A lot of people avoid talking about religion. I am not one of them.
I like to talk to people about what they believe and I like to see what that belief looks like in practice. In the United States, that motivates me to study theology, initiate a lot of uncomfortable conversations, invite friends to church with me, and visit other places of worship whenever I have the opportunity.
When I'm traveling, that inspires me to seek out "strange" religious traditions. Obviously, the word "strange" has some bad connotations - bizarre, alien, frightening - but it also evokes the fascinatingly unfamiliar - think of the "making strange" of art or theology that can yield insight and awe. As a white Christian in the United States, I find many popular religious traditions to be this latter kind of strange. My own tradition is intellectual, unemotional, and frankly kind of generic. Mainline Protestant practice is not tied to a particular language, place, or physical experience; it is a practice fit for the impersonal, capitalist, transnational world. Local and indigenous practices rebel against this norm, vibrant and embodied and place-specific and oh so fascinating.
Part of my fascination comes from the intimate relationship between religion and culture. I feel like learning about a community's faith traditions gives a unique insight into its core values and its theoretical understanding of the world, which is especially important to me when I'm a guest in said community and am trying to figure out how to not be a super-rude freak while I'm there.
The most important part of this fascination, though, probably comes from what "strange" religious traditions can teach me about the nature of the Divine and spirituality. When I learn about polytheistic traditions, I'm forced to examine my less multi-dimensional view of God and think about the myriad of characteristics that God might have. When I see a form of worship that surprises or shocks me, I wonder about how I might be able to expand my own idea of service and praise. When I see how so many cultures interweave Christianity and indigenous traditions, I am reminded that the traditions themselves are human constructs and that no one system can adequately describe the mystery of the Divine; I am inspired to be less rigid in my own perspective. In short, interacting with other religious traditions makes me into a better (more thoughtful, less judgmental) Christian.
My friends here in Mexico don't quite share this love-of-religion with me, so when I find a "strange" tradition that I want to explore, I often do so alone (which is how I ended up in Taxco by myself- and without a wallet - remember?) Most recently, my hunt for weirdness brought me to Chalma, a nearby town that houses the second most-visited pilgrimage site in Mexico. Huge groups of pilgrims travel to this tiny little pueblo every week to see el Señor de Chalma (what many describe as a "black Christ" in English; as is typical in Latin American countries, the cave where el Señor appeared was considered holy in local pre-Christian tradition, so the whole story is kind of confusing) and I decided to join the crowd.
After a short bus trip from Toluca (an hour sitting on the bus before we left the station and then another hour of actual driving) I arrived in Chalma without much idea of what to do. The town itself is quite small, but it was a market day and the stalls/tents/etc. made it hard to see where the main church might be, so I wandered for a bit, meandering in and out of the market, side streets, and a park:
After awhile, I stepped out on a little lookout-balcony-thing, saw what had to be my destination, and tried to figure out how to get to it.
After I waited my turn in line the pilgrims (sadly, I did not have a matching t-shirt to make me feel like I really belonged) I made my way to the back of the sanctuary to see el Señor. This was an especially strange experience since an epic mass (it lasted over three hours) was underway and the Christ image is the centerpiece of the altar... which means I was basically on/behind the altar and peeking out at the congregation while the priest was leading them in prayer.
I also visited the cave where el Señor originally appeared:
And another little grotto-thing where people could leave devotional items, apparently as gifts/offerings:
My favorite part of my visit was seeing the display of devotional images created by pilgrims. They ranged in age and were painted to give thanks for miracles granted by el Señor:
Even though I only spent a few hours there, my little mini-trip to Chalma ended up being one of my favorites since coming to Mexico. The town itself was surprisingly pretty, the market was full of goodies, and the spiritual force of the pilgrims and their traditions was awe-inspiring.
As I thought about my visit to Chalma, deciding what photos and facts to include in this post, I was reminded of another "pilgrimage" I made a few months ago. On December 12, I went to la Basílica de Santa María de Guadalupe in Mexico City to celebrate la Virgen de Guadalupe's feast day. The Basílica is the most visited pilgrimage site in Mexico (Chalma was number two, remember?) and the traditions there are filled with their own beautiful strangeness - like el Señor, la Virgen de Guadalupe is a figure that has both Catholic and indigenous roots. Plus, some people believe that la Virgen de Guadalupe is the mother of el Señor de Chalma because their appearances were only a few years apart. Given all these parallels (and the fact that I never posted the photos I took that day) this seems like the perfect opportunity to finally share some of the highlights from THAT trip so... enjoy!
(Click through more photos from Chalma here and more from la Basílica here.)
I like to talk to people about what they believe and I like to see what that belief looks like in practice. In the United States, that motivates me to study theology, initiate a lot of uncomfortable conversations, invite friends to church with me, and visit other places of worship whenever I have the opportunity.
When I'm traveling, that inspires me to seek out "strange" religious traditions. Obviously, the word "strange" has some bad connotations - bizarre, alien, frightening - but it also evokes the fascinatingly unfamiliar - think of the "making strange" of art or theology that can yield insight and awe. As a white Christian in the United States, I find many popular religious traditions to be this latter kind of strange. My own tradition is intellectual, unemotional, and frankly kind of generic. Mainline Protestant practice is not tied to a particular language, place, or physical experience; it is a practice fit for the impersonal, capitalist, transnational world. Local and indigenous practices rebel against this norm, vibrant and embodied and place-specific and oh so fascinating.
Part of my fascination comes from the intimate relationship between religion and culture. I feel like learning about a community's faith traditions gives a unique insight into its core values and its theoretical understanding of the world, which is especially important to me when I'm a guest in said community and am trying to figure out how to not be a super-rude freak while I'm there.
The most important part of this fascination, though, probably comes from what "strange" religious traditions can teach me about the nature of the Divine and spirituality. When I learn about polytheistic traditions, I'm forced to examine my less multi-dimensional view of God and think about the myriad of characteristics that God might have. When I see a form of worship that surprises or shocks me, I wonder about how I might be able to expand my own idea of service and praise. When I see how so many cultures interweave Christianity and indigenous traditions, I am reminded that the traditions themselves are human constructs and that no one system can adequately describe the mystery of the Divine; I am inspired to be less rigid in my own perspective. In short, interacting with other religious traditions makes me into a better (more thoughtful, less judgmental) Christian.
My friends here in Mexico don't quite share this love-of-religion with me, so when I find a "strange" tradition that I want to explore, I often do so alone (which is how I ended up in Taxco by myself- and without a wallet - remember?) Most recently, my hunt for weirdness brought me to Chalma, a nearby town that houses the second most-visited pilgrimage site in Mexico. Huge groups of pilgrims travel to this tiny little pueblo every week to see el Señor de Chalma (what many describe as a "black Christ" in English; as is typical in Latin American countries, the cave where el Señor appeared was considered holy in local pre-Christian tradition, so the whole story is kind of confusing) and I decided to join the crowd.
After a short bus trip from Toluca (an hour sitting on the bus before we left the station and then another hour of actual driving) I arrived in Chalma without much idea of what to do. The town itself is quite small, but it was a market day and the stalls/tents/etc. made it hard to see where the main church might be, so I wandered for a bit, meandering in and out of the market, side streets, and a park:
After awhile, I stepped out on a little lookout-balcony-thing, saw what had to be my destination, and tried to figure out how to get to it.
After I waited my turn in line the pilgrims (sadly, I did not have a matching t-shirt to make me feel like I really belonged) I made my way to the back of the sanctuary to see el Señor. This was an especially strange experience since an epic mass (it lasted over three hours) was underway and the Christ image is the centerpiece of the altar... which means I was basically on/behind the altar and peeking out at the congregation while the priest was leading them in prayer.
I also visited the cave where el Señor originally appeared:
And another little grotto-thing where people could leave devotional items, apparently as gifts/offerings:
My favorite part of my visit was seeing the display of devotional images created by pilgrims. They ranged in age and were painted to give thanks for miracles granted by el Señor:
Even though I only spent a few hours there, my little mini-trip to Chalma ended up being one of my favorites since coming to Mexico. The town itself was surprisingly pretty, the market was full of goodies, and the spiritual force of the pilgrims and their traditions was awe-inspiring.
As I thought about my visit to Chalma, deciding what photos and facts to include in this post, I was reminded of another "pilgrimage" I made a few months ago. On December 12, I went to la Basílica de Santa María de Guadalupe in Mexico City to celebrate la Virgen de Guadalupe's feast day. The Basílica is the most visited pilgrimage site in Mexico (Chalma was number two, remember?) and the traditions there are filled with their own beautiful strangeness - like el Señor, la Virgen de Guadalupe is a figure that has both Catholic and indigenous roots. Plus, some people believe that la Virgen de Guadalupe is the mother of el Señor de Chalma because their appearances were only a few years apart. Given all these parallels (and the fact that I never posted the photos I took that day) this seems like the perfect opportunity to finally share some of the highlights from THAT trip so... enjoy!
(Click through more photos from Chalma here and more from la Basílica here.)
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