He is currently the parish priest of Santa María de la Asunción in Tlancualpicán, in the Mexican state of Puebla. From there, he offers an analysis of Catholicism in his homeland, one of the countries with the largest Catholic populations in the world: “I think it’s a bit lukewarm; I believe idolatry is creeping in again. The cult of death, neo-Pentecostalism, the New Age movement, liturgical abuses, and even the ignorance of the clergy are gradually eroding the truths of the faith.” However, he also notes that there are many Catholics who “are committed to the Church and uphold the life of faith.” But as is so often the case, he adds, “the bad things make more noise.”

Before becoming a priest, Miguel says he was an ordinary person. He worked as an industrial chemical technician until, finally, after years of considering his vocation, he decided to take the step to which God was calling him.

This vocation was cultivated within him from childhood, something that later became fundamental when his family drifted away from the faith. “Above all, my paternal grandmother and my mother played an important role. I remember things from my childhood, like my mother reading me passages from  Saint Francis  or us watching films about saints, or my grandmother talking to me about the writings of Saint Augustine,” he says.

He highlights something that happened to him when he was only six years old, which he remembers as if it happened yesterday: “In preschool they asked what the Holy Trinity was. And I, at six years old, answered correctly. The teacher’s face was priceless. I had a strong desire to be a priest then.”

A Vocation in Front of the Blessed Sacrament

However, shortly afterward, his family distanced themselves from the Church, although that seed had already been planted within him and would eventually sprout a few years later. It was at the age of 16 that Miguel decided to join a parish choir because he “felt that someone was calling me to be there.” He didn’t know what his true calling was. It would take him five years to discover it.

That desire, which he had felt at age six to  become a priest  and which had faded, resurfaced with force at age 22. “During a Holy Hour, something I had kept hidden for 16 years was refreshed,” he says. Shortly afterward, he entered the seminary, where he was ordained a priest in 2017. Just a few months later, his bishop sent him to Pamplona to study for a Licentiate in Canon Law thanks to a grant from the CARF Foundation.

Of his experience at the  Bidasoa International Seminary,  he says he has “fond memories” because, in addition to the education he received, it was a unique opportunity to do apostolic work in Spain. “I helped many people, and I would like to do it again,” he says about what he found in Europe. In his opinion, “the faith of the world is in danger, and it appears that faith is disappearing, but I haven’t seen a darker place for this than my beloved Spain. There is a lack of love for the Cross.”

Even so, Father Miguel acknowledges that “there are many people fighting to prevent this from happening,” which is why he considers it urgent “to fight in our trenches and help our bishops to be men of faith, courageous and dedicated.”

The connection between liturgy and law

With his love for the liturgy and his acquired knowledge of  Canon Law , this priest wants to protect the Church’s great treasures. In his opinion, “faith is revitalized with a proper liturgy, and a liturgy guided by Canon Law is wonderful.” And that is where he believes the Church must strive to safeguard the liturgy, drawing on the rich body of law acquired after so many centuries of Christianity.

When asked about the challenges facing priests today, Miguel Romero is clear: “The worst danger a priest can face is forgetting why and to whom he consecrated himself, or rather, to whom he entrusted his life.” He believes that “if we were truly aware of what we have done before God, the Church would reflect a different face.”

Finally, this Mexican clergyman expresses his gratitude to the  CARF Foundation  for all the help they provide. “I appreciate your daily efforts to bring information to the most remote villages. Thank you for everything, and I hope one day to help you continue to grow in knowledge of the Church. Please remember that this is from God,” he concludes.