The Paraguayan Pegasus
One year later, Father Ortega and Father Barsena, who had gone deep into the jungle of Brazil after some pagan souls to convert, were starving to death in the middle of nowhere. Father Barsena unexpectedly ordered Father Ortega to go to a village far away to get some food. The Jesuit didn’t argue, he didn’t even think that his mission was impossible. With his last strength, he jumped on the back of his horse—why they never thought of eating up the animal is a furious question to query, I guess. “And he suddenly felt like he was flying!” On the back of his Paraguayan Pegasus, he flew over the mountain top, scattered all the warlike Indians who stood in his way, eventually reaching the village “in less than eleven hours, when he should have ridden several days.” He came back just as fast, followed by a convoy of Spaniards, who took twelve days to join him. God flew in mysterious ways in Paraguay.
Burning Cacique
At the Reduction of Lorette, in 1610, a converted Cacique (Indian chief) who was slowly going back to his former evil ways, was warned by the brave Jesuits; but he never listened, and was burnt to death by a sudden fire that miraculously started in his place. “He thus taught to the newly converted Christians that there’s a jealous God in the heavens, and that one can’t despise with impunity the warnings of His Ministers.” Amen.
And the fullness thereof
Even the animals had to bow. In 1705, the Fathers of the Reduction of Saint John the Baptist and their neophytes were hungry—but they had to finish the church before thinking about casual things. All of them agreed: better starving than leaving the house of God unfinished, as Man shall not live by bread alone... God sure appreciated such devotion. He waited for His creatures to finish His house—charity begins at home— and then rewarded them by sending them “dozens of wild boars.” The animals simply came out of the woods, as delicious lambs to the slaughter. To make things even easier, these good animals didn’t “even care about running when fired at.” Later on, a tiger attacked an Indian, throwing him on the ground. The future victim had the brilliant idea to call on Jesus and Mary, who heard his cries. “The tiger suddenly left him alone, without hurting him, and went away.” Halleluiah! Another man, injured at the belly by an arrow, was as good as dead when he received the body of Christ—“His wound instantly healed,” wrote Charlevoix without an ounce of derision. Rise up and walk, neophyte!
Saints and Martyrs
The Jesuits needed some religious legitimacy in Paraguay. God had to prove He was with them—which He did. He went as far as sending His Apostles when necessary. Some Indians maintained that one Pay Zuma had come many centuries ago to teach their ancestors about the true God; he had told them that they would return to their pagan beliefs once he would depart but that one day, some people would come to remind them about his teachings. And when Father Montoya entered the region of Tayati in 1618, he was surprised to be welcomed by a tribe of Indians holding a cross. “One thing is certain,” stated Charlevoix, “many Spaniards have believed in this tale, and they still pretend that Pay Zuma was the Apostle Saint Thomas.” Charlevoix wasn’t convinced; he said that this tale was more easily refuted than proven. Anyway, at least two other Apostles appeared in Paraguay—and this is beyond doubt. Indeed, in 1564, Saint Simon and Saint Judea intervened near the Plata River when the powerful Cacique Gualan attacked the humble and pious Reduction of Saint Michael. As the Savages were about to plunder and sack the place, the two Apostles “appeared in a whirlwind of lightning that scared the Savages away!” How you mean!
Pustules by night
But nothing can establish a religious Order like martyrs. In 1628, at the Reduction of All Saints, the Indians savagely murdered Fathers Gonzalez and Rodriguez, and then threw their remains in the fire—sometimes the Indians grew tired of these furious guys, and just slaughtered them. But they were astonished to see that the flames didn’t touch the body of Father Rodriguez. “Their surprise grew even stronger when they heard a voice coming from the heart of Father Rodriguez, which distinctly said: A cruel death was the reward for all my love; but you could only hurt my body; my soul rejoices among the Saints in the heavens. Your parricide shall be punished, as my children shall revenge me.” Scary words coming from the bottom of the heart!
All the wicked men who partook in the murders of the first three martyrs of Paraguay were also chastised: “The hands of those who had dipped them in their blood were covered right away with pustules; they emitted a horrible stench they could hardly stand themselves, and they saw it as a stigma of the divine Justice.” This couldn’t be questioned, as it was notified in the official documents upon which the three Fathers were canonized—furthermore, the Holy Inquisition was still burning a lot of people around the world at the time.
Jesuits Legacy
Histoire du Paraguay first came out as two in-4° volumes in 1756, illustrated with 7 plates, and then as a set of six in-12° volumes the following year. The first edition might be worth a few thousands of euros, while the second one a few hundred. This isn’t a lot compared to Histoire de l’Isle Espagnole or, worst, to the very sought-after Histoire de la Nouvelle-France; probably because it’s less interesting—more about the Jesuits than about Paraguay, and full of little miracles? “This History is entertaining,” admitted Les Trois Siècles de Notre Littérature. “We can only reproach the author too many details (...). The supporting documents that fill a full volume by themselves are of little interest to the readers, for instance.” But reading can be tricky. A bit boring at first—though sometimes unwillingly funny—, this book happens to be fascinating on the whole; mostly as it draws the portraits of these incredible missionaries, who colonized a part of the New World with nothing but a Bible and their determination. They had no fear, and no doubt. They had left everything behind, and had entered the darkness to bring the light of God to the lost creatures of the dark. They were learnt men, who could speak Latin or Greek, who had thoroughly studied hundreds of complex books—but the way they endeavoured to convert the Indians was disarmingly simple, and quite demanding. That’s probably why it worked so well. Of course, they knew of the political implication of their deeds—some were probably thirsty for honours and riches too. But even those who condemn the colonization of the New World today will find it hard to blame them unconditionally. They kept a lot of Indians safe from the hostile Spaniards, who wanted to put them to hard labour; they fought against the cohorts of renegades from Brazil; they built several Reductions that were later destroyed for politics’ sake; they paved the way for the way of living they believed in. Voltaire said the downfall of their Society in the late 18th century was to be blamed on their pride, and on their desire to influence the Kings of the Earth. No miracle happened to save the Order of de Loyola at the time—no Saint Thomas, no talking heart. The Jesuits went through hard times, indeed. But nothing could discourage such furious people.
The Jesuits were eventually rehabilitated, and in 2013 Jose Bergoglio became the first Jesuit pope ever, under the name of Francis. And guess what—he is from Argentina, which, at the time, was called Paraguay!
Thibault Ehrengardt
