My original idea was to give a day by day account of my return to Guadalajara as it was happening so the experience could be delivered as fresh as possible. But things got busy, and at a certain point it made more sense to simply let it go, enjoy the moment and recount it once I got back to the States. So here I am back in the U.S. of A so let the the debriefing begin. I'm not proceeding chronologically because the highlight of the trip, the main reason I went, happened in the last two nights; my return to the parish and colonia of Santa Cruz de las Huertas, and I want to get those reflections down before they begin to fade.
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| Sta Cruz, back in the day |
When I think of my time in Mexico, or when I talk about it to others about it Santa Cruz is what my mind returns to the most. The three years I served there stands as a defining time in my life. It is where I came to understand that no matter where obedience leads me serving the Hispanic community will have some place in my work. Even my stay at Salesian High this last time around saw me offering Masses and other religious services in Spanish most weekends. I would not be the priest I am today without the preparation I received at Santa Cruz de las Huertas.
First, a little background, and please forgive any chronological inaccuracies when talking about the parish's history. Most of this I picked up from talking to people in the community, not by any formal research.
The history of Mexico is complex, and I won't get into the details here, but from the time of President Benito Juarez (1806-1872) successive Mexican governments became increasingly anti-clerical. The 1917 constitution, written after long years of civil war, contained several articles designed to curtail the rights of the Church. These provisions were spottily enforced until the presidency of Plutarco Elias Calles (1877-1948), who strictly enforced the constitution as written and added his own anti-religious legislation to the mix, known as the "Calles Laws." Things came to a head between 1926 and 1929 when there was a counter-revolutionary uprising in Mexico known as the Cristero War. The Cristeros were Catholics who saw themselves as fighting for Christ, though the Mexican bishops as a body never publicly supported armed violence (they called for economic boycotts and even suspended Church services to protest the laws). Church property was confiscated, priests were arrested and some executed, most famously Blessed Miguel Pro in 1927. Guadalajara, in the west-central state of Jalisco, was a center of Catholic resistance.
Santa Cruz de las Huertas (Holy Cross of the Orchards), in Tonalá, Jalisco was one of those Church buildings confiscated by the government. The bell tower was torn down, the facade defaced and the interior painted over and turned into a horse stable. One story I heard had summery executions of Cristeros taking place along the front wall of the church. When the parish was closed I don't exactly know, but it probably happened sometime between 1926 and 1935 (even though a truce was negotiated in 1929, an active persecution of the Church continued until about 1940). It was finally returned to the Archdiocese of Guadalajara in about 1975 and, from what I understand, reestablished as a parish in the mid 1990's, just before my arrival in Mexico.
On Saturday Eric and I went to Lake Chapala, which is a story unto itself, and when we returned we snuck by the parish on the way to dinner with the Gomez family. To my surprise there is a new bell tower and roof, and the inside is done over in a simple but pretty floral design. The previous pastor was having work done on the church when he discovered that the original paint job had been covered over, and the new work replicates the old. The body of the church still has some of the scars left by the Revolution, but it's still very much that quaint little church I remember.
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| Sta Cruz, 2011 |
By happy chance we ran into Nacho and Cuqui, who were kids when I was here last, but are now married with children of their own. We also saw Mari, who was widowed a few yeas back, and whose home I ate in on many occations. Nacho and Cuqui knew we were in the area, Mari didn't, and was properly surprised. "Que milagro!" (it's a miracle!) was a phrase we heard more than once on the trip.
We then made our way up to the Gomez home for a posole dinner. Posole is a soup of sorts made with large kernels of corn with a chicken leg or thigh thrown in, covered with lettuce, onions and radishes. Avacado and squeezed lime are also an option. It dates back to pre-Columbian days and is a sign thast Eric and I were considered special guests. Yes, you could say we were posole worthy.
The Gomez's were one of the first families I met when I got to Santa Cruz, and their home was a frequent destination for after apostolate meals. Some things had changed; two of their daughters are out of the house, one living with her husband and three children in Las Vegas. But the hospitality was the same. One thing people kept mentioning was how happy they were that we remembered them, and remembered Santa Cruz. I guess I felt the same way, in reverse. There were new faces about, but also plenty of old ones, and as we made our way through the streets it wasn't uncommon for people to nudge each other and point asking, with shy grins, if they didn't know who these two strangers were.
1 comment:
I've lived in Santa cruz for 15 years and I didn't know those things about the church. It was nice to find this article.
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