The quintessential American saint who was never an American

Junípero Serra Ferrer, OFM, died on August 28, 1784, almost seven decades before California became a U.S. state. But it is certainly fitting for Catholics to consider him an American saint. After all, he lived a holy life as a missionary priest in unexplored territory in the American West. Learning the facts about his life only makes it easier for us to point out the many flaws in modern attacks on the value of his accomplishments.

He was born in 1713 on Mallorca, an island about 125 miles off the coast of Spain. His parents, who were poor but faithful Catholics, gave him the name of Miguel José Serra Ferrer. They sent their fifteen-year-old son to study at the university in the capital city of Palma, and two years later, he entered the Franciscan order. He took the name of Junípero in religious life, after the famous disciple of Saint Francis of Assisi.

Young Junípero longed to bring the Good News of Jesus Christ to people who had never heard the Gospel. However, he had proved himself to be such an excellent student that his superiors decided that he could best serve the Franciscan order at a desk in Spain rather than in a faraway country. For several years, Junípero obediently worked as a scholar and theology professor. But he periodically reminded his superiors of his willingness to go anywhere they wanted to send him as a missionary.

For two centuries before Junípero’s birth, Europeans had been exploring North and South America, and Spain controlled what is now Mexico. While many people in Spain primarily saw the Americas as a source of wealth, the Church was more concerned about the millions of native Americans who did not know Jesus Christ.

With the miraculous assistance of Our Lady of Guadalupe in 1531, millions of native Americans embraced the Gospel. Over the years, Spanish explorers continued to find native tribes as they traveled throughout the uncharted territory of New Spain. While soldiers were looking for assets for the Spanish Crown, the missionary priests who accompanied them were looking for souls to win for Christ.

Junípero dutifully spent more than a decade as a scholar, convincing many in Spain of his intellectual gifts. Finally, at the age of thirty-six, the order sent him to Mexico. His voyage by ship took much longer than usual, and he and his companions faced hunger, thirst, and a terrible storm before they safely reached the New World.

When he finally arrived in Veracruz, Father Junípero chose to walk 300 miles to Mexico City rather than ride on horseback out of obedience to the Franciscan rule. (Some might argue that Saint Francis’ prohibition of traveling by horse except in extreme circumstances was more appropriate for settled European countries than for the unexplored wilderness of the New World.) As he walked, Serra was bitten by something; some sources say it was a snake, while others say it was a mosquito. He survived the bite, but he walked with a limp for the rest of his life as a result.

Several months later, Junípero and Franciscan priest Francisco Palóu (who became his longtime companion and later wrote his biography) were sent to live in a mission serving the Pame Indians in the Sierra Gorda mountains. Many of the Pame had been baptized, but they had been without a priest for some time. Serra and Palóu had to first learn the language of the Pame, and then Serra wrote a simple catechism for them in their own language.

Serra, who had been raised on a farm, taught the men about farm work, crops, and animal husbandry. The women were happy to learn about spinning, weaving, and sewing so they could make clothing for themselves and their families. The friars also helped native farmers learn how to trade their goods at a local market and protected them from being cheated. While the Pame had been hunter-gatherers before the arrival of the Spaniards, they had already recognized the advantages of living in the mission rather than outside it. That is, native families were able to live in better homes, they were protected from danger, and they were able to grow enough food to last them through the winter.

Although Serra showed himself to be an excellent administrator in this mission and others, he was, first and foremost, a priest. Having mastered the Pame’s language, he frequently and movingly preached to his flock about Christ’s suffering and man’s sinfulness. Today, we might say his approach as a homilist was overly emotional, but it was his approach, and it worked. Serra also helped his people incarnate their faith by teaching them to sing hymns, reenacting the Nativity story with them, and holding devotional processions of the Stations of the Cross.

Serra was assigned to other missions and large cities over the next two decades. He developed a reputation as a grave, simple, and direct man. He was also a stern reformer who had little tolerance for bad Catholics, particularly among the rich. For example, he was particularly annoyed by the widespread practice of wealthy ladies being served hot chocolate by their servants during Mass. Out of modesty, Fr. Serra rarely interacted with women, which made him seem distant and did not earn their affection. But even his detractors admired his ascetic personal life, sincerity, and courage in confronting injustice.

Serra was fifty-six years old when he began the greatest adventure of his life: the establishment and re-establishment of missions in what is now California.

While both Franciscan and Jesuit missionaries had been serving in the New World for many years, it was the Jesuits who had established many missions in Lower California. However, in 1767, King Charles III of Spain banished Jesuits from Spain and Spanish colonies. After the Jesuits obediently left these territories, Franciscans were sent to replace them.

For the rest of his long life, Serra accompanied expeditions throughout California. Each expedition typically included a division of soldiers, along with farmers, artisans, and Franciscan friars. Under the direction of the highest-ranking military officer, the group would travel to existing missions or establish new ones and develop a relationship with the nearest native tribes. These bases had military significance for Spain, of course. But it was hoped that the territory would become self-sufficient by growing crops on the fertile land of California. Under Serra’s leadership, the missions eventually not only produced enough food to be self-supporting, they were able to trade with cities in Mexico with their surplus.

Serra had mixed relationships with the military leaders to whom he was assigned. All of them, as Spaniards, respected him as a priest and as the leader of the Franciscans. Some recognized his insights into the native peoples and accepted his advice. Others were more concerned about their careers than about the rights of the Indians. Serra constantly fought for the native peoples to be treated with respect. During one particularly contentious disagreement with the military commander, he traveled all the way back to Mexico. There he laid his case before the Spanish viceroy, who quickly decided in Serra’s favor on almost every point.

Unlike the native Americans in the northeastern U.S., the natives of California were not typically warlike. However, the mild climate also made them somewhat careless about obtaining food. It was a slower process to teach them the benefits of learning agriculture and trades, as Serra had done in Mexico.

The men also walked around completely nude. (The friars were relieved to discover that the women, at least, wore clothing.) While the friars respected their cultural traditions, some traditions—such as stealing, superstition, and polygamy—couldn’t be ignored. Serra also served as a peacemaker to prevent and settle occasional flare-ups of violence between soldiers and the native peoples.

Serra is credited with founding nine missions in California, and he had a good eye for identifying the best location. That’s why people today have heard of some of his most important missions: San Diego, San Francisco, San Luis Obispo, and Santa Clara. Most importantly to him, thousands of Indians were baptized and confirmed under his leadership.

By 1784, the seventy-one-year-old friar had earned the love of the native peoples and the respect of the Spaniards. He knew when death was drawing near and patiently prepared for it. He accepted the ineffective treatments proposed by the doctors and died a holy death on August 28. (His feast is celebrated on July 1 in the U.S.) Afterwards, those who had known him were so convinced of his holiness that a guard had to be placed near his body to try to prevent people from snipping relics from his tattered habit.

Although he was beatified in 1988 and canonized in 2015, some have complained in recent years about Serra’s legacy. There was even a spate of decapitations of statues of Serra in 2017 and 2020. These voices claim that because of Serra and other Spanish settlers in California, the native peoples were forced to abandon their spiritual practices and traditional way of life.

It is clear that Serra and the friars respected native cultures and did their best to adapt the Gospel message to those cultures, not to destroy them. For a Christian, it is clear that the offer of eternal salvation is the greatest of all gifts, greater than the unclear benefits of superstitions and taboos. As for the changes to their traditional way of life, well, it is hard to see how the native peoples benefited from their higher rates of starvation and malnutrition before they learned farming techniques.

Others complain that thousands of natives died from diseases, such as smallpox, which were brought by the Europeans. However, there is no evidence that Spaniards intentionally tried to kill native Americans through sickness. The only way to prevent that sad outcome would have been—and remains—the prohibition of all international travel.

The worst period for the native peoples of California began decades after Serra’s death. As the mission system fell apart and the native peoples no longer had the protection of a leader like Serra, they were deprived of their land, died from exposure and diseases, and were in constant conflict with settlers.

On the other hand, one may validly complain that Junípero Serra often treated the native Americans like children. He saw himself as their spiritual father, after all. Yet, in some ways, they were like children. Completely unaware of Spanish law and lacking in authority, they needed someone with diplomatic skills to protect them from abuse and mistreatment, someone who could peacefully and effectively demand that they be treated with human dignity. In that role, Serra was essential, even if he was not always able to make soldiers behave like Christians.

Serra’s fatherly patience extended to more mundane situations. For example, when members of a tribe stole his eyeglasses from him—something that he could not live without and could not replace in the California wilderness—he did not retaliate or lose his temper. He realized that they did not know any better.

For all these reasons, Saint Junípero Serra was a true American saint even before there was an America. He was an eager pioneer a century before wagon trains crossed the Rocky Mountains. He insisted on justice, even though he was far from any European judge. And he lived out his belief that all men (and women) are created equal, in God’s sight.