Visions
of towering ceilings with brilliant stained glass windows tug at the
back of his mind. Along with altars dedicated to The Lord God and His
Most Beloved Son, Jesucristo. Walls far apart with pews and
kneelers for hundreds of devoted followers are far more than anything
possible in this hard and unforgiving land.
What
am I to do? he asks himself.
His health is not the best and he does not trust his frail body to do
what will be necessary to build a place of worship befitting the
glory of God. I must do it all. I must teach and lead and
share the burdens of all. Please, Dear God above, do not fail me. I
can do nothing without You.
Private
Juan de Leiva works with the few Guaycura converts who remain at the
mission to cut bigger windows in the mud and wattle hut built for the
padre to sleep and
pray in private. Juan's Indian wife, Esmerelda, toils with the girls
and women to rebuild the place where communal meals will be prepared.
Father
Jacobo turns and gazes upon a pile of adobe bricks. Most have
been damaged by the rains and he wonders how many can be restored. He
sighs and turns away, walking uphill to the quarry. He runs his
fingers across the surface of the stone, noting it is not granite but
a less dense arensica. It is the same sandstone used at the
other mission and he has been told it is most durable.
He
does not miss the pile of pine logs which had agonizingly been
brought down from the slopes far away and far above. At their best,
they can allow no more than the length of twenty-five feet to span
walls and make a solid roof. Again, it is not different than at all
the other missions.
“Something
bothers you, reverend father?”
The
soldier's voice brings him from the darkness of his thoughts. He had
been introduced to him and his half-Indian wife in Loreto. Both
appeared capable of assisting at the mission and some of the other
fathers had told him that their soldier/companions made life
bearable. Also a half-breed, Juan is fourth generation and was
baptized at birth by a Jesuit in Sonora. He can read and write quite
well, something of great assistance to him.
And
yet, Father Jacobo cannot feel confident the soldier will make his
life less onerous.
“If
you fret about rebuilding the chapel, reverend father, there are many
converts here to bend their muscles to the tasks.”
“Naked,
ignorant savages to raise a structure appropriate to His Glory. How
will that pass?” Staring down at the mission site, he does not see
the eyes of the soldier opening wide in shock.” Sucking in deeply,
he turns his head and says, “They do not understand anything about
that which we teach them and are only interested in what food we put
in their mouths.”
Juan
straightens as if preparing to say something he feels the Jesuit
might not appreciate. “Ignorant savages they most assuredly are,
reverend father. But, they come because they fear and respect the
magic you possess and the promise that they will never die. All they
have ever thought for time beyond end is that when they are born,
they have nothing more to look forward to except death. The promise
that Jesucristo gives them life beyond death is why they do
what we ask of them.”
The
words surprise the Jesuit. No other father has described the Indians'
desire to seek out and stay with the fathers in such a manner. In
that light, their attendance at the various missions makes a great
deal of sense. “They feel I possess magic, Private Leyva?”
“They
believe you are far more powerful than their spiritual leaders and
senior family members. They understand nothing about anything beyond
life and death. And even then, they only consider one as either here
or gone away. They have no burial ceremonies such as we. One dies and
they are taken to where the predators come to devour the corpse.”
Father
Baegert thinks upon that for a moment. “So, the chapels we build
are not truly for their benefit?”
“They
do not appreciate what is beautiful to us. In fact, beauty has no
meaning for them.” Before the father can speak, Leyva hastily adds,
“We build them as beautifully as we can in our own adoration of the
Holy Father, Jesucristo, y el Spiritu Sanctus.”
Father
Baegert straightens his back and turns to his escort/companion. “Well
then, my son, we will do our best to build an edifice that Our Lord
Jesus will look down upon and smile. We will make this mission a
place where the natives may come to learn The Word of God and have a
place to fill their stomachs. They will learn trades to help them
long after you and I are gone.”
The
first task the Jesuit priest feels necessary is to protect against
future flooding. The main building must be built above the flood
level. He also determines it will be vital to build a canal from the
spring that flows during all but the most serious drought to water
gardens to provide food to all who will gather there.
“The
gardens will be important, reverend father. But the Guaycura are
fortunate in that the cactos
nearby provide plentiful fruit. As you may have discovered, the
pitahaya
has a flavor we do not find pleasing, but it is their main food and
they savor it. One type ripens from June to August and the other in
November and December.”
“What eat they when the fruit is not
present, my son?”
“Anything they can find, reverend
father. Do not be surprised to see them squatting outside the
storehouse picking at the insects that gather there. They also eat
just about anything that lives and they are able to capture of kill.
In the wild, they do nothing but seek food or to lay about to
conserve their strength.”
Guilt fills the Jesuit as disgust
envelopes him. How can human beings live in such a manner? And how
can they ever become educated in the ways of Spain?
