The Alter Christus Awards with which Regnum Christi aims to highlight the service of priests to the Church and society as a whole, recognized this year 2020 the dedication and commitment to Social Pastoral of Don José Luis Segovia Bernabé. Josito, as his friends know him, is a priest seasoned in the world of those existential peripheries where prisons, drugs, and crime are not absent… Where “the Reign of God is not a conquest of mine, but a humble -in the little I reach- collaboration in something that God builds much better than I do and that will culminate -in a way that now seems incomprehensible to me- with success on the other side.” In this interview given to the website of Regnum Christi Spain, he shares his experiences in restorative justice with people from Vallecas, but also with ETA prisoners, how the relationship with those in need should be, the commission given to him by Cardinal Suquía when he ordained him, how his vocation was formed, and what his life of prayer is like.
How was that intense encounter with the Lord you spoke of in the interview for the Alter Christus Awards? And how did He tell you that He wanted you to be a priest?
It is an indelible event from which I draw strength in moments of doubt or despair. It’s indescribable, it’s embarrassing to verbalize, but it has given me forever a very firm conviction: knowing your place in the world and that this place is “called,” that you are summoned by Someone greater, stronger than you. I tried to erase that experience in vain. I endured several years in “resistance,” but ultimately I was defeated. It imposed itself on me and constitutes an experience I return to in moments of crisis to regain strength and “in Your name and by Your Word, cast the nets again.”
At the reception of the Awards, you mentioned a beautiful aspect of social pastoral: that it requires an approach to those in need not as recipients of aid, but as “friends with whom you share” what is important to you. How can this be achieved? How did you discover this?
I discovered it when my friend Tomás, whom I had helped out of legal and drug problems, insisted —without having a school diploma— on helping me with my doctoral thesis that I had to defend during a low moment. He learned the “twisted letter” (italics), the “big” (uppercase), and the “stained” (bold), and corrected hundreds of footnotes. Genuine love, charity, and friendship are bidirectional when authentic. Jesus touches and heals, but He also allows Himself to be touched and marvels at the faith of some surprising characters. Pope Francis speaks to us about friendship with the poor, about that complicity that drinks from loving and being loved… Daring to be within reach of the love of excluded people changes everything. The same happens with God.
He also highlighted that the Church, during these pandemic times, has helped the most needy a lot. What has been the key to this, according to your experience?
Probably we all have felt vulnerable and pressed by the needs of the poorest. That has brought out the best in each of us. So we abandoned foolishness and boring sacristy disputes and went “all together” to assist those demanding urgent help. We have managed to be simply the Church of Jesus Christ, renouncing our particular achievements. The love of God has shone through very different people and institutions, but in the communion that results from a mission lived as urgent and with little room for wasting time on trivialities.
You are part of the Repara team, the office of the Diocese of Madrid for the attention and accompaniment of victims of sexual abuse, abuse of power, and conscience in the Church or other areas. And you are knowledgeable about restorative justice, a reality little known in Spain. What is restorative justice, and what does it contribute to processes of reconciliation, reparation, and healing for victims and all those affected by abuse?
Restorative justice is a model rooted in the Gospel. It is often known as the justice of the three “R’s”: Responsibility of the offender, Reparation of the damage caused to the victim, Restoration of social dialogue and peace broken by crime. It is a justice designed from the victims. Not to defend oneself against them as we have too often done in the Church, but to look them in the eyes, take responsibility for the hell they suffer, and initiate a healing process, complex but—happily—possible!
And how did you get involved in restorative justice? What has been your experience?
The first case involving adults in Spain took place at the parish of San Buenaventura in Vallecas where I was. It made the media. Since then, it has been formalized and generalized. A disabled young man from a very dysfunctional family, who used to serve as an altar boy for me, “overdosed” on pills and alcohol and stole a car from his owner, who turned out to be the catechist of the premarital courses. Within a few months, they appeared in court—and I had both at the Eucharist! “Do not do so among yourselves”. José asked Vicente for forgiveness. Vicente reproached him and made him realize the consequences. We agreed in writing that the young man would wash his car over three weekends as compensation. The trial surprised the judge and the prosecutor. The true defense lawyer was the victim of the crime, who even angered the judge with his arguments in favor of the accused. It then became more widespread, and Catholic Pastoral Penitentiary took it on. I have also participated in restorative meetings between former ETA members and victims of terrorism (widows, mainly of murdered persons). In some cases, the ex-member of the terrorist group wore the cross of the murdered Civil Guard around his neck, and the victim’s family carried the wooden cross of the prisoner during his lifetime. Both exchanged crosses. “Terrorism was a cross like a heavy stone, but there is another cross that embraces us and reconciles us,” the victim told him. [For more information on this topic, you can consult this article by Don José Luis Bernabé titled “Prison, a place of reconciliation? Considerations from restorative justice”. The article is taken from E. Pascual (coord.) “The eyes of the other” Ed. Sal Terrae, 2014].
You are also involved in various civil and Christian organizations supporting the most marginalized sectors of society. What kind of work do you do in organizations such as: Asociación Apoyo, Coordinadora de Barrios, Inmigrapenal…?
Currently, very little. But these have been non-confessional spaces of civil society in which I have been very active as a professional in Law and Criminology. When I was ordained a priest, Cardinal Suquía told me: “You have the advantage of having one foot inside the Church and another outside. Stay like that. With both inside, many of us are. With both outside, you are not the Church. Use your training to maintain that difficult balance. Do not give it up.” That’s what I’ve tried to do. That’s why I went to trials with the Bible and the Criminal Procedure Law.
Pope Francis speaks about rediscovering the meaning of fraternity in the encyclical ‘Fratelli Tutti’: “Fraternity is not only the result of conditions of respect for individual freedoms, nor even of a certain managed equity. Fraternity has something positive to offer to freedom and equality.” Based on your experience, what meaning does this word take on, and how can we live these words of the Holy Father today?
I believe that Christian fraternity is not mere philanthropy, nor does it stem from an autistic “I,” absorbed in sterile freedom, which quickly turns the cult of autonomy into terrible loneliness, leading to despair. Fraternity involves stopping speaking in the first person singular (“I”) to speak in the plural (“we”), with the clear awareness that only “He” makes this possible. Fraternity offers warmth, hope, and meaning to freedom and equality.
What is the prayer life of a priest so dedicated to the most needy like? The Pope Francis quotes Blessed Charles de Foucauld in ‘Fratelli Tutti,’ and summarizes it as “Pray to God that I may truly be the brother of all.”
It is a clearly a prayer that lacks the calm and dedication it should have. But I experience in it the Lord Himself, who hovers over me with His infinite tenderness and gently presses me to realize His dream. Silence amid the noise of the city and contemplating God’s footprints in broken lives sometimes calms me, sometimes outrages me, other times questions me and causes conflicts, but it is always a source of grace and reminds me that the Reign of God is not a conquest of mine, but a humble -in the little I reach- collaboration in something that God builds much better than I do and that will culminate -in a way that now seems incomprehensible to me- with success on the other side.
