WORTHINGTON, Minn., (AP) 鈥� With their sparkling embroideries and colorful sashes flapping in the frigid wind, hundreds of Guatemalan faithful flocked to the Catholic church of this heartland farming town to celebrate their biggest festival yet in honor of the Black Christ of Esquipulas.
Just days before the start of a U.S. administration that鈥檚 promised a swift crackdown, they turned with hope and pride to the statue of the crucified Jesus, an elaborately carved replica of the most venerated image in their tropical homeland. Church members had it especially commissioned and brought from Guatemala at enormous expense, along with two massive marimbas. No feast is complete without these musical instruments.
鈥淭he Black Christ of Esquipulas has come taking planes and crossing borders like us,鈥� said Lucas L贸pez. Fourteen years ago, he , one of Guatemala鈥檚 poorest regions, where communities nonetheless also organized festivals this week.
L贸pez and his wife, Mar铆a Ram铆rez, are now raising their four children in Worthington, a by international migration. With his salary from the pork processing plant job for which he awakes daily at 4:20 a.m., the couple recently bought their first home a few blocks from church.
At Sunday鈥檚 Mass that launched the daylong celebration, L贸pez and Ram铆rez 鈥� wearing sequined and embroidered huipil and skirt, colorful ribbons tied in her hair 鈥� led a dozen faithful in a traditional barefoot dance bringing the offerings to the altar.
鈥淲e鈥檙e so happy to show that we are here, with our American dream, and also to share our culture with others,鈥� L贸pez said.
One crucifix for many countries 鈥� and their migrants
The original crucifix dates back to the late 16th century, and its feast day on January 15 draws thousands of pilgrims to the basilica in Esquipulas, a city on . On Sunday, Cardinal Fabio Baggio, long the head of the Vatican鈥檚 migrants department, will also celebrate a special Esquipulas Mass at St. Peter鈥檚.
From New Mexico to Panama, and throughout Guatemala, nearly 300 churches are devoted to its veneration, making the image a source of communal identity even beyond its religious meaning, said Douglass Sullivan-Gonz谩lez, a University of Mississippi history professor.
He added that it鈥檚 been intertwined in modern Central American politics, from Indigenous rights 鈥� because centuries of candle smoke have given it a darker skin tone 鈥� to civil wars.
鈥淭he image itself comes alive in its context,鈥� Sullivan-Gonz谩lez said.
For many in Worthington, that context is migration. Gratitude they made it to the United States, whether twelve months or two dozen years ago, mingles with nostalgia for customs and loved ones left behind.
The community includes undocumented migrants, asylum seekers and U.S. citizens, so apprehension over who will get to stay and for how long mixed with the pride of having pulled off a genuinely Guatemalan celebration some 2,500 miles (4,080 kilometers) away.
鈥淭he immigration police is coming already!鈥� joked Benigno Miranda when an empty passenger van pulled up by the house where he and other church members had gathered to prepare the two marimbas to be transported to . That鈥檚 what the van was really for.
鈥淥ne can鈥檛 be afraid all the time,鈥� added Miranda, reflecting widespread sentiment among those celebrating the festivities that God will decide their destinies more than shifting politics and policies.
Working a miracle to bring a sacred image to Minnesota
After all, the Black Christ of Esquipulas is known for miracles 鈥� as long as one truly has faith, choir member Lilia Soto said.
She remembers going to visit the sanctuary in Esquipulas with her grandmother before she came to Minnesota at 17 鈥� and also recalls how, shortly afterward, an Immigration and Customs Enforcement raid at Worthington's meatpacking plant had many migrants terrified to leave their homes.
But now the Black Christ is here at St. Mary鈥檚 鈥� normally hanging on a wall by the entrance, though for the festivities it was mounted on a processional float decorated with the same kaleidoscopic fabrics as the women鈥檚 dresses.
鈥淲hen they were getting it down, I basically went running to give it a hug,鈥� Soto said.
That made it even better than in Esquipulas, where the image is untouchable behind glass, she said.
鈥淚t鈥檚 like having a little piece of Guatemala in this church,鈥� added Dilma P茅rez, her fellow choir member.
P茅rez and her brother Sergio came to Worthington from San Marcos 鈥� where their parents regularly took them to church, but couldn鈥檛 afford to travel to Esquipulas 鈥� more than two dozen years ago, when she was a teen and he about 9.
Now P茅rez and her husband have three U.S.-born children, and also relatives in Guatemala who still depend on their remittances because wages in their region hover around $6 a day. They both work in a pork processing plant 45 minutes away by car.
Nevertheless, one taco and tamale sale at a time, the family led the community鈥檚 effort over the last three years to fundraise the nearly $40,000 needed to have an artist in Esquipulas sculpt the statue, to buy the wooden marimbas, and to get them to Worthington.
鈥淲e sacrificed a lot,鈥� Sergio P茅rez said Sunday afternoon, after serving the celebration鈥檚 free taco lunch in the parish school cafeteria and before playing guitar in the hours-long prayer service. 鈥淚t鈥檚 been somewhat physically exhausting, but spiritually I feel strengthened.鈥�
Keeping traditions alive for future generations
For many diaspora communities, while integrating in the life of the local church is crucial for the faith of future generations, said Jennifer Hughes, a history professor at the University of California, Riverside.
In the villages in San Marcos that also celebrated festivals this week for the Black Christ of Esquipulas, some participants lamented losing many youth to migration.
鈥淯nfortunately, our people have to migrate to get ahead,鈥� said Freddy De Le贸n, a dancer in one of the processions.
But ties remain, also through remittances. The sister of another organizer, Luis Ram铆rez, watched a live Facebook video of their hamlet's festivities from her New Jersey home.
鈥淭hat's how the tradition continues,鈥� he said.
In Worthington, where students of color constitute more than 80% of those enrolled in K-12 and speak more than 40 languages, children are growing accustomed to intercultural mixing.
Downtown, a flyer advertising the celebration in Spanish hung in a Guatemalan corner store, three blocks from where lifelong residents ice fished in the middle of frozen Lake Okabena.
That鈥檚 one thing Ram铆rez isn鈥檛 eager to try, though the cold no longer fazes her. Her prayers to the Lord of Esquipulas center on a binational future for her family 鈥� that they can one day travel to Guatemala without losing the grip on their American dream.
During Mass, the procession of the crucifix to the altar was preceded by dancers carrying flags 鈥� that of Guatemala and the Stars and Stripes next to each other in the center 鈥� and accompanied by the marimba tune of 鈥淥ur Lord of Esquipulas.鈥�
鈥淚t was very emotional. It鈥檚 what we鈥檝e learned since our birth,鈥� said one of the players, Antulio Juarez. He鈥檚 spent 12 years in Worthington, but learned marimba music by ear from his grandfather in Guatemala鈥檚 volcanic highlands.
Sergio P茅rez hopes the opportunity to hear this music will help keep the festival growing for years. Beyond that, he asks for no other miracles.
鈥淚 don鈥檛 ask him for anything, because I feel that he鈥檚 already blessed me so much,鈥� he said of the Esquipulas image.
His sister Dilma was equally self-effacing 鈥� and trusting.
鈥淔aith is what keeps us going no matter what life confronts us with,鈥� she said. 鈥淲e don鈥檛 do it to please anybody but God.鈥�
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Associated Press photographer Moises Castillo in Guatemala, contributed.
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Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP鈥檚 with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.
Giovanna Dell'orto, The Associated Press
