Holidays!

Participating in Mexican holidays and traditions has been a joy during my time in Mexico. From The Day of the Virgin Guadalupe to the Celebration of the Three Kings and everything between, the following contains my recent experiences with Mexican holidays.

Dec 12 – Día de La Virgen de Guadalupe

“Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres…” [“Blessed you are among all women…”] The words from the Hail Mary [Ave Maria] rose from the lips of the pilgrims. They traveled on foot, on bike, and in the back of trucks lined with benches, pulling trailers that held shrines to the Virgin. The Basilica Guadalupe in Mexico City is the second most visited Christian/Catholic site after the Vatican. Millions of pilgrims visit during the days surrounding December 12^th. The Virgin’s miraculous 1531 appearance taught the first Christians in Mexico to show and give love, compassion, relief and defense, and to hear and relieve pains and misery. Today, her influence is still felt as millions adore her, connecting with this feminine “Mother of God.” This influence was visibly felt in Tlaxcala, where over 75 miles away from the basilica, groups of pilgrims moved slowly along the shoulder of the highway. For several days, the pilgrims left, traveling the journey by bike, foot and car. Once in sight of the Basilica, they would travel the last few hundred meters on hands and knees.

While mi familia and I did not participate in the pilgrim, shortly after 10pm on the 11^th, we headed over to Parroquia de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe – the church in town named after the Virgin of Guadalupe. The street of the church was lined with people selling ponche, pan dulce, hot dogs, and more. Cohetes [fireworks] exploded in the air all around. At 11pm, mass started as a large framed picture of the Virgin was marched in. Though I began to drift to sleep, I was jolted awake by the explosion of mid-mass cohetes less than a stone’s throw away.  The next 24-hours filled with fireworks and fiestas throughout town. Meanwhile, Guadalupe Street in nearby Apizaco, held a carnival for its namesake filled with food, drink and rides for kids.

Jan. 3 - Post-Walk Family Panorama

Navidad

Pastorelas

When the Angel Gabriel came to Mary to share the message of the Christ who would be born, Mary responded, “Why didn’t you just send me a message on WhatsApp, Facebook or E-mail, instead of coming all the way hear?” The translation of this hilarious line was a part of the pastorela at the school at which my fellow-YAGM Alyssa works. Pastorelas are held at schools across Mexico right before Christmas break. A pastorela is essentially a Christmas play in which precious children sing villancicos [Christmas Carols], and reenact the birth of Jesus – sometimes in untraditional ways, such as in the pastorela I witnessed. After the play/musical, everyone drinks ponche, eats buñuelos [a crispy, cinnamon, sugary tortilla treat] and special tortas, and peanuts and animal crackers.

At the Pastorela. Photo Credit: Alyssa Kaplan.

Posadas

The air was crisp but refreshing as we passed through the neighbors gate and approached the image of Mary and Joseph were a group of a dozen were already gathered, reciting Hail Mary’s and a variety of other prayers. This was a posada – the Mexican tradition that takes place during the nine days leading up to Christmas. In many parts of the country, posadas are basically just Christmas parties, but in small towns throughout Mexico, the tradition endures and holds on to its religious roots, remembering Mary and Joseph’s search for an inn in Belem [Bethlehem].

Posada Piñata. Photo Credit: Alyssa Kaplan.

I was able to experience this small-town, traditional posada with the host family of my friend Alyssa. We started at the house, where the posada had taken place the night before. After reciting a numbing amount of prayers, we processed the images of Mary and Joseph across the neighborhood. As we walked, we sung and prayed, and the group began to swell. What began as twenty people, multiplied to over three times that amount by the time we reached the house for this night’s posada. Once we arrived, a series of dialogues were sung between us and the people inside the house as we asked for posada [shelter] in the house until eventually they ceded. Once inside, more prayers followed. After praying, we partook in ponche, a traditional Christmas fruit salad, oranges, sugarcane, peanuts and animal crackers, and best of all, piñatas. Little girls beat the first piñata, then boys, then women and lastly, men. After each person’s attempt to hit the piñata, a song followed, saying either “Esta niña es muy tonta, es muy tonta…” [“This child is very dumb, is very dumb…”] or “Esta niña es muy listo, es muy listo…” [“This child is very smart, is very smart…”] depending on their performance to break the piñata. [I know it sounds cruel, but it's not quite as bad as it sounds.]

Nativity at the Posada. Photo Credit: Alyssa Kaplan.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day

In many ways, my Mexican Navidad felt like a New Year’s celebration. The party started shortly after 10pm when we arrived at the house of my tío. Like most other celebrations in Mexico, the centerpiece of the fiesta was eating and drinking. Upon our arrival, we ate traditional Mexican Christmas foods: pierna, Ham with pineapple and a delicious sauce, spaghetti, a fruit salad with beats and jicama, another fruit salad with apples and some sort of sweet yogurt-like sauce, and gelatina [jello]. As midnight approached, we counted down the seconds and made a toast, partaking in wine, sidra [a traditional Christmas drink similar to sparkling wine or sparkling cider], or cerveza.

The next day, we returned to the house of my tío to eat the same traditional foods, to partake in the breaking of a piñata, and to spend more time together. By the way, adult participation in piñatas is no joke. After being blindfolded, adults are spun around, and as they attempt to hit the piñata, the piñata is moved up and down and side to side by men on the roof[s] above; meanwhile, the rest of the onlookers scream directions like “Derecho. Izqueirda. Detrás.” [“Straight. To your left. Behind You.”] I digress. After several hours of eating and lounging, we headed out toward La Malinche – the nearby 14,500ft Mountain – to burn some calories, and breath in the fresh mountain air and scent of pines. Our walk was short, but it was refreshing for my spirit, reminding me of my love of nature and beautiful memories in Colorado.

Año Nuevo

At 8pm on New Year’s Eve, we headed to San Jose – the old Catholic Church in the middle of town. My hermana Karla toted a basket – filled with twelve candles [one for each month of the year], and little plastic bags filled with a variety of seeds and beans and a picture of the virgin – to have blessed. [I am guessing the blessing of the beans and seeds represented bounty, providence and fruitfulness for the coming year.] As we approached the church, we found that it was packed, so we joined the hundreds spilling outside the church and into the plaza. Tío Noe shared that rather than Christmas Eve or Easter, this is the most popular day of the year to attend Mass in Mexico.

After our church visit, we returned to the house. Shortly after 10pm, family began to arrive. We put classical Mexican music on the television and began to dance the cumbia. By 11:30pm, all the family had arrived and we took our seats. 15 till, we began to make toasts. First, mamá Oliva and my tíos [the oldest generation in the family], then mis primos and I followed. As we ushered in the New Year, we toasted to champagne and a peach wine cooler. We then ate a dozen grapes, making a wish with each one. Finally, we feasted. The table was filled with barbacoa, pierna, lomo smothered in nuts and pineapple and mango sauce, traditional fruit salads, gelatina, and pastel [cake]. We filled our bellies, then we resumed with more dancing, and eventually an awkward, half-hearted, bilingual game of karaoke. Around 4am, the party began to break up and family dispersed to their homes. Those of us who were left, wrote wishes on a globo and sent it off to the wind. [See my post entitled "Goofy Gringo Cuentitos Pt. 2" for more on this event.] Finally, we too made our way to bed as the sun prepared to break the horizon.

 

New Year's Dancing

New Year's Feasting

January 6 - Los 3 Reyes

Like many other Mexican holidays, the celebration of the three kings on January 6^th is rooted in Catholic tradition. Throughout Mexico, children look forward to this day in the same way [U.S.] American kids look forward to Christmas, as the 3 Kings typically bring gifts. Additionally, on this day, families drink atole, coffee or hot chocolate and partake in Rosca de Reyes – a specialty sweet bread that is eaten only at this time of year. Because the religious meaning of this holiday evades most of us, some say that the holiday is really just an “excuse to eat rosca.” The tradition doesn’t end with the eating of this pan dulce though. Burried within the bread, are tiny plastic muñecos [dolls] that hold special meaning. If you end up finding one of these muñecos in your pan, you have to bring tamales [or another food or drink] to the family comida on February 2^nd – the Day of the Candelaria [holiday celebrating Jesus’ dedication in the temple]. Additionally, the hard-core rosca-goers adorn their muñeco with clothing. While you won't find me adorning my muñeco, I will remain faithful to this Mexican tradition by bringing tamales on the 2^nd.

Rosca de Reyes

Toque el Muñeco

Muñeco

Cumpleaños

While I have loved all of the above días festivos in which I have participated, birthday parties no doubt remain my favorite Mexican tradition. From the taco stand at my sisters’ joint birthday party to the classy guitar and vocal duet that woke us up on Mamá Oliva’s birthday to playing soccer with family to the dancing and tequila and Mariachis at almost every family birthday party, I will forever remember Mexican cumpleaños as a fun time with familia, partaking in Mexican tradition, and reveling in the joy of life. [Click on the video below to listen to my favorite Mariachi song.]

Day of the Holy Innocents

Today is a special day in Mexico. Today we celebrate Día de los Santos Inocentes, or Day of the Holy Innocents. In a number of ways, the holiday is like a Mexican version of April Fool's Day. The day is filled with jokes and pranks. According to my tíos, if you are lent something on this day, you don't have to return it. [Warning to my friends, family and co-workers: don't trust me today. I won't play nice.]

As "joshing around" comes quite naturally to me, I am excited for today's shenanigans. But, what is Day of the Holy Innocents anyways?

A quick google-search revealed that it is the day we recall the innocent baby boys executed by King Herod near Bethlehem after Jesus' birth. M. Daniel Carrol shares

Not long after Jesus was born, he and his parents had to leave Bethlehem. The Gospel of Matthew informs us that Herod the Great wanted to kill him [Matt. 2:13-14]. Herod had been told by the three magi that they were on their way to see the newborn king of the Jews [2:1-8]. Herod was fearful and jealous of any rival to his throne. When the magi did not report back, Herod ordered the slaughter of all the young boys in the area around Bethlehem [2:16-18]... 

Joseph, Mary, and the child Jesus sought asylum in Egypt. There was a large Jewish population in Egypt, especially in Alexandria, so it was natural that they go there. They left in haste after the angel's warning and probably took few possessions with them in order to be able to travel quickly and avoid Herod's troops. There are no details of this sojourn in Egypt, and Matthew is the only Gospel that records it. Apparently, the stay in Egypt was short, perhaps no more than two years. An angel informed the family that Herod had died [2:19-21; 4BC]. They first had wanted to go to their ancestral town, Bethlehem, but Herod's son Archelaus was reigning now over Judea. His reputation for cruelty was reminiscent of his father's [2:22], so Joseph took the family northward and returned once more to Nazareth in Galilee. 

The joy of the nativity scene and the wonder of the visit of the magi are overshadowed by the unhappy account of the senseless death of innocent children and the flight of refugees. The migration of this family locates the Jesus story within a movement that spans history, of people desiring a better life or escaping the threat of death.*

The Migrant Train.
Apizaco, Tlaxcala, Mexico. Photo Cred: John Doering-White

While we tend to view Christ's birth as a beautiful, tranquil event, this story reminds us that the setting around Christ's birth was anything but calm. Not long after his birth, the holy family fled for safety. Rev. Lindsay Mack shares that in a number of ways Jesus' birth was the peaceful "eye of the storm" in the midst of a hurricane of political chaos, corruption, oppression and violence. In a number of ways, this setting was not so different than today's Syria or Central America where corrupt politics, religious extremists, gangs and oppressive economic systems thrive. Two thousand years later, people are fleeing violence just as the Christ child did. So, as you read the headlines about Syrian refugees or hear stories about Central American immigrants, remember that the baby Jesus could be among those seeking refuge.


*M. Daniel Carrol R., Christians at the Border, p.115-116.

"Newborn Beginning... after Caesar"

The Christ Child is about to be born,
The one promised by the angel.
Mary's "fullness of time" has arrived.
Except that the birth is scheduled according to the emperor:
A decree went out that all should be numbered.

Caesar decreed a census, everyone counted;
Caesar intended to have up-to-date data for the tax rolls;
Caesar intended to have current lists of draft eligibility;
Caesar intended taxes to support armies,
Because the emperor, in whatever era,
Is always about money and power,
About power and force,
About force and control,
And eventually violence.

And while we wait for the Christ Child,
We are enthralled by the things of Caesar -
Money... power... control,
And all the well-being that comes from
Such control, even if it requires a little violence.

But in the midst of the decree
Will come this long-expected Jesus,
Innocent, vulnerable,
Full of grace and truth,
Grace and not power,
Truth and not money,
Mercy and not control.

We also dwell in the land of Caesar;
We pray for the gifts of your spirit,
That we may loosen our grip on the things of Caesar,
That we may turn our eyes toward the baby,
Our ears toward the newness,
Our hearts toward the gentleness,
Our power and money and control
Toward your new governance.

We crave the newness.
And while the decree of the emperor rings in our ears with such authority,
Give us newness that we may start again at the beginning,
That the innocence of the baby may intrude upon our ambiguity,
That the vulnerability of the child may veto our lust for control,
That we may be filled with wonder and less of anxiety,
In the blessed name of the baby we pray.

*Walter Brueggemann, Prayers for a Privileged People

Trail Magic

A major theme of my time in Mexico thus far has been justice – or should I say, the lack thereof. Since being here, my eyes have been opened to various injustices in the world. I know there has been injustices around me my whole life, but much of it has been covert or discreet. Plus, I have been fortunate to not have to experience injustices because of my privilege. Now, in Mexico, corruption and injustice are often blatant and highly visible. The beating and robbing of migrants by police, migra, gangs, and others. The disappearance of Mexicans by cartels and police – especially those Mexicans who are politically active or who denounce corruption. The economic practices of transnational corporations, paying Mexican laborers paltry wages while making exponentially more off their work.

This past week has been especially heavy. I watched a documentary on YouTube this week called “Pimp City,” which details the trafficking of people from Tlaxcala to the United States. My mind was blown that thousands of people in my new home have been deceived into the sex trade, where they have then become modern day slaves, and have been sent to cities across the U.S. Even more bewildering, is realizing that many of these people will pass through my hometown in the U.S. as they travel to Austin, Dallas, Houston, and across the United Sates.

I also read a book this week about the massacre of nearly a thousand civilians in El Mozote by the U.S.-backed El Salvadoran government during the civil war in the 1980s. The incident was particularly troubling as both the El Salvadoran and U.S. government ignored the massacre – and other similar incidents in following years -, while playing it off as propaganda from the opposing guerillas. I was bothered by the fact that the United States government ignored this situation in order to maintain their policy – supporting the El Salvadoran regime in order to combat communism – while ignoring the effect that these actions had on innocent people. Unfortunately, this is not an isolated circumstance of U.S. intervention. The same power of the United States can be seen in Mexico today as funds given to Mexico for Plan Mérida – and covertly to Plan Frontera Sur – are leading to increased violence, increased police brutality, and government corruption in the nation.

Lastly, hearing about the San Berdino shooting back in the States also left me at a loss for words. Why do senseless killings keep happening? Why is there so much violence? What can we do about this? If enacted, would gun policies actually do anything to help reduce shootings in the U.S.?*

I am overwhelmed. At times, I feel as if the forces of injustice in this world have impunity, as if the forces of darkness in this world are invincible.

[breath… in… out…]

Doña Mari serving comida

I have to remind myself that while there is much evil and injustice in the world, and while it may be hard – if not impossible at times – to see the light at the end of the tunnel, there is goodness in the world. There are incredible organizations, incredible people, and radical acts of love that are slowly bringing light to the darkness. Just as there are random people who dedicate themselves to radical acts of hospitality for thru-hikers on the PCT, CDT, AT, CT, etc., leaving coolers full of soda and candy-bars for hikers they have never met – a gift we call “Trail Magic” -, so there are “Trail Angels” in the areas void of justice in the world, loving on people they have never met and providing hope for the world. This trail magic is like a refreshing spring in the dessert, helping those without a voice and inspiring the rest of us who aim to be trail angels for the other.

Recalling these acts of love – these instances of trail magic, if you will – gives me hope. One such story that I found profoundly uplifting is catalogued in Sonia Nazario’s book Enrique’s Journey about the journey of one migrant on La Bestia. Nazario writes

  Not long after seeing the statue of Jesus, Enrique is alone on a hopper. Night has fallen, and as the train passes through a tiny town, it blows its soulful horn. He looks over the side. More than a dozen people, mostly women and children, are rushing out of their houses along the tracks, clutching small bundles.
     Some of the migrants grow afraid. Will these people throw rocks? They lie low on top of the train. Enrique sees a woman and a boy run up alongside his hopper.
     "¡Órale, chavo! Here, boy!" they shout. They toss up a roll of crackers. It is the first gift.
     Enrique reaches out. He grabs with one hand but holds tightly to the hopper with the other. The roll of crackers flies several feet away, bounces off the car, and thumps to the ground.
     Now women and children on both sides of the tracks are throwing bundles to the migrants on the tops of the cars. They run quickly and aim carefully mostly in silence, trying hard not to miss.
     "¡Allí va uno! There's one!"     Enrique looks down. There are the same woman and boy. They are heaving a blue plastic bag. This time the bundles lands squarely in his arms. "¡Gracias! ¡Adiós!" he calls into the darkness. He isn't sure the strangers, who pass by in a flash, even heard him.
     He opens the bag. Inside are half a dozen rolls of bread.
     The towns of Encinar, Fortín de las Flores, Cuichapa, and Presidio are particularly known for their kindness...
     These are unlikely places for people to be giving food to strangers. A World Bank study in 2000 found that 42.5 percent of Mexico's 100 million people live on $2 or less a day. here, in rural areas, 30 percent of children five years old and younger eat so littler that their growth is stunted, and the people who live in humble houses along the rails are often the poorest.
     Families throw sweaters, tortillas, bread, and plastic bottles filled with lemonade. A baker, his hands coated with flour, throws his extra loaves. A seamstress throws bags filled with sandwiches. A teenager throws bananas. A carpenter throws bean burritos. A store owner throws animal crackers, day-old pastries, and half-liter bottles of water. People who have watched migrants fall off the train from exhaustion bring plastic jugs filled with Coca-Cola or coffee...     "If I have one tortilla, I give half away," one of the food throwers says. "I know God will bring me more."     Another: "I don't like to feel that I have eaten and they haven't."     Still others: "When you see these people, it moves you. It moves you. Can you imagine how far they've come?"     "God says, when I saw you naked, I clothed you. When I saw you hungry, I gave you food. This is what God teaches."     "It feels good to give something that they need so badly."     "I figure when I die, I can't take anything with me. So why not give?"     "What if someday something bad happens to us? Maybe someone will extend a hand to us.** 

*After expressing these frustrations and fears, my friend Ryana reminded me to not succumb to this violence, but rather to continue to strive for change. She says, “I do understand those feelings and I have had those doubts but to live into those doubts of "nothing will change" would be to succumb to allowing violence like this in our country. Also, if nothing else this is for future generations. Maintaining our lack of regulations, lack of action, etc. would be condemning this pattern to continue far into the future. I don't believe sitting back in doubt and letting that happen is an ethical response. Maybe it won't do much, but there comes a point where change must begin somewhere.” 

** Nazario, Sonia. Enrique's Journey. New York: Random House Trade Paperbacks, 2007, p.103-106

  

Made in the divine image, microcosm and mediator, man is priest and king of creation. Consciously and with deliberate purpose, he can do two things that the animals can only do unconsciously and instinctively. First, man is able to bless and praise God for the world… Secondly,… man is able to reshape and alter the world, and so endue it with fresh meaning. In the words of Fr Dumitru Staniloae, “Man puts the seal of his understanding and of his intelligent work onto creation… The world is not only a gift, but a task for man.” It is our calling to cooperate with God; we are in St. Paul’s phrase, “fellow-workers with God” (1 Cor 3:9). Man is… a creative animal: the fact that man is a creator after the image of God the Creator. This creative role he fultills, not by brute force, but through the clarity of his spiritual vision; his vocation is not to dominate and exploit nature, but to transfigure and hallow it.

Ware, Kalistos. The Orthodox Way. New York: St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1995, p.53-54.