Deep in the Purépecha Plateau, nestled between the green folds of Michoacán’s forest and the echoes of ancient indigenous legends, lies a place where history and geology converge in haunting harmony: Viejo San Juan Parangaricutiro. Here, among fields of petrified lava, stands the partially buried church of a vanished town. Its ghostly silhouette, emerging from waves of black volcanic rock, is one of the most powerful testaments to nature’s force and the resilience of faith.
The story began on February 20, 1943, when Dionisio Pulido, a Purépecha farmer, witnessed cracks opening in the soil of his cornfield. Ash, hot gases, and flames soon erupted from the ground. Thus was born the Paricutin volcano, a geological event unprecedented in modern times. Over the next nine years, the volcano grew rapidly, spewing lava flows that destroyed everything in their path, including the town of San Juan Parangaricutiro, originally founded in the 16th century by Franciscan friars.
Paricutin remains one of the few volcanoes in history whose full life cycle was witnessed and scientifically documented. Geologists, volcanologists, and journalists from around the world flocked to Michoacán to observe the phenomenon. Meanwhile, the town’s residents were gradually evacuated, many relocating to what is now Nuevo San Juan Parangaricutiro, home today to one of Mexico’s best-organized indigenous communities.
Despite the volcanic fury, something miraculous happened: the Church of the Lord of Miracles was not completely destroyed. While lava buried homes and streets, the church’s structure endured. The western bell tower and part of the main altar remained above the surface, as if protected by some invisible force. Over the years, this image became a symbol: faith standing firm even when all else is lost.
Today, Viejo San Juan can be visited from Angahuan, a picturesque Purépecha village near Paricutin. The journey to the ruins can be made on foot or horseback, winding through a landscape that blends pine forest with hardened lava flows. The experience is singular: visitors find themselves immersed in a world seemingly frozen mid-transformation.
The trek, about an hour long, reveals the eruption’s dramatic aftermath: fissures, black rocks in whimsical shapes, vegetation reclaiming the terrain, and in the distance, the conical figure of Paricutin—now dormant but ever-present. Upon arriving at the church, the visual impact is immediate. Volcanic stones pile around the remaining structure, as if trying to bury what endures. And yet, the bell tower stands tall, and the altar, though weathered, still holds its dignity.
Despite its physical abandonment, the site retains its sacred character. Each year, pilgrims and locals organize walks, prayers, and religious celebrations in honor of the Lord of Miracles. The buried church becomes a stage for rituals blending Catholicism and ancestral Purépecha beliefs, a powerful expression of syncretic spirituality that has withstood both time and ash.
The story of Viejo San Juan is also etched into Mexico’s cultural memory. Paricutin has inspired legends, folk songs, and literary works. Some viewed its eruption as a divine message, a punishment, or a call to renewal. Whatever the interpretation, it deeply shaped the identity of the Purépecha communities, who rebuilt their lives while preserving their historical memory.
Today, the region also stands as a model for community-based and sustainable tourism. Residents of Angahuan and Nuevo San Juan offer guiding services, horseback tours, artisanal crafts, and local cuisine. Far from being a mass-tourism destination, Viejo San Juan remains a place of reflection, heritage, and reverence for the natural world.
Though no longer active, Paricutin still looms as a reminder of the earth’s unpredictable power. Its presence, and the surviving church, speak not only of destruction but of endurance and adaptation. In a world increasingly disconnected from the land and from history, Viejo San Juan Parangaricutiro offers a rare opportunity to rediscover awe—to remember that everything can change in an instant, and yet, something sacred may still remain.
