In recent days, several statues of Father Junipero Serra, the 18th century Franciscan friar who served as principal architect of the California mission system during the era of Spanish colonization, have been taken down by demonstrators. I find myself torn by this issue. As a Catholic I found myself repulsed by the desecration of the image of a saint. Yet from a secular perspective, the condemnation of Serra makes sense – at least superficially.
In 1874, the Spanish crown, fearful of Russian expansion in the northwest, elected to settle Upper California (today’s State of California) with the aid of Franciscan missionaries. Beginning in 1776, Junipero Serra established their original chain of California missions.
The California mission system grew to 21 centers, each of them self-contained. Their grain, fruit, cattle, and sheep assured sustenance and clothing for all the mission population. Moral life was closely regulated (young women and men were housed in separate quarters) and Indians were taught the rudiments of craftsmanship. Each mission had a trained choir, and often an orchestra, and the visual arts were fostered. They also sought to protect them from the depredations of soldiers and colonists. The goal in all of this was to transform what the missionaries viewed as a primitive population into a Hispanic community of farmers and artisans. Civilization, the missionaries felt, was the pathway to betterment and morality.
There was a profound streak of idealism in all of this: the basis of this effort was an intense devotional life practiced daily that emphasized the Mass and sacraments. Teaching of catechism and preaching was done in the native languages. The missionaries were seeking to bring an awareness of Christ’s love and the light of the Gospel, to individuals whose souls, they felt, were at risk of eternal damnation.
None of this, was without a downside. There was a pervasive paternalism on the part of the missionaries, a conviction that Indians were child-like at heart and needed a discipline that could only be achieved by unrelenting effort. As a result, the mission was strictly organized. Indigenous beliefs and customs were banned or closely regulated. Baptized natives who tried to escape were hunted and captured. Physical coercion also played a role , but as one missionary wrote, “In an average school [in Spain or New Spain] a person would receive more punishment for not knowing his lesson than he would receive here for living in concubinage.”
Fast forwarding to our own times, it is understandable why many contemporary Americans are unsettled by the 18th century world of the California missions. For many young people who shun older organizational structures, and absolute ways of thinking, Serra’s world is alien, almost incomprehensible. The zeal of the Spanish Franciscans is discounted as fanaticism or worse. It is not that Junipero Serra is viewed as exceptionally evil, but the entire system that he embodied, is worthy of condemnation. One critic interprets the missions as a slave system. Another writer, recounting the horrors of Auschwitz suggests that: “mass incarceration comes from the mission system.” Not a little of the criticism reflects an anti-Catholic bias.
Although many of these critiques are superficial, they still raise questions: Is it right to judge an historical figure entirely in light of today’s thinking? What of the circumstances and thinking that were prevalent when this person was alive? It would be no different if we ourselves were to be judged at some future time on the basis of standards that today are unknown. Much of the aspersions of guilt cast on the California Missions seem to be driven by the need to condemn what we today see as sin and this is fair enough. But to damn all the major players of the mission era as sinners, goes too far. It is therefore refreshing to hear another interpretation of the life of Junipero Serra. In the homily given on the occasion of the Franciscan Missionary’s canonization in 2015, Pope Francis, speaking in simple language, casts this remarkable figure in a different light:
“The Church, the holy People of God, treads the dust-laden paths of history, so often traversed by conflict, injustice and violence, in order to encounter her children, our brothers and sisters…. Father Junípero Serra… was the embodiment of “a Church which goes forth”, a Church which sets out to bring everywhere the reconciling tenderness of God. “Junípero Serra left his native land and its way of life. He was excited about blazing trails, going forth to meet many people, learning and valuing their particular customs and ways of life. He learned how to bring to birth and nurture God’s life in the faces of everyone he met; he made them his brothers and sisters. Junípero sought to defend the dignity of the native community, to protect it from those who had mistreated and abused it. Mistreatment and wrongs which today still trouble us, especially because of the hurt which they cause in the lives of many people.
“Father Serra had a motto which inspired his life and work, not just a saying, but above all a reality which shaped the way he lived: siempre adelante! Keep moving forward! For him, this was the way to continue experiencing the joy of the Gospel, to keep his heart from growing numb, from being anesthetized. He kept moving forward, because the Lord was waiting. He kept going, because his brothers and sisters were waiting. He kept going forward to the end of his life. Today, like him, may we be able to say: Forward! Let’s keep moving forward!”.”
