Saturday, June 14, 2025

Casa Sacerdotal San Juan XXIII

 


The church beside Casa Sacerdotal San Juan XXIII rises in pale stone like an idea from another time. Arched colonnades, curved gables, and clay-tiled roofs—all hallmarks of the Mission style—make it look as if a piece of early California had drifted over the mountains and settled, peacefully but inexplicably, on the outskirts of Ciudad Juárez.

I found it both beautiful and out of place.

Mission Revival architecture has always carried with it a strange dualism. On the one hand, it speaks of simplicity, humility, and shelter. Born from the architectural forms of Franciscan missions in 18th-century Spanish California, it uses adobe lines, stucco walls, and terracotta roofs to evoke a spiritual and physical refuge—spaces where worship was quiet and walls were thick enough to withstand both heat and time. On the other hand, it is a style often draped in nostalgia for an imagined past—a romanticized colonial memory polished into elegance, detached from the messy complexities of the history it echoes.

The church here is functional. It shields its visitors from the desert sun. It welcomes both the priest in pain and the visitor in contemplation. It harmonizes with the Casa Sacerdotal in its restraint, its intention to be a place of rest and dignity. But it also feels like a set piece—transported from Santa Barbara or San Diego and gently placed in a city whose architectural rhythm is more utilitarian, more modern Mexican in its variety. In Juárez, a city of border crossings and industrial zones, this church looks almost theatrical, like a model of repose in a town built on motion.

That’s not a criticism. Only an observation. Architecture, like theology, is contextual. A building can be both shelter and statement. Perhaps the Mission style was chosen here not because it fit the neighborhood, but because it fit the mission: care for those who have spent a life in service. It is not trying to blend in; it is trying to offer sanctuary. A place out of place.

And isn’t that what the Casa itself is? A pause in the whirlwind. A monastery without vows. A hospice with liturgy.

In this way, the Mission style—its curved lines and warm stone—succeeds. It reminds us that beauty can still serve. That function and form, though not always in tune with their surroundings, can still hold space for grace.

I left the courtyard that evening thinking about how we choose our shelters. How we decide what home looks like. And whether being out of place is exactly what sacredness requires.