Earlier this year, while on a trip to the South American country of Paraguay, I visited the ruins of the Santísima Trinidad del Paraná (Holy Trinity of Paraná) Jesuit Reductions.
The red-stoned ruins are the physical remnants of a thriving Jesuit missionary base from the 17th and 18th Centuries. These Reductions will be most familiar to people from the popular film, The Mission. It is based on the real story of the Jesuit Reductions. This visit was an encounter with a fascinating period in Christian history. An encounter which provided me with an opportunity to reflect on my own relationship with God.
Reductions (known as Reducciones, in Spanish) were settlements in the Americas which were used by the colonial powers to assimilate the indigenous populations. The Jesuit Reductions were considerably different. They did not seek to make the native peoples adopt a European way of life; their purpose was one of conversion. The Jesuit Reductions were inhabited by the Tupi-Guarani peoples, in an area which corresponds to modern day Paraguay, as well as areas of Argentina, Brazil, Bolivia and Uruguay.
The first Reduction was founded by three Jesuits at San Ignacio Guazú, Paraguay, in 1609 and within the next two decades another fifteen Reductions were founded. At their height, there were over forty Reductions with a local population of over 150,000.
The Jesuit Reductions were an incredibly innovative religious and social project. They were extremely successful Christian communities, based on the precepts of the Gospels, which the native peoples and European missionaries built together. Under Jesuit leadership, the Guaraní had advanced laws and they founded free public services. All the inhabitants of the Reductions worked the communal land – and all the products they produced were divided fairly among them. These communities had rich cultural lives with thriving indigenous music, dance and crafts. Furthermore, the Reductions were able to insulate the native population from the influences of exploitative secular European authorities and protect them from the raids of slave-hunters.
The Reductions become self-supporting entities with increasing autonomy from the European empires. These missionary bases came to be seen as a threat by the secular authorities. Their economic success (which was perceived externally to be much larger than was actually the case), resistance to the slave trade and independence was resented by the colonial establishment. The decline and demise of the Reductions began with the expulsion of the Jesuits from the Spanish realm in 1767. While secular opposition to the Reductions has been cited as one of the reasons for the Order’s banishment, ultimately it was the larger historical forces and events surrounding the suppression of the Jesuits in the late 18th century which witnessed the beginning of the end for the Reductions.
The Reductions were built to a common plan. The church dominated the main square, with all other buildings – colleges, hospitals, housing – being located on the remaining three sides. In the centre of the square, there was a cross and a statue of the mission’s patron saint. This plan is quite evident in the Trinidad Reduction where a substantial amount of the buildings remain. The main church, some living quarters and workshops still stand. The church boasts a baptismal font, an elaborate pulpit and numerous statues and stone carvings. These ruins are being restored and maintained constantly.
The local commuter bus dropped us off at the side of the main road in a village of a few houses and a shop, reminiscent of so many small country hamlets in Ireland. The signpost pointed up a cobbled road which led slowly to the hilltop site of the ruins. The stillness of the place is a most distinct feature. The red walls, arches and towers which rise out of the surrounding greenery are tranquil and silent, save for the odd tourist wandering amongst the remains. It is a very peaceful place.
Now, centuries later, the order and even purposefulness of the place can still be felt. It is a well-organised place. It was a place of life. It was a place of community. It was a place that offered a different model of interaction between the European settlers and native peoples. Centred on the church, the community, both Jesuit and native, lived, worked and prayed together. A sense of this remains.
Reflecting afterwards, I found it interesting that despite the ‘victory’ of the secular opponents over the missionary activities, the ruins, and all they symbolise, remain. The stories of the success of the communities, the vision of its founders and the hope they represented all live on. The Reductions, once the focus of jealousy and hatred by colonial authorities, are now a deeply treasured site of national pride for the Paraguayans and a protected place of history and heritage for all people.
Deeper reflection led me to realise links between these ruins and my own way of life. I began to see the remains as a symbol for how God works in my life. The solid and resilient red brick walls are a spiritual space, built on the most solid of foundations: the love of God. The Reductions, a peaceful and special place, were my spiritual space.
Unfortunately, like the story of the Reductions, I find that ‘secular’ forces in my life push away the spiritual. Time pressures, work, social engagements, financial concerns consume more and more of my time, often at the expense of the spiritual. However, when God leads me back, I find the spiritual space remains. No matter how far I have wandered or for how long, God is waiting for me. Despite my neglect, that spiritual space, like the ruins, remains standing firm and upright in perfect tranquillity.
Sometimes I fail to recognise God leading me, and the trek to the hilltop can be difficult, but like the father in the story of the Prodigal Son, God is always there for me (and for all of us), waiting and ready to welcome me with open arms. Then, I understand and value that spiritual space all the more.