The Rise and Fall of the Cristeros

Part III

By Mark Fellows

“The country is a jail for the Catholic Church. In order to be logical, a Revolution must gain the entire soul of a nation. They will have to open a jail for each home, and they don’t have enough handcuffs or hangmen to bind up the hands and cut off the heads of the martyrs. We are not worried about defending our material interests, because these come and go; but our spiritual interests, these we will defend because they are necessary to obtain our salvation.”[1]       

The body of the man who wrote those words, Anacleto Flores (“El Maestro”), was dumped on an untended patio after his execution. Also dumped were the bodies of Juan Padilla and Ramon and Jorge Vargas, who had sheltered Flores from government persecution.

The bodies were taken home by family members and a period of mourning began. Doña Elvira, the mother of Ramon and Jorge, quieted a crying relative by saying, “You know that our mission as mothers is to raise our children to heaven.” The Vargas’ had sheltered many Catholics during the persecutions without mishap. Did they regret sheltering Anacleto Flores? Jorge’s sister Maria Louisa recalled:

“We had already had in our house various priests and a group of young seminarians, but never a chief of the Cristeros. The responsibility of lodging him was enormous, but it was impossible to close the doors against him—this, never.”[2]

The doors were also open at the Flores home, where hundreds of mourners came to touch the body of El Maestro and console his young widow and children. Did Senora Flores regret her husband’s life? Gathering her sons around their father’s body she told them: “Look. This is your father. He has died defending the Faith. Promise me on his body that you will do the same when you get older if God asks it of you.”

The next day thousands of Catholics ignored the law and police intimidation to join a procession with the bodies of the martyrs. They prayed and sang hymns to Christ the King and the Virgin of Guadalupe as they slowly walked to the cemetery in Mezquitan for burial.

The police wisely did nothing to prevent the (technically illegal) procession. In a face saving move the government claimed the executions occurred because the martyrs conspired to kill an American in order to stir up trouble between the United States and Mexico – as if the government needed any help doing that.[3]

The Revolution’s statement was a lame slander at best – not even the murdered American’s wife believed it. The Church gave her verdict in November 2005, when Anacleto Gonzalez Flores was beatified (along with Padilla, Vargas, and other Mexican martyrs).

The Clergy and the Cristeros

In August 1926 Calles had confidently predicted that the Cristero uprising would be repressed within weeks. “It will be less a campaign than a hunt,” boasted General Ferreira.[4] Nine months later the General promised an end to armed conflict by Midsummer 1927. But the peasant guerillas kept winning battles.

Calles blamed their stubbornness on the Church, whom he claimed was aiding and abetting the Cristeros in their rebellion. Few statements – even from Calles - could have been more inaccurate. It was true many priests were martyred, but rarely because they supported the Cristeros. The clergy was considered dangerous, and of course to the Revolution they were, though not in a military sense.

Here was another case of Calles and the Mexican government not comprehending reality. They thought if they strung up enough Cristeros from telephone poles – and there are pictures showing Mexican Catholics dangling from nooses on telephone poles, the dead bodies stretching to the horizon – the Catholics would be intimidated.

In fact the sight of martyrs for the faith seemed to energize the Cristeros and their sympathizers, whose stubbornness seemed limitless during the three-year war.

Calles also misunderstood the clergy. He assumed priests and Cristeros were thick as thieves, and that his persecution of the clergy would weaken the Cristeros. Consequently, Father Jose Genaro Sanchez of Jalisco was hung, Father David Uribe was shot in April, 1927, and Father Mateo Correa Magallanes was executed for not telling government officers the contents of the confessions some Cristeros made to him.

The executions also involved torture and mutilation, as in the case of Father Sabas Reyes who “was suspended for three days from a portico of his church and jabbed with bayonets by soldiers, who finally cut off the soles of his feet and then forced him to walk to the cemetery, where they shot him.”[5]

Eighteen non-combatant priests were executed during 1927. None of them was aligned with the Cristeros, except in the Revolution’s fevered imagination. The few priests that aided the Cristeros, usually as military chaplains, were criticized for so doing by their fellow priests.

According to Father Adolfo Arroyo:

“The overwhelming majority of the bishops and priests, displaying a criminal degree of conformism, wallowed in an accursed inertia, all expecting sheer miracles from heaven to give liberty to the Church.

“They were all content to give exhortations and say a few prayers. The priests, more strict than ever, mostly had recourse to theology and, without further consideration, announced the illicit nature of the violent struggle in defense of the Church.[6]”

In sermons the Cristeros were routinely referred to as “cattle thieves.” This was a baffling criticism to many Cristeros, who waged war in order to reopen the churches so the priests could do their jobs. After pondering the matter, one Cristero replied:

“We came across an obstacle which we would never even had imagined: the very Fathers forbade us to fight for Christ, for the religion our fathers taught us and then reaffirmed for us in baptism, confirmation, and our first communion. And this was when we were fighting chiefly to defend them.

“You must not have recourse to violence, they would tell us; a Christian must be humble and patient and let himself be struck.

“We rebels wanted to know why, if it was true that the only path open to the soldiers of Christ was to turn the other cheek, they (the clergy) were not going to surrender so that they could die like martyrs straight away. This was another mystery for us rebels.”[7]

Some Cristeros believed the clergy were cowards. In fairness however, a priest’s ministry rarely involves armed warfare. His obligation is to administer Sacraments to souls. He must protect this obligation for the sake of his parishoners. Of course a priest can fulfill his obligations without calling other Catholics “cattle thieves.”

Yet it was also true that priests in Mexico were not having an easy time of it either - except for those who were priests to government families.

The way it worked was that the government employee would give in to his wife’s requests to hear Mass and bring a priest to the house. In some homes this became a regular event, with meals and socializing afterwards. So the government, ironically, protected certain priests.

Other priests lived like Cristeros: a hand to mouth existence under difficult circumstances. They lived in hiding and traveled dark, lonely roads to minister to a Catholic country starving for them. These priests were always in danger of being caught by the government and shot, or worse.

Still other priests remained with their parishes even under threat of death by the government, who had a policy of removing priests from their rural parishes and relocating them in urban centers. The government thought the absence of priests would weaken the resolve of the Cristeros and their sympathizers, who all lived in the country.

The priests who defied this government policy were not necessarily Cristero sympathizers – they were simply brave priests who refused to abandon their flocks in an hour of need, and sometimes paid for this decision with their lives.

Some of the priests who denounced the Cristeros were sincere. Others found it expedient to publicly side with the government and condemn the Cristeros, assuming the rebellion would be short and their clerical careers would be long. Still others may have simply been carrying out orders.

The episcopate had not lost patience in waiting for the government to come back to the bargaining table. To encourage this the Mexican Church attempted to prove its good faith by officially deploring Catholics being violent against the government. Privately some bishops were annoyed the Cristeros were being so impatient.

Another point of conflict between the Cristeros and the Church in Mexico was the bishop’s refusal to provide military chaplains to the Cristeros. This led a Cristero named Miguel Gomez Loza to observe:

“The Fathers in these parts do not approach our soldiers; they say it is because they do not want to commit themselves or they are afraid of their superiors. Those who have the most right to, and the most need of spiritual succour, are the most abandoned.”[8]

Clergy who aided the Cristeros were small in number; perhaps forty priests in the three-year war. The rest of the priests in Mexico, some 3,600, were either hostile to the Cristeros or refused to aid them for various reasons.[9]

This provoked bitterness in the ranks. Some Cristeros called the clergy cowards. Yet if this charge was at least in part born of frustration, frustration yielded in turn to indomitable resolve:

“Without their (the clergy) permission and without their orders we are throwing ourselves into this blessed struggle for our liberty, and without their permission and without their orders we will go on until we conquer or die.”[10]

The clergy had options. The majority of them left their parishes and resettled in larger towns, where persecution was mild and one could eat lunch with government men. It was a comparatively pain free life for priests and served the government purpose of removing priests from rural areas where Cristeros lurked.

Most Cristeros’ believed that fighting for their religion was the only honorable choice. Some longed for martyrdom. A group of older men joined the ranks saying: “We are going, we old ones who are good for nothing, to give our lives to God.”

Others declared, “We must win Heaven now that it is cheap,” and “How our grandfathers would have loved to win glory like this! And now God is giving to us! I’m off.”[11] It is easy to claim the desire to be a martyr. When the opportunity came, however, many Cristeros’ backed up their words with the courage of true martyrs.

Twenty-seven Cristeros were summarily executed at Sahuayo. Only Claudio Becerra was spared, because he was a boy. Later he wept at the tomb of the twenty-seven, saying, “I am sorry that God did not want me as a martyr.” Age was not always a barrier to martyrdom: when young Honorio Lamas was executed with his father, he whispered to his mother before the final volley, “How easy Heaven is now, mother!”

Cosme Valencia was executed for refusing to serve in the federal army. His last words: “I want the life of the soul, not that of the body.” Cristero Norberto Lopez was offered a pardon if he enlisted in the army. He refused, saying, “Ever since I took up arms I have had the intention of giving my life for Christ, and I’m not going to break the fast at a quarter to twelve.”

Here is an account by Josefina Arellano about the death of her young brother-in-law:

“Silverio…pulled back the blanket that covered the doorway and greeted the Government by saying softly, ‘Long live Christ the King!’, and when the echo of his voice died away he was already on his way to receive the martyr’s palm and crown, for he had always said that he was a Catholic and had no other interest than the love of Christ.

“A few moments later, I drew back the blanket to go out, leaving the little ones in the arms of Domingo (her husband) to go out to die. Treading on the dead bodies, I stopped in the doorway, my God, what did I see? Above the stone wall many rifles were pointing at me, my eyes clouded over, my body trembled, but I remembered that the moment was for me, I imagined the crown and I almost touched the palm.”[12]

Those many who witnessed the deaths of their loved ones reacted with supernatural detachment: “It was a great adventure, so great and so noble, we were so happy at that time,” recalled Cristero Ignacio Villanueva, “Our Lord has been pleased to confer the martyr’s crown.”

There was grief and bitterness as well, but even these reactions were penetrated by the light of grace bestowed. One relative declared:

“You and I deplore from the bottom of our hearts the death of these men who offered in good faith their lives, their families and their worldly interests, who shed their blood for God and our beloved country, as true Christian martyrs do…

“Their blood, united with that of Our Lord and with that of all the martyrs of the Holy Ghost, will obtain for us from God the Father the blessings that we hope for on Earth and in Heaven; blessed are those who die for the love of God who made Heaven and Earth...not like the false gods of Plutarco Elias Calles and other madmen seduced by Satan.”[13]

Historian Jean Meyer remarked:

“The calm confrontation of death by the Cristeros who were taken prisoner always made an impression on the Federals...Literature, songs, and the cinema have popularized this image of the virile Mexican, indifferent to life and death, and of his murderers, weeping out of admiration for him.

“Although the death of the Cristeros might be considered as resembling this model, its content and significance were entirely different, for it was an experience of communion with God and not a posture before men. One might then say of the Cristero movement that, rather than a Crusade, it was a collective ‘imitation of Christ’, the sacrifice of the Cristeros rather than the pursuit of the death of the persecutors.”[14]

The Battles

The Cristeros also resembled an army, albeit a disorganized one. As time went on their tactics changed from guerrilla fighting to coordinated attacks on rural federal strongholds. Calles was dismayed when a force of Cristeros attacked and captured San Francisco del Rincon, a good-sized town fortified by federal troops. The Cristeros split their army into three forces, each of which attacked and captured three military strongholds in the town.

Hardest to fall was the town hall. The Cristeros crashed the front door in with pickaxes and crowbars, and then engaged in mortal hand-to-hand combat in each room of the building. After a brutal struggle the federales fled.

The next day a Cristero force led by Father Jose Reyes Vega led an assault against a larger federal force near Arandas. After a three-hour battle, the Cristeros’ superior knowledge of terrain, combined with fearsome cavalry charges, defeated the federal army again.

The following month an elite four hundred man federal cavalry unit sought to drive two hundred Cristeros from San Julian, a town they occupied. The federales rode into San Julian to utter quiet. Believing the Cristeros had fled, they proceeded to the center of town, and were withered by a concentrated volley of musket fire.

The Cristeros, low on ammunition as always, had been instructed not to fire until the enemy was upon them. The federales fell back, then attacked again. So it went for some time, Cristero rifle fire becoming sporadic as they ran out of ammunition.

A cloud of dust approached the bullet-strafed town. The federales saw horsemen carrying red, white, and green Mexican flags and cheered; they now had enough reinforcements to take the town.

As the cavalry came closer another cheer went up: Viva Cristo Rey! For it could now be seen that the Mexican flags were emblazoned with the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe: the reinforcements were Cristeros. The federales broke rank and fled in a panic.[15]

Perhaps the most spectacular Cristero success in 1927 occurred in the state of Michoacan. The Cristeros were led by Luis Navarro Origel, who, when he took up arms, declared: “I will kill for Christ those who are killing Christ, and if no one follows me in this enterprise I will die for Christ.”[16]

He commanded a series of victories, including a three-day battle in June that involved one thousand Cristeros. Then the rains started, and most of the Cristeros went home to tend their crops.

They came back in the fall and the string of victories continued. The most spectacular triumph occurred when Navarro’s men besieged seven hundred government troops at Canada de Ticuilucan. After losing two hundred men the federales were abandoned by their general who galloped away on horseback.[17] By the end of the year large portions of Michoacan had been removed from government control.

A few weeks after Anacleto Flores was executed, Father Vega led an assault against a train carrying 400,000 pesos. Track was torn up and the train derailed. A three-hour battle ensued between the Cristeros and federal troops on the train. Also present were dozens of civilian passengers, used as human shields by federal troops during the fighting.

When Father Vega’s brother was killed in the fighting, Vega became enraged and ordered the cars set on fire. About four dozen people were burned alive. The Cristeros got the money and turned most of it over to a rich Catholic who said he would buy arms with it. The Cristeros never saw the money again.[18]

Calles was enraged by the Cristeros victories, and used the train incident for its full propaganda value, neglecting to mention his army’s use of Mexican citizens as shields, or the fact that many Cristeros were also critical of Father Vega’s actions.

Calles used the incident to expel the remaining Mexican bishops from the country, and to introduce a new government program called Reconcetracion, or Reconcentration. Rural villages were emptied, and the villagers were sent to large cities to survive as best they could.

After plundering the empty village, the army burned everything to the ground. Harvests were sold or destroyed. Animals were sold or machine-gunned. The Revolution that had proclaimed itself champion of the poor was now destroying them.

Huddled together in hot cities in the most unsanitary conditions, many refugees contracted typhoid or small pox. They were mocked by federales, who grabbed rosaries and scapulars from the refugees, and after profaning them and hurling them on the ground, shouted: “Fanatics! What good does all that stuff do?”[19]

Calles’ plan was simple: to destroy the food chain the Cristeros relied on, and turn their sympathetic countrymen against them. The Reconcentracion certainly halted Cristero momentum, but here again the government miscalculated, for army brutality converted many of the refugees from Cristero sympathizers to actual Cristeros.

This dynamic was also lost on an American observer, who reported that the Reconcentracion military campaign would end the Cristeros rebellion. Carleton Beals, a leftist writer who was firmly pro-government and anti-Church, witnessed the horrible sufferings of the refugees and concluded:

“The sorry state of affairs in Mexico cannot be attributed to the Catholics but to the military chiefs and irresponsible bandits…In the entire country civil law has disappeared and life is not worth a straw; property belongs to those who gave arms.”[20]

The wanton destruction of crops, land, and animals drove up food prices, and the brutal treatment of refugees caused plagues to spread. The Reconcentracion was halted; the refugees were returned to what - if anything - was left of their homes, and ordered to reseed their fields.

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Byzantium or Holy Roman Empire: Will the True Rome Please Stand?

By Phillip Campbell

Perhaps no entity has left such an enduring mark on Western civilization as the Roman Empire. Rome’s history, language, religion, culture, law, and political institutions have profoundly shaped the development of the western world. Nor is Rome’s influence merely historical; women in 2023 were surprised when a popular TikTok trend revealed that, even now, the average man thinks about the Roman Empire at least once per day. Clearly, Rome maintains an impressive hold on the popular imagination.

Indeed, Rome’s legacy is so illustrious that many other entities throughout history have claimed to be the successor states to the Roman Empire, asserting political or cultural continuity with Rome in an attempt to harness Rome’s illustrious heritage for themselves. The Holy Roman Empire and the Byzantine Empire are the two most notable examples, but Tsarist Russia also claimed to be Rome’s successor (the word Tsar means Caesar; the imperial name Romanov means “Roman” or “descendant of Roman”). In the Middle Ages, the Seljuks created the Sultanate of Rum (Rome) in eastern Anatolia, from the Parthian word for Rome. The Ottoman Turks, as well, laid claim to Rome’s legacy. After the Turks overran Constantinople in 1453, Sultan Mehmet II adopted the titles kayser-i rûm (“Caesar of Rome”) and basileus (“emperor”) and argued that the Turkish Sultans were the legitimate successors to the Roman Emperors. The Ottoman writers referred to the Ottoman Empire diyar-I Rûm (“lands of Rome”), memalik-i Rum (“Roman realms”), and just Rûm ("Rome"). And as late as 1912, the Greek-speaking populace of the Aegean island of Lemnos was referring to themselves as “Romans” (Ῥωμαῖοι) rather than Hellenes (Ἕλληνες).

With so many polities claiming to be the successor state of Rome, is there any way of determining who has the strongest claim? Among the various claimants, the Byzantine Empire and the Holy Roman Empire are generally considered the strongest. We shall consider the arguments for each in turn in hopes of determining which of these has the strongest claim to being the successor of the Roman Empire.

Byzantium: Rome’s Institutional Successor

The origin of the Byzantine Empire came from the division of Rome into eastern and western halves during the 3^rd and 4^th centuries. This division was first made by Diocletian in AD 286, but proved to be impermanent, as Constantine would reunite the eastern and western halves in 324. Constantine would move Rome’s capital east, to the city of Byzantium on the Bosporus, which he refounded as Constantinople. Constantinople would go on to become the most important city in the east and the center of the Roman world from the 4^th century on.

By the late 4^th century, economic and military pressures made it too difficult to keep the empire’s sprawling territories together. The Roman Empire was again divided after the death of Theodosius in 395, with the eastern and western halves going to each of his sons. This division proved to be permanent, and the two halves of Rome became increasingly estranged, politically and culturally. The Western Roman Empire would devolve into a heavily Germanized entity whose emperors were dominated by a barbarian military junta, whereas the Eastern Roman Empire became an increasingly bureaucratized and commercialized state coextensive with the Greek-speaking lands of the eastern Mediterranean.

The Western Roman Empire fell to the barbarian hordes of Odoacer in 476 when the last Roman Emperor—Romulus Augustulus—was deposed at Ravenna. Rather than take the imperial title for himself, Odoacer sent the imperial insignia back to Constantinople, informing the Eastern Roman Emperor, Zeno, that Italy no longer needed an emperor. Instead, Odoacer took the title “King of Italy.” Thus, Western Europe began its gradual metamorphosis into the various kingdoms of the Middle Ages.

The Eastern Roman Empire, however, continued on. In the absence of its Latin-speaking counterpart, the Eastern Roman Empire became heavily “Greekified” in language and culture. The final emperor with any competency on Latin was Justinian (r. 527-565), after which the government of the Eastern Roman Empire became exclusively Greek speaking. Today, historians tend to refer to this medieval, Greek-speaking entity as the Byzantine Empire, although the distinction between the Eastern Roman Empire and Byzantine Empire is more academic than actual—in reality, there is no hard cut-off point where the Eastern Roman Empire “becomes” Byzantine. The evolution is organic and gradual. This empire continued on until 1453, when, greatly reduced by the Turks, it was finally conquered by Ottoman Sultan Mehmet II. Right up until the very end, Byzantium’s emperors regarded themselves as Roman Emperors. The Byzantines called themselves Romaioi (Ῥωμαῖοι), that is, “Romans.”

Considered structurally, Byzantium has the strongest case to be Rome’s successor state simply by virtue of the continuity of its institutions. The Byzantine army developed out of the Roman army. The Byzantine bureaucracy at Constantinople emerged out of the court established by Constantine at the time of the city’s foundation. Byzantium’s territories were defined by the boundaries delineated in Roman times. The relationship between the Byzantine monarchs and the Patriarchs of Constantinople followed a trajectory determined during the late Empire. Perhaps the most direct continuity was in the office of the basileus, the Byzantine emperors themselves, who stood in a direct line of nearly unbroken succession back to Augustus.

In an institutional sense, Byzantium is the Eastern Roman Empire, and hence the case for Byzantium is fairly cut and dry. But what if institutional continuity is not the only consideration?

The Holy Roman Empire: Rome’s Ideological Successor

In the assessment above, you may have noticed a reference to Byzantium’s “direct line of nearly unbroken succession back to Augustus.” That “nearly” refers to a five year lacuna in the otherwise unbroken Byzantine succession, from 797 to 802, a period of immense importance in Christian history.

The late 8^th century had been a tumultuous time in Byzantium. The century began with a Muslim assault on Constantinople and ended with the chaos of the Iconoclast heresy. The premature death of Emperor Leo IV in 780 brought the nine-year-old Constantine VI to the throne under the regency of his mother, Irene of Athens. Irene would end up seizing power from her son, however, having him blinded and deposed in 797 and ruling as an empress for the next five years, until her own deposition in 802.

Meanwhile, events in the west were unfolding that would change the destiny of Christendom. At this time the most powerful ruler in Europe was the Frankish monarch, Charles, son of Pepin, better known to history as Charlemagne, of the Carolingian dynasty. From the Pyrenees to the North Sea to the banks of the Danube, Charlemagne’s might went unchallenged. It was thus in 799, when Pope Leo III was driven from Rome by a coup, that he fled to Charlemagne’s court at Paderborn to ask the king’s assistance in reclaiming Rome. Charlemagne restored Leo to power the following year and spent Christmas with the pope in Rome. It was after Mass on Christmas Day of the year 800 that Pope Leo placed an imperial crown on Charlemagne’s head and proclaimed him Emperor of the Romans.

The coronation was of pivotal importance in the history of Christendom and Europe—probably the most monumental event to happen on Christmas since the birth of Christ. But what of Empress Irene? How could Pope Leo proclaim Charlemagne Roman emperor when there was already a Roman empress ruling from Constantinople?

This is the beginning of the medieval notion of the translatio imperii, the idea that the imperial authority (imperium), the highest secular power in Christendom, had been “transferred” from the Byzantines to Charlemagne by the Pope. This concept of translatio imperii is of supreme importance, as the validity of the imperial title in the west depended upon it. Pope Leo’s action was based on the premise that the Byzantine Empress Irene was a usurper. There had never been a custom in the Roman Empire—legal or otherwise—of a woman wielding imperial authority. Irene had succeeded her son Constantine VI to the Byzantine throne as empress, a succession neither the pope nor the Franks regarded as valid, since no woman could hold imperial authority. Leo III thus regarded the Byzantine throne as sede vacante and liable to be bestowed upon whomever he wished, by virtue of the pope’s plenitudo potestatis (fullness of power). We see here an emergent theory of papal power whereby the pope has the right to designate imperial succession in cases when the throne has fallen vacant—essentially, that the imperial office “reverts” to the papacy when the imperial line has faltered.

It is often assumed that the bestowal of the imperial title on Charlemagne was an attempt to resurrect the Western Roman Empire. This is false. You will notice that the coronation of Charlemagne is called the translatio (transfer) imperii, nor a resurrectio imperii. In crowning Charlemagne, the pope was not resurrecting the Western Roman Empire that had fallen in 476 but transferring the imperial title from Byzantium to Charlemagne. In other words, Charlemagne was the successor not of Romulus Augustulus, but of Constantine VI. The imperial authority, though divided in the latter Roman Empire, was ultimately one. There could only be one imperium recognized by Christians. This was an assumption inherited from late Roman times that was still held in Carolingian times. The Christian empire was a kind of holy reflection of the kingdom of heaven. An elaboration of this ideology can be found in the writings of the Irish monk Hibernicus, who was a scholar of Charlemagne’s retinue. Hibernicus wrote, “There is only one who is enthroned in the realm of the air [i.e., God]. It is proper that under Him, one only be the ruler on earth, in merit an example to all men.”[i] Just as oneness was a property of God, so must it be a property of His imperium.

The pope, as Vicar of Christ, claimed the authority to be able to “translate” this one authority back to the west when the line of succession died in the east. Charlemagne thus became the imperial authority in Christendom. The papacy would exercise this prerogative again when the Carolingian line faltered and the imperial crown was bestowed upon Otto the Saxon in 962 by Pope John XII, reestablishing the imperium in the hands of the Germans and constituting what would become known as the Holy Roman Empire.

The legitimacy of the Holy Roman Empire as a true successor state to ancient Rome depends upon one’s acceptance of the theory of translatio imperii, which holds the pope as the custodian of the imperial title. The concept of translatio imperii was widely assumed throughout the high Middle Ages and was explicitly taught by Pope Innocent III. In the context of the 13^th century papal conflict with the Hohenstaufen emperors, Innocent argued that the pope is superior to the Holy Roman Emperor. Innocent went back to the occasion of Charlemagne’s coronation by Pope Leo III, pointing out that, though the Holy Roman Emperors are elected by a body of German princes, the fact that the emperor is a German at all and not a Greek is because the papacy transferred the imperium from the Greeks to the Germans at the time of Charlemagne. Thus, all German emperors owe homage to the papacy, from whom not only their regal authority but all powers and dignities of the imperium were derived. In his famous decretal Venerabilem of 1202, Innocent stated:

[T]he right and authority to elect a king (later to be elevated to the Imperial throne) belongs to those princes to whom it is known to belong by right and ancient custom; especially as this right and authority came to them from the Apostolic See, which transferred the Empire from the Greeks to the Germans in the person of Charles the Great.[ii]

This notion of the papal transfer of the empire (translatio imperii) became a stock argument of the papal loyalists for the duration of the Middle Ages and was repeatedly invoked until the Reformation. Of course, the translatio imperii is not exactly a religious dogma, and we should not attribute any note of infallibility to Innocent’s teaching. Rather, translatio imperii was an attempt to create conceptual schema for understanding the western imperial title within the ideological framework of papal power accepted at the time.

One will notice that the arguments for the Holy Roman Empire are incredibly abstract. They center on a theoretical notion of a singular Christian imperium, which, as we have said, could be wielded by one claimant and no other. Furthermore, they require us to accept that the pope is the steward of this imperium, who, by virtue of his plenitudo potestatis, could bequeath it to whomever he chose. If Byzantium’s claim was based on institutional continuity, we may consider the Holy Roman Empire’s claim to rest on an ideological basis. Whereas the Byzantines considered the imperium as inalienably vested in the Byzantine emperor and the concrete structures of the imperial court at Constantinople, the popes viewed the imperium as an alienable quality that could be transferred. It could be said that, for the Latin west, the idea of empire was far more important than whether the ideal could be satisfactorily realized.

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Chapter 2

The Rise of the Cristeros

By Mark Fellows

“The Torch of Faith flickers, the sign of redemption is hidden, and the cries of the impious suffocate the voices of good men and the clamor of religion. Save us Lord, for we are dying!” Mexican Bishop Ruiz y Flores, a published prayer prayed on the last day of religious services in Mexico, July, 1926.

The 1857 Laws of Reform sought to separate the Church in Mexico from the State. The 1917 Constitution sought to subordinate the Church to the State. Some congressmen used extravagant rhetoric to justify this progression.

“The clergy is the most dismal, most perverse enemy of the fatherland! shouted Francisco J. Mugica, who had once been expelled from the Zamora Seminary…for these new and angry Jacobins, the Church was a den of thieves, outlaws, con men…

“A man named Recio from Yucatan proposed that confession be constitutionally prohibited, while delegate Alonso Romero elaborated a multiple image of the woman at confession as an adulteress, the priests as satyrs, and the husbands - who would allow their wives to pour the secrets of home into the licentious ears of priests - as pimps.”[1]

Minority opposition to the new Constitution predicted the radicals would not be content

“with smashing the images of the Saints, pulling the rosaries to pieces, tearing down the crucifixes, getting rid of Novenas and suchlike frivolities, shutting the door against priests, and abolishing freedom of association so that nobody can go to Church to make contact with the clergy...

“It should destroy religious freedom altogether, and after that, in an orgy of sated intolerance, they (radicals) will be able to promulgate this one article: in the Mexican Republic there will only be guarantees for those who think as we do.”[2]

Strict enforcement of the Constitution would have made it nearly impossible for the Church to operate. It mandated secular education in all schools, prohibited religious vows, religious orders, and religious instruction. It would have forbade public worship and made it legally impossible for the Church to own property. The constitutional article that caused the most opposition was Article 130. A secular historian writes:

“It effectively reduced the clergy to second class status, and was one of the most openly restrictive laws against a single group of citizens enacted in modern times. Clergy were denied such basic liberties as the right to vote, to hold office, to criticize public officials, or to comment on public affairs in religious periodicals.

“The Church was denied a juridical personality, state legislatures were empowered to regulate the number of clergy allowed to practice in their states, and jury trial was denied in cases relating to violations of the articles.”[3]

Resistance

Opposition to the new Constitution was widespread and took many forms: passive resistance, active resistance (with bloodshed and death), and economic boycotts of Masonic and government businesses. The boycotts, which were very effective in central Mexico, were organized by various Catholic Action associations. The most prominent organization was the National League for the Defense of Religious Liberty (known as the Liga).

The Liga initially had the blessing of the Mexican episcopate, but as events escalated the Liga began advocating open warfare. The Liga’s encouragement of the Cristeros caused the majority of the Mexican episcopate (and Pope Pius XI) to withdraw their blessing, leaving the Liga a suspect organization in the eyes of many Mexican Catholics.

Another Catholic Action organization was Union Popular (UP). Its leader, Anacleto Gonzalez Flores, was as opposed to violence as the Liga was disposed to it. A lawyer and a layman, Flores organized peaceful boycotts in the state of Jalisco that crushed Masonic and government friendly businesses, including an anti-Catholic newspaper. Flores asked for a ban on eating meat, and butchers went out of business. Flores asked citizens to use candles at night, and the local electrical plant was forced to suspend operation. Even children joined the boycotts, mortifying themselves and ice cream vendors on hot days by demanding to see the vendor’s UP card before making a purchase.

Although effective on a local level, the boycotts did not change the government’s anti-clerical policies. Ironically, some of the more vocal opponents to Catholic boycotts were wealthy Catholics. This frustrated Flores, who believed that “If we really knew how to act as Catholics, we could make our enemies die of hunger.”[4] Committed to non-violent resistance, the man known as El Maestro believed martyrdom could change history:

“The offering of a martyr will never perish…The sacrifice of martyrs has written pages in history that will remain there forever. He (the martyr) has touched the living flesh of future generations and every day performs the miracle of reviving our spirits through the shedding of his blood…

“The martyr is and always has been the first citizen of a strange and unforeseen democracy who, in violent times, sacrifices his life so that his offering or his memory will never be extinguished.”[5]

Flores’ words prophesied his own life two years later. There would be many non-violent martyrs in Mexico besides Flores and Padre Pro. There were many others who could not in conscience allow evil to run free. Love of the Church and hatred of the Revolution united in a stream of passion that cried: “Better to die than deny Christ the King, without fearing martyrdom or death, in whatever form it might come! Sons, do not be cowards! Up and defend a just cause!”[6]

Women prayed inside the Guadalupe Sanctuary in Guadalajara while outside their husbands chanted “Viva Cristo Rey!” and “Viva la Virgen de Guadalupe!” Undaunted by scoffers, the men began demanding that passersby doff their hats and shout “Viva Cristo Rey!” Truckloads of troops arrived to break things up and the Catholics fired back. When a soldier entered the Sanctuary and began shooting at a statue of the Virgin of Guadalupe, a Catholic maiden stabbed him to death.[7]

Archbishop Leopoldo Ruiz y Flores, a bishop in the Central Mexican state of Michoacan, exhorted Catholics to non-violent resistance:

“(The Catholic Faith) must awaken in the soul such a love of Christ that, like the Apostles, we are disposed to build His Kingdom even at the cost of our own lives, and that, like the martyrs, we are prepared to lose everything before committing apostasy…

“Nothing will be able, as St. Paul says, to separate us from Christ. With His love reigning in us, in this world we shall reign with Him, because we shall know how to overcome all that would subjugate us.”[8]

Eloquent words indeed, but difficult to apply in episodes of heated human conflict, like when a group of two hundred Catholics protested their local government’s refusal to forward their petitions against the 1917 Constitution. A captain drew his gun and fired, then was attacked by the crowd and killed. His troops opened fire. Were the corpses laying on the streets non-violent protestors? Did it make a difference?

The Calles Law

The Revolution was a juggernaut that could be stalled by Catholic Action but not derailed. Organized resistance slowed the secular tide but could not reverse it. Areas of Mexico that offered token resistance were steamrolled by enforcement of the 1917 Constitution.

The most rigourous application was by Governor Garrido Canabal of Tabasco. All the churches were closed, then either destroyed or converted to government use. The bishops were deported. Only married priests were legally allowed to reside in Tabasco, which of course disqualified all priests.

Homes were stripped of all religious images. A law was passed requiring the eating of meat on Christian fast days. Celebration of Christmas was banned. Canabal’s enforcers were known as the Red Shirts. Upon saluting their leader he asked them, “Does God exist?”, and they replied, “He has never existed.” American businessman John W. Dulles observed:

“At an exhibition of livestock a fine bull on exhibit would be called ’God,’ a donkey named ’Christ,’ a cow named ’The Virgin of Guadalupe,’ an ox named ’The Pope,’ a hog named ’The Archbishop,’ etc…

“Among the children of the dictator was a son named Lenin and a daughter named Zoila Libertad (I am Liberty), a name which at one time provoked the saying that the only liberty existing in Tabasco was the daughter of Garrido - who was sometimes accompanied by a nephew named Luzbel (Lucifer).”[9]

When Plutarco Calles became President of the Mexican Republic he applied the 1917 Constitution to all of Mexico, despite opposition from virtually all the country’s citizenry. Bishop Mora y del Rio declared a Catholic campaign would work to repeal those parts of the Constitution the Church considered unjust, adding: “We cannot for any reason change this position without betraying our Faith and our Religion.”[10]

Working peacefully to change unjust laws was hardly an inflammatory idea, particularly since the 1917 Constitution explicitly stated it could be reformed. Yet Del Rio’s statement deeply offended President Calles, who was “so violent on the religious question that he lost his temper every time anyone mentioned the subject in his presence.” The Turk was

“a malignant and implacable enemy of the Roman Catholic Church…he has resolved to exterminate the Catholic Faith from Mexico…(he) possessed an energy which did not stop short of obstinacy and cruelty…

“He was prepared to attack not only persons but also principles and even the institution itself…(He) condemned as economically and politically disastrous the very existence of the Church.”[11]

Calles passed a series of self titled laws making it a criminal offense (five years in prison) for a priest to criticize the government or attempt to instruct Catholics (or non-Catholics) in the faith. The Calles Law also required all parish priests to register with the government or have their churches closed, a regulation helping the government regulate downward the number of priests in a given area.

The Calles laws gave the government almost complete control over the lives of priests. Copycat laws sprang up; one statute listed “harmful elements” of society that were subject to “security measures” as “the insane, degenerates, drug users, alcoholics, professional beggars, prostitutes, priests, and homosexuals.”[12]

Calles later admitted he was intentionally provoking the Church.[13] It worked. The First clash came in Mexico City, where priests ignored the law requiring them to get permission to say Mass in a church. Government agents closed down the church, triggering a three hour riot in the streets between police and two thousand protestors.

The government told the press the violence was the work of “mindless fanatics” manipulated by malevolent clergy. Calles talked publicly about the history of the Church in Mexico being “that past which I strongly wish to see liquidated.”[14]

An important part of that past was the Virgin of Guadalupe. A plot was hatched to confiscate the miraculous, bomb-proof tilma from the Basilica. Catholics got wind of the plot, and at the appointed hour ringed the inside and outside of the Basilica in thousands. Government officials and their troops arrived, took one look at the crowd, and made as dignified retreat as possible under the circumstances.[15]

When a parish church in the state of Nayarit was attacked the parishioners fought back, driving the intruders from the church and soundly beating the state police commissioner and other government agents who had entered the church with drawn guns, demanding the priest leave.[16]

Another attempt was made to take over a church in Nayarit, and this time three government agents lost their lives.[17] Angry Catholics descended upon the governor, who quickly signed a decree promising he would not attempt further enforcement of the 1917 Constitution.[18] The government tried to shut down a church in Jalisco but  parishioners beat back the attempt, killing another government agent in the battle.[19]

Yet the government was successful in closing dozens of other churches, as well as seminaries, schools, monasteries, convents, and orphan asylums. Laws were enforced severely limiting the number of priests in any given diocese or state. Archbishop Flores of Michoacan suspended public worship in protest, and angry Catholics again confronted the government, which backed down, and worked out a compromise both sides could live with. A similar scenario was seen in San Luis Potosi, where the government attempted to reduce the number of priests. After a pitched street battle the government backed down.[20]

In St. Rafael Church troops fired on Catholics who refused to leave the church, while women on the roof hurled stones at the soldiers.[21] In Guadalajara more street fighting occurred when the government tried to take over churches. When the smoke cleared there were many dead and wounded, and hundreds in jail; the government had succeeded in taking only one church.

Day long battles to the death over churches became the norm, although this fact was not allowed space in the newspapers. A quote by President Calles appeared, however, in which he called the struggle between the Church and the Revolution “the struggle between darkness and light.”[22]    It certainly was.

The Mexican episcopate continued to counsel non-violence, and to work legally to amend the Constitution. The militant Catholic laity took the fight to the Masonic government. If they were losing the war, they were at least winning some battles.

Calles failed to shut down the Church in Mexico. Ironically, it would be the Mexican episcopate, with the approval of Pope Pius XI, that would effectively end organized worship in Mexico.

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