By Guest Contributor Walter Walgraeve, Bishop Emeritus*
In recent years, Santa Muerte, the “Saint of Death,” has grown into a popular and powerful figure, especially in Mexico. People often turn to her when they seek help with health, love, or even protection in dangerous situations. But where did this mysterious figure come from?
One recent publication, a booklet by Father Robert Nixon, Doña Sebastiana: The Original Santa Muerte, makes an intriguing but bogus claim: it suggests that the roots of Santa Muerte trace back to a little-known figure from 17th-century Quito, Ecuador—Doña Sebastiana de Caso. But before we jump on board, there are some major issues with this theory. Let’s break it down in simple terms.
What’s the Big Idea?
Father Nixon argues that Doña Sebastiana, who lived a pious and tragic life in Ecuador, was the inspiration for the modern-day figure of Santa Muerte. According to him, Sebastiana’s devotion to death and her untimely passing after praying for it make her the perfect prototype for the death-focused Santa Muerte. He points out some similarities—like the fact that Sebastiana was known for praying for death and that Santa Muerte is also called “Doña Sebastiana” in some regions.
But when you look closer, there are several big problems with this theory.
Problem 1: Doña Sebastiana’s Real Roots in New Mexico and Colorado Have Been Established
In a 2020 Patheos piece Professor Andrew Chesnut, one of the leading academic experts on Santa Muerte, revealed new historical records establishing the connection between Santa Muerte and Doña Sebastiana among Mexican-American Catholic brotherhoods in the Rocky Mountain towns of northern New Mexico and southern Colorado. Hymns sung during Holy Week by the Penitentes make it clear that Doña Sebastiana was no mere allegorical figure representing death during Good Friday processions but rather an avatar of Santa Muerte whom they actually venerated.
Problem 2: Saints Aren’t Celebrated on Their Birthdays
One of the first red flags is how Nixon links the veneration of Santa Muerte to Doña Sebastiana’s birthday, which falls on August 15. In the Catholic tradition, saints aren’t typically honored on the day they were born—they’re celebrated on the day they die, marking the moment they enter eternal life. Nixon’s claim that Sebastiana’s birthday is key to understanding Santa Muerte’s feast day feels off. If Sebastiana were truly seen as a saint-like figure, we would expect her death date, not her birthday, to be the focus of any veneration.
Moreover, August 15 has never been an official feast day for Santa Muerte. While some groups celebrate her on this date, this is more of a modern practice started by disgraced devotional pioneer David Romo only two decades ago. If the date has any historical connection to any folk saint, it would be San La Muerte, not Santa Muerte. San La Muerte, another skeleton saint venerated in parts of Argentina, Paraguay, and Brazil, shares a similar name but is a distinct male figure with different cultural and historical roots.
Problem 3: Ecuador to Mexico? It Doesn’t Add Up
Perhaps the biggest issue is geography. Santa Muerte is Mexican. Her origins are deeply tied to Mexico’s culture, blending Catholic elements with ancient Indigenous beliefs about death. While Nixon suggests that this veneration began in Quito, Ecuador, he doesn’t provide a clear or convincing explanation for how it made the long journey to Mexico, where Santa Muerte is now primarily worshiped.
Santa Muerte has deep roots in pre-Hispanic Mexican culture, especially in its death-related deities, like Mictlantecuhtli, the Aztec god of death. After Spanish colonization, these Indigenous beliefs merged with Catholic practices to create something uniquely Mexican. It’s difficult to see how Doña Sebastiana, from Ecuador, could be the foundation for this rich and complex spiritual figure in Mexico without a clear historical pathway. Nixon’s theory seems to leap over centuries of Mexican history and cultural blending.
Problem 4: What About the Mexican Context?
Santa Muerte is more than just a figure of devotion—she’s tied to a specific social and cultural context. In Mexico, Santa Muerte is especially revered by those who live on the fringes of society: the poor, the marginalized, and even criminals. She’s often seen as a protector who doesn’t judge, offering help to anyone, no matter what their situation. This aspect of her veneration doesn’t really fit with Doña Sebastiana’s life story.
Nixon doesn’t address how Santa Muerte’s role in Mexican society developed or why she became such a powerful figure there, especially in modern times. The evolution of Santa Muerte seems to be driven by Mexico’s unique blend of Catholicism and Indigenous traditions, which are not mentioned in connection with Sebastiana’s life.
In Summary: Interesting Fiction
Father Nixon’s booklet is an interesting read, but it feels like it’s stretching to make connections that don’t add up. The theory that Santa Muerte originated with Doña Sebastiana raises more questions than it answers. Why would a figure from 17th-century Ecuador suddenly inspire a death cult in 21st-century Mexico? How did this devotion spread across countries and cultures with no clear link? And why does Nixon focus on Sebastiana’s birthday when the Catholic Church traditionally honors saints on the day of their death?
And importantly, let’s not forget: August 15 has never been an official feast day for Santa Muerte. If it is tied to any folk saint, that would be San La Muerte, a different figure entirely. This further weakens the link between Doña Sebastiana and Santa Muerte.
In the end, Santa Muerte’s origins are far more complex and deeply tied to Mexican culture than Nixon suggests. Her roots are a unique blend of Indigenous beliefs and Catholic influence, forming a figure that represents both fear and reverence for death in ways that make sense for Mexican society today. While Nixon’s book appears to add an interesting perspective to the discussion, it’s clear that it’s a work of fiction probably concocted as an attempt to appropriate the Bone Mother for the Catholic Church.
*Walter Walgraeve is Bishop Emeritus of the Old Roman Catholic Church of Flanders, Belgium. Follow him on Twitter.
Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In