Antonio, Antonio… The story behind a small image
The image of San Antonio de Padua that a mysterious woman left more than a hundred years ago in the hands of Feliciana Carrillo. Photo: María del Refugio Reynozo.
By María del Refugio Reynozo Medina
They say that Saint Anthony of Padua helps you find what was lost and remember what was forgotten. Benita Lomelí Hernández grew up wrapped in the fervor of a 15-centimeter tall sharp-faced figure, which has belonged to her family since before she was born.
The origin of this small sculpture dates back more than a hundred years. In the town of El Sauz in the municipality of Jocotepec, Benita’s grandmother, Doña Feliciana Carrillo was in the courtyard taking the afternoon’s last sun, with a view of the road that crossed the town. In the distance, she could see the silhouette of a woman approaching.
The woman, after greeting Doña Feliciana, asked her if she would hold the package she was carrying. The woman told Doña Feliciana that she was on her way to San Luis Soyatlán, but that she would soon return for the package. Doña Feliciana could not see the woman’s face clearly as she wore a shawl covering her head and walked slowly. When Doña Feliciana’s daughter came out, she told her daughter what had happened. No one else could see the mysterious lady.
The small package fit in both hands and was wrapped in worn, time-stained scraps of cloth. “Take it up to the roof,» she asked her daughter, with a tone of respect for other people’s things. A few months passed, the woman did not return, and everyone forgot about the package.
Doña Feliciana’s house was the meeting point for personalities who sporadically passed through the village. It was a very remarkable house because it no longer had a dirt floor inside: it had cobblestones, tiles and a fireplace. On one occasion when a priest arrived to do evangelization work, Doña Feliciana remembered the package that the woman had given her to keep and that she had never dared to open. With the priest as a witness, they took the package down from the attic.
The parish priest was removing the layers of battered cloth one by one until a fine figure was revealed. “It is St. Anthony of Padua,» he told them. “What was lost and forgotten will return when they implore him to do so.”
Doña Feliciana was impressed, for her the image was alien. “Take care of it, it is yours,» the father told her. He also asked Doña Feliciana to celebrate it every June 13. “That woman will not come back,» he told them with certainty.
Some said that the person who gave the precious image to Doña Feliciana was not from this world. She never appeared again, and no one else besides Feliciana could ever see her. Her presence was a mirage, but the fine figure of St. Anthony of Padua was real. From the moment he was discovered among the cloth rags, Benita’s grandmother entrusted the image to her youngest son, who was then three years old.
When that three-year-old boy came of age and got married, his brothers came to give him the oxen, goats and corn cribs after the three days of the wedding. “You will know if you take care of your capital,» they said. Along with this, they also gave Benita’s father the sculpture of San Antonio, as was his mother’s wish.
That is how Benita grew up, with the veneration of the saint professed by her parents who guarded the image that came from who knows where. That faith spread to the neighbors who began to visit Benita’s house to pray for their lost causes and then to carry candles in gratitude for all that was found.
Benita remembers a prayer said by her mother:
Antonio, Antonio, in Padua you were born, in Padua you were raised, you went to school, your prayer book was thrown away, your father found it for you. Antonio, Antonio, the lost is found and the past is remembered. Antonio, Antonio forever. AMEN.
The image of Saint Anthony that Benita now keeps is made of a single piece of wood, carved by unknown hands. The statue’s facial features are fine, at the waist of his Franciscan habit he wears a tight cord, and in his arms he carries a child of barely four centimeters in length.
This particular little boy was bought by Benita’s mother, who has lost count of the number of children replaced because the original was stolen. “They stole my child again,» she would say to the sales clerks at the religious articles store when she went to replace the small statue. “They think he will bring them a boyfriend, but St. Anthony does not give boyfriends,» she said. “[For] good husbands one must ask St. Joseph.”
Every June 13, in Benita’s house, candles are lit and fresh flowers are placed in honor of the little image full of history that brings back what was lost and reminds us of what was forgotten. And Benita along with those of the faithful neighbors invoke the Saint of Padua:
Antonio, Antonio, Antonio…
Translated by MaryAnne Marble
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