with, “Gracias a Dios!” (Thanks be to God.) And I just told him things
that I considered of little importance only.
Of course, with him, I was very transparent. I felt so confident with
him. That I was impressed with him or, in fact, in awe, did not so
overwhelm me that I could not say things clearly and objectively. On
the contrary, I was always drawn to say things as sincerely as
possible.
He was very fatherly in a very direct way. One time, I was asked to
accompany him when he had his haircut. That time, I just celebrated my
birthday more than a week before, and yet when he saw me, the first
thing he asked was how my birthday celebration was.
I did not expect him to know about my birthday, since there were many
of us, about 200, and I did not think he would make it a point to know
the birthdays of the people staying with him but in a separate house.
Besides, he was out of town when I celebrated my birthday.
And when he had the chance, he would always say something nice to me.
One time I was asked to sing in a musical family get-together. When it
ended and we were going out of the place, he approached me just to say
that I sang well. Obviously, I was floored by that compliment even
though I knew very well that my singing skills were very limited.
When he was made bishop in January 1991, I had the fortune to be one
of those on whom he exercised his first act of diaconal ordination. It
was a very memorable moment because my family could not make it to
that event. But he made sure that I would feel the atmosphere of a
family by providing me with many others who attended to me during
those days.
He was the epitome of extreme fidelity to the saintly founder and knew
how to adapt the spirit of Opus Dei to the changing circumstances of
life. He was truly a good father and shepherd.
Blessed Alvaro del Portillo, the first successor of St. Josemaria
Escriva, founder of Opus Dei. He was beatified on September 27 last
year in Madrid.
He was a very holy man. I can personally attest to that as I lived
with him for at least two years in Rome. He was a very quiet, humble
man who, in spite of his position and the great human endowments he
had, always exuded both calmness and quickness of mind.
There was no doubt that his intelligence was very high though he never
flaunted it. His memory was tremendous. He could repeat verbatim the
words of the founder and, of course, texts and citations from the
gospel and many other documents. He had a very sharp sense of
observation.
The first time I met him was in Manila way back in January 1987 when
he visited our region. From the airport, he came directly to what can
be considered as our main house where I was one of those waiting for
him.
To my surprise, he went directly to the oratory and prayed aloud a
prayer of thanksgiving, and I could see how heartfelt he made that
prayer. I was moved to see him do that, since I imagined that after a
long trip the first thing one would do was to rest and fix himself.
No. He looked normal and fresh, again with that signature calm
composure he had and with a face that was always at the point of
smiling. He impressed me as very fatherly and as one whose character
and behavior was consistent either in public or in private. He did not
have one persona in public and another in private.
It was only much later on that I learned that he really exerted great
effort to be always with God and to be mindful and thoughtful of the
others. Even when he was in great physical pain or in some
disappointment, which I was aware of when I was with him in Rome, he
always managed to smile and to be of good disposition. He did not
allow irony or sarcasm to tinge his words.
On the few occasions I was privileged to be alone with him, I always
came out very impressed by the aura of simplicity and goodness that he
exuded. He frequently interspersed his responses to what I told him
with, “Gracias a Dios!” (Thanks be to God.) And I just told him things
that I considered of little importance only.
Of course, with him, I was very transparent. I felt so confident with
him. That I was impressed with him or, in fact, in awe, did not so
overwhelm me that I could not say things clearly and objectively. On
the contrary, I was always drawn to say things as sincerely as
possible.
He was very fatherly in a very direct way. One time, I was asked to
accompany him when he had his haircut. That time, I just celebrated my
birthday more than a week before, and yet when he saw me, the first
thing he asked was how my birthday celebration was.
I did not expect him to know about my birthday, since there were many
of us, about 200, and I did not think he would make it a point to know
the birthdays of the people staying with him but in a separate house.
Besides, he was out of town when I celebrated my birthday.
And when he had the chance, he would always say something nice to me.
One time I was asked to sing in a musical family get-together. When it
ended and we were going out of the place, he approached me just to say
that I sang well. Obviously, I was floored by that compliment even
though I knew very well that my singing skills were very limited.
When he was made bishop in January 1991, I had the fortune to be one
of those on whom he exercised his first act of diaconal ordination. It
was a very memorable moment because my family could not make it to
that event. But he made sure that I would feel the atmosphere of a
family by providing me with many others who attended to me during
those days.
He was the epitome of extreme fidelity to the saintly founder and knew
how to adapt the spirit of Opus Dei to the changing circumstances of
life. He was truly a good father and shepherd.
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