Cathedral in San Cristobal

Every time I return to Mexico I am reminded of how large of a role religion plays in cultural society.

The other day we traveled outside of San Cristobal to a city called San Juan Chamula. San Juan is located about 11 km outside San Cristobal and is widely known for the indigenous peoples’ unique style of worship. The church floors are lined with pine needles and indigenous groups gather around rows of candles on the floors. Elders chant sacred religious meanings while a father and mother bless their newborn child by rubbing a chicken over the youngsters’ body. The chicken is meant to take the illnesses and evil spirits out of the child and hold it within itself. The family would then execute the chicken and give it a religious ceremony to represent the exit of evil and illness.

Today was Sunday and I joined nearly 1,000 other people for the 12 o’clock service at the Cathedral in the center of San Cristobal. Every seat was taken and still people gathered around the outside, some needing to remain standing. The crowd was consisted of indigenous populations, mestizos, foreigners and the odd tourist. There were elders and infants. I was amazed to see the number of people who had come to worship and most likely do every Sunday. I saw a fellow classmate of mine and also ran into Quinten, the American anthropologist from yesterday, and met his wife.

The service was similar to some I have seen in Canada. It was a Catholic service that included offerings and communion. It was incredible to see the man beside me, in his ripped jeans, toothless smile and stained shirt give every last peso in his pocket to the church. The music was outstanding and the aroma of in-scents filled the church and made the air thick.

My favourite part was the greeting; “Paz contigo.” Not having a religious background, the whole idea of it is interesting to me. As complex as it is, and regardless of how it has been used in the past to manipulate and oppress, there is such a strong sense of community.

“Paz contigo,” says the middle-aged woman to my right.

“Paz contigo,” says the young man across from me.

“Paz contigo,” says the man with the ripped jeans, toothless smile and stained shirt to my left.

“Paz contigo,” says the father of the young child who came out of nowhere, all taking the time to touch my hand and exchange a smile.