Somehow with all the activities going on Christmas Eve we never made it to mass that evening. When this happens I always have to hope that God knows what is in my heart, and that with the number of churches I have visited since being in Mexico maybe I have some credit built up.
To be serious for a moment though I have always felt my faith strengthened by being here. Maybe because it is such a part of everyday life from the tolling of the church bells to the image of Christ emblazoned on the #604 bus I ride each day. Then it could be fact that almost everyday there is the opportunity to stop in at church, maybe only for 5 minutes, but time enough to stop, reflect, think about who and what is important to me and to relax. Even if its only 5 minutes I feel that a weight has been lifted. Most days I stop in at the church across the plaza from my school. It is a great big, gothic piece of work and hosted many televised, musical events during the Christmas season.
On a Sunday afternoon shortly before moving to Mexico I had stopped at St Cecelia’s’ Cathedral in Omaha and happened upon a concert being performed on their pipe organ. What a moving experience. For almost 2 hours I was mesmerized and moved never realizing how quickly time was passing. A good friend of mine with a wonderful singing voice stated that there is nothing better than to hear a concert in a church. She couldn’t be any more correct. Since moving to Guadalajara I have enjoyed numerous concerts performed in the churches here. A concert of ancient sacred music performed on traditional instruments and sung in ancient dialects. One day we came across a wedding ceremony where the singers were of professional operatic caliber.
In Guadalajara there seems to be a church every 100 feet. This may be a bit of an exaggeration but one evening while killing time before another event we went walking through Guadalajara Centro and visited 5 churches in a very short time. We would have visited another one but the poor little Presbyterian Church was closed to the public. The Presbyterian Church is tiny when compared to the great Catholic edifices that dot the city and it could seriously fit in any of then with plenty of room to spare.
Most of the churches will have placards outside briefly telling their story, and each one has a fascinating history all its own. My thinking was that each church represented a parish, but being so close together I couldn’t see how this would be possible. In their original time the chapels may have been closed to the public, only serving the members of the orders they represented.
In Guadalajara the two Franciscan Churches that are now separated by a major street were for the public, one for the upper class to attend, the second being for the lower classes. On a visit there we saw a Franciscan Brother in his traditional brown robe tied with the white cord.
The former Carmelite Convent here had a particularly violent past and like the Franciscan property is now divided by a major street. Only a small chapel remains from the original church and the rest of the facility is a cultural center across the street.
The Mexican Constitution of 1917 enacted many laws to control the powers of the church, church property was seized by the government and missions, convents and schools were closed. In the late 1920’s the Catholics rose up against then president Calles, a strident atheist in what is known as the Cristero War. Many churches were burned or destroyed. Last summer on a road trip to visit the historical towns of the Mexican Revolution, we stopped in Querétaro at the Carmelite convent. The chapel located there had been rebuilt after the Cristeros but included windows looking in on the original walls when the covent was burned in the 20’s(see photo on your right). In Guadalajara a series of government buildings on the main plaza which were part of another convent seized by the government still include the convents’ chapel.
Back to our road trip and the churches we visited. In the City of Querétaro we saw the Mission where Father Junípero Serra was originally stationed before he went on to found twenty some missions stretching from the interior of Mexico up through California. A few years back I was able to visit the Mission at Carmel California where he was buried. It was humbling to see where he had started and all he had accomplished between Querétaro and Carmel. Querétaro is full of historical sites but the must see one is the original aqueduct that brought water from the mountains to the mission. Also in Querétaro there is a convent that is cloistered, closed to the public. We did or best to peak in the giant keyhole of the door to the chapel but were unable to see anything. And to walk the perimeter of the immense property would have taken us more time then we had. It was truly an erie place to encounter.
Before we had reached Querétaro that day we had stopped in Celaya and visited the Franciscan Mission where the chapel contained the bones of a priest who had been burned at the stake after being accused of witchcraft.
Further along our journey that day was the church at Dolores Hidalgo where the bells were rang the night of September 16th, 1810, and the priest Miguel Hidalgo called the people to start the Mexican War for Independence.
Like I said the churches all seem to have a story to share, they are more than a places to worship but places that have been key to the history of the country. While most of the churches I have talked about can be described as grand my favorite one to attend mass at is located in the country, in the canyon area. It is a small, simple chapel out in the countryside, it never was completely built and you can climb the steep, narrow, circular steps up to the roof where the bell towers should have been. Mass there seems to be simple and uncomplicated with a true spirit in the air. Vendors set up outside the church selling, meat, vegetables, ice cream and beer. Folks mill about before and after, enjoying small talk and time just seems to be suspended and you live in the moment.
There have been many, many other churches that I have visited while being in Mexico, some have been forgotten while others deserve a story of their own, but each one has brought me a moment of reflection and a feeling of peace.
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