New mysteries of Montserrat
What should we do about death? We experience it intensely. It's a constant presence in the news. Ukraine, Gaza... and closer to home. It has a tragic face—wars and climate disasters—and an everyday face—old age, illness. It will come to us all. It's something natural, intertwined with the mystery of life. I ponder this as, having moved past the noise of the millennium celebrations, I climb Montserrat, where this three-way connection—nature, life, and death—becomes even more apparent. A thousand years of history, of intertwined human stories, as if we were passing the torch, with the whimsical and imposing rock formations as witnesses.
What do I mean? That the manifestation of the mystery of life and death—call it chance, call it divinity, call it the subtle and enigmatic bridegroom of nothing—is what makes us free, what compels us to seek meaning, to give meaning to what we do and to what we are, to reflect on our legacy—material or immaterial.
The monastery is full of donations, both material and immaterial legacies. With half a million volumes, it has the second largest library in Catalonia. In good company (thank you, Àngels Rius), I spend a pleasant morning there. We stop in a small room where a collection of 1,500 historical maps of Barcelona, from the 16th to the 20th centuries, is kept. It was donated not so long ago, in 2018, by the married couple Josep Gasset and Pilar Marcet. They had no children. She is still alive, a fabulous woman, with whom I had the pleasure of working many years ago. The collection is yet to be cataloged and digitized. When? Who will pay for it? This is a slightly more prosaic mystery... In the library, I miss Fathers Raguer and Massot, those wise men I long for.
The museum is a small but magnificent gem, with works ranging from Ancient Egypt (the legacy of the monk Bonaventura Ubach) to the most cutting-edge contemporary art, with special attention to Noucentisme (Obiols as the main figure), and a farewell that includes Picasso and Dalí. The visit is well worth it. It wasn't my first, nor will it be my last. Art will always be a mystery.
Montserrat is a guarantee of continuity, of permanence, which is why so many people leave their mark. It's the illusion of lasting significance. It preserves diverse traces, with messages scattered along the paths. On a walk, I was surprised to find a statue of the founder of Opus Dei, Escrivá de Balaguer, inaugurated just two years ago. While Popes Francis and Leo are marginalizing the order in question, Montserrat embraces it and immortalizes it. Another mystery, this one of a political-religious nature.
At night, the basilica is half full of people who will spend the night in the cells to witness a music and light show that I suppose is inherited from the millennium celebrations. It has nothing magical about it. It lacks rhythm, it's overly showy. Afterward, no one applauds. There's no mystery. The nighttime spectacle you encounter on the way out, by moonlight, is much better: the celestial grandeur above the jagged mountain. Nature, life, and death. Dream of eternity.
Descending the mountain means plunging back into the frenetic worldly maelstrom. The spiritual respite is over. Time accelerates once more. The illustrious and grotesque Tejero, 93, dies on the day the documents of his sordid coup are declassified. Trump and Putin, the embodiment of 21st-century coup-mongering, do not stop. Their lack of a sense of mystery is chilling. Hannah Arendt already revealed it to us: the banality of evil.
A recent death troubles me: that of Josep Maria Romaní i Bueno, also 93, an architect, father of Daniel, friend, and colleague at the newspaper. What legacy does he leave us? According to Bernat, another of his seven children, three recurring phrases: "The mountains will still be there" (therefore, if you want to reach the summit, prudence and perseverance are key); "What projects do you have?" (Action and purpose, this is reaching the summit), and "Let's have an uplifting conversation" (Of course, he was an architect and a good man).
Montserrat will remain in the same place forever and ever, amen.