Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish Church, Playa del Carmen

Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish, Playa del Carmen

The parish where I first saw joining the Catholic Church a real, feasible action was the parish church of Our Lady of Guadalupe, Playa del Carmen (Paroquia de Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe.)  This church (both the building and the people) holds a special place in my heart.  It was (and still is) like a home along the journey.  Perhaps it could be compared to Rivendell somewhat; it's not the destination of the journey, nor is it Paradise or even the most important place in the journey, but it has offered me a place and time of rest, consolation and safety along an otherwise perilous road.

Nestled in the middle of Playa del Carmen's first (and least reputable) slum, its off-white steeple with stain-glassed windows rises above half-built concrete homes with fiberglass roofs, haphazard stores, taco carts and greasy little restaurants where thick smoke pours out of the chimneys from the chicken roasters.

The building itself is beautiful.  This is not because of the contrast to the slum around it; in fact, it would probably be more beautiful standing by itself or in a large spacious yard so you could actually see the whole thing.  But the surrounding neighbourhood is part of the church, as the church is part of it.  Many of the people who worship there live in these homes and the parish offers (to all who seek it) care, education, teaching in the Faith, blessings and the Sacraments of the Church.  The old Irish priest who started the parish about 20 years ago is respected and called "Father" by everyone I know of.  My point is; the parish and the community are inseparable.


Likewise, the building and the beautiful things which have happened there are closely bound to each other.

I think the building would be described as a neo-mission style. (Excuse the out-of-focus images; I'm getting used to using a completely manual lense.)

The Sanctuary

The main image, below the crucifix, is the Virgin of Guadalupe (patroness of the parish, and, of course, Mother of the Church), the Virgin Mary as she appeared to a native at the time of the Spanish Conquest. On each side of the image of the Virgin, you will see:

Christ as a Child with St. Joseph (the patron of our family.)

St. Juan Diego, the native Mexican to whom the Virgin Mary appeared.

 For nearly 2 decades the church was without windows.  Now, little by little, stained glass is being installed:

The steeple, looking south.

The 8 windows in the steeple and the two windows below it depict the story of the Virgin of Guadalupe appearing to St. Juan Diego.  The large one in the picture above shows the Virgin Mary giving the saint roses.  The bishop had been doubting that these appearances actually happened, so the Virgin Mary gave the roses as a sign to be brought to the bishop; at that time roses didn't exist in the area where the appearance took place (Mexico City), so the only explanation could be a miracle.

St. Juan Diego, showing the roses to the doubters. (Below the steeple, south)

Archangel Michael (north side, next to the sanctuary)

This is newest stained glass image, installed this summer, entitled, "Who is like God?"  The words of the Archangel Michael as he casts Satan from Heaven, who had claimed to be like God. (The anguished face of Satan is hidden behind the woman singing in the choir.  But you can see his wings.)

East end, opposite the sanctuary

This image is also dear to our family; St. Joseph, Christ and the Virgin Mary as the Holy Family.

The lower row of windows throughout the nave of the church still do not have glass; however, the upper row of 12 windows (6 on each side) offers some of the titles of the Virgin Mary.  My favourite is this one:

 "Refuge of Sinners"

 

One of the Stations of the Cross

One of the confessionals (There's one on each side, near the back entrance.  Confession is heard during Mass.)

A view from the main entrance, looking towards the sanctuary.

The main entrance.

 The tables in the foreground are where homeless people, low-income workers eat during the week.

Side entrance (north side)

West end of the building.

Another image of the face of the Virgin of Guadalupe can be seen above the windows of the church offices.  The blue tarp is the area where people eat breakfast after Mass. (It's redundant and pointless to call it "socializing" or "fellowship;" for Mexicans every time you eat it's socializing and fellowship!)

This area is actually the plaza which serves primarily as the patio for the parish school, of which I didn't take pictures.  The school will need a post in itself.

Back in Mexico ... for Now

A typical store in Colosio

As I mentioned last post, I'm back in Mexico for a few weeks.  Since I'm here alone, I spend most of my time working; for brief times in the evenings I walk through Colosio, the neighbourhood my family and I first lived in when we arrived in Playa del Carmen.  The community is disorganized and dirty; it's full of half-built homes and shirtless men sitting on the sidewalk.

Right now my neighbor across the street is loudly singing passionate love songs; does this mean his girlfriend left him?  This is what it meant other times.  Who knows.  Today, in the middle of the week I can hear loud music from at least one house; while I was walking, I weaved my way through a house party that had overflowed into the street.

However, among all the dirt, chaos and noise, there are so many little things to discover; even the music and parties might be considered something good, so long as you're not trying to sleep.

Tonight I went to a bakery which has gained such a good reputation for its fresh bread that in the evenings there are perpetual line ups of people waiting to buy the bread as it comes fresh out of the oven.  Tomorrow I will write about this bakery.
 
This morning I walked past the community's church; it was dark and rainy out, and the inside was lit by a mix of candles and the electric light illuminating the Virgin of Guadalupe (for whom the church is named.)  Inside, the rain could be heard on the roof and there was a silent beauty.

There are more.  But for now, in the middle of such an unsightly neighborhood, I remember why I love Mexico.

(I need to get a memory card for the camera I have so I can add some pictures. The one I have here is recycled.)

Interesting Expats Part 1 - The Priest

The Inside of the Our Lady of Guadalupe, Playa del Carmen

Yesterday I talked a little about the variety of "expats" who, blending in more with their Mexican community, go less noticed but seem to be much more numerous.  Although I ended the blog saying I'd like to get to know some of these, I actually do  know quite a few.  I'm going to post a series on a few of the most interesting of these expats.

The first is the priest in the Catholic Church in the working-class neighborhood of Colosio, here in Playa del Carmen.  His name is Father Bernard; he's Irish, and has been working in the Colosio parish (Nuestra Señora del Guadalupe) for over 10 year if I remember correctly.  He knows the community well, and worked in the parish in its early days when the community, which had recently been founded through a politically motivated, and illegal, "land invasion" was just beginning to take roots.  There were no city services or paved roads; water had to be brought in and electricity was run from a generator.  He told me the story once when I complained that there were no street signs; I thought it was because no one would use them anyway.  He pointed out that the people were just happy to have water, electricity and pavement.

He is also the principal (and the founder I believe) of a charity school which is run in some buildings on the church grounds.  I worked at that school for a year, teaching English to grades 4,5 and 6.  The experience with those classes belongs to a whole other series of posts; what belongs here, though, is that I am very impressed by his work (and that of the rest of the administration) to run a school with a solid level of education (the second best in Playa del Carmen, some people say) at prices the people in that community can afford.  The classes are offered to all regardless of their church.  From what I understand, many of the children come from the many evangelical denominations strewn throughout the community, often held in peoples patios, or makeshift buildings; the members of those churches are often among the poorest of the people who live here.

Needless to say, the children attend mass and have Catechism classes.  But even the most cynical observer couldn't criticize this fact; even if you have nothing good to say about Catholicism, you can't deny that it's a small price to pay for a good education that otherwise they just wouldn't get.   On the other hand, if you are Catholic or find their teachings acceptable, it's a double bonus.

I find Father Bernard a very pleasant person to talk to. He is hard working, dedicated, knowledgeable and clearly has a love for the community.

He makes it onto my list of "Catholics who I really admire."

Where NOT to Buy a Cheap Nativity Scene

Our Nativity Scene

This Christmas, because of tight time and a tight budget both resulting from the recent birth of my son, my wife and I decided to keep the Christmas decoration and festivity and decoration simple.  Tomorrow we are having a turkey dinner with our parents who are visiting, and some of our closest friends.  The decoration is a sparkly, green piñata, which is currently hanging quite decoratively in our living room, and a nativity scene; yes, we've abandoned the Christmas tree and garlands for this year, deciding to focus on the principal meaning of Christmas. We had been planning on advent candles and wreath, but missed this part since our baby was born just at the beginning of December.

Inspired by the limited budget and my love for the Mexican market places, I did what I always do when I want something good and cheap; I went to Colosio.

Colosio is Playa del Carmen's original working-class neighborhood which was build up from a politically motivated land invasion almost 20 years ago, and deserves several posts all to itself.  I arrived to the community's central market (the only one in Playa) by bus and soon found several nearby stores which sold all the necessities for a nativity scene; a simple wooden "stable" structure with thatched roof (I choose one that's about 50 cm x 30 cm, or about 24" by 15" - these are both very rough guesses), the green leafy stuff they put at the bottom and the figures of Baby Jesus, Mary, Joseph, the 3 wise men, a shepherd, a sheep and a cow.

My son and I setting up the Nativity Scene

After selecting the stable and leafy matting, I was about to take the smaller versions of the figures, when I noticed that Joseph was wearing black eye liner, with a very pale and sad face.  I looked at Mary, and realized that she was similarly grim.  The model of baby Jesus was not particularly joyful either.

Immediately I remembered the Christmases I spent in Mexico City and the tradition of rocking a baby Jesus doll on Christmas Eve, singing songs, then kissing the doll and asking for wishes.  While I have no objections to the tradition itself, I always found the way the doll looked rather disturbing, with a very pale and serious adult face, with semi-long wavy hair and dark around the eyes, on a infant's body.  Not exactly how I imagine Christ as a child.  While I assume not all the dolls are quite like this, I have seen plenty of these grim-faced Baby Jesus dolls around stores and market places - particularly in working class areas.  These were the same dolls that were being sold for the nativity scene, except smaller.  On top of the grimness, the colours were rather gaudy.  Purely out of curiosity I asked for prices, only to realize that they were actually on the pricey side (relative to what I expected in Colosio.)

Disappointed by the look of the miniatures (not the prices) I took my manger and hay and moved to the next store to find a different set of dolls, but just as grim, if not more so.

A Close-up of the Figures of the Holy Family

I had already been to the supermarkets (Walmart, etc.) since they were on the way, only to find out that they had pretty much sold out, and only had rather cartoonish looking characters that were over-priced (perhaps less-so than in Colosio, however.)  So I remembered a store that sells supplies for handicrafts and seasonal ornamentation.  I went across town to find out that they didn't have anything, but that the supermarket around the corner did (a Mexican store called Chedraui.)

Luckily, I found a nice porcelain set of suitably sized figures in that store.  I bought them, along with a string of LED lights, and that evening my 3-year-old son and I set up the scene.  He was thrilled.  He probably wouldn't have noticed the difference in the figures, but I know I would.

As for the figures I didn't buy, I assume the gaudiness is just the particular taste of the kind of clients who live and buy there.  But I really wonder if their is some real significance of the grimness and paleness of the figures.  Any answers would be appreciated.

(Sorry, I don't have pictures of the ones I don't like.)