Latour uses a metaphor and an allusion to reflect on the significance of the Ácoma rock, which represents permanence, identity, and community for the people who live on it:
The rock, when one came to think of it, was the utmost expression of human need; even mere feeling yearned for it; it was the highest comparison of loyalty and love and friendship. Christ Himself had used that comparison for the disciple to whom he gave the keys of His Church. And the Hebrews of the Old Testament, always being carried captive into foreign lands,—their rock was an idea of God, the only thing their conquerors could not take from them.
The metaphor Cather uses here is multi-layered. She depicts the “rock” as a symbol of permanence and identity for the Ácoma people: essentially, it’s the physical embodiment of the Ácoma community’s spirit. This metaphor highlights the rock's deep-rootedness and quality of unyieldingness. It also mirrors the steadfastness and resilience of the people who live upon it. Additionally, the rock serves as a larger metaphor for the land contested during the Mexican-American War. It reflects the struggles over territory and the disruptions faced by the Native communities of that contested area. It takes on an additional significance in this context, as something unshakeable and enduring amidst turmoil and change.
Furthermore, Latour also makes two significant biblical allusions here. Just as Christ referred to Peter as the "rock" upon which he would build his church in the Christian Bible, the Ácoma rock is the foundation of community for the people who live on and around it. This allusion adds a spiritual dimension to the metaphor. Cather suggests a parallel between the steadfast faith represented by Peter and the enduring strength of the Ácoma rock. Latour also references the Hebrews in the Old Testament, for whom the idea of God was their "rock," an unassailable part of their identity that could not be taken from them even in captivity. This adds yet another layer to the metaphor. In manifold ways, the Ácoma rock is a symbol of spiritual endurance and unyielding belief.
Father Martinez employs a metaphor as he tries to explain to Latour why he and the other priests in the area don’t adhere to the rules of poverty and celibacy the Church demands. Through this metaphor, he emphasizes the “living” and self-sustaining nature of their version of Catholicism, in contrast to the "dead arm" of the European church:
We have a living church here, not a dead arm of the European church. Our religion grew out of the soil, and has its own roots. We pay a filial respect to the person of the Holy Father, but Rome has no authority here. We do not require aid from the Propaganda, and we resent its interference. The Church the Franciscan Fathers planted here was cut off; this is the second growth, and it is indigenous.
The metaphor likens the church in New Mexico—which Martinez sees himself as representing—to a living entity that has grown organically from the local soil. Martinez's version of the church has its own roots, and they are deeply embedded in the community. What he says here implies that Catholic faith in New Mexico is more than a mere transplant from Europe. In order to fit into the local context, it has adapted and found ways to thrive. This “living” church is actively engaged with the "real" life and needs of the people it serves. Martinez explains to a horrified Latour that while he and priests like him pay a “filial” (or son-like) respect to the Pope, the Roman church has “no authority” over what they do.
Martinez's metaphor essentially conveys the idea that the Catholic church established by the Franciscan Fathers was "cut off" or disconnected from local life. He is suggesting that it did not take root as deeply as the second growth because of this. This second growth is "indigenous," meaning it is self-starting and directly pertains to life in the village. He tries to explain to Latour that things which might seem shocking and blasphemous to him are actually a part of his religious practice. Changing the tenets of his faith, in Martinez’s view, has allowed the “indigenous” church to take a strong hold.
As Bishop Latour dreams of the cathedral he wants to build in Santa Fé, he uses a metaphor to describe the extent of his fantastical ambitions to leave a “worldly” legacy:
Bishop Latour had one very keen worldly ambition: to build in Santa Fé a cathedral which would be worthy of a setting so naturally beautiful. As he cherished this wish and meditated upon it, he came to feel that such a building might be a continuation of himself and his purpose, a physical body full of his aspirations after he had passed from the scene.
Latour is anxious about dying without leaving a concrete record of his achievements behind. He has spent most of his adult life around people who revere stone structures—in varying ways, from Catholic houses of God to the Ácoma mesas—and wants to create one of his own. This metaphor revolves around the idea that the cathedral could be seen as a body that “follows” Bishop Latour's own physical body after he dies. He envisions the cathedral as a tangible manifestation of his aspirations and dreams, a continuation of his work and purpose even after his passing.
This metaphor suggests that the cathedral represents a form of physical afterlife. It’s a site where his legacy and spiritual goals can live on. His ambition to build a cathedral that would be worthy of its natural surroundings reflects his deep, learned appreciation for the beauty of the New Mexican landscape and his desire to create a sacred space within it.
Father Vaillant ponders worriedly about the fact that although Latour is kind and genial, he seems to have very few intimate friends. In this passage, the author employs the metaphor of a flower to illustrate the men's contrasting social abilities. Vaillant reflects that:
Wherever he went, he soon made friends that took the place of country and family. But Jean, who was at ease in any society and always the flower of courtesy, could not form new ties. It had always been so. He was like that even as a boy; gracious to everyone, but known to a very few.
Vaillant compares Latour’s social demeanor to a "flower." Through this metaphor, he suggests that the other priest’s charm is beautiful but brief. Just as a flower is pretty but quickly wilts, Latour's influence in social circles is brilliant but fleeting. The metaphor highlights the delicate, fragile nature of Latour's social interactions. Through it, Cather suggests that while he effortlessly forms friendships, these connections are not enduring. Just like a flower blooms and dies in a short span, Latour’s appeal quickly wanes.
The "flower" of his appeal to people seems to die and come back to life quite regularly, pushing up new shoots wherever it goes. Vaillant differentiates, however, between making “friends” and making “ties.” While Latour might be at ease anywhere with people, he can’t pin himself down to “country and family.” Despite his social adaptability, he remains truly known and loved by only a select few.
As he lies awake on a December night and frets about his future and the legacy he will leave behind, Father Latour begins to panic. Cather uses hyperbole and metaphor to depict the profound sense of doubt and spiritual desolation he undergoes in this moment:
His prayers were empty words and brought him no refreshment. His soul had become a barren field. He had nothing within himself to give his priests or his people. His work seemed superficial, a house built upon the sands. His great diocese was still a heathen country. The Indians travelled their old road of fear and darkness, battling with evil omens and ancient shadows.
Latour's sense of failure is very present in this hyperbolic language as he lies awake, physically "clutching at his heart." He feels that he has not done enough, and that he will not be remembered as he wishes to be. He’s so frustrated that he describes his prayers as "empty words," a bold and unusual statement for a priest.
When he thinks about his soul, he describes it using the metaphor of "a barren field." He worries he cannot produce anything else, or grow anymore. He’s in a state of spiritual desolation and infertility. Additionally, he characterizes his mission as "a house built upon the sands.” This metaphor refers to the idea that a house built on sand would have no stability, and be in danger of tumbling down every moment. Latour, in short, feels like everything he has built could crash down around him.
Many of these metaphors are hyperbolic—his soul is not really “barren,” for example. However, the author also employs hyperbole to magnify Latour's feelings of failure and despair at his failure to make true converts out of the region’s Native population. He laments that his diocese remains "a heathen country," indicating hyperbolically that his work has not been effective, and the people are still considered "heathen" in their beliefs. The Indians' beliefs are described as the "road of fear and darkness," contrasting with Christian "light." Everything in this scene is exaggerated and split into black and white, all echoing Latour’s extremely sour, frightened mood.
As he reminisces about a favorite story involving Father Junipero, Latour ponders the ways in which rural Mexican life can reflect Christian ideas. As he muses, he employs metaphors and allusions to convey the concept of “greatness returning to simplicity”:
There is always something charming in the idea of greatness returning to simplicity—the queen making hay among the country girls—but how much more endearing was the belief that They, after so many centuries of history and glory, should return to play Their first parts, in the persons of a humble Mexican family, the lowliest of the lowly, the poorest of the poor,—in a wilderness at the end of the world, where the angels could scarcely find Them!
The allusion Cather makes here links the humble Mexican family Junipero describes to the biblical narrative of the birth of Jesus. In the Bible, Mary and Joseph of Nazareth—Jesus’s parents—were forced to seek shelter in a cattle-shed when they had nowhere else to go. Junipero reportedly saw this reproduced in the situation of the poor Mexican family, when its charming child drew the sign of the cross upon his forehead.
The idea that the Son of God was born and lived among humans and animals in a stable is an important part of Jesus Christ’s human origin story for priests like Junipero and Latour. The duality of holiness and humbleness that the Bible describes Jesus as embodying is an important part of Christian doctrine. Further, Latour explains his meaning more explicitly through using an additional metaphor. He describes the notion that it would be “charming” to see a queen participating in peasant work, as it would be an important person displaying humility. He is pleased and amused by the idea of the Holy Family “returning” as a Mexican family in the same way.