The mysterious disappearance of two silver crowns with the flag of Spain that adorned the tomb of John XXIII

Postcard illustration of the tomb of Pope John XXIII. Courtesy

The Vatican, we know, keeps countless secrets, some greater than others.

Among the little secrets is the story of two crowns of roses and carnations, made of solid silver, weighing 40 kilos each.

They have two silk ribbons with the colors of the Spanish flag.

They spent years in the tomb of Pope John XXIII, in the Vatican grotto, until his mortal remains were transferred to the Basilica of Saint Peter.

The next 27th is the anniversary of his canonization by Pope Francis, who made an exception to speed up the proclamation of him as a saint and did not wait for any of his miracles to be recognized, as indicated by Vatican legislation.

As he commented to a friend "the greatest miracle of John XXIII was himself", who will go down in history as the pope of the revolutionary Second Vatican Council.

Reviewing photos from the past I have come across a postcard from the Vatican of the tomb of John XXIII, bought in one of the shops around St. Peter's Basilica, in which the two silver crowns with the flag are clearly visible from Spain.

And suddenly I remembered that those two crowns have a history that I personally experienced, since on the day of John XXIII's death I took them from Madrid to the Vatican.

It all started with an idea from the famous Chilean broadcaster Boby Deglané, from radio Madrid, today Cadena Ser. It was still the time of Francoism and media censorship.

Boby's programs were an exception and were broadcast live with the participation of listeners who called in by phone.

It was a risky operation that the famous announcer carried out with a firm hand.

One night, for example, he called the program in which I participated a young woman from the favela of Vallecas.

She wanted to tell her story of her poverty and how in the cold winters of Madrid she had to cover herself with pieces of old newspapers and she dreamed that the sun was rising to warm her.

When he finished speaking there was a silence in the study for fear of censorship.

Poverty in Madrid?

And in times of the glorious Franco leader?

The afternoon John XXIII died, Boby Deglané had the idea that the radio would pay homage to the pope, so popular and loved by the poor.

To do this, he asked a group of jewelers to carve two silver crowns overnight, which would be taken the next day to Saint Peter in homage to the Pope.

That's how it went.

The crowns were placed on the radio at dawn and were the subject of a procession of ordinary people who came to kiss them excitedly before going to work.

And at ten o'clock in the morning I was ordered by radio to take the crowns to Rome while the Pope's mortal remains were veiled in Saint Peter's Basilica.

Everything seemed easy and normal, until the Rome airport customs told me that those silver crowns were not authorized to leave the airport.

I had to go to the help of the Embassy of Spain to the Holy See so that they could free them.

Upon reaching San Pedro, the crowns were placed by a Vatican hierarch on both sides of the coffin while the faithful paraded nonstop to pay homage to one of the most beloved popes in the history of the Church.

And the Spanish crowns were later placed on both sides of his tomb in the grotto in which, according to tradition, the apostle Peter had been buried.

Time passed and the crowns, which were already a relic, disappeared from the tomb.

I went to find out from the one who had been the faithful secretary of the Pope, Loris Capovilla, and he told me that they had been withdrawn because in his will John XXIII asked that in his tomb "he did not want gold or silver."

Thus, along with the Spanish silver crowns, a golden spike sent by the Orthodox Patriarch, Athenagoras IV, who had been a friend of the most ecumenical Pope ever, was also withdrawn.

When I told Monsignor Capovilla the story of the silver crowns that had been kissed by hundreds of poor workers from Madrid before taking them to Rome, after a few seconds of silence he told me: “I am sure that if the Pope had known the story, he would not he would have minded having those silver crowns on his grave.”

No sooner said than done.

He went looking for them and found them in a small storage room behind the tomb used by those who took care of their cleaning.

And the crowns appeared again in public.

Capovilla removed, however, the ribbons with the colors of the Spanish flag.

He explained to me that he had done it to avoid the jealousy of the thousands of pilgrims from all over the world who might be offended by that privilege.

When the body of the Pope was exhumed and taken to one of the altars of the Basilica of San Pedro, the Spanish crowns disappeared again.

Since then they have been lost in oblivion.

Today, days away from the anniversary of his canonization, I wonder where those crowns have ended up.

Will they be in some corner of the Vatican museums?

Did they end up in some storage room, or as an anti-clerical friend maliciously insinuated to me, did some clever monsignor sell them (they were 80 kilos of silver)?

In any case, those crowns would today be a true relic of one of the popes who, in one of the shortest pontificates in the history of the Church, managed to make himself loved by believers and atheists.

The Spanish Church should try to recover this relic, which is a piece of history.

In the testament in which he said that he did not want gold or silver in his tomb, John XXIII also wrote, addressing his family, that he did not leave them anything because “I was born poor and I die poor”.

The phrase of John XXIII had hidden a criticism of his predecessor Pius XII, Prince Pacelli, the last pope of the nobility who distributed noble titles to his relatives.

And indeed, the family of John XXIII of Sotto il Monte, in Bergamo, after his death was still poor peasants who took care of half a dozen cows and sheep.

From John XXIII's testament I remember a phrase that particularly touched me.

It's the one that says: "I don't have to apologize to anyone because I've never felt offended by anyone."

Undoubtedly that phrase was addressed to the cardinals of the Curia who were scandalized when he announced that he was going to convene a Council, inviting the five thousand bishops of the world to Rome to attempt a renewal of the Church.

Said cardinals had even discussed removing him from office on the grounds that he was not in his right mind.

They were based on the fact that when asked if he had correctly measured the responsibility of convening an Ecumenical Council, he replied with the humor that characterized him that the idea had occurred to him "while he was shaving."

This was John XXIII, whom the current Pope Francis, the pontiff who most resembles him in his simplicity and openness of ideas, wanted to canonize without waiting for him to perform miracles.

If I could, I would ask the good Pope for the miracle of finding those crowns that for years adorned his tomb with the affection of Spain.

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