NewsTaco

By Joe Ray, Latinovations

Growing up near the Mexican border and having spent a few of my first few Holiday seasons in Sonora as well as Arizona, provided me the opportunity to observe and take part in various Holiday traditions.

My family’s personal tradition of devotion was honoring Our Lady (La Virgen) de Guadalupe on December 12. This began around Thanksgiving by adorning our framed print of La Virgen with flashing Christmas lights, rosaries and constructing the piece into an electronic Christmas altar. We had other saints around the house, but none compared to the Virgen’s status.

This past 12/12/12, I joined about 30 others in a ceremony honoring Our Lady de Guadalupe/Tonantzin. It warmed my heart to see all of us gathered here for this touching ceremony.

Tamales, champurado, and atole. All treats that bring the Holiday season back to life for me with a great fondness. Of course, in addition to Christmas, there’s El Día de Los Reyes Magos (3 Kings Day), this being a celebratory day and one of reflection as well. I’m also touched to see this particular day celebrated more often in the past decade by more acculturated Latinos, bringing many others into the fold.

In thinking about this post, I discussed traditions with a couple of other friends who also shared theirs with me.

My friend Carlos, a Chicano who grew up in a small town in Arizona, shared this tradition/memory:

His Abuelo was the ringmaster of the family’s tamale making endeavors. This began with him buying roasts immediately after Halloween, and once the hojas hit the grocery shelves, he made sure to stock up.

One particular memory that has stuck out in Carlos’ mind was getting around his Nana’s strict guidelines for perfect masa. The test consisted of dropping some masa into a glass of warm water. If fluffy enough, it would float. Carlos’ Tata let him in on a secret…adding a teaspoon of salt would allow the masa to rise in the glass.

Since then, his masa always rose to the occasion, passing Nana’s test.

Bertica is from the Dominican Republic. She reminisced about the food on Noche Buena, but what I found most fascinating was her family’s celebration in bringing in the new year. This was a dressy affair with a big dinner (we love our food, don’t we?), where everyone was given 12 grapes. The grapes would be eaten as the 12 campanadas would ring. If you were able to do this and not choke, it indicated you would have a good year.

This sounds like something my cousins and I would have been doing, and been recipients of chancletazos. I love it.

My friend Conchita came from Cuba as a young girl. Her family’s tradition was attending mass to celebrate the Holy Day of Obligation, as well as her patron saint, Maria de la Concepcíon (whom she’s named after). Additionally, the large Immaculate Concepcíon has always been a framed, magical piece of art which serves as an altar centerpiece.  Concepcíon now resides in Conchita’s house.

Having a patron saint honored and celebrated during the Holidays has always been an extra special tradition for the majority of Latinos. It’s part of our culture. It’s in our DNA. It is our devotion and faith(s), even if we don’t adhere to our original and particular faiths and religions. It’s who we are.

These traditions are part of our new America.

It’s the evolution of Las Posadas. It’s our cultural evolution.

This article was first published in Latinovations.

Joe Ray is Vice President of Multicultural Marketing at E.B. Lane, a full service marketing and advertising agency with offices in Phoenix and Denver. Joe’s experience includes working with Pfizer, Bic USA, Dawn Foods Intl, Medicis Dermatology, State Farm, La Tradición, Super Bowl Host Committee, and The Arizona Lottery. Additionally, Joe is a conference speaker and presenter whose topics include: Reaching Latino Audiences, Health/Wellness Education for Multicultural Audiences, Brand Building, Packaging Design, Social Media, Arts & Culture, and Community Activism. He can be reached at jray@eblane.com.

By Ray Salazar, NewsTaco

Tradition inspires faith but hope perpetuates devotion.  On December 12, Mexican Catholics mark the appearance of Our Lady of Guadalupe in 1531 on a hilltop.  Today, Mexicans crowded churches at dawn in celebration.  Over two million people will gather throughout the day next to Tepeyac Hill in Mexico City where her basilica stands.  For Mexicans, Our Lady of Guadalupe remains a symbol of unending faith, cultural pride, and religious identity.

For me, my faith in this religious image, despite the controversy of her origin, helped me believe my mother would win her fight against cancer seven years ago.  Almost thirty years ago, my family looked to this religious image as my sister battled leukemia at Chicago’s Children’s Memorial Hospital.

When Our Lady of Guadalupe appeared to a Mexican indian named Juan Diego, she asked him to convince the bishop that a church be constructed in her name.  As evidence of her appearance, roses miraculously grew in December.  The indian harvested the flowers and carried them away.  When Juan Diego released the roses at the bishop’s feet, an image of Our Lady remained on his apron.

That image still exists.  Scientists challenged its authenticity without success.

It is our tradition, when she intervenes on our behalf, to leave candles and roses as ofrendas at her feet.  Seven years ago, a version of this essay aired on National Public Radio as my offering of thanks.

Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, again I offer up my work, my writing.  With unending gratitude for my mother’s health and for my sister’s survival.  And with fervent hope for all women who fought and keep fighting cancer–especially for those who must unfortunately fight for high-quality affordable health care.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

I stopped believing in the Catholic Church for a few years.  But I never stopped believing in Our Lady of Guadalupe.  She’s separate from scandal.  She’s brown, humble.  And unlike the other saints who stare blankly past people requesting intervention at their plaster feet, La Virgen never looks away. She has unwrinkled eyelids and black lashes.

Her original cloth image is enclosed behind bullet-proof glass in Mexico City.  It’s surrounded by as much gold as the controversy of her origin.  Every December 12, millions of Mexican Catholics serenade her and buy roses in her name.  Catholics worldwide recognize her as the patron saint of the Americas.

I was sixteen when I saw her in the basilica on Tepeyac Hill.  People made their way down the long aisle on their knees.  Worshipers around me whispered in appreciation.  My grandmother knelt praying in a pew.  I stared at the image trying to figure out what to say and what to do.

But when my mother was diagnosed with cancer in 2005, I knew exactly what to ask for when I knelt in front of La Virgen at St. Pius Church.

My son and I were with my mother when she found out.  I held her hands.  The same hands I have.  The hands my son inherited.  When the doctor spoke, my mom folded over like a finger.  I searched for every way to assure her that cancer is surmountable.

I went with her to every doctor’s visit.  I stood behind the curtain while the doctor examined her.  I respected her privacy but never left her all alone.  Seven years later, my mother is strong.  And I keep praying for her health.

La Virgen has the power to unite people in a crisis.  She was an organizing force behind the farm workers, along with Cesar Chávez.  She brings together educated Chicanas who might be skeptical about the Church, but never doubt the power of a brown-faced pregnant saint.  La Virgen is the single Mexican woman powerful enough to pull a European Pope across an ocean.

Like La Virgen, my mother taught us to unite during desperate times. That year, each person in my family joined my mother in her fight.  My youngest brother engaged her in heart-to-heart conversations.  My sister, the leukemia survivor, took my mom on trips to flea markets.  My other brother didn’t talk about it so my mom could focus on what was good.  My father made her oatmeal to make sure she ate.

That’s my mother’s quiet influence.  Throughout her life, she teaches us to overcome controversy, desperation, and doubt.

La Virgen does the same.  I see her now in alley murals, on concrete walls, ID bracelets, gold charms.  I recognize the influence of her existence.  La Virgen is one woman who changed a continent’s perspective simply by existing.

Seven summers ago, my mom inspired us to take a Sunday drive.  We filled two vans and two cars and drove to the outdoor shrine for Our Lady of Guadalupe in a Chicago suburb.

Underneath the sun, my mom stood before the image trying not to cry.  My father ambled next to her.  Then my siblings and I accompanied by our spouses and the grandchildren.  Now there are twelve.  Huddling around our mother, asking for intervention of immeasurable worth, we all prayed silently.  We stood together resolutely—like roses.

[Photo by Esparta]

By Phillippe Diederich, Voxxi

On the days leading up to December 12, hundreds of thousands of Mexicans will decorate their homes, light candles and begin the pilgrimage to the Basilica de Guadalupe on the outskirts of Mexico City to celebrate and honor the queen of Mexico; Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe.

The celebration of La Guadalupana, as she is sometimes called, is one of the most important holidays in Mexico. It is as much a religious holiday as it is a patriotic holiday because La Virgen de Guadalupe is uniquely Mexican and is one of the country’s most important icons. From the moment of her appearance in 1531 to the present, Juan Diego, she has been a unifying force and a symbol of what it means to be Mexican.

The story of La Virgen de Guadalupe

Legend has it the image of the Vigrin Mary appeared to Juan Diego in the hills of Tepeyac while he was on his way to Mexico City. The Virgin told Juan Diego that she wanted a church built in her honor at the top of the hill. Juan Diego told this to the Spanish archbishop, Juan se Zumárraga, who said he needed proof and asked Juan Diego to return to Tepeyac and ask for a miracle from the Virgin.

Juan Diego went back to Tepeyac and told this to the Virgin who helped him harvest flowers from the top of the hill. The flowers were roses of Castille, which did not grow in Mexico, especially during that time of year. Juan Diego carried the flowers back to Mexico City. When he opened his cloak to reveal the flowers at the archbishop’s feet, the image of the Virgin appeared in his cloak. The cloak is now on display at the Basilica.

Taking history into context, and legends aside, the story of La Virgen de Guadalupe and what it did for Mexico cannot be denied. The brown skinned Virgin represented meztisaje, the blending of the Spanish and Indian; what is Mexican. Also, it was common for the Spanish conquistadors to build churches over Aztec temples. At the top of Tepeyac Hill there was a temple where peasants worshipped the Aztec goddess, Tonantzin. Interestingly, the story of Juan Diego and the Virgin was recorded in both Spanish and Nahuatl, the language of the Nahua people.

The Virgin Mary solved problems for the Spanish and the Mexicans

La Virgen de Guadalupe solved big problems for both the Spanish and Mexicans. The Spanish wanted the Indians to become Catholics, but the Indians had their own Gods. La Guadalupana, at least in spirit, offered a path for the Indians and meztisos to become Catholics, because they now had their own deity, acceptable to both the Spanish clergy and the Mexican people. All of this was synthesized even further when father Miguel Hidalgo, holding a banner with the image of the Virgen de Guadalupe, called for the Mexican people to revolt and begin the fight for Independence from Spain.

Ever since then, the image of La Virgen de Guadalupe, has been a part of Mexican identity, lore and inspiration. During the Mexican Revolution, the peasants fighting with Zapata, as well as other revolutionaries, carried her image in banners. She can be found all over Mexico.

Today La Reina de Mexico is presented in so many ways and at so many important functions and celebrations she is synonymous with Mexican identity. Her image can be found in key chains, stickers, t-shirts, caps and even on the inside of Stetson hats and tattoos. La Guadalupana does not just identify people as Catholic, but as Mexican. So on December 12, a sacred and important holiday takes place. Tens of thousands of Mexicans will crowd the area around the Basilica de Guadalupe in Tepeyac, many on their knees, with candles and with pictures of her likeness as they engage in a ritual that is both religious, patriotic and uniquely Mexican.

This article was first published in Voxxi.

Phillippe Diederich is a bilingual writer and photographer born in the Dominican Republic and raised in Mexico City and Miami. His photography has appeared in The New York Times, Timemagazine, U.S. News and World Report and other national publications. His non-fiction has been published in the Traveler’s Tales Anthology, Cuba; Cigar Aficionado; The Miami New Times and The Dallas Morning News. He blogs about Latino issues for VOXXI. Diederich is based in Southwest Florida.

[Photo by Esparta]