Luis Navarro Origel: The First Cristero

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LUIS NAVARRO ORIGEL: The First Cristero
Part III

Theresa Marie Moreau | July 28, 2024

The next morning, September 28, in a daring confrontation, Navarro led his brothers – Ignacio, Jesus, Manuel – and others to take Penjamo at gunpoint, annihilating the well-equipped government forces and re-establishing the Church in the town.

The next morning, the 29th, exhausted, dirty, already war-weary, he stealthily returned to his family, for a final goodbye. Never would there be another. After placing himself under the protection of Saint Michael the Archangel – Guardian of the Church, Champion of Justice, Spiritual Warrior in the Battle of Good versus Evil – Navarro tore himself from his home, forever, that morning, the saint’s Feast Day.

For eight days – without food, without sleep – he and his men battled the Socialist forces. Victorious despite the overwhelming odds against them, they took Cueramero and then Barajas. But as they neared Corralejo, General Jose Amarillas Valenzuela (1878-1959) ambushed them as they crossed the railroad tracks.

One of the Navarro brothers, Jesus, nicknamed “Chucho,” fell from his horse and played dead. Although trodden by the cavalry of the Callistas, he survived, and when fighting ended, he escaped and headed north, to the United States of America, with brother Manuel. Navarro fled with brother Ignacio to the mountains of Michoacan, on Cerro de Tancitaro, where they found refuge at a sawmill, owned by their cousins, Leopolde and Daniel Navarro.

As soon as Navarro arrived, he contacted the League, informing them that he was ready to receive help, with manpower and firepower. But headquarters had neither men nor weapons to send and encouraged him to go ahead, with whatever means he had to fight.


Amidst the lonely and quiet times, a yearning Navarro wrote love letters to Carmen. In his writings of February 6, 1927, he poetically addressed her as “my wife, my only and passionate love, the love of my life, the life of my life, my holy companion since my childhood.”

But he remained steadfast and faced the enemy, nearly alone, with just his small unit of troops, until January 1, 1927, when Rene Capistran Garza (1898-1974) – head of the League – issued a manifesto, “A la Nacion,” which declared, “The hour of battle has sounded,” announcing its organization was ready for an armed movement against the tyrannical regime.

With that declaration, areas of Mexico exploded, including Jalisco, giving rise to the Cristeros, so-named by the regime for their invocation of Christ. Initially intended as a term of derision, the religious militia delighted in the sobriquet and readily adopted it for themselves.

For the Catholic soldiers of Christ, faith formed an important part of military discipline. Divisions of the National Liberation Army elevated obedience to the supernatural, spiritual level, adopting codes of conduct, such as the following:

1. To render an official, public and solemn homage to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, sovereign King of our army, and to humbly and lovingly consecrate to Him all the works and all the persons of this division;

2. To never omit, under any pretext, the daily group recitation of the rosary to the Blessed Virgin Mary of Guadalupe, and to accord this observance the same priority as a strict disposition of military regulation;

3. Whenever possible, to arrange things to allow all the leaders, officers and soldiers to officially fulfill the precepts of Sunday worship, Confession and Communion; and

4. To guarantee Divine protection during the battles by making the army and the Catholics prepare themselves by humble, confident prayer and by recommending making acts of perfect contrition.

In an attempt to squash the rebellion, Calles ordered the execution of the leaders of the National League for the Defense of Religious Liberty, viewed as enemies of the State. Capistran evaded capture and slipped across the border into the United States; however, authorities caught attorney Anacleto Gonzalez Flores (1888-1927), falsely charged him with murder and tortured him: hanged him by his thumbs until pulled from their sockets, slashed the bottom of his feet, punctured his body with bayonets and broke bones with rifle butts.

Tormented, bloodied, stabbed, flayed, broken, Anacleto Gonzalez Flores attempted to sit up in his final moments of life, on April 1, 1927, leaving his torturers and executioners with his final words before the tiro de gracia: “I die, but God does not! Viva Cristo Rey!”

Days later, upon Navarro’s return to the battlefield, in Coalcoman, on April 6, he named his First Brigade the Anacleto Gonzalez Flores Brigade, in honor of the martyr. Feeling his own impending death, he wrote a sweet-yet-sorrowful letter, dated April 8, to his wife, saying good bye “until when God wants, which will be very soon, anyway!”

During his first meeting with Coalcoman’s parish priest Father Jose Maria Martinez and parishioners – who had never given up the faith or the exercise thereof – he explained about the breadth and depth of the corruption in the government – comprising of assassins and thieves – that persecuted not only religious believers but violated basic human rights. He suggested that they form a true government to oppose the violent and cruel reign.

In response to his proposal, on April 23, 1927, the residents of Coalcoman declared themselves not in rebellion, but independent of the Calles government. Navarro – under the nombre de guerra General Fermin Gutierrez, Soldier of Mary – sent the declaration to the governor and then placed Catholics in charge of the administration, reopened schools and suppressed public sins.

Coalcoman was to serve as headquarters for Navarro – one of the division generals in the National Liberation Army, stationed in the designated Southwest Division: the Michoacan coast region, from Colima to Guerrero. In order to maintain control of Coalcoman, he decided it was necessary to take nearby Aguilillas, Chinicuila and Tepalcatepec.

The next day, April 24, word reached him that federal troops had settled in Aguilillas, posing a definite threat. Navarro decided to attack. He and his 300-man-strong AGF Brigade surreptitiously snuck into the town of Aguilillas at dawn routing the regime’s men without firing a single shot. In celebration, the Cristeros rapturously rang the church bells, surprising residents, who realized they were freed from their oppressors. Joyful, they cheered at the tolling, silenced for so long, for it had become a criminal offense to even ring the bells.

“Solemn Mass will be celebrated in the church, followed by a public procession. Finally, you are going to breathe the air of freedom! Finally, there is a place in the Mexican nation where you can freely worship God!” Navarro announced.

Parishioners near and far filled the church. The national flag was laid at the foot of the altar. Navarro, the liberating general, and his brother Ignacio sat in the front, surrounded by his men. During Mass, at the time of the elevation, the soldiers of Christ presented arms, a salute of respect with weapons.

During the procession – a public affirmation of the faith through the town’s streets, with the Blessed Sacrament at the head, under a baldacchino, a processional canopy – parishioners sang an old, Mexican eucharistic hymn:

Host, sun of love,
Your light inflames the heart of loyal Mexico,
The heart of a people who love you,
The heart of a town that acclaims you
At your step, your triumphant step.

Next, Navarro focused on the taking of Tepalcatepec, where he hoped to replenish their war chests.

The Tierra Caliente, the Hot Land, was controlled by two outlaws: Serapio “Guarachudo” Cifuentes and “El Perro” Ibanez, who respected absolutely no one, with one exception: the parish priest. During an arranged meeting between the two bandits and Navarro at a ranch near Las Animas, the two men agreed to follow and submit to his command.

To attack Tepalcatepec, Navarro had 200 troops; the two outlaws had 200; and a local rancher in Coalcoman, Colonel Ezequiel Mendoza Barragan (1893-?), had 100 ranchers ready to join at a moment’s notice. Grand total: 500, mostly undertrained, poorly armed men, who thrived with spiritual inspiration.

Before daybreak on the morning of May 2, 1927, hundreds of men prepared for the attack on Tepalcatepec. They fell to their knees and prayed the rosary, with the Ave Marias and Padre Nuestros soaring above the hot, still, black night under the new moon that concealed the men under its 0 percent illumination, perfect for the impending assault. Standing, they recited their morning prayers, received spiritual communion, offered their day and their lives to God and asked for the grace of martyrdom. Each man received two ribbons, blue for the color of Mary, one to put on their hats and one to put on the right sleeves of their white shirts.

Lacking ammunition against a well-armed force, the best plan was to launch a surprise attack to catch the enemy off guard. At dawn, the two outlaws entered the town of Tepalcatepec. Surprised, they found it, seemingly, totally abandoned by its inhabitants. As Serapio raised a flag and took over City Hall, the rest of the troops sauntered in. But, around noon, the Callista soldiers suddenly stormed the town, attacking from all sides. Overwhelmed, the Cristeros fled.

After retreating and regrouping, they later took the town of Chinicuila.

And then Navarro rallied his troops to once again attack Tepalcatepec. On May 29, fighting ensued, street by street, corner by corner, house by house, until they reached the church. For three days, they exchanged gunfire until they broke the siege of the federal troops and agraristas and took the town, triumphant after a humiliating defeat.

From there, Navarro and his men marched month after month, engaging in battles, village after village. In the nomadic existence with no creature comforts and little food except rice and the occasional morisqueta, life was difficult and lonely.

After months of receiving not a parcel, not a letter, not even a postcard from his wife because of his constant moving from one transit camp to another, Navarro received a package, on September 15, 1927. Only after offering his unopened gift at the foot of the altar, he gently, lovingly unfolded the sheets of paper and read how his youngest child, Rafael, had died in the arms of his mother, who had to sell their last calf, just to bury him.

Grieved, he immediately wrote to his wife, “The soul that the Lord had lent to us and entrusted to our care for a short time, He has already collected from us to make him a participant in his own infinite happiness forever.”

While marching through the rough terrain from town to town, battle to battle, he often expressed his grief, with his beautiful voice, singing ranchera songs from his homeland. His favorite, “Las Cuatro Milpas” (“The Four Cornfields”):

“Only four cornfields remain
“From the little ranch that was mine, ay, ay! ay, ay,
“And that little house so white and pretty
“How sad it is.”

Lyrics depicted the gut-wrenching devastation incurred by the Revolution. The 1926 piece, mournful and melancholic, composed by Belisario de Jesus Garcia de la Garza (1894-1952), a soldier in the one-time Carrancista ranks, painted a picture of the bleakness of the countryside, a true representation of life in Mexico amidst the desolation.

And then, another political earthquake: the assassination of Obregon, on July 17, 1928, shortly after his re-election to the presidency following Calles’ four-year stint in office. Although the regime pinned the killing on the Cristeros, a rumor failed to die that Calles had actually ordered the hit.

Weeks later, Navarro learned that Callista troops – under the command of General Rodrigo M. Quevedo Moreno (1889-1967) – headed his way.

August 9, 1928. The first combat. Navarro with only 13 men.

The next day, August 10, proved ominous as the Feast of Saint Lawrence (225-258), a Catholic deacon martyred after Emperor Valerian (born Publius Licinius Valerianus, c. 199-c. 264) ordered the immediate execution of all clergy: bishops, priests, deacons.

After receiving Communion and offering their day and their lives to God around 7 that morning, the men clashed with the Callistas, on Cerro de las Higuerillas, near Pihuanto, in Jalisco. Surrounded by the enemy, Navarro continued to fight, at close range. At his side, his brother Ignacio, his assistant Alejandro Larios, Major Filiberto Calvario and Bernardino Gonzalez.

“Adelante!” he yelled, his favorite rallying cry. “Forward!”

A shot rang out. Navarro stumbled, losing his footing.

“My general is wounded!” Larios yelled, grabbing Navarro by one arm. Gonzalez grabbed the other, as Calvario continued firing at the Callistas, keeping them at bay.

With head bent slightly forward, he staggered with difficulty until his men were able to lay him down, on the bare ground, behind a rock, out in the open.

“Where are you wounded?” Ignacio asked, kneeling.

Navarro’s forehead, covered in sweat. Upon his lips, a smile of immense joy. With both hands, he lifted his blood-soaked coat, exposing the bullet hole, exactly over his heart.

“Brother of my soul,” Ignacio said, kissing the dying man’s forehead twice, thinking of their mother and of his brother’s wife and children.

“Go. Go ahead,” he whispered, encouraging his brother to welcome his eternal fate, the same fate that he would face eight months later, on April 3, 1929.

Ignacio returned to the fight. Minutes later, he saw his wounded brother hobbling down the hill.

“There goes someone very well dressed!” cried out a Callista, raising his gun and shooting Navarro, who collapsed upon the ground and rolled down the hill. At the bottom, his limp body came to a rest.

A vengeful Larios pointed his gun and shot the murderous Callista dead.

Unable to reach their general until the enemy retreated, Ignacio and Larios ran to Navarro and picked up his lifeless body, with a beatific glow of happiness on his lips and on his face.

He was 31.

Ever-loyal, his men sent for Father Octaviano Marino and carried their martyred leader – the First Cristero – from the violence of the battlefield, to their camp in the little valley of Christ the King, singing “Te Deum,” a hymnal praise of God. They established an Honor Guard to keep the all-night vigil, a post-death, pre-interment rite.

Before the celebration of the funeral Mass and burial accompanied by a Funeral Guard, Ignacio reverently removed his brother’s blood-stained clothing, relics of his holy death. Among the dead man’s possessions, a wallet.

Tucked inside, a small note, written many years before, during the Saint Ignatian retreat, with a simple, heartfelt message: “My God, may I be a martyr.”



Miscellanea and facts were pulled from the following:

“Antagonistic Narcissism and Psychopathic Tendencies,” by Eric Dolan. “Apocalypse et Revolution au Mexique: La Guerre des Cristeros (1926-1929),” by Jean Meyer. “The Black Czar: Plutarco Elias Calles, Bolshevik Dictator of Mexico,” translated from the Spanish of Francisco Gomez del Rey and Hernan Diaz by Fr. John Moclair. “Boceto de un Gran Caracter: Luis Navarro Origel,” by Editorial Libertad. “Bomb Exploded in Home of Mexican Archbishop,” by Associated Press. “Congressional Record: Proceedings and Debates of the First Session of the Seventy-Fourth Congress of the United States, Volume 79 – Part 2, January 30, 1935, to February 20, 1935.” “Experiences and Observations of an American Consular Officer During the Recent Mexican Revolutions,” by Will. B. Davis. “Historical Data of the Elias,” by Rosa Albina Garavito Elias. “Luis Navarro Origel: El Primer Cristero,” by Martin Chowell (possible nom de plume of Alfonso Trueba Olivares). “Marxism and Anarchism in the Formation of the Mexican Communist Party, 1910-19,” by Barry Carr. “Red Mexico: A Reign of Terror in America,” by Captain Francis McCullagh. “Retributive Justice in Mexico,” by Adolphe de Castro. “Roberto Haberman Dead at 79; Founder of Mexican Labor Unit,” Special to the New York Times, March 5, 1962. “The Rosalie Evans Letters from Mexico,” arranged with comment by Daisy Caden Pettus.

Theresa Marie Moreau, an award-winning reporter, is the author of Martyrs in Red China; An Unbelievable Life: 29 Years in Laogai; Misery & Virtue; and Blood of the Martyrs: Trappist Monks in Communist China.