Because no celebration of the Virgin Mary is complete without torches, a liter of beer and bumper cars

I think my fascination with Mary began in high school when I was a member of my church´s worship committee. One Advent, we decided that our theme song would be the Beatle´s “Let it Be.” My interest in Mary, as a celebrated Biblical female continued to grow and last year in my introduction to Christian theology class, I chose to write my elective research paper on Mary as woman, mother and intercessor in theological discourse and popular devotion. To my good fortune, at the Indigenous Mayan Theology retreat I attended about a month ago, I met a Catholic priest named Sebastián. He specializes in Mariology and recently sent me a digital copy of his book entitled María en el evangelio liberador.  I have always appreciated the Catholic emphasis on Mary and my time in Mexico is allowing me to continue exploring Mary.  
 

Last Monday, I experienced the fervor with which many Catholics here celebrate the Virgin Mother. In Mexico (and some other Latin American countries) December 12^th is Día de la Virgen de Guadalupe. According to Catholic tradition, Mary appeared in Mexico to a priest in 1531 and then left a hill covered with roses and her image imprinted on the priest´s robe. Since that year, Mexico has celebrated this appearance in a variety of ways.

On the one hand, December 12 is used as an excuse to party. For the few days leading up to the 12^th, the road leading up to the cathedral in SCLC that bears the name Guadalupe was jam-packed with food, rides, musicians and people. You could feast on chorros (fried sugary dough), ponche (a traditional hot Christmas punch), a one-liter michelada (beer mixed with lime and chile) and many other Mexican specialties. Music pumped through the streets and I elected to take a spin in the bumper cars (they took me back to my childhood and seemed much safer than the Ferris wheel which was supported by a pile of wood). At midnight on the 12^th the crowds were also treated to a fantastic fireworks display.

Perhaps more unique than these festivities was the religious devotion I also observed. Many religious devotees spent the two weeks leading up to the Día de la Virgen de Guadalupe making a pilgrimage called the antorcha. Groups of people would run a lit torch for hundreds of kilometers, switching off every km and spending the rest of the time resting in the bed of a pick-up truck. On the 12^th, I was lucky enough to lunch with Liliana´s grandmother whose home is located on the Real de Guadalupe.  After eating, we pulled chairs outside to watch group after group running the last few hundred meters to their final destination. They ran by, exhausted and grimy, but chanting in loud voices as the confetti of passers-by rained down upon them: “¡H-i-h-o está torcha ya llegó!”

In addition to being a fascinating time to observe and participate in Mexican culture, thinking about Mary has helped me get into the advent season. In the absence of my normal holiday traditions it is surreal to me that Christmas is just four days away (three in Mexico as Christmas is celebrated the evening of the 24^th ). I send my love and wishes for a very Merry Christmas to you all. And this Christmas Eve, in addition to reading The Night Before Christmas and the story of Jesus´ birth as I´ve done with my parents for the last 22 years, I´ll add the Hail Mary that I heard my devout host mom in Cuernavaca recite every night before bed:  

Dios te salve María, llena eres de gracia,

el Señor es contigo;

bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres,

y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre, Jesús.

A Festival of Carols: Mexico edition

In the spirit of full self-disclosure, before you proceed, dear reader, know that if I´m a snob about anything, it´s choral music. Now. Read to your heart´s content.

I wasn't worried about too many things before I came to Mexico. My summer was so busy, I honestly didn't have time to imagine what awful calamities might befall me...or more likely, what I would miss terribly, or what aspect of culture shock would spin me on my head. I did worry about the fact that I wouldn't be singing on a regular basis. Each of the last 14 years of my life found me involved in a choir...beginning with six years making music with the Shenandoah Valley Children's Choir, followed by high school choir and ending with participation in four choirs at Goshen College.

Soon after arriving in San Cristóbal, Martín informed me that INESIN would be forming an inter-confessional choir in November. I was so excited! What a great way to meet new people and continue my tradition of choral singing. We were even going to receive a volunteer from Switzerland with musical training to help us for six weeks!

Well, upon attending the first rehearsal, I lowered my expectations a bit. The most animated members of our group were close to tone deaf. The director didn't have a Master's Degree or PhD in choral music like all of my previous directors. In rehearsals, I found myself trying to offer small tips that would increase the "quality" of our musical interpretation..."why don't we try not to breath between the words volverán and a? What if the sopranos sing the first verse of ¿Qué niño es éste? by themselves to add a little variety to the song?"

The final goal of this choir was to perform three songs [¿Qué niño es éste? (What Child is This?), Himno a la alegría (Ode to Joy) and Villancico de las campanas (Carol of the Bells)] at a Christian choir festival on Friday night. As Friday approached, I became more and more unenthused about the pending performance. The three and a half hour rehearsal which only found us singing for ten minutes didn't help my mood...although the taquitos offered as a midday snack were quite delicious.

At five pm on Friday I semi-resentfully hauled myself to the combi that would drop me off at the Teatro de la Ciudad. After we sang, I returned to my seat a little bit embarrassed. We weren´t always in of tune and left something to be desired in the way of artistic expression. But as I sat down to watch the following groups perform, my attitude started to change. The last group to perform came from a catholic parish. They were dressed to the nines with each man in a suit, each woman in a matching turquoise shirt and multicolored scarf and children clad entirely in white, carrying candles mounted on sticks and encased in translucent blue paper. It was magical. The lights lowered and a girl who appeared to be about five sang out in a hauntingly beautiful solo that garnered applause almost immediately. Their performance continued with a multitude of instruments and choreographed dance numbers. I was completely memorized. After the final song died down, I wanted to revel in the silence, but had to quickly run onto stage for our final combined number: Noche de paz (Silent Night). After singing the final verse with the audience, just like I had done in so many Christmas concerts before, a feeling of peace and joy replaced my previous grumpiness.

Music has given me life and this experience helped me understand that perfection isn´t always the point. While I feel lucky to have participated in many high-caliber choirs, in these situations sometimes the pursuit of perfection supercedes the joy. And sometimes sharing your emotion and passion with the world is more important. And sometimes you have to let the music give you joy, as does the salsa music that accompanies my dancing many Friday evenings. And sometimes singing is a way to support an organization, like INESIN. Or sometimes it's a way to support a person. On Sunday, I was Skyping with my parents and my home congregation came caroling to our Smith St residence. Mom toted the computer to our front door, so I could see the beautiful faces of Shalom Mennonite Congregation as they seranaded my family. Music is powerful. And it is powerful in many forms.

So even though my festival of carols was different this year, it was meaningful and an important reality check. Am I now a reformed choral snob? Probably not. But I´m reminded to consider the bigger picture. This festival of carols was a moment to soak up the culture, support my organization and integrate myself more into this community. And for that I´m greateful.