Keeping the faith

In the San Luis Valley, roots, community strengthened in tradition of Las Posadas

Fernando Quinteron, Rocky Mountain News

Published December 24, 2005 at midnight

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FORT GARLAND - This was the third year Mireya Molina played Mary in Las Posadas, an annual procession re-enacting the futile search for shelter in Bethlehem, which takes place in nine villages in the San Luis Valley on the nine evenings before Christmas.

Her boyfriend, Manuel Orozco, played Joseph. The two are seniors at Centennial High School in nearby San Luis.

"It's OK," she said about her coveted role as Mary as two elderly men hoisted her up on an uncooperative donkey named Donkey. "I didn't think I'd be doing it again, but here I am. Mary."

Selena Sanchez was more enthusiastic about the role.

She played Mary two years ago.

"It's neat to ride on the donkey and have people following you around," said Sanchez, who, along with her mother, Brandee Gallegos, was among dozens of bundled-up parishioners of Holy Family Church who met around a bonfire outside the chapel to begin the procession.

"They're keeping an important tradition alive," said Gallegos of Las Posadas. "It brings our community together and celebrates our faith."

Faith runs deep and strong here, nourished by generations of cultural and religious tradition tracing back to the area's Hispanic roots and kept intact by the area's relative isolation.

Las Posadas at Christmastime is the highlight of the community's celebration of faith.

Each year, participants meet at dusk at the chapel of the village hosting that night's procession. Starting with San Acacio on Dec. 16, the final procession meets tonight in San Luis.

At Wednesday night's procession in Fort Garland, Brother Juan Manuel Ruiz, a seminarian studying to be a priest, begins with a prayer for all those who are going through divorce. Each night a different prayer is said, the subject chosen by the parishioners. Prayers are said in both English and Spanish, as are Christmas carols.

Covered in a blue shawl, Mary led the procession with Joseph by her side.

Wandering down dirt roads in the dark, they rode up to the first house covered in Christmas lights.

Joseph used a walking stick to pound on the door.

"In the name of heaven, give us a place to stay," their chorus sang in Spanish.

Ruiz and others responded for the household: "We don't know you. Keep going."

The exchange continued at several more stops at homes along the way back to the church. About 70 people filled the streets of Fort Garland.

"It makes you feel part of the community," said John Frey, who along with his wife, recently moved from Wisconsin to the San Luis Valley to retire.

Luther and Viola Medina brought up the rear. They married in the Holy Family church in 1956, the last year the old church had services before its replacement was built right next to it. The crumbling adobe church, built in 1897, still stands.

"I love seeing the children," said Viola Medina. "Mary, Joseph and the kids dressed like angels. This is really for them."

Sabrina Martinez is hoping that all of her daughters get a chance to play the Virgin Mother.

At Thursday's procession in the village of San Francisco, her second oldest, Beatriz Medina, played Mary.

"My daughter Dominique played her five years ago. I've got two more: Zebedia, 7; and Trinity, 2," said Martinez. "They're next in line."

In San Francisco, the donkey, named Sally, was more docile than the one on the previous night.

Beatriz Medina walked over and stood next to the animal. "I've never ridden a donkey before," she said.

"I'm excited."

There are fewer street lights in San Francisco than in Fort Garland.

A boy carrying a flashlight led the way through the dirt streets. Cars soon followed the procession and drivers turned on their headlights to help illuminate the path.

The Posadas always end in front of the church. The musical exchange between Joseph and Mary and the keeper of the church continues.

Eventually, the doors to the church swing open and parishioners file in.

More prayers are recited. Joseph and Mary sit at the foot of the altar, surrounded by angels. One of them, 5-year-old Deja Pettigrew, is a 15th-generation San Luis Valley resident, said her mother, Debbie Medina-Pettigrew.

The evening ended with a feast provided by parishioners. Pots filled with beans, tamales, menudo, posole and other local favorites filled the church with comforting aromas.

"We think it's awesome. It's just a pleasure you look forward to all year," said Patricia Medina of Fort Garland, whose mother made menudo for the San Francisco procession. "We all get to share our special recipes. I love it."

Las Posadas is a Mexican tradition that began when Franciscan friars used morality plays to teach Catholicism to the Indians.

"Dramas were done in poetry, acting and music used to teach the faith," said Father Patrick Valdez, who presided over the processions every night except Wednesday, when he was called to attend a funeral. "It's a lost tradition that is being saved by the people of this valley. It's a good lesson about not losing our faith."

Valdez said Las Posadas is closely related to novenas, a series of prayers read for a particular occasion.

"Most of the families in the valley used to say novenas when it was Christmas or when there was a need," he said.

"The tradition of Posadas, processions, celebration of the saints' feast days – these are not for show. This is something real for us that nourishes our faith."

All nine of the processions are led by 71-year-old Juanita Dominguez and her 37-year-old accordion, used in all but three of the Posadas.

A key is missing and a large chunk has broken off her pearl-handled instrument. But for participants, the sounds of her squeezebox are just as sweet.

In 1984, Dominguez and her late husband, Emilio Dominguez, brought the Posadas to the valley and other communities throughout Colorado.

This year is her 40th celebration.

In the late '60s, Juanita and Emilio Dominguez were community activists in Denver, founding members of the Crusade for Justice along with the late civil rights leader Rodolfo "Corky" Gonzalez. When the couple joined a church alliance to address social justice issues, they decided to introduce Las Posadas at an interfaith Christmas celebration.

"We were disappointed with how commercial Christmas had become. Emilio and I both came from the San Luis Valley. I remembered my mother used to have Posadas, with luminarias (paper bags filled with candles) around the house. So we decided to do the Posadas. A lot of effort went into it, with the community coming out to help."

Soon, the Dominguezes were bringing Las Posadas to schools, colleges and community organizations in cities and towns throughout the Front Range.

When they returned to the valley in 1984 to retire, they brought the Posadas tradition with them. The following year, Valdez, known as Father Pat to locals, helped increase community participation.

"People were very receptive," said Dominguez. "Father Pat made people want to participate."

Said Pat Buckingham, San Luis' town clerk and treasurer: "He's very much respected. He's what holds this community together."

Valdez, also a San Luis Valley native, encouraged locals to make various improvements, including building a path featuring bronze depictions of the Stations of the Cross, the story of Jesus' crucifixion. The path has become a leading tourist attraction.

He also encouraged locals to restore and maintain the region's historic Spanish mission churches, some dating from the mid-1800s. The churches are modestly furnished, with altars built or repaired by local craftsmen.

Parishioners do much of the restoration and craftsmanship themselves. At Fort Garland, community members took classes and made their own stained glass windows, using local children as inspirations for faces of the angels in them. At the San Francisco parish, a group of women learned papier-mache from a local nun to create characters for their own nativity scene.

Parishioners are in charge of their church's upkeep. Mayordomos, or church "bosses," hold yearlong posts and organize community members to clean and maintain the church, as well as raise funds – a challenge for this economically depressed region.

Residents of San Luis, the Costilla County seat and the oldest town in Colorado (founded in 1851), and surrounding villages depend largely on county government and local schools for jobs. Some drive to Alamosa, the valley's largest city, about an hour away. The median household income for Costilla County residents in 2000 was $19,531, with more than a quarter of households earning less than $10,000 annually.

Like the snow-capped mountains that ring the valley, time in San Luis and the other historic towns of Costilla County seems frozen. Costilla County has grown little over the years. According to Census figures, the population increased from 3,190 in 1990 to 3,688 in 2000.

Buildings date back to the last three centuries, including crumbling, abandoned adobe structures - reminders of the valley's cultural and historic ties to northern New Mexico.

"The old Hispanic influence is strong here. You can see it in people's faces. You can hear it in their lilting speech and even some of the old Spanish words that are used nowhere else but in the valley," said Dominguez.

Much of the old Hispanic Catholic traditions were kept alive by the Penitentes, a local fraternal order that was controversial for its secrecy and rumored re-enactment of the crucifixion of Jesus during the Easter holiday.

"If it were not for the Penitentes, we wouldn't have the religion we have in the valley," said Dominguez. "They maintained and retained it for the people."

It is a tightly knit community, where drivers wave at every approaching car and doors are kept unlocked.

But the area's isolation has led to a stalled economy, and problems with drugs and alcohol.

"There's simply not enough for young people to do around here, so a lot of them get into trouble with drugs," said Buckingham.

"There's not a lot to do here. Play basketball. Build bonfires. Get together with friends and hang out," said Jasmine Martinez, 17, who, with her boyfriend, Charles Lobato, 18, walked in Thursday night's procession.

They were grateful for being able to participate in the time-honored celebration.

"I'm glad they're keeping the tradition alive. It's important for young people to learn. We'll be the next ones putting these together," said Martinez.

Like the other adults, Father Valdez believes it's the youth who stand the most to gain from the annual processions.

"These are the kinds of events memories are made of," he said. "For those who are now working in Denver or California making a lot of money, when the 22nd of December comes around, they'll remember: 'I was Joseph or Mary or an angel.' That's a pretty special memory to have."

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