The background and quotations in this article are from the biography, “Rafael, Cardinal Merry del Val” by Marie Cecilia Buehrle, published by The Bruce Publishing Company, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, 1957. It’s a simple book with no titled chapters or index, but the story Buehrle tells is the journey of an ordinary man, who had the trappings of success thrust upon him, but never allowed them to distract him from his mission to serve God as his priest.

No one could have guessed that the second child born to Marquis Raphael Merry del Val – a distinguished diplomat of ancient Spanish and Irish lineage – and Countess Josephine de Zuhueta of a prominent English family, tracing its origins back to Spain, on October 10, 1865 in London, would become the Secretary of State under St. Pius X.

All Raphael ever wanted to be was a parish priest, to lead the ordinary people of England back to the Church. By no means is this to imply an indifference to those he met at court throughout Europe, or at his father’s Spanish Embassy in Vienna or Rome, or in the Vatican’s diplomatic circles. In simple black garb or flowing cardinal’s robes, he was always a priest, available and compassionate to wealthy and poor alike.

He would advise those under his direction something he appeared to live:“Form the habit of asking yourself every morning: ‘To whom can I do good today?’ Knowing only to love God , we learn to love others and to be good to them.”

For a man who spoke fluent English, Italian, Spanish, French, and some German, he managed to teach great truths in a way that no one could fail but be inspired and comforted by his message

During the summer of 1885, after Raphael had concluded his philosophy studies at Upshaw in England, he settled into a simple room at Rome’s Scots College. Later in the afternoon, he and his father enjoyed a private audience with Pope Leo XIII, which was to change the young man’s life forever.

The pope firmly told the father that he wished his son to attend the Academy for Noble Ecclesiastics. The father replied that Raphael would be living with ordained priests, and would miss out on the firm foundation found in a formal seminary.

Such protests were to no avail, and by nightfall the future priest was enrolled at the Academy, surrounded by others on the Church’s diplomatic fast track.

Although the young priests lived under an Archbishop, the rules were few and mild. Each man was pretty much on his own, so Raphael decided to follow a program of self-discipline, more in tune with a traditional seminary.

Food was fairly scarce at the Academy; many of the men either brought food in or went out for dinner, but Raphael did neither, and often went to bed hungry. Years later, when he was appointed President of the Academy, he saw to it that the food was plentiful and inviting, avoiding the necessity for dining out.

In 1887, the pope asked him to go with a group to offer his congratulations to Queen Victoria for her Golden Jubilee. When Raphael returned to the Academy, he found the pope’s tailor waiting to measure him for the uniform of a Private Chamberlain Supernumerary to His Holiness, with the title of Monsignor, though he was not yet an ordained priest. Raphael, the only one who spoke fluent English, was the spokesman for the group.

After all the social functions, he was relieved to return to Rome in preparation for his ordination, which took place in a private chapel with only the family and close friends present.    

On New Year’s Day, 1889, in the rooms of St. Ignatius adjoining the Church of the Gesu in Rome, Rafael offered his First Mass, again, with only an intimate group of family and friends.

It was the custom for the Academy to appoint one of its members to serve the poor boys in the slums of the Trastevere, and Raphael was chosen for the ministry, which he served until his death. For them, he formed the nucleus for the Association of the Sacred Heart, which was a favorite devotion of his. As busy as life was to become, evenings were spent with the boys, helping them to grow mentally, physically and spiritually. He was proud of them, and they were proud of their priest who preached in a way they could understand, and who would see to it that when anyone fell ill, a doctor would be there to help, and hospital bills were paid. When there was no money for rent, somehow, it just appeared .

A friend helped Raphael build a small theatre, and the boys wrote, produced and acted in the plays, not only having fun. but building skills to help them in their adult lives.

When World War I swept the young men into battle, Raphael stayed up night after night writing letters to them, and it was often he who was called upon to break the news to a family about their son’s death, to offer the Mass, as well as to accompany the family to the cemetery.

The boys who returned broken in body and spirit, knew Raphael would help them to heal. Some had written that they had strayed from the Faith, and were discouraged about where they stood with God. With gentleness, Rafael would remind them that their God was a Father, a Shepherd, who knew their weakness and was ready to forgive even before being asked.

When Pope Pius X died, Raphael, who could have lived a comfortable life anywhere, chose Trastevere for his retirement, where he continued to serve his poor.

On Monday, February 24, 1930, Raphael was with his boys. One reported: “When he got to the Garibaldi Bridge, we began to join him and did not leave him till we reached the house of the Association. There he greeted every one by name, asked news of their families and their doings, interested in everything that concerned them. He took part merrily in our talk and our jokes; for each one he had a smile or a word – one of those words which he knew so well how to say, and which go straight to the heart.”

That evening he felt ill. The next day the doctors diagnosed appendicitis, and said that an operation would be necessary. Infection set in, which the doctors could not cure, and he died, surrounded by his boys.

Many of the young men came home from throughout Italy, grown now, farmers, artisans, soldiers, professional men. They insisted on preparing the body for burial themselves, and stayed day and night by the bier and carried him to his tomb in the crypt of St. Peter’s, close to his beloved Pius X.

A few months before, Rafael had written: “At the moment of death, what is necessary is calmness. We pass from this life to the other as if through a door which opens, to lead – or to go – to God.”

Buehrle concludes her story by writing: “The Cardinal was nothing. The Priest was all.”

Despite the countless honors heaped upon Raphael by the Church and the courts, he had remained faithful to the ideal he had set for himself years ago. His friend, Don Felice, has written of him:

“From his earliest years, he gave himself completely to God  and took up bravely the cross of mortification. He had an ardent temperament and a sensitive heart; he might easily have given way to the strength of his natural character. But he conquered himself in silence; he never spoke of what hurt him and never returned evil for evil. He suffered silently – glad to offer something to God, and so he gradually acquired the serene amiability which distinguished him all his life.”

With all the scandals of clergy abuse swirling about today, destroying the peace of the Faithful, Raphael’s life offers inspiration. At the same time, it is a conundrum to consider how this brilliant scholar, so close to Pius X, could have allowed the pope to have been so caught up in his fear of progress that he saw heresy everywhere, resulting in the strict censorship of scholars and their work. His fear created fear, demanding servile, blind obedience, not to himself, but to his office. It would be left to Pope John XXIII to put an end to anathemas, and to return the warmth of the shepherd to the Church of Christ.

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