How Many Extraordinary Ministers of the Eucharist Does a Catholic Parish Need?

Notice: only 2 Extraordinary Ministers for a huge parish

How many Extraordinary Ministers of the Eucharist does a Catholic parish need?

The short answer is, in most small to medium parishes, none.

I've been to medium sized parishes in the Mexican countryside where those partaking would rather line up out of the door and have mass go overtime overlapping with the beginning of the next mass (creating the kind of disorganized chaos that is a part of normal life in Mexico anyway) than receive the Eucharist from anyone but the priest.

These same parishes also offer communion under both species by means of intinction (dipping the Body of Christ into the Precious Blood), making it impossible to rush through in any way because of the special care required (and probably offering yet another reason not to have anyone but the priest delivering.)

Even the elderly man using the walker prefers to approach the altar

My wife and I are reminded of this every time we go back to Mexico.  While in Playa del Carmen, there are Extraordinary Ministers, and they do not practice intinction, our home parish here (Our Lady of Guadalupe) demonstrates the point as well.

We estimate that an any given Sunday Mass there are probably between 1000 and 1500 people present (and there are 5 Sunday Masses.)  And how many Extraordinary ministers are there?

2.

The priest is in the middle in front of the altar, and the other 2 (usually the leading nun, and a deacon) are at the front of the side aisles.  No one goes to the back of the church.  Everyone approaches the altar.

I have been to parishes in Canada that have less than 1/10 of that mass attendance.  Yet they have 2 or 3 extraordinary ministers.  One goes to the back of the (very small) church.  I'm not sure why that is considered to be necessary.

The Precious Blood and Body of Christ

(In Mexico there is also no row by row.  It's less organized but it removes the pressure that everyone should go up.  When you do row by row, there's always the chance of that awkward moment when someone ready to go up for communion waits for that person next to them kneeling and praying to go up, and the person coming out of the row behind them also waits for them.  It draws unnecessary attention to the person who doesn't go up for communion, and - in some cases - may pressure them to simply go up.  But that's a side point.)

Mexican Catholicism isn't by any means perfect.  It has its flaws - some of them glaring.  But there are certainly good points we could pick up from them.

Why I Love Mexico

Two days ago I wrote a short piece sharing my opinion of people who tell you you should've used birth control when they find out you have four children. (In case you didn't read it, and you couldn't guess, it's not a good opinion.)

What I wrote two days ago didn't just pop into my head out of nowhere, and it didn't just turn up out of an entire year of "mixed" reactions to my babies.

A week and a half ago, I arrived in Mexico again with my family, this time on a work trip. (My last one, since I am less than a week away from finishing this job.  The last 2 weeks will be a vacation.)

An Unpleasant Welcome

Upon our arrival to Playa del Carmen, we were greeted with the usual visuals of Mexico; dirt and garbage in the streets, mangy street dogs, half-built homes, graffiti-covered walls, children playing with trash in filthy parks ...

The list could go on.  Home, sweet, home?  Well, not quite.

Den of Sinners

Then comes the visible immorality of Mexican culture. 

Like everywhere, marital infidelity abounds; and here, intentions along these lines are made all to visibly obvious, as are the relationships themselves.  A married taxi driver has his "companion" joining him in the passenger's seat, who is almost certainly not his wife, men cheating on their wives is chronic. (First hand stories.)

Dishonesty is endemic.  Just today, my commadre's daughter told me how a store worker stole her cellphone from a fitting room, and then called her a "bitch" when she tried (successfully) to reclaim it. (Commadre = godmother of my son.)  People here "find" other people's things and assume that this sequence of fortunes means that people have lost all rights to their belongings, even if they "find" those things in someone else's front patio.

Just two examples of so many.

At this point, I would like to talk about how I actually like the fact that in Mexico sin, immorality, dishonesty, etc. all look like exactly what they are - but that belongs to a different post.

Loving People

So far, I'm guessing I haven't inspired many would-be expats to make the leap, abandon their home and move to Mexico.

But in spite of all its problems and unpleasant sights (which I would argue are not actually bigger, but simply more visible) there's something about Mexico - even the dirtiest most unsightly places - that captures my heart:

Mexicans have a deep love for being with other people.  The don't need to share common interests, understand each other, have something to do together or have anything else that we would consider fundamental to a "healthy relationship;" the love of another person and the joy felt in seeing another person is enough.

Seeing and feeling a joy for human life is something that surpasses many other comforts and conveniences in life.

The Joy of Living and Walter Ostanek

Back in October, someone made a comment about polka, and brought back memories of seeing Walter Ostanek on T.V. back in the 80s.  Something always struck me about Mr. Ostanek; I don't think it was his music per se, but more the fact that he always looked incredibly happy.  Take a look:

How many pop/rock/other famous musicians do you see with a smile like that on their faces these days?  Either they look depressed or angry, or they take themselves far too seriously to smile.
In any case, there seems to be some joy in the polka party.

This kind of joy in the simple things in life is something I saw and experienced much more in Mexico than here.  In Mexico, there is a greater tendency to find joy in whatever you have in life, even if it's little, and whatever situation you're in.  Could it be that more limited economic opportunities and a lesser degree of stability have made everything seem a more fleeting, thus making everyone happier for what they have?  Or is it that their mentality on life has been shaped by a different set of values, different religious background, etc.?

In any case, although Walter Ostanek is still alive and well (and living in St. Catherine's) the days of the polka fest seem to be past their prime.  In the past, the unfinished sanctuary of the church I currently attend was used as a community dance hall for about 3 decades (until they had the money to finish it and use it as a sanctuary.)  There are no community dances any more.  I think there's only one at New Years, and it's only for those of age; this strips the sense of community out of such events.  The interest-focused "communities" we like to talk about are really not communities at all.  A true community includes people of all ages and tastes.  A true community, like a family, simply finds joy in being with each other.

Perhaps Canada's past was a little more festive and joyous as well?  Who knows.  In Canada, there is a lot of focus on pleasure, but little joy.  It most certainly exists (see A Mexican Chistmas Celebration (Posada) in Ontario's Countryside) but it seems the exception rather than the rule.

A Mexican Chistmas Celebration (Posada) in Ontario's Countryside

Now that Christmas time is here, I finally have some time to write again, as well as some nice events to write about.

First and foremost, one of the most exciting events to celebrate the coming of Christmas was a Mexican Posada. In Mexico, the tradition is that during the 9 days leading up to Christmas, neighbours and extended families will gather to act out the story of Joseph and Mary looking for an inn in Bethlehem, followed by a celebration with food, hot drinks and piñatas. The celebration is called a Posada, which is the Spanish word for “inn.”

In our village here Ontario, we celebrated a Posada on Sunday, Dec. 16.  The priest at our parish first proposed the idea of holding this celebration here a few weeks before.

He had heard about these events, and had been excited to hold one; when he found out that my wife is Mexican, he thought it was an excellent opportunity to bring this rich Mexican tradition to Ontario's countryside!  Several people from our parish and from the rest of the community worked together to organize certain parts of the event.  The priest played the key roll of bringing the various people together and covering some of the central details, for which we're very thankful!


In the Mexican fashion, the first part of the celebration was held outside; starting at the main intersection, people carried candles and sung Christmas carols walking about 4 blocks to the parish.  In Mexico, a couple of people are usually designated to hold little figures of Joseph and Mary (usually the ones from a household nativity scene.)  However, the community went all out, and Mary, (a roll taken by a local teen) arived on horse-back, being led by her brother who took the role of Joseph.

Arriving at the church, following the Mexican tradition, Joseph and Mary (and the rest of the crowd) was greeted by a less-than-welcoming Innkeeper.  After a back and forth dialogue in which the Innkeeper even threatened to give Joseph a beating (translated from the original Mexican songs), the Innkeeper finally realized that Joseph’s wife was Mary, the Mother of Jesus, and gave them a warm welcome, inviting them and the crowd inside for food and drink.

The celebration followed in the church basement. My parents provided Mexican food ("gordas" and a type of enchiladas), with additional snacks provided by some ladies from the church.  There were also plenty of candies, cake and coffee to go around!

The atmosphere was festive and everyone present had a good time!  At one point, a woman stood up and led the group in song.

After dinner and desert, 3 large piñatas were brought out and smashed by blind-folded children holding a broom handle.  My family and I had prepared the pinatas; this was a bit of an adventure in itself since it was our first go a making them.

They turned out well and looked good, but I had used the wrong kind of string; at the time of breaking them, 2 of them fell to the ground at the first hit!  Since one of them didn't break, I tossed it up into the air, and one kid swung at it like a baseball.  Candies flew everywhere and the kids were excited.


Despite drizzly weather, the turn out for the event was considerable; our priest had expected about 30 people, and prepared food for about 50, thinking the left overs could be sent home.  My wife and I suspected that this would overkill, and would've been quite happy to see 25 people.


However, approximately 95 people were counted at the mealtime, and most of these had joined the procession and carol singing!  When the group arrived at the church, extra tables had to be set up, almost filling the space available.  Fortunately, the food was enough to go around, and there were even some leftovers.  The priest and some others said something about the story of the fish and loaves.

Members of St. Mary’s Parish, neighbours from Linwood, residents of St. Clements and even an entire table of visitors from Toronto were among those attending the event. (Both Catholics and non-Catholics joined in.)

Leaving the event, many people commented on looking forward to repeating the Posada next year.  With the excellent turn-out and the festive spirit of all who attended, we're definitely planning to repeat the Posada in years to come, making plans to accommodate a larger group!

My family followed up on this event with a little Posada just at our own home with only a handful of people, on Christmas Eve.  It seems that a fairly wide-spread Catholic practice is to leave the manger empty in Nativity Scenes until Christmas Eve, when the Baby Jesus is placed in the manger.  The Mexican version of this tradition combines it with the last Posada on the night of Dec. 24.

As Mexican families will do, three people were outside holding the figures of Mary, Joseph and Jesus; when they were allowed in by the "innkeeper" (those of us inside), the entire family gathered around the nativity scene and the person holding the figure of Jesus (my oldest son in this case) placed him in the manger as we sang Christmas carols!  This final Posada usually comes after the Christmas Eve Mass and "kicks off" the Christmas celebrations (dining, music, dancing, etc.) which, in Mexico, can last till dawn.

I'll write about our household Christmas celebrations another day.

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.

Another Beer, with a Mexican Snack ...

Tonight's Mix:

Leon Beer
The dark "Munich-style" beer I mentioned in yesterday's post. (see Mexican Beers - 2 of My Favorites.)

Chicharron
This is fried pork skin, that is dry kind of like chips.  As unappetizing as the description usually sounds, it's delicious.  Not the healthiest thing in the world, but tasty.

Valentina Sauce
This is a favourite Mexican sauce, good for just about everything from eggs to popcorn, french fries to pizza (if you're Mexican, that is.)  Tonight it's going on the chicharron.

Not a bad Mexican snack.  The beer is my favorite part.

The unusual part of the mix is Leonard Cohen.  Not very Mexican.

By the way, I go the chip for my camera (well, actually for my wife's camera; I don't own cameras.  If I do, she expropriates them.)  So, today I have a better picture.  Tomorrow I'll have more pictures of the city and other stuff, once again.

The Institutionalized Revolution & Mexican Bureaucracy

 

After our second trip back to Canada, my wife and I arrived at Mexican Customs in the Cancun International Airport.  We hadn’t filled out a customs declaration card. We were a family of mixed nationality returning home. The airline attendants on Westjet simply told us that they couldn’t help us or tell us how to prepare for Mexican customs; even for simple, normal cases of tourists arriving for a week’s stay, it seemed that every time a flight arrived, the requirements and documents changed, and no matter what they told passengers, it ended up being wrong when they actually got to a customs agent and they had to fill out a different form, or put different information, etc.  This didn’t surprise us.  My wife is Mexican, and even after 2.5 years of living in Mexico, I knew how these things went.

 

Then, when we got through the customs line, a disgruntled looking customs agent whose disgusted-looking face showed that she had already decided that you did it wrong even before she saw your card looked at us and grunted, “Where’s your declaration card?”

 

“We don’t have one,” explained my wife. “The people on the airline didn’t know what we should fill out since we’re Mexican citizens returning home.”

 

The agent grabbed a card of the pile, slapped it down in front of my wife and said; “Look.  It’s all perfectly well explained right here” … hesitation … “more or less.”

 

My wife looked at the section that the agent had pointed to.  There was no explanation, but only a statement that the form was for tourists temporarily visiting Mexico. “But this explains what tourists need to do.  We’re not tourists.”

 

“But they’re tourists,” she said, meaning me and my sons.

 

“No. They’re Mexican citizens.”

 

She rolled her eyes.  “Just fill out the form.”

 

I just looked at my wife, smiled and said,  “Welcome home!”

 

My wife, who had been dying to get back to Mexico after only a few weeks of visiting Canada and be back with the warm, loving people of her homeland, suddenly felt a yearning for Canada’s well-ordered offices, straight rows of identical-looking homes and friendly politeness that (to her) seemed unreal and impossible.

 

We never did get proper instructions how to fill out the custom’s claim form, and I’m not even sure if we filled out the right form.  In the end, some guy who couldn’t have care less just stamped it and threw it on the pile without even looking at it.  I can guarantee you that if we had filled out the same form on the airplane, the same disgruntled woman would have yelled at us for filling out that form and made us fill out a different one.  We’ve been there.

---

This story I told here is only a mild case of Mexican bureaucracy.  If you have to deal with the government or office-based services in Mexico, it only gets worse.

 

What ever happened to this side of Mexico?  How could a country of such warm, caring and friendly people have such a messed up system of government and public services that make even the worst of Canadian bureaucracy look heavenly?

 

I’ve recently developed a theory about why.  It’s summed up in two words; Institutionalized Revolution.

 

100 years ago was still the very early stages of the Mexican Revolution; within a very short time, the dictator who had ruled the country for 30 years had been deposed, and the decades that followed were defined bloody in-fighting between the former allies who had originally risen up together against the tyrant in the name of freedom.  In the end, a group of revolutionaries called the Constitutionalists (who favoured the reinstatement of Mexico’s 1864 constitution, defined by values of a democratic republic) eventually managed to kill off or buy out the great general heroes of the war like Emiliano Zapata and Pancho Villa – the latter was first bought out, and then in the late 20’s killed off when he tried to re-enter politics.

 

All was good and well; the tyrant had bee overthrown, and the extremists had been supressed.  The road was cleared for a moderate, centrist, democratic republic.  In theory it sounds good.

 

I don’t know enough about Mexico’s 20th century political history to say where things really went wrong.  But they did.  The newly found constitutional democracy turned into a one-party oligarchy.  The party, formed by the victors of the revolution, was adequately named the Party of the Revolution.  As the time went on, and it became apparent that the name no longer to reflected the institutionalized nature of the single monopolized ruling party, they added one word to bring the name up to date; the Party of the Institutionalized Revolution.

 

As much as this name may be only an error in realistically updating the name of the party, it only too well reflects what has become the reality of Mexico’s offices and services.  Let’s break down the two parts of the idea:

 

Revolution – A revolution by its nature is disordered chaos.  A few radical revolutionaries have valued the ongoing chaos of perpetual revolution as something necessary and good in itself.  However, in most cases, proponents of revolution tolerate its chaos only in the hope of bringing a better order afterwards – an order better in some way than the one that existed before.  In any case, the revolution itself is still chaos.  It’s important that while the revolution in Mexico ended, the ruling party retained the name.  The act of revolution was lost, but, I would say, the chaotic mess it involves was retained.

 

Institutionalized – Revolutions may be chaotic, but they are also passionate and driven forward by those who believe deeply in some cause, and are willing to risk all to promote that cause.  So what happens when you remove the passion, the action and the cause from a revolution?  You replace it with the cold, mechanical bureaucracy of an institution.  All this is the normal cycle of things, but what I think happened Mexico is that the all the worst parts of bureaucracy were set up, while the disorder and chaos of the revolution were retained (without the cause that originally made them worthwhile.)

 

Mexican offices have all the frustrating bureaucracy of the most rigid institutions; yet, they are plagued by inefficiency and chaotic disorganization.

 

Now for the record, I’m not saying that the PRI (the Spanish acronym for that party, which has now been out of power on the federal level for twelve years) is any worse or better than the rest of them; I’m only saying that it’s name very adequately reflects everything that’s wrong with Mexican bureaucracy.

 

Next time you’re in a Mexican office, wondering how on earth a country that is not only very beautiful, full of history, art and culture, but also one of the world’s largest economies could be such a bureaucratic mess, just think, “institutionalized revolution.”   It will all make sense.

 

(And please, if you’re not Mexican, take a moment to consider the pain of those who’ve had to put up with this their entire life.)

Mexico City - Some Scenery from Tacubaya

One of the things I love about Mexico City is the presence of random scenery, sometimes not coinciding with the typical image we have of this city, even for those who know it.  Considering it's the second largest city in the world, and both the most beautiful and ugliest city I've seen (within a kilometer or so of each other), both exciting and boring, monotonous and ever-changing, it's no surprise that there is no "rule" about what kind of interesting scenes you'll find at any given moment.  As a complete side note that I feel like sharing, with a probable population of approx. 400,000 gringos it's the largest community of Americans outside of the USA.

That having been said, the three pictures I'm sharing today are fairly typical to the city, and rather un-random.  But they caught my attention for different reasons.  So here they are:

A former church-turned-museum - the Borough Office for Benito Juarez (near Tacubaya, at Parque Lira)

This is a very common scene in Mexico - an abandoned old church that his been restored far better than many that remain in actual use; the reason is that they have been converted to museums, giving all levels of government, private foundations, artists and the public a vested interest in restoring them.  This particular church was built in 1906, consecrated by a representative of the great Pope St. Pius X.  It was used to serve an adjoining community home - for street kids, I believe - a building which is now a city office.  When the home went out of use some 40 years ago, the church went out of use with it, and was soon turned into a museum.

I found out this information at the demand of my 4-year-old son, who was insistent on knowing why there was no mass being held, and why the church was filled with colourful sculptures of dragons from Mexican folklore instead of saints.  After asking the lady at the desk, and passing the story on to my son, he began to sob loudly.  When he finally calmed down enough to talk, he asked me if we could go find the priest (meaning the one responsible for this church building) and give him money so he could turn it back into a church and have mass there again.

I see this as an "old" church, but in relative terms, it's very new, and served as church building for a brief 60-70 years.  It reminds me of the time when I was visiting a village near my wife's grandpa's farm; when I asked him about the "old church" on the town square, he corrected me and told me that the church wasn't old; he remembered seeing the completion of the church as a child, meaning it was no more than 80 years old - a very recent innovation in the village.

A crucifix with rosaries in a bus

This is actually a fairly mild example of bus decoration; drivers will include anything from crucifixes and saints, to poster girls, and sometimes even both side by side.  I've seen a few buses with statues of Saint Death.  This driver had only the crucifix and rosaries.  Rosaries on the rear-view mirrors of taxis and other cars are pretty commonplace.  I can't speak for this driver, or make generalizations, but I know a number of people who will show many outward signs of Catholic faith like this, but are fairly uninterested in mass and even anti-clerical.  My brother-in-law, for example, will cross himself when he sees a church building or sacred image, or when he hears of that someone has died, and he commonly asks people to pray for him (to God or to the Virgin Mary), but my wife can't remember once that he's attended mass.  He doesn't think much of priests or pastors either - and even less of other churches.  So, he's definitely not atheist, and most certainly couldn't count as Protestant, but does he count as a Catholic?  I think he would say so, and I think, in some sense, I would agree.  But it falls outside of our usual northern paradigm where its not likely that someone who has stopped attending church would continue showing outward signs of religion, with strong dedication.

The Coca-Cola Building (or "Ermita") in Tacubaya

This building is a famous landmark in the heart of Tacubaya. I don't know if there used to be more buildings like this one, but from what I've seen, it's unique in Mexico City - I haven't seen any others of this style.  It was build in 1925 (from what I gathered from a quick google search) and is, as I like to point out to my wife, the "Future of the Past." When they build it, I'm sure they thought it was what the future would look like - a future that, of course, never arrived.  If I understand correctly, the name "Ermita" comes from a previous building on the site, which was a small chapel. ("Ermita" means "Hermitage." - see EDIFICIO ERMITA # 23 ANALOGO or GALERÍA FOTOGRÁFICA | El México de Ayer; both are in Spanish, but they have neat historic pictures of Mexico City even if can't read the descriptions.)

I think the back is a theater, or was a theater, at least.  Right across the road from this building is the only store where I've bought running shoes since I've lived in Mexico; they have great prices on New Balance.  I save my running-shoe shopping for my annual visits to the city.

The Basilica of Guadalupe - A Pilgrimage

The image of the Virgin Mary (not original)

This last Sunday, our family made our first pilgrimage to the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City.  The Basilica is the site where the Virgin Mary appeared to St. Juan Diego, a native Mexican, during the Spanish conquest. As far as I know the story, she instructed him to tell the bishop to have a church built in her honour on that site.  The bishop refused to believe him until she re-appeared to him, burning an image on his cloak, and giving him roses to take to the bishop.  Roses did not exist in this part of the world, and the bishop knew this; combined with the image burned on the Saint's cloak, the bishop was convinced and began the construction of the church, which took over 200 years, later given basilica status.  The cloak was kept as a relic, and is on display in the New Basilica. The original Basilica still stands, along with several chapels built throughout the centuries. The new, modern Basilica directly beside the old one, dating from the 70s.

My wife and I had visited when we first met, bet I was visiting as a tourist then, only for the sake of curiosity. This time we came for mass, prayer and veneration.  We also bought a few icons. The following are some pictures.  I don't have pictures of the icons, and they are not with me right now, but I'll post more later on.  The image of the Virgin of Guadalupe in the above is a copy of the original; it is not possible to get close enough to the original to take a picture without flash (which is not permitted inside either Basilica), but it is in tact.

My family in front of the Old Basilica

A family - the father on his knees carrying their baby

This is a fairly common sight at the Basilica.  Some pilgrims will approach the New Basilica (the one where the original image of the Virgin of Guadalupe is now located) on their knees.  Some will start at the entrance to the large plaza (500 meters?), others will approach on their knees kilometers before reaching the Basilica.  Those approaching in this way have a special and urgent request from the Virgin Mary.  In the case of the family in this picture, the request is for their baby, and for this reason the father (on his knees) is carrying the baby. He would carry the baby in this way the entire distance.

Devotees of the Virgin of Guadalupe in the Old Basilica

Lighting a votive candle for the Virgin Mary before Mass

 (You can see my one-year-old poking his head out beside me.)

The new Basilica and the old Basilica

Sanctus Deus, Sanctus Fortis, Sanctus Immortalis, miserere nobis.

 "Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal, Have Mercy on Us."  The Trisagion prayer, inscribed above the doors of one of the chapels.

Blessed Pope John Paul II

Blessed Pope John Paul II has a fairly strong devotion in Mexico.

Poverty Is NOT a Problem ...

This says: "I have time and money to waste ..."

... in  a place where people so much money, food, possessions, etc. that they take a complete papaya, nice, ripe and perfect for eating, and smash it against a wall, letting it rot on the sidewalk, just because they feel like it.  Or in a place where kids have enough money and time at their disposal to buy spray paint and graffiti walls all night.  Or where people can buy their kids a coca cola and large bag of chips every day for their snack.  Or where people can buy take out food and throw half of it away.  Or ... I could make this list much longer, but I won't.

I live in a community which by many people would be considered "poor" or at least (even in Mexico) significantly below average.  I've estimated that the average household income in our neighborhood would probably be a bit over $7000 CDN, annually.  (Based on the cut off for mortgage requirements for buying a home.)  From my experience, the cost of living is about 1/2 of that in Canada, so by Canadian standards we could say it's equivalent to about an annual income of around $14,500.  By all the standards, it's well below the Canadian poverty line , which is about $30,000, I believe.  (The Canadian "poverty line" is a joke anyway, since it has no relation to poverty; it's measured as the bottom quarter of household income, not by basic needs or standards of living, but that's a different story.)

Too much money? Too much to eat? (A papaya)

The average household income in Mexico is about $10,000 USD per year, according the CIA Word Factbook.  So it's even noticeably below this country's average.

So, my community is officially poor. Yet, at the same time, I walked out of my house this morning to take my son to school and saw a papaya splattered all over the neighbour's house and sidewalk, left there to rot.
I go for walks every day, and every day I see new graffiti on the walls.  I see garbage bags ripped open by dogs with half-eaten take-out meals strewn all over the sidewalk.  I've been to countless parties where people pick a few things off their plate and throw the rest away.

On one level it's annoying that the first three habits make my community dirty, but that's a different issue.  The issue here is that people are absolutely wasteful.

I think our definition of poverty has been very, very skewed.  If we define poverty in terms of material needs - food, clothing and shelter in their most basic and necessary sense - then I've never seen poverty.  I know it exists somewhere, but I've never seen it.  I'd guess that people who REALLY were poor would absolutely never consider destroying any kind of food, just for fun, even to prove a point.  I'd guess that knowing what hunger really is like, from experience (which I don't, and, as far as I know, no one I know does) would simply eliminate that possibility that you could throw away food.  I'd guess that you'd never consider wasting what little money you had on a can of spray paint to graffiti your neighbour's wall.

Yet, all of these these problems are usually associated with poverty.  It's strange, isn't it?  I'd say the problem is abundance and idleness, not poverty.

The person I know who is closest to poverty does not consider himself poor.  While his living conditions are substandard (by our standards), he does not feel he is lacking anything in life, and would never ask anyone for anything.  He works hard, every day of his life.

Yet the "poor" people in my neighborhood can throw away food, give their kids money to buy spray paint, etc., etc.  Then they complain about the government and big companies.



While it's less visually obvious, I'd say the problem is just as big in Canada.  And we like to talk about the 99% and all of that.  People like to talk about poverty, yet I see so much complete wastefulness, that I can't take it seriously.

My wife and I believe in helping the poor.  And we do.  We help the poorest people we know every time we have a chance.  But as long as people have enough money and idle time to waste food and vandalize their neighbourhood, I don't feel sorry for them.

Come to Mexico for a Great Vacation ... at Starbucks?

Playa del Carmen's Beaches

I've complained before that people come down for vacation to Mexico and in reality see nothing of Mexico.  But forget about culture, history and tradition.  We know 95% of tourists simply don't care about that stuff. But what about the wide, beautiful beaches that made places like Playa del Carmen and Cancun so famous?  It's the same story.

This afternoon my family and I went down to the beach. Weaving our way through the crowded Fifth Avenue (the main tourist street, running parallel to the beach, a block or two away) we saw crowds of mostly non-Mexican tourists (including many Americans, Canadians, Europeans, etc.)  A block and a half later, after about 2 minutes of walking, we arrived to the beach.  I would say about 90% of the people were Mexicans - a complete turn around from the trendy main drag, filled with stores and restaurants that you could easily find in any major North American city.

We arrived in the mid afternoon when it was still warm and sunny, and stayed until the early evening when the sun had gone down.  I waded in the water with my kids, and later went into the water alone, floating on my back and looking at the stars and moon above me.  It was absolutely beautiful!

Yet, I couldn't help but wonder; why do all these Americans, Canadians and Europeans spend so much money to come to come to the beach, and then not go to the beach?  The big selling point here in Playa del Carmen is the beaches, which are some of the world's most beautiful - so beautiful and relaxing, in fact, that they made me (a former and very decided hater of beaches) fall in love with beaches.  Yet instead, they go to drink beer at a bar.

It's not only downtown.  I've been to resorts and seen pictures of others, where it's the same story.  The pools, beach clubs, restaurants and tennis courts are full of people and alive.  If there are lounge chairs or canopy beds down where the sand begins, an adventurous spirit may wander down.  But the actual sand of the beach is empty of northern tourists, and you would think there's something wrong with the water, since no one's in it (even now in the middle of "winter" the water is comfortably warm; these tourists wouldn't know that, though.)

So, just my same question again - why would you spend all the money to come down here, and instead of enjoying some of the most beautiful beaches to be found, go to Johnny Rockets and Starbucks?

Mexican Beer for Christmas Eve

Noche Buena Beer and A Nativity Scene

Mexico has special beer that’s only sold for a month or two before Christmas. It’s called “Noche Buena” which is both the name for Christmas Eve, and for the poinsettia flower. It’s a dark, bock-style beer with a strong, semi-bitter flavour, and it’s an important part of Mexico’s Christmas Eve celebrations (traditionally taking place at midnight, so technically on Christmas Day.)