Missionaries started building churches out of mud 400 years ago in the isolated frontier of the Spanish Empire. Tiny mountain communities like Cordova in what’s now New Mexico relied on their own resources to maintain the churches. Villagers instituted church caretakers called mayordomos. They filled chapels with elaborate altarpieces made of local wood and varnished with pine sap.
Today, amid dwindling congregations and fading traditions, some of their descendants hope to save these historic adobe structures from crumbling back to the earth. An estimated 500 Catholic mission churches remain in northern New Mexico. From the local dirt they’re made of to the generations of memories they hold, these churches anchor a uniquely New Mexican way of life for their communities.
Adobe is a mixture of clay soil and straw. Builders typically shape the material into bricks, which then dry in the sunlight. More mud keeps the bricks together. People have used the building material for thousands of years around the world. Exposed to rain and snow, adobe needs a fresh replastering of dirt, sand, and straw every few years. Otherwise, the walls could dissolve.
“Our ancestors put blood and sweat in this place,” says Angelo Sandoval inside the 1830s church of St. Anthony in Cordova, where he serves as mayordomo.
It’s increasingly difficult to find the money, specialized conservation skills, and mayordomos needed to preserve the churches, especially since most are used for only a few services each year.
Taking some rural missions off the roster might be inevitable.
“We have two choices: Either return to the community, or back to the earth they came from. We can’t save them all,” says Reverend Andy Pavlak. He ministered to 10 churches in Socorro County for nearly a decade. The oldest mission church was built in 1615. “The adobe is made from the earth. Adam and Eve were made from the earth. We’re all going to the earth. How do we do it with dignity?” he ponders.
Leo Paul Pacheco runs his hand over the smooth adobe walls he restored at the 1880s Santo Niño de Atocha chapel in Monte Aplanado. He says that it will be up to future generations to preserve these historic churches.
“They still have access to the same dirt,” Pacheco says as the adobe walls’ sand particles and straw glint in the sunlight.
The Lord God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living creature. — Genesis 2:7
Why? Preserving historic places, especially those that may bring communities together, can be a worthy endeavor. It’s also worth maintaining time-honored skills, like building with adobe.
