Magical New Mexico
Always have maintained there’s a magic there, in the landscape.
“The swarthy Padre laughed, and threw off the big cat which had mounted to his shoulder.” Page 146.
Death Comes for the Archbishop – Willa Cather
‘It will keep you busy, Bishop. Nature has got the start of you here. But for all that, our native preists are more devout than your French Jesuits. We have a living Church here, not a dead arm of the European Church. Our religion grew out of the soil, and has its own roots. We pay filial respect to the person of the Holy Father, but Rome has no authority here. We do not require aid from the Propaganda, and we resent its interference. The church the Franciscan Fathers planted here was cut off; this is the second growth, and it is indigenous. Our people are the most devout left in the world. If you blast their faith by European formatities, they will become infidels and profligates.’ Pages146-7.
Rummaging through my books, I happened across an old text, I know I picked it up and read it before a trip to New Mexico. That passage was underlined, with the page dog-eared. I know why, now, as that short paragraph, briefly, it evokes what I now know to be true.
Magical New Mexico
Having sensed this for years, living for some time in the shadow of a historic cathedral, yes, I know this to be true.
While I frequently don’t agree on dogma, or politics, I do appreciate the striving for good that the Mother Church still ascribes to.
That passage catches and explicates a clear image I arrived at via independent means, some years ago.
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