Unearthing the Sacred

Padre Luís Jaramillo's Archival Resolana

Antonio José Martínez y Miera, Theresa J. Córdova, and Karen R. Roybal, introduced by Annette M. Rodríguez

“Over four decades later, the existence of this archive allows us to contemplate and discuss what light these resolanas of the past shed on our present. It provides an important opportunity for collective memory to speak."

Over a decade ago, I was trained in preservation and digitization at the Center for Southwest Research (CSWR), and my already enormous admiration for archivists and librarians swelled. While at the CSWR, I had the opportunity to watch—and sometimes participate in—the nothing less than heroic saving of materials and objects that historians, scholars, and communities utilize as the foundations for their histories and community identity. It was there I helped to process Chicano Movement collections, like those of Reies Lopez Tijerina, Gloria Montoya Chavez, and Alfonso Sanchez, the district attorney who pursued and was pursued by Tijerina. I was also exposed to the rich archives of New Mexico’s La Academia de la Nueva Raza, a community-sustained effort that spanned over a decade after its establishment in the rural mountain community of Embudo, New Mexico (1968–1978). La Academia emphasized the lived experience of Indo-Hispano and Mexican American communities by engaging in oral history, folklore, personal history, and arts practice. The cooperative was involved in researching land title information for Northern New Mexican land grantees, hosted learning sessions and dialogues, and prepared an offset press periodical called La Resolana—distributed to local communities. Decades later and 1,800 miles east, descendants of La Academia contacted me in North Carolina. And here, in a most serendipitous South-by-Southwest manner, my colleagues at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill offered their resources and expertise. María Estorino, the director of Wilson Library, answered my uninformed query—There are these tapes in rural Northern New Mexico that need saving, any suggestions?—with enthusiasm. Soon the tapes would be taken in.1

Padre Jaramillo’s talks in the round, contemporary Socratic dialogues are an important archive of the religious life of the Chicano Movement in the Southwest, as well as of Padre Jaramillo himself, who was one of the spiritual leaders to the movement as it converged between Southern California and Texas. As the project moved forward, Professor Karen R. Roybal—whose book Archives of Dispossession: Recovering the Testimonios of Mexican American Herederas, 1848–1960 makes central the need to repeople our historical accounts, especially by those fighting erasure—joined the effort. While the tapes would be preserved and digitized with the facilities, equipment, funds, and expertise offered by an institution in North Carolina, Dr. Roybal helped to create the regional home for the materials at Colorado College Special Collections in the Charles L. Tutt Library.

The connective tissue during the global pandemic that kept us all sheltered in place, prevaccine, still wiping down our groceries and our mail, was Dr. Theresa J. Córdova, the founder, director, and curator of Las Pistoleras Instituto Cultural de Arte in El Prado, New Mexico. Dr. Córdova mobilized us to create safe harbor for the Jaramillo tapes, built a collective across four states, and facilitated electronic and phone meetings. When I could not travel home to New Mexico to visit my family and to collect the tapes as I had hoped, the members of this developing collective hatched a plan that required Dr. Córdova’s cultural knowledge, as well as her winter driving and packing skills.

We had been given exacting instructions by UNC archivists on safest packing procedures, and Dr. Córdova and Karen Jeantete, a Taoseña comrade, joined in the process of assuring the tapes would be protected en route. They just may have used every last bit of bubble wrap from the collection of Dr. Córdova’s mom Kathy to protect the tapes on the last, then-pandemic-circumscribed, FedEx to the East Coast. The tapes arrived in North Carolina along with a small art piece of Padre Jaramillo’s that had been exhibited at El Chante: Casa de Cultura. Finally, donning a blue surgical mask, I hand-delivered the cassettes to the single staff member then working in person at Wilson Library.

Padre Luís Jaramillo was an unusual religious figure, embracing direct action and social movements that addressed poverty, racism, and the conditions of myriad disentitlements of Mexican- and Native-descent peoples. He created sanctuary in community resolanas (dialogues) fiercely emphasizing justice here on earth as fundamental to following a spiritual path. Antonio José Martínez y Miera and his father Vicente Montaner Martínez sheltered the audio messages that can now ring through our laptops, and headphones. (“Father Jaramillo was with me this morning while I was washing dishes!” Dr. Córdova said to me in wonder.) Vicente Montaner Martínez and Antonio José Martínez y Miera’s wise understanding of the importance of these messages to inform the historical record and to encourage peoples still assaulted by multiple unequal, interlocking oppressions led them to watchfully create a haven for the tapes for years. And all these decades later, in the most difficult of circumstances, with whole staffs sheltered at home, with all of us confronted by our mortality on evening news graphs, the libraries at UNC-Chapel Hill accomplished a preservation and digitization that saved the tapes, providing an archival sanctuary.

Padre Luís Jaramillo passed September 17, 2020. We lost him just as the project was in its initial stages. I remember so clearly talking through various logistics at 3:00 a.m. with Dr. Córdova just after he passed. “I’m sad,” she told me, “but I’m also so happy tonight that he has entered the kingdom of heaven.” She said this slowly and resiliently, while anticipating the one-year anniversary of her own father’s death.

Because of the generosity of UNC Libraries and especially Estorino, who first offered resources and assistance with these tapes, we have now connected the communities of North Carolina and Northern New Mexico—del norte a norte—in an enduring way. Estorino gave decades of collective efforts a place to land. These efforts have preserved and make available the humor, the humility, the spiritual guidance, and the messages of ancestral resilience to the communities in which Padre Luís Jaramillo lived, and which he transformed with his message.2

—Annette M. Rodríguez

Padre Luís Jaramillo (reclined), Eduardo Lavadie (seated), and Tómas Atencio during La Academia reunion camping trip, ca. 1980. Photograph by Vicente Montaner Martínez, courtesy of Antonio José Martínez y Miera.
LISTEN:

Good religion is always good sociology and good psychology.3
—Padre Jaramillo

Good Religion

Padre Luís Jaramillo was born in September 1931 in Springer, New Mexico. Within the Catholic Church, he was a pastor to the Chicano Movement in New Mexico as it converged between Southern California and Texas. Jaramillo served as a Catholic diocesan priest throughout communities in New Mexico for sixty years, including his roles as vice-chancellor for the Archdiocese of Santa Fe and chaplain to the state legislature. He also pastored several parishes in New Mexico.4

A gifted orator and intellectual, Jaramillo was active in the Civil Rights Movement, serving as one of the leaders of the Southwest contingent to the Poor People’s March of 1968. He was also a member of the Black Berets, a group founded in 1969 in Albuquerque, New Mexico, that focused on Chicano self-determination, fighting for free medical and dental clinics and provisions for low-income children. In addition, he taught at Howard University in Washington D.C. and ethnic studies at Malcolm X College in Chicago when he took a break from the Church in 1969. Along with Dr. Tomás Atencio, Padre Jaramillo was one of the founding members of  La Academia de La Nueva Raza (1968–1978), where his work included writing essays and sermons delivered at events such as the Presbyterian General Assembly in Chicago. Our intent is to introduce Padre Luís Jaramillo’s newly accessioned archive and elucidate how he enacted the principles and pedagogy of La Academia at his parish during a pivotal moment in the late 1970s, through a form of resolana, or dialogues, with his parishioners.5

La Academia’s founder, Dr. Tomás Atencio, seeking “a Chicano parallel to the Socratic dialogues,” developed a pedagogical approach termed “La Resolana” that used the everyday lived experiences of Chicanos as a source of knowledge and as a way to uncover subjugated knowledge. The group recognized they needed this information for their own education, and as a way to reflect their own history rather than that of dominant Anglo-American society. They later termed what they learned el oro del barrio, which comprised what Atencio describes as the “. . . values, wisdom, and applied knowledge that assured both meaning and survival to the Mexican American community within the dominant U.S. industrial society.” El oro del barrio, in other words, is “grounded in community dialogue and the community’s knowledge foundations,” which include “cuentos (stories), mentiras (tall tales), chistes (jokes), images, symbols, ceremony and rituals.”6

There are strong parallels between La Academia’s approach and that of Brazilian philosopher and educator Paulo Freire. Freire advocated a form of education grounded in dialogue in which oppressed peoples—through reflection on their lived experience—could begin to unravel the causes of their oppression and, in the process, find the means for their liberation and become engaged in the struggle to bring it about. This is not coincidental. Freire traveled to New Mexico to meet with La Academia. The pedagogical goals and epistemologies developed by La Academia were guided by their commitment to knowledge-building, justice, and, “conscientização,” a term Freire coined to describe a person going through the process of reflection described above.7

Jaramillo’s archived sermons reveal his philosophies in practice, demonstrated through his use of thoughtful rhetorical questioning—a necessary pedagogical tool that empowers and highlights the need to understand contemporary Chicana/o identities. Jaramillo declared that we must understand the past and seek a new truth, one that is centered on

“A belief in the mystery of man because we refuse to accept a destiny that is not ours to forge. . . . La Nueva Raza is both a vocation and a dream. . . . The vocation to bring about that which is beyond the ethnic and beyond poor and rich.’ For now, we are ethnic mestizos, mulattos, and like others with a similar legacy, we must become the ‘new cornerstone for democracy.’”8

The 1960s and 1970s were decades in which oppressed communities, including Chicanos, rose against dominant power structures to assert their rights and to demand recognition of their histories and cultures. They also recognized the need to uphold their culture and maintain their agency, while also dismantling dominant power structures, which required what Padre Jaramillo described as an “evolution of a collective body of thought” guided by el oro del barrio.9

When the tapes originally surfaced, they seemed to consist primarily of recorded masses featuring sermons by Padre Jaramillo from the late 1970s, along with recordings of a series of lectures that he delivered in 1991. Because of their fragile condition, it was not until the tapes were digitized that it started to become clear that half of the recordings actually consisted of resolanas held by Padre Jaramillo with members of the parish and the community. Thus, the tapes capture about as much of Padre Jaramillo’s philosophy, preaching, and pedagogy as they do the oral history and lived experiences of the 1970s Indo-Hispano community in Taos, New Mexico. In order to properly contextualize the content of the recordings and the persons whose voices are captured on them, an understanding of the culture and history of Our Lady of Guadalupe parish and the Indo-Hispano community of the Taos valley are essential. This history places Jaramillo’s work in a context that is significantly different from typical narratives of the Chicano Movement centered in urban areas with a Mexican migrant experience.

Altar Screen at Our Lady of Guadalupe Church in Taos, New Mexico, 1990s. Photograph by Vicente Montaner Martínez.

A History of the Indo-Hispano Peoples of Northern New Mexico

Don Juan de Oñate y Salazar led the first colonizing expedition into New Mexico and became the first governor in 1598. While predominantly Spanish in their European origins, these initial “Spanish” colonizers  and others that followed were themselves a mixed group that included lineages of Indigenous peoples of Mexico, other Europeans, crypto-Jews, and an unknown percentage of Africans.10

Fray Francisco de Zamora quickly established a mission in Taos and, by the early 1600s, it officially became a Spanish village. The accompanying friars attempted to convert the Native peoples to Christianity, exploited their labor, and subjected them to violent punishments if they resisted. Spanish colonizers continued to encroach on Pueblo villages and, after more than eighty years of repression and attempted eradication of Pueblo lifeways and spiritual practices, the Pueblos organized and initiated the 1680 Pueblo Revolt. Though the Revolt was successful and forced the Spanish (and some Christianized Natives) to withdraw and relinquish their stronghold in the region, Don Diego de Vargas Zapata y Luján Ponce de León y Contreras led a reconquest of New Mexico in 1693, bringing back new settlers and soldiers, as well as survivors of the 1680 revolt and their families.11

New Mexico remained a Spanish colony until 1821, when Mexico achieved independence from Spain. The independence movement was imperative for addressing increasing social divisions caused by the Spanish Caste system that placed peninsular-born Spaniards at the top of the hierarchy, followed by descendants of the Spanish born in the Americas, various castas containing different degrees of mixed Spanish, African, and Native American blood, Native Americans, and enslaved Africans and their descendants. By this point, the “Spanish” or “Hispano” population of New Mexico was primarily a mestizo population consisting of a similar mix as the rest of the Viceroyalty of New Spain, but with local Indigenous lineages in that mixture coming from Pueblo and other tribes along with a sizeable segment of the population consisting of enslaved or otherwise detribalized Indigenous peoples (genizaros), who, over the generations were absorbed into the “Spanish” population, hence, the use in this article of the term Indo-Hispano to describe their descendants.12

The final stage for Mexican Independence was the signing of the Plan de Iguala, issued in 1824 by Agustín de Iturbide y Arámburu who was proclaimed Emperor of Mexico. The Plan declared all peoples, regardless of race, equal, at least on paper. Despite the agreed-upon declarations in the Plan, racial and political hierarchies persisted, “expos[ing] the Pueblos to vecino land grabs” and leaving New Mexican Indo-Hispanos in dominant positions over the Pueblo and other Indigenous populations.  This was short lived. In March of 1846, the United States declared war on Mexico and promptly set out to seize New Mexico and California. In June 1846, US forces, led by General Stephen Watts Kearney, overtook New Mexico. And under US rule, American trader Charles Bent was named Territorial Governor. In 1847, Bent was killed during the Taos Rebellion, a joint uprising by Indo-Hispano and Pueblo peoples that was promptly quelled by the US military. In a pivotal battle, persons involved in the uprising, primarily those from Taos Pueblo, hid in the church of San Gerónimo at Taos Pueblo, perhaps thinking that US forces would respect the sanctuary of the church. Instead, the US military excavated holes in the adobe walls and unleashed their cannons, destroying the church and killing more than 150 people inside. With the conclusion of the war in 1848, Americanos set about building a new Anglo-American social order that placed Indo-Hispano and Pueblo peoples in inferior positions. Indeed, the displacement of Indo-Hispanos from political and economic power was viewed as central to preparing this newly acquired land for statehood. As the St. Louis Republican put it in an 1876 article, the New Mexico territorial legislature was made up of thirty-five apparently ignorant and intoxicated “Mexicans” and only four “Americans” who were the “representatives of more than 126,000 people who are asking for admission within the sacred circle of the sisterhood of states—superstitious, fanatical, unscrupulous and ignorant, they are unworthy to hold the reins of government.”13

The late nineteenth century ushered in a slew of Anglo Americans to Taos prompted by different motivations— including appropriation of Indo-Hispano and Pueblo lifeways and cultures for artistic gain. After an 1898 surprise stop in Taos, artists Bert Phillips and Ernest Blumenschein eventually developed an artist colony there in 1914. This period marks a significant time when Taos (and later, Santa Fe) became desirable locations for artistic production. The local Indo-Hispano populations were devalued and placed at the bottom of their racial hierarchy while elevating the fetishized Native populations as a spiritually superior other.14

Despite the draw of the Taos valley to this new group of settlers, at the time that Padre Jaramillo moved to Taos, it was still overwhelmingly Indo-Hispano, but was in the midst of a significant demographic shift that has continued into the present decade. Specifically, in 1970, Taos County, which covers an area roughly the size of the State of Delaware, had a population of 17,516 of which 93.7 percent was comprised of Indo-Hispanos plus Taos and Picuris Pueblo peoples. By 1980, the total county population had grown to 19,456, but the Indo-Hispano population had dropped to 69 percent, down from 86 percent in 1970. Today, the county’s population is nearly double what it was in 1970, but the Indo-Hispano population has dropped to just 56.5 percent of that total. Padre Jaramillo arrived in Taos at a point in history in which their community was at the precipice of unprecedented waves of gentrification and the massive demographic shifts brought with it.15

Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish

Starting with the foundation of early missions in the Taos valley, the Catholic Church has played a varying role within the community as a tool for subjugation or empowerment, often dependent on the individual priests who headed it. In 1801, Don Francisco Gabriel de Olivares y Benito, Bishop of Durango, Mexico, authorized the construction of a chapel (capilla) dedicated to Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe in the settlement of Don Fernando de Taos. It’s unclear why the patroness was chosen, but by the mid-1700s, Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe was named patroness of the Americas and was the favored Marian devotion in all of New Spain. Clara Bargellini notes that in 1810, “as a unifying symbol for Mexico, her image was painted in a banner that was used” by the Catholic priest Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla, when, according to officially accepted canons of Mexican history, he rang his church bells and sparked Mexico’s battle for independence from Spain.16

It is unclear when the church building in Taos was completed, but by 1815 it was operating with regular masses as an ayuda (mission) of the parish headquartered at the church of San Gerónimo at Taos Pueblo under the care of Franciscan missionaries. On April 20, 1823, the newly ordained priest, Don Antonio José Martínez y Santistéban, preached his first sermon at Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe upon his return home to Taos from the Tridentine seminary in Durango, Mexico. By 1823, it had been 225 years since Martínez’s ancestors helped establish the first Spanish colony in New Mexico, but Padre Martínez was only the second native New Mexican to be ordained a priest. By 1826, the Taos parish was secularized and the last Franciscan pastor, Fray Mariano José Sánchez Vergara, turned custody over to Padre Martínez. In 1834, with Martínez as pastor, Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe replaced San Gerónimo de Taos as the seat of the parish, making it the first parish in the present-day United States dedicated to the Virgin of Guadalupe.17

Padre Martínez would go on to become one of the most important Indo-Hispano leaders in the nineteenth century, establishing a co-educational primary school in Taos in 1826, a college preparatory school for prospective seminarians in 1833, and, later, expanding the curriculum to teach courses in civil law. In 1835, Padre Martínez acquired the first printing press in New Mexico and printed grammar, mathematics, and law books along with a newspaper. His career as a political leader was equally impressive, serving in various capacities and leadership positions in the territorial legislative assemblies under the governments of Mexico and the United States and presiding over territorial New Mexico constitutional conventions.18

But pastorship of Our Lady of Guadalupe parish by Native New Mexican clergy would be short-lived. After the conquest of New Mexico by United States forces in 1846, the hierarchy of the Catholic Church in the eastern United States began petitioning Rome to establish a vicariate apostolic in New Mexico. In 1850, Pope Pius the X acquiesced and appointed a French missionary, Jean Baptiste Lamy, as bishop, thus permanently severing control of the Catholic Church in New Mexico from the Diocese of Durango, Mexico. As with the political conquest of New Mexico, the change in leadership of the church brought about a seismic cultural shift with Lamy promptly recruiting French and other European priests and suspending native New Mexican clergy after his arrival in 1851.19

The shift in leadership was not just from one ethnic group subordinating another, but one that involved profoundly different forms of Catholicism. Lamy came from a Catholic culture firmly steeped in Romanticism that had arisen in reaction to the industrial revolution and that had strong Jansenist leanings. Jansenism was essentially a current of Calvinism within French Catholicism. As Thomas J. Steele noted, it manifested itself in Lamy as “a tilt toward moral Puritanism, a “holier than thou” authoritarianism that flowed from a covert presumption of human depravity. Martínez and his compatriots were products of a seminary with an older Renaissance culture “dominated by the pre-industrial mercantilist economics of a colony.” More importantly, they had been raised in the “Folk Catholicism” of pre-industrial New Mexico which, according to Dr. Tomás Atencio, was the unique fruit of Indo-Hispano and Indigenous populations having shared the same land for hundreds of years, such that, while each group maintained distinct observances, rites, rituals, and social organizations, their shared experience brought aspects of the two cultural views together to create a unique cultural legacy, central to which were concepts of the sanctity of earth and water. This manifested itself in a religious consciousness that merged “Mexican Indian world views and beliefs, brought to the northern province by Mexican peasant servants, with New Mexico genizaro and Pueblo beliefs that ultimately were integrated with the Catholic Faith.”20

Likely frustrated with Lamy and citing his advanced age and poor health, Padre Martínez offered his resignation as pastor in May of 1856, on the condition that the Bishop appoint a local priest and allow Martínez time to train him. Ignoring the condition, Bishop Lamy promptly replaced Martínez with Fr. Dámaso Taladrid, a “vagrant” Spanish priest, and an ally of Martínez’s political enemies, whom he had brought back with him from Europe in 1854. This kicked off a now-famous chain of events that would eventually result in Martínez’s suspension and eventual pronouncement of excommunication by Lamy after Martínez continued to minister to the Taos population from his home and private chapel. Within a year, Fr. Taladrid was removed, potentially for having provided information to United States officials about an impending rebellion headed by Martínez that proved baseless. He was succeeded by Padre José Eulogio Ortíz, who had been ordained by Lamy in 1854 and had then been chosen by Lamy to accompany him to France and Rome. Ortíz served as pastor for less than two years and after him, with one possible short-lived exception, there appear not to have been any Indo-Hispano pastors for a period of nearly 100 years. Thus, in the 122-year period between the end of Padre Martínez’s pastorship and the arrival of Padre Jaramillo, it seems that Our Lady of Guadalupe had been under the pastorship of native Indo-Hispano priests for no more than ten years.21

Along with the changes in the composition of the clergy in Taos came changes to the physical structure of the church. The original interior of the church was presumably similar to other New Mexican churches built in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, including a large wooden altar screen framing a series of images and sculptural representations of saints. These were either produced locally or, as was the case with the church of our Lady of Guadalupe in Santa Fe, imported from New Spain, sometimes commissioned from prominent painters. By March of 1858, apparently on Lamy’s orders, Padre Eulogio Ortíz was waging a war against the locally-made santos (devotional images of saints, Christ, and other religious themes that were central to Indo-Hispano religious practices) in the Taos valley. Padre Ortíz specifically criticized the depiction of the Virgen de Guadalupe at the Taos church to the point of being accused of “sacrilege” and later being hauled into court for seizing santos from the private oratory of a local resident without permission. By 1903, the parish had a string of pastors that, judging from the names, all appear to have been European, with the exception of a certain J. S. García, who seems to have served only briefly and, judging solely from the surname, may have been a native New Mexican. In 1903, pastorship was vested in Paris-born Fr. Henri-Paul-Marie Le Guillou, who promptly replaced whatever remained of the original altar with a series of 24-foot-tall French Neo-Gothic architectural elements made to house imported sculptures of the saints. This new altar cost $500. This was typical practice in the era as the (mostly) non-native priests replaced locally-made sculptures with imported plaster statues and the traditional altar screens with what historian and former curator at the Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center at Colorado College (FAC), William Wroth,  termed “severe architectural assemblages in the prevailing neoclassical style.” As Wroth noted, this was part of a larger “ideological attack” on the traditional Indo-Hispano religious and social order.22

Fr. Le Guillou’s ideological attack and disrespectful attitude soon mobilized the Indo-Hispano community and the local newspaper responded by publishing articles that severely attacked him. By March 1904, a rally was held that resulted in a series of resolutions, published in newspapers in Taos and other communities, lodging complaints about his overt disdain for the local population and the use of his office to line his pockets. They stated that Le Guillou regarded his parishioners as “a bunch of barbarians, like something left over from the seventeenth century.” As a result, by the end of 1904, the parish was under the care of a new French pastor, Fr. Joseph Giraud, who would serve until 1934.23

LISTEN:

In 1911, the fourth French-born Archbishop of Santa Fe, John B. Pitaval, determined that the building itself needed too many repairs and ordered Fr. Giraud to demolish the church and construct a new one. Fr. Giraud complied but transferred over Fr. Le Guillou’s Neo-Gothic altar. The church was short-lived, as it was accidentally burned to the ground in 1961, allegedly by boys who were hunting for pigeon eggs in the belfry using matches. By December of 1962, a new church had been built across the street. This is the current church which, as a 1976 book on the parish describes, is made of adobe but in a unique “pueblo modern style.” It includes an altar screen that is a modern rendering of the traditional New Mexican style.24

During the years Padre Jaramillo served in Taos, some of his parishioners attended mass in all three of the church buildings. Some may even have remembered the original altar and Fr. Le Guillou. But for generations born after 1962, the site of the first two churches is known merely as a parking lot behind Taos Plaza, the town’s chief tourist destination outside the Pueblo. The esthetic battles for control over composition of the church altars and the physical structure are both part of, and potent visual metaphor for, the assault on Indo-Hispano cultural and religious traditions, the attempts to supplant them with the new Euro-American order, and the long history of resistance of the Indo-Hispano community to those assaults.

Interior of Original Guadalupe Church After Installation of French Neo-Gothic Altar and Imported Saints, ca. 1904. Martínez Family Collection.”

Chapels within the Parish

Conflicts continued to manifest themselves in new ways at the time that Padre Jaramillo arrived in Taos. Shortly before he moved to Taos, his predecessor, Fr. Robert Beach, unbeknownst to members of the community, had listed the chapel of the community of El Prado, which sits just north of the Taos town limits, for sale with help from a local realtor. Ralph Cardenas, an El Prado resident, discovered the proposed sale and, together with local resident Arsenio Córdova expressed interest in purchasing the chapel and convinced the realtor to hold the property.25

Not long after, residents from El Prado and the community of Cañón came together as they both feared sales of other mission chapels in Taos. Within two days, approximately twenty residents boarded a school bus to meet with Archbishop Robert Sánchez. When they arrived at the Archdiocesan Office in Albuquerque, the Archbishop was not on the premises. Instead, Fr. Arthur Tafoya, Vicar General of the Archdiocese of Santa Fe, met with the group, promising his support and speaking to the Archbishop on the parishioners’ behalf. This ensured that none of the capillas, including El Prado, were sold. Instead, community members remodeled El Prado, and a church bell that had already been sold was returned and reinstalled.

Not only did Fr. Beach attempt to sell the El Prado chapel but also, when Padre Jaramillo drove up to his new home at Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish, he saw two parishioners loading the washer and dryer they had purchased from Fr. Beach into their truck. “Take this and everything else in the house,” he told them. And when the Padre entered the house, he noticed missing furniture as well.26

LISTEN:

Twenty-five percent of the Catholic Church in the United States […] all of a sudden is Hispanic. I don’t know what you mean by all of a sudden, pos hay sta’ [sic] in California, San Antonio, in New Mexico, in Colorado, and wherever they went in Chicago, they were Catholics.”27

Padre Jaramillo’s tenure took place at a unique moment in the twentieth century history of New Mexico. An entire generation of Indo-Hispano youth, including clergy, had been mobilized by the Civil Rights Movement and were beginning to reap the benefits. In 1975, Jerry Apodaca became the first Hispano to hold the office of Governor since 1921. Shortly before that, in 1974, Robert Fortune Sánchez became the first native Hispano priest to be appointed Archbishop of Santa Fe. Mary Montaño notes that Archbishop Sánchez “openly embraced Hispano cultural expression within the church. He encouraged folk masses featuring New Mexican music and appeared in public ceremonies (which were broadcast statewide) wearing vestments of Mexican weaving designs.” In other words, this was a moment during which the Catholic Church in New Mexico aligned with a broader political empowerment of Indo-Hispanos. Instead of seeking to repress their culture, the Church began to validate it, thus helping to stimulate a renaissance of Indo-Hispano cultural and folk religious traditions that, in turn, empowered the community. In Taos specifically, Indo-Hispanos and some Anglo and Indigenous allies were also mobilized around issues related to the initial waves of gentrification that would soon bring on an abrupt shift in demographics.28

Padre Luís Jaramillo and Richard Sawtelle, Ghost Ranch, Rio Grande Institute, ca. mid-1980s. Photograph by Vicente Montaner Martínez.

Padre Jaramillo Archive de Resolanas

Padre Jaramillo’s archive of sermons and lectures was entrusted to one of his colleagues in La Academia, Vicente Montaner Martínez, who owned the Padre Martínez home and stored them with the family’s archives. The collection includes more than sixty cassette tapes recorded by Margaret Ortíz, a parishioner at Our Lady of Guadalupe Church in Taos, dating mostly from 1977 to 1978, when Padre Jaramillo was the pastor there. It contains recordings that appear to have been made by Taos parishioner, Ann Hawley, of a series of lectures that Padre Jaramillo delivered in 1991 at Ghost Ranch—a Presbyterian retreat center outside Abiquiu, New Mexico, which had long been a gathering place for members of La Academia and its successor, the Rio Grande Institute.29

As of this writing, the authors have analyzed only about 15 percent of the sixty-plus tapes available, focusing on the lectures and meetings rather than the sermons. It appears that, in the aftermath of his predecessor’s attempts to sell historic chapels in the communities surrounding Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish, Padre Jaramillo organized a series of sessions termed “encuentros.” He invited all parishioners to attend these learning sessions on Tuesday nights designed in the spirit of resolanas. These resolanas touch on a number of historical themes, likely strategically chosen to encourage reflection on participants’ lived experience and designed to mobilize them. Like this article, they included the colonization of New Mexico, the Catholic Church in the United States, and the history of Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish itself. Through dialogue with his students, they reflected upon subjects like Manifest Destiny, the Spanish Inquisition, and analysis of the Church as an institution from its beginnings to the 1970s.

Tuesday nights were very special for the parishioners and town residents who attended as Padre Jaramillo shared ideas and empowered the attendees to share their concerns about his decisions. He also gave them homework assignments that varied from researching specific topics to collecting oral history interviews. At one point it seems he even trained the group to go out into the community and hold their own sessions. Padre Jaramillo suggested using the vacant Catholic school building to create El Centro, a place on the church campus to contemplate history, culture, community spirituality, and religion, as well as the role and responsibility of the church and its people to create a fairer and more just society.

For some participants, the sessions may have been the first time that they experienced learning through their own experiences, and from their peers and community members, guided by clergy that looked like them and understood them. Padre Jaramillo had an extraordinary gift for weaving together abstract concepts, scripture, and Indo-Hispano history in a way that was easy for his congregation to appreciate and was relevant to their lives, provoking a deeper understanding of themselves and their surroundings.

The recordings follow Padre Jaramillo’s tenure at Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish. Through them, we are able to witness how he interacted with his parishioners and the plans and concepts that unfolded during weekly meetings. Over four decades later, the existence of this archive allows us to contemplate and discuss what light these resolanas of the past shed on our present. It provides an important opportunity for collective memory to speak.

A key theme in some of the resolanas is the recovery and protection of the remaining santos in the community. Soon after the clergy stripped local churches of their santos, the emergence of Taos and Santa Fe as art colonies led to the reevaluation of popular and primitive arts. Anglo collectors who once devalued santos suddenly proclaimed them as original, or authentic American folk art. In fact, the Taylor Collection of Southwest Art within the FAC is home to one of the world’s largest collections of historic New Mexican santos. Collections such as these are still viewed with mixed feelings and suspicion within the Indo-Hispano community both with respect to the manner in which the works were acquired, as well as the fact that the communal spiritual resources were extracted from their villages and converted into art world commodities. Some were only seen by non-members of religious brotherhoods during community rituals but are now further de-sacralized by being placed in open display outside of their sacred context. At best, the images were sold to institutions, as is the case with the altar screen from the church of Nuestra Señora de los Dolores, in Arroyo Hondo, a small community just north of Taos. The panels from this screen were rescued by a local religious brotherhood (Penitentes) when Fr. Joseph Giraud, after building the new Guadalupe church in Taos, decided to renovate the Arroyo Hondo Church in 1916. In the 1940s, the FAC’s Harry Garnett built a relationship with members of the brotherhood, explaining his intent to help the FAC “preserve the old santos for future generations,” and eventually convincing them to sell the pieces to fund repairs to their morada (Penitente sanctuary). At worst, however, santos were stolen from community and private sanctuaries with the stories of pillage resonating more strongly in the Indo-Hispano collective consciousness. This sentiment must have been strong during Padre Jaramillo’s Taos years of the 1970s, when robberies were frequent. For example, between 1970 and 1972 santos from eighteen village churches and moradas were looted with the buildings often severely vandalized in the process. In the recordings, Padre Jaramillo explores the idea of constructing of a special sanctuary to house images where they could be re-sacralized and still invite outsiders to respectfully view them. As chronicled by anthropologist and Taos local, Dr. Sylvia Rodríguez, Padre Jaramillo and some of the participants in the resolanas helped ensure that a morada acquired by a local museum would not be opened to the public.30

“Bring those santos and maybe put them here where they can’t be stolen. Return those santos to the sacred land.”31

LISTEN:
LISTEN:
Padre Luís Jaramillo, Ranchos de Taos, New Mexico, ca. 1980. Photograph by Antonio José Martínez y Miera.

Part of Antonio José Martínez y Miera’s hope in donating the original tapes to Colorado College is that the presence of these recordings within the same institution that houses a large collection of santos will foster further resolana-style reflection upon the museum’s collection. Through the voices of the communities from which these objects were extracted, one can better focus discussion on the existence of the santo collection in the FAC as a part of a larger sociohistorical process of material and cultural conquest and transformation. To ensure that the archive is accessible to the community in which it was created, digitized copies of the Jaramillo recordings have been returned to the Martínez family archives and will also be placed within institutions in New Mexico. This model of archive sharing across New Mexico and Colorado demonstrates an Indo-Hispano consciousness centered on an intentional commitment to community ensuring access to the Padre Jaramillo archive.32

We got means of cementing the thing we call it “compadrazgo.” I know it’s there in the ancient church, but we used to live it. When you have a compadre, you have a compadre, this begins to tie communities down and build community tied to the church.33

LISTEN:

Padre Jaramillo did not leave a large body of written work. One La Academia member recalled that it was nearly impossible for Dr. Tomás Atencio to get Padre Jaramillo to write anything for La Academia’s publications, so the archive of tapes may prove to be the largest record of his thought. In one of the tapes, Padre Jaramillo implores his students to record oral histories and other “oro del barrio,” telling them, “Your grandchildren will thank you.” The fact that he was being recorded when he gave this advice likely was not lost on him, and with the digital transfer of this collection, his voice is already being made available to the grandchildren of La Academia and beyond. The digitization of Jaramillo’s archive situates it as “an active site of knowledge production” developed through the pedagogy of el oro del barrio. This redefinition of the archive underscores an important shift in our understanding of the significance of archival representation and constitution, or what Chicana feminist scholar María E. Cotera describes as the “politics of historical meaning-making and the methodological practices that shape collective memory.”34

Padre Jaramillo’s archive reveals how the Indo-Hispano community came together to engage in knowledge production and renders visible how the concepts of place and lived experiences of community are themselves a form of sanctuary. The recordings included in the archive reflect place and community itself, as sanctuary and homeland. There has always been an active practice of spiritual connection and communication through religious and communal rituals in Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish, and in his series of conversations with some of his parishioners, Padre Jaramillo brings forth these reflections as a part of who we are as Chicanos. As the archive shows, he uses dichos (sayings), questions of historical significance from a raza perspective, and communal lineage and lifeways, such as compadrazgo, as necessary ties to community, spirituality, and as a way to lay claim of ownership within the Catholic religion in Northern New Mexico, and, specifically, in Taos. Not only do his sermons reveal their power in helping challenge the institutional power of the Church, but they also “preserve and shape the historical imagination.”35

A shorter version of this essay was first published in the Sanctuary Issue (Summer 2022).

ANTONIO JOSÉ MARTÍNEZ Y MIERA is an attorney at a major tech company. He holds a Juris Doctorate from Harvard Law School and a BA from Amherst College. He is the founder of an organization focused on 19th century New Mexican history (padremartinez.org).
THERESA J. CÓRDOVA, PhD, serves as the founder, director, and curator of Las Pistoleras Instituto Cultural de Arte in El Prado, New Mexico. Las Pistorelas Instituto Cultural de Arte is a communal space where culture, activism, art, and political histories are at the forefront of community identity.
KAREN R. ROYBAL is an associate professor of Southwest studies at Colorado College. She is the author of Archives of Dispossession: Recovering the Testimonios of Mexican American Herederas, 1848–1960 (University of North Carolina Press, 2017) and coeditor of Transnational Chicanx Perspectives on Ana Castillo (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2021).
ANNETTE M. RODRÍGUEZ is an Assistant Professor of History at the University of Texas at Austin. Rodríguez has taught at Brown University, the Institute of American Indian Arts, Santa Fe Community College, the University of New Mexico, and the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Rodríguez guest edited the Sanctuary Issue.
NOTES
  1. Thanks to Steve Weiss, curator of the Southern Folklife Collection at UNC, and Erica Titkemeyer, project director and audiovisual conservator at Southern Folklife. Both were instrumental in digitizing the tapes. UNC-Chapel Hill’s support of community-driven archives and its offer of resources led to the preservation and digitization of dozens of hours of unique, original audio. Thanks also to Colorado College’s Jessy Randall, archivist and curator of special collections at Tutt Library, and Cate Guenther, metadata and discovery systems librarian, for helping archive the original tapes at a new Padre Jaramillo repository at Colorado College.
  2. Dr. Annette M. Rodríguez was then a professor in American studies at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill; Dr. Karen Roybal is professor of Southwest studies at Colorado College; and Dr. Theresa J. Córdova is founder, director, and curator of Las Pistoleras Instituto Cultural de Arte in El Prado, New Mexico.
  3. CCFJ_C21_1_PM, Sermons of Father Luís Jaramillo, 1977–1991 (bulk 1977–1978), Colorado College Special Collections.
  4. Luís Jaramillo Obituary, Albuquerque Journal, September 23, 2020, https://www.legacy.com/us/obituaries/abqjournal/name/luis-jaramillo-obituary?id=8403984. Padre Jaramillo served as pastor at Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish in Taos from 1976 to 1978; “Jaramillo Prepares for Departure,” Taos News, June 15, 1978, B2. A gifted orator and intellectual, Jaramillo held a JCL degree in canon law from Catholic University in Washington, DC, bachelor’s degrees in law and philosophy from Conception Seminary in Missouri, as well as a master’s degree in religion; “Priest Hopes to Add Flavor to Taos Parish,” Taos News, September 9, 1976, A3.
  5. “The Black Berets Live On,” New Mexico State University, October 12, 2012, https://fnsnews.nmsu.edu/the-black-berets-live-on; “Priest Hopes to Add Flavor,” A3; Tomás Atencio, “El Oro del Barrio in the Cyber Age: Leapfrogging the Industrial Revolution” in Resolana: Emerging Chicano Dialogues on Community and Globalization, ed. Miguel Montiel, Tomás Atencio, and E. A. “Tony” Mares (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 2009), 20, 53.
  6. Paulo Freire, Pedagogy of the Oppressed (New York: Bloomsbury, 2018), ch. 1; Atencio, “El Oro del Barrio,” 52.
  7. Jaramillo, as quoted in Atencio, “El Oro del Barrio,” 20.
  8. Atencio, “El Oro del Barrio,” 20.
  9. For additional information, see Richard I. Nordstrand, The Hispano Homeland (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1991); Charles Montgomery, The Spanish Redemption Heritage, Power, and Loss on New Mexico’s Upper Rio Grande (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002), 8. For further discussion, see also Rob Martínez, New Mexico State Historian, “Mulattos of Cochiti: Caste in Spanish New Mexico,” University of New Mexico Center for Regional Studies, streamed live on September 15, 2018, YouTube video, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bBwlLLm- KwE.
  10. Marc Simmons, The Last Conquistador: Juan de Oñate and the Settling of the Far Southwest (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1991).
  11. John M. Nieto-Phillips, The Language of Blood: The Making of Spanish-American Identity in New Mexico, 1880s–1930s(Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2004), 37; Ilona Katzew, Casta Painting (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press,2004), 39–46; Although the term Hispano is often used to describe our people, including at times in the tapes, we have chosen to  use the term Indo-Hispano to honor the work of La Academia. Dr. Tomás Atencio often used the term Indo-Hispano, which,  through its inclusion of Indigeneity, is really a more accurate term for both the genetic heritage as well as culture of our people. We use this term instead of Hispanic or Mexican American to distinguish the peoples with specific Northern New Mexican/Southern Colorado lineage and culture from the broader Mexican American population of the United States. Padre Jaramillo uses the term Chicana/o in the recordings to refer to his people, but also sometimes to encompass the larger Mexican American population. As the term was not widely used in New Mexico until the Chicano movement, we have generally chosen to use it in contexts related to that era. The term Chicano comes with a specific political context. As historian Jason Steidl notes, it was “employed as a pejorative term for Americans of Mexican descent throughout much of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. In the 1950s and 1960s, Mexican Americans rehabilitated the term as a sign of ethnic pride. Refusing to be designated as a minority group with the term ‘Mexican American,’ many began to self-identify as ‘Chicano,’ a label that resisted definition or containment by mainstream Anglo culture. By self-identifying as Chicano, Americans of Mexican descent affirmed their culturalidentity as a reality prior to, and more fundamental than, their status in the US.” Jason Steidl, “The Chicano Movement in the US Catholic Church: Grassroots Activism and Dialogical Ecclesiology,” PhD diss., Fordham University, 2018, 1, footnote 1;
  12. John M. Nieto-Phillips, The Language of Blood: The Making of Spanish-American Identity in New Mexico, 1880s–1930s(Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2004), 39; Benjamin M. Read, Illustrated History of New Mexico (Santa Fe: NewMexican Printing Company, 1912), 448; Montgomery, The Spanish Redemption Heritage, 74.
  13. Six artists, including Philips and Blumenschein, along with Joseph H. Sharp, Oscar E. Berninghaus, Irving Couse, 196. Herbert Dunton, joined together to form the Taos Society of Artists. Robert R. White, ed. The Taos Society of Artists, HistoricalSociety of New Mexico (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1998); Sylvia Rodríguez, “Tourism, Whiteness, and the Vanishing Anglo,” in Seeing and Being Seen, Tourism in the American West, ed. David M. Wrobel and Patrick T. Long (Lawrence Kansas: University Press of Kansas 2001) 194–209, 196.
  14. 1970 data derived from U.S. Bureau of the Census, Census of Population: 1970, vol. 1, CHARACTERISTICS OF THEPOPULATION, part 33, New Mexico. Chapter A Tables 9 (p. 13), 10  (p. 14) ,  , Chapter B Table 33 (p. 61), Chapter C, Tables 119 (p. 200), 129 (p. 222), and 130 (p. 225). This census does not use the term Hispanic, so figures are taken from data about “Persons of Spanish Language or Spanish Surname.” Figures from 1980 are taken from U.S. Bureau of the Census, Census of Population: 1980, vol. 1, CHARACTERISTICS OF THE POPULATION, part 33, New Mexico Table 44, p. 87; US Census Bureau, “QuickFacts: Taos County, New Mexico,” https://www.census.gov/quickfacts/taoscountynewmexico. Note that data for Asian and African American populations are insignificant with each comprising no more than 1 percent of the current population and substantially less  in earlier decades.
  15. Clara Bargellini, “The Virgin of Guadalupe: A Painting of New Spain,” in Yale Institute of Sacred Music Colloquium: Music, Worship, Arts, IV (2007), 7–14; Anselmo Arellano, “Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe: Her Medieval SpanishOrigins, Christian Influence in Mexico, and Place in New Mexico,” in The Many Faces of Our Lady of Guadalupe—Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe,  ed. Ronald W. Maestas (Albuquerque: Lithexcel, 2021), n.p.
  16. David J. Weber, On the Edge of Empire: The Taos Hacienda of Los Martínez (Santa Fe: Museum of New Mexico Press, 1996),21–23; Weber, On the Edge, 46; Vicente M. Martínez, “Progeny of Padre Antonio José Martínez: Part III. Following the DNA Trail of Santiago de  Jesús Valdez,” accessed December 29, 2021, http://padremartinez.org/progeny_03.php at footnote 28; FrayAngelico Chávez, But Time and Chance: The Story of Padre Martínez of Taos, 1793–1867 (Santa Fe: Sunstone Press, 1981), 20. Chávez notes that Don Santiago Roybal was the first native-born priest and had even  served as vicar in the period from 1730 to 1774; The Parish of Our Lady of Guadalupe (New York: Monarch Publishing, 1976), 16.
  17. “About Padre Martínez,” Fundación Presbítero: Don Antonio José Martínez, Inc., n.d. http://padremartinez.org/about_padremtz.php.
  18. Chávez, Time and Chance, 93–94; Thomas J. Steele S.J., New Mexican Spanish Religious Oratory 1800–1900(Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1997), 120.
  19. Thomas J. Steele S.J., “New Mexican Spanish Religious Oratory 1800-1900” (University of New Mexico Press, 1997): 90-91; Steele, New Mexican Spanish, 90–91; Tomás Atencio, Cultural Philosophy: A Common Sense Perspective (Rio Grande Institute Thought and Action Papers, 1991), 2–3; Tomás Atencio, Crypto-Judaism: Towards and Understanding of the Manitos ofNew Mexico (Rio Grande   Institute Thought and Action Papers, 1991), 3.
  20. Chávez, Time and Chance, 131; Chávez, Time and Chance, 122; Thomas J. Steele S.J., “The View from the Rectory,” in Padre Martínez, New Perspectives from Taos (Taos: Millicent Rogers Museum, 1988), 98, footnote 29; Chávez, Time and Chance, 122; The Parish of Our Lady of Guadalupe, 26.
  21. The Bishop of Durango visited New Mexico in 1833 and found many of the local religious images “deformed” and forbade the priests from blessing them unless they were at least “middlingly  acceptable while even then far from perfect.” Chávez, Timeand Chance, 41–42; Dr. Rey Montez, conversation with Antonio J. Martínez y Miera, December 11, 2021. Dr. Montez is an expert in Spanish Colonial art and author of the unpublished manuscript, “Reredo de Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe Santuario  deSanta Fe”; Dr. Rey Montez, conversation with Antonio J. Martínez y Miera, December 11, 2021. Dr. Montez is an expert inSpanish Colonial art and author of the unpublished manuscript, “Reredo de Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe Santuario  de Santa Fe.”; Chávez, Time and Chance, 47; Thomas J. Steele and Enrique Lamadrid, “Indigenous Voice in Nuevomexicano Anti-Clerical Satire, Catholic Southwest,” A Journal of History and Culture, Texas Catholic Historical Society, 9 (1998): 64; William Wroth,Images of Penance, Images of Mercy: Southwestern Santos in the Late Nineteenth Century (Colorado Springs: Taylor Museum forSouthwestern Studies Colorado Springs Fine Art Center, 1991), xvi; Wroth, Images of Penance, xvi.
  22. Steele and Lamadrid, “Indigenous Voice in Nuevomexicano,” 64–67.
  23. Archbishop Pitaval was the fourth in an unbroken series of five French Archbishops of Santa Fe going back to Lamy, before aseries of bishops born in the Eastern US that lasted until 1974. Unlisted author, “The Archbishops of Santa Fe,” in The Santa Fe New Mexican, June 4, 2015, n.p., https://www.santafenewmexican.com/news/local_news/the- archbishops-of-santa-fe/article_87b0b46b-a417-5673-90bd-cf1f39873c4c.html; The Parish of Our Lady of Guadalupe, 16; The Parish of Our Lady ofGuadalupe, 17; The Parish of Our Lady of Guadalupe, 18.
  24. December 12, 2021, interview with Dr. Kathryn M. Córdova, resident of El Prado.
  25. Fr. Tafoya later became the Bishop of the Diocese of Pueblo in Colorado ; Kathryn M. Córdova, interviewed by Dr. Theresa J.Córdova, December 19, 2021.
  26. CCFJ_C21_1_PM, Luís Jaramillo Lecture 4, Sermons of Father Luís Jaramillo, 1977–1991 (bulk 1977–1978), Colorado College Special Collections.
  27. Mary Montaño, Tradiciones Nuevomexicanas: Hispano Arts and Culture of New Mexico (Albuquerque: Universityof New Mexico Press, 2001), 49; Mary Montaño, Tradiciones Nuevomexicanas: Hispano Arts and Culture of New Mexico (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2001), 49.
  28. It is not known whether Margaret Ortíz provided the initial recordings to Vicente Montaner Martínez or whether the full collection came from Ann Hawley sometime after she recorded the lectures in the 1990s. In either case, Hawley’s recordings of Jaramillo were entrusted to Martínez.
  29. William Wroth. Christian Images in Hispanic New Mexico (Colorado Springs: Colorado Spring Fine Art Center, 1992), ix; Wroth, Christian Images, 118; Susan Samuelson, “Thieves Ravage New Mexico’s Heritage,” New Mexico Architecture 14, no. 5 (1972): 13; Sylvia Rodríguez , Over Behind Mabel’s on Indian Land: Utopia and Thirdspace in Taos Journal of the Southwest, vol. 53, nos. 3 and 4 (Autumn–Winter 2011): 379–402.
  30. CCFJ_C20_1_PM, “History of Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish; Missions Moradas Campo Santos, 1978, Sermons of Father Luís Jaramillo, 1977–1991 (bulk 1977–1978), Colorado College Special Collections.
  31. For Example, while the FAC preserved the Arroyo Hondo altar screen, it also meant that when the community later decided to remove the neoclassical French altar that had replaced their original altar, they had to craft a new one because theirs was now part of a collection in a museum in another state.
  32. CCFJ_C21_1_PM, Luís Jaramillo Lecture 4, Sermons of Father Luís Jaramillo, 1977–1991 (bulk 1977–1978), Colorado College Special Collections.
  33. Consuelo Pacheco, interview by Antonio José Martínez y Miera, January 3, 2022; María Cotera, “‘Invisibility is an Unnatural Disaster’: Feminist Archival Praxis after the Digital Turn,” South Atlantic Quarterly 114, no. 4 (October 2015): 782–783.

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